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amywritesthings · 10 hours ago

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I have to put all of these tags in a read more because when I'm telling you I have read them over and over to the point where I have teared up alsdfjkalsjdf peach you absolutely spoiled me with these reactions, you really did. This is every author's dream to see: a wall of text with many capslocks and screeching. If I was self conscious about my smut, then I am certainly no longer thanks to you!!!!

#the second and I mean the SECOND I saw ‘resolved sexual tension’ I started giggling like I fucking goblin #plus ‘nipple play’ Amy you’re trying to kill me #I’m on my period and you’re trying to kill me #idk starting with cradling her head when that’s the thing she hit and how he lost her?? I’m fine. I’m fine. #(I’m sobbing loudly) #instinctually you jump knowing he’ll catch you’ oh you’re out for blood ok #‘fighting or fucking. the odds are fifty fifty’ when I tell you I snorted #Hange’s got a bet pool going I know it #HIM CUTTING OFF HER APOLOGY I AM EATING THIS UP SO HARD AMY #the two of you know the language of violence so well but you know each other better is actually an insane line #Amy you always blow me away but THIS?? #it’s so tender and sweet and you can just feel the sense of *finally* #like yeah there are pieces still missing but they’re falling back into place and that’s what matters #YEAH JAMES CLIMB THAT MAN LIKE THE TREES YOU CRASHED THROUGH #‘do you think the others —‘ ‘I don’t care’ might be the hottest exchange I’ve ever read #god you catch his personality so beautifully. it’s such a treat to read your Levi #even if dirt was a sin apparently you were not. <- Amy I’m going to kill you /aff #tit lover Levi I love this song #HIM HOLDING BACK IM GONNA SOBB #he will never forgive himself for what happened I know it but he won’t let that keep him from what he wants and I love that so much #PINNING HER DOWN BY HEE HIPS WHILE SHE COMES I SWEAR I DROOLED #“our rule’ oh I would’ve cursed his ass out over that fucking three rule thing. now is not the time Levi!! #still remembering to use protection!! my conscious babies!! #‘I never stopped loving you’ hey what if I threw myself off a cliff?? dramatically #‘TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT FROM ME. IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOURS’ #AMY WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO JUST WRITE BANGER AFTER BANGER #‘I’ll cum so fast’ yeah that’s the goal stupid. #oh he’s a babbler. #’let go. I’ll catch you’ AMY FUCK OFFFFF /aff #you’re killing me with this. the symbolism of falling as something good compared to last chapter and the start of the story

silver underground. | chapter 24

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 6.3k Summary: day 163 - continued.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - explicit smut, resolved sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), nipple play, body worship, fingering, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, protected piv sex, angst, mentions of death, sensuality Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

I feel... you.

The answer to your question you’ve been asking the moment you opened your eyes.

The clarity you’ve sought ever since you locked eyes with the captain of the Scouts.

I remember you.

Levi kisses you like he knows you, and the rest of the world ceases to exist.

His sturdy hands flutter in a flurry, touching every part of you like he wishes he could have it all.

Chilled palms cup your face, cradling your head as if it's the most precious thing they've ever touched, before sliding down your neck; to the slope of your shoulder, dipping down your sides — pulling you closer, closer, until you’re airborne.

You’re not afraid of falling.

Not with him.

Instinctually you jump, knowing he’ll catch you.

Your thighs clench around his waist as one strong arm supports your weight, unwilling to compromise the position of his other hand. It remains on your cheek, cupping your face to hold your kisses steady.

As the man stumbles forward, you hear the abrupt slam of the wooden chair go flying across the room, skidding to its side on the floor.

It’s loud.

(Surely someone downstairs will hear.)

Hange, Moblit, Erwin — in a best-case scenario, those who stayed behind will be the only privy to the commotion.

However, if the entire squad has returned from the forest...

Well, there's no mistaking the shuffles and slams coming from Captain Levi's room.

Fighting or fucking; the odds are fifty-fifty.

He doesn't seem to care.

Honestly?

Neither do you.

(Too much time wasted on open secrets.)

With immense control and strength, he slowly lowers you both to the bed. The bed frame creaks in its age under the weight, but the mattress feels soft compared to the forest floor you crashed into mere hours ago.

Your back touches the ivory sheets, engulfing you in the scent of him. Something uniquely Levi; crisp and impossibly clean with a musk that’s making your mouth water.

You’ve smelled it in passing the few times he’s passed you at headquarters — always at arm’s length, no matter how close you try to get — but now it’s bound to stick to your body, your clothes —

The way it used to in the Underground.

The way it used to in this very bed.

His kisses are messy yet precise, focused on the feel of your mouth against his. When you let out a shaken breath and whimper, overwhelmed by his reinvigorated passion, Levi outright groans.

The same arm once holding you up snakes around from under your back to meet its twin cradling your face, keeping you in place.

(As if you’d ever wish to leave.)

“I’m sorry,” you whisper between kisses.

“Don’t,” he replies just as softly, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth. “Not now.”

“But—”

“I don’t want your damn apologies,” he sighs, traveling south to pepper your jawline with short, chaste kisses. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

When he senses your hesitance, he pumps the brakes on his kisses and raises his chin to look you in the eye. The storm in his eyes has darkened to a damn near black.

His button-down hangs off of his bony frame, giving you a view of the expanse of skin beneath.

“Nothing,” he repeats.

Like he knows you want to fight.

(The two of you know the language of violence so well, but you know one another better.)

The protests, the pleas, the endless stream of begging dies on your tongue the second his thumb grazes your lower lip with reverence.

Emotion flickers across his face, gone as fast as it came, before he dives back in for another kiss — slower this time, the push and pull deliberate with reassurance.

This.

This is what your lips should be doing, not apologizing.

The message is received loud and clear: you tilt your chin to meet him in every kiss, hands blindly raising to run through the soft strands of his black hair. He exhales through his nose, the hot breath tickling your skin.

For the longest time, it’s all you do.

Kiss.

One for every day spent apart.

One for every fight you’ve ever had.

One for every memory you’ve yet to recall.

The puzzle has a frame, yet there are still missing pieces, destroyed edges, that may never return. Maybe he’ll never make peace with it, but knowing you were a stone’s throw away from death surrenders that grief into confetti.

There will be new memories to make.

(As the keeper of your heart, you trust his recollection of the details you can no longer recount.)

This life won’t be perfect, it never has been from the beginning, but so long as you have this — have Levi — then nothing else matters.

“I can hear you thinking.”

The first part of that statement is muffled by a kiss, but he pulls away to check in during this languid, yearning make out session.

Levi squints down at you, lips pink from exertion.

“I’m not,” you lie.

His eyes narrow further.

“Fine. I am.”

“About?”

“About how badly I want you.”

The blatant honesty dissolves that narrowness in seconds.

“About... how you—”

With the strength harnessed by adrenaline, you push on Levi’s chest, hard, until he’s flat on his back.

The bed creaks again when you crawl on top of him, straddling his hips while your hands plant themselves on the soft flesh of his wrists.

Down; you push down, pinning him underneath.

Levi doesn’t tense. He simply stares above, allowing you to do this.

“Want you,” you clarify, “yes.”

His throat bobs, but his expression stays cool.

“Are you sure?”

“Do I look like I’m hesitating, Captain Levi?” you challenge, leaning down to hover over his face.

His hands leisurely flex under your hold, as if to relax them from their clenched state.

For a moment, doubt creeps in.

Even if he’s confessed, there is still so much time unspoken for; so much to talk about, so much that you have missed.

Maybe it’s too much.

The grip on his wrists falters. “Unless if you don’t want—”

With inhuman strength, he uses the light hold you have on his wrists to push up, setting you off balance.

As you waver he quickly finds the upper hand, switching your positions once more so he can pin your wrists to the mattress beneath.

“Don’t even try to finish that sentence.”

To make his point, he drops his head to your neck and plants open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat. You can’t help but make a strained noise of desire, eyes fluttering shut from ecstasy.

From this vantage point, you feel it — the sheer tension in his hold on your wrists, how desperately he resists clenching down, how gentle he aims to be when he glides both of your wrists from the sides of your face to over the crown of your head.

Levi doesn’t tremble, not like you. He remains as calculated as ever.

His lazy, methodical kisses trail up your neck to your jaw to your mouth. Both of his hands work to carefully connect your wrist in an x-formation. Once satisfied by your compliance, he slides one of his hands over both to latch on, pushing them down — yet still giving you plenty of room to escape if something doesn’t feel right.

(For the first time in over six months, everything feels perfectly in place.)

Panting against his mouth to catch your breath, a floating thought comes to mind once again.

So you speak. “Do you think the others—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You follow his lead, tilting your chin up to meet him. “I do not fucking care right now, James.”

His candidness earns him a gentle giggle, and you feel the slightest shift against your lips:

A smile of his own.

You tap his hip cascaded by the disheveled fabric of his white button-down with your knee.

“Then take this off.”

The kisses cease at your request — no, demand — and Levi pulls away enough to stare down into yours.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Those beautiful gray eyes, stormy with droplets of blue — you realize the deep hurt in your belly is a pang of loss.

You say it before you can regret holding it back.

"I missed you."

His expression smooths with how earnest you sound beneath him, before clearing his throat.

“Which part?” he asks, voice slightly strained from the efforts of holding back.

You blink twice. "Which part?"

"Of me, yeah."

Searching his face, you decide to play along.

“Are you going to get mad if I say all of you?”

His eyes narrow. “Lazy.”

The flatness of his joke earns a genuine belly laugh from you.

Levi lets go of your wrists to sit up, nudging your legs apart so he can wriggle out of the way. You easily comply, careful to leave your boots hanging off of the bed when you widen your thighs.

Stepping away from the bed, he bends over first to remove both of your boots, then his own.

Any other time he’d have a conniption over the dirt, the grime, that you’ve brought into this bed.

(If there was one thing to remember about your past, it was that people from the Underground City could still be just as clean as anyone else. So much time spent cleaning the endless grit from under your nails; an impossible feat.)

Even if dirt was a sin, apparently you were not.

He doesn’t even blink at the specs that may very well still be in your hair.

Instead he’s focused on watching your face as he unfastens the harness at his sternum, shrugging out of his own leather straps. Tossed carelessly to the floor, he rips off his dirtied cravat and ODM gear skirt next.

Pressing a knee into the mattress, he rejoins you on the bed to reach for your chest.

He hesitates, throat bobbing with fleeting uncertainty before he begins to slip the leather through its loop.

“Sit up for me.”

You acquiesce, sore muscles protesting the movement as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

He’s softer with his movements when it comes to your uniform, pulling it apart piece by piece, as if afraid one false move will ruin this dream.

It’s not a dream, you want to tell him. I’m right here. I’ve always been right here. I won’t be going anywhere ever again.

You don’t.

Can’t, not when you’re so mesmerized by the way he pauses at the first button of your shirt.

For a short moment he meets your gaze, studying it, before nodding once.

One by one, deft fingers unbutton your shirt until it’s hanging from your frame, revealing a chest band. All of the air rushes from his lungs in one swift woosh, until you realize—

The scars.

Shit.

The dreamy spell is broken, and soon you find yourself scrambling for something that will quell any negative emotion bubbling in his belly at the sheer sight of your body.

A part of you wants to cover up, act coy and switch roles —

But clever Levi, forever two steps ahead, dives right in to kiss the one of the many healing scars littering your body after the fall — the jagged line just above your left breast — with such fierce devotion that the gesture nearly knocks the damn wind of your lungs.

“Beautiful.”

The murmur is tattooed into your skin, invisible to the wandering eye.

“So—”

He unsnaps the bind.

“—fucking—”

Like a feral animal, his hand tugs once, twice, until it gives and unravels.

“—beautiful.”

Levi forgets himself when his eyes meet your breasts, and you see the way his pupils damn near dilate at the sight.

His lips part, slick from the way he licks between them, before he exhales one single curse like it's a prayer.

“Fuck.”

You stay perfectly still on your elbows, perched on an incline in his bed.

At a loss for words as he stares at your torso like it’s a work of art, your heart hammers in your chest as you telepathically plead with him to simply do whatever he wishes.

Anything he desires, so long as he moves.

Your voice dissolves to a whimper.

“Levi—”

“Can I?”

“Please.”

His own voice crackles like a spark readying a flame. You want to feel him, separated by the absence of muscle memory; to have his hands, his lips, scorched on your skin forevermore.

Levi gives into temptation and kisses south, his nose tracing in a straight line until both hands hold your breasts.

Hot sighs heavily flutter across your skin before those very lips kiss the rising bud they’d been seeking, causing your back to arch clear off of the bed. You whine, trying desperately to stay quiet.

Levi’s too busy worshipping the nipple in his mouth to chastise you for the sound.

His tongue swirls to harden it faster while his other hand massages the other breast, his calloused thumb rolling in the same direction.

Your nails dig into the sheets, anchoring your hands from clawing up his back.

“Levi.”

He hums around your nipple as his answer, its tone dismissive.

When you’re brave enough to open your eyes, you see that his eyes are completely closed — softened in an otherworldly ecstasy at the sheer feel of your body against his.

The sight shoots a dizzying amount of arousal to your belly.

When he switches it up and sucks, those eyes lazily open to stare up at you: a challenge to let him stay like this, to never leave.

He wouldn’t have to ask twice.

If this was your entire night, with Levi’s mouth on your chest while he lives in the memories of you old and new, then you’re inclined to say that there are worse ways to spend your time.

(No, you’re happy to say like this forever.)

Except a chill passes over your pampered breast as Levi kisses across it, abandoning your nipple to trail to the other side —

Fuck.

“You’re going to kill me,” you rasp, too worked up to care if you sound wrecked.

“Won’t,” is all he replies as he dives back in, worshipping your body.

“Will,” you grit, trying your damnedest not to cry out from just how good it feels.

With one final kiss to your nipple, Levi detaches with mercy to shrug the pesky white button-down off of his shoulders.

The fabric joins the mounting pile of clothes on the floor, but his hands hesitate when they touch his belt.

His eyes notably flicker to your belt — a pause.

Deciding.

If it’s too soon—

If it’s too much —

No, you want to cry out. It’s not enough.

The words die on your tongue, possessed by the ghost that’s plagued your mind for months.

Instead you take action: sitting up on the bed, overly eager fingers tremble as they begin to unbuckle his belt, working at the leather straps crisscrossing his thighs and calves.

“James.”

His voice is dying on his tongue; a singular syllable of surprise.

“Let me.”

You notice the way his abdomen tenses at your words as you tug the first belt from its loops.

“Are you s—”

“I said,” you slowly repeat, moving closer to kiss the trail of dark hair peppering just under his belly button. Levi exhales like he’s been punched. “Let. Me.”

Punctuating each word to show your seriousness, your eyes meet as he stares below.

Inch by inch, you press slow, meaningful kisses in his skin — first to the left, curving towards his hip.

Your hands push down the trousers of his uniform pants, using the strength to drag the leather straps wrapping around his legs to fall with them.

Levi stands before you in merely white briefs, and there’s no hiding the immense arousal straining against the thin fabric.

The sight causes your breath to simply evaporate from your lungs, unable to stop staring.

From your peripheral you see the hand at his side flex then snatch into a fist to combat the desire to touch you.

He must feel guilt.

He must be so terrified that this moment will simply evaporate like the rest of your memories.

That you may have woken up, yes, but you can still fall back asleep.

You refuse.

“You can touch me,” you murmur into his skin, and Levi’s throat bobs.

When he doesn’t move, you take the first at his side and systematically uncurl every finger.

He lets you.

Slowly, calculated, you raise his hand until it’s running over the crown of your head. His nostrils flare as he takes control, abandoning the guide of your hand to cup the side of your face.

A gentle thumb smears across your lower lip in reverence.

“I won’t break,” you tell him, knowing he’ll protest. Your voice drops to a hush. “I won’t.”

“I know,” is all he can reply — then your back hits the bed again, and he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed.

Levi disappears from your immediate line of sight, but you feel pressure on your hips: inch by inch, he’s undone the belt and buttons and yanked your uniform down your thighs, your knees, until they’re hanging at your ankles.

Oh.

One by one, he slips your feet from the pants and uses your ankles to widen your knees, bearing you to him at eye-level in just your white cotton underwear.

“Shit.”

A feeble gasp escapes when his lips start at your left foot.

You can’t see him, only feel him — he presses a tender kiss to your ankle then another just above it, creating a careful line up to your calf. His fingers gingerly curl around it to keep you steady as he ascends with his lips touching every single inch he can.

When he reaches your knee, you see it: the darkness in his gaze, how stormy his eyes have become, while making direct contact with you.

“Levi,” you moan, refusing to look away as he makes a point to stare at you while he nudges your left thigh further out to keep kissing it.

Stay awake.

Don’t forget this.

Don’t ever forget this again.

“Can I?” he asks, and you nearly miss the question in your intoxicated, aroused state.

You know.

You know exactly what he’s asking to do.

There’s no chance in hell you’d ever say no.

Wordlessly you nod, but Levi’s tongue darts out to taste the skin of your inner thigh. “Say it.”

(Fuck, when did he get so demanding?)

“Yes,” you exhale. “Yes, I want this. Want you.”

He doesn’t answer with words — a mere wanting growl takes their place.

Raven-black hair tickles your bare skin as he shifts, and strong arms drop to your rope under your knees.

With one swift tug, he drags you directly against his face, and the world becomes a myriad of brilliant colors.

Even if it’s a mere kiss to the cloth of your dampened underwear, you whine from the sheer desire flooding through your veins.

Maybe in another life, you would have teased him for his eagerness.

Maybe before the fall, you would have made him work for it, asked him to crawl to you, to beg.

Not this time.

You don’t have time to be coy, not when it’s been so long.

The tip of his tongue sensually drags up the center of your underwear, the slowness obscene. Your head slams back into the mattress with a soundless cry.

The hot puffs of his breath tickle your inner thighs as he continues to swirl his tongue against the final barrier between you and his mouth.

“Please,” you beg, throwing all dignity to the wind.

He doesn’t seem to hear you.

Levi’s hands grip your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he continues to gather the taste of you on your panties.

When you have the courage to watch him again, you see that his eyes are closed.

Like he’s found some kind of paradise right here.

With you.

“Levi,” you whimper louder, voice terribly shattered, “Levi, Levi, please—”

His moans against your clothed clit damn near scrambles your brain.

Finally ending your torture, he pulls away to tug your soaked underwear down your thighs, your knees, until they drop to the floor of their own volition.

“Been dreaming of this,” he finally states, his voice several octaves lower and cracked. “The goddamn taste of you—”

He cuts himself off when he runs his thumbs down your folds, parting them with his thumbs.

If you weren’t so eager, then maybe you’d be embarrassed by how wet you were.

Dripping, really, from the way he worshipped your chest only minutes ago.

You almost scream when he dives in and kisses your clit, before his tongue languidly glides against it. By some miracle, you don’t.

His thumbs leave you in favor of holding open your legs for him as he feasts, refusing to allow them to close from the shock of the forgotten sensation.

With one hand grabbing the pillow above your head while the other threads through his hair, you’re unable to take your eyes away from how thoroughly he eats you out.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, and the vibrations of his groans of agreeance damn near take you out.

The captain’s tongue explores every atom of you as if it has navigated this journey more times than he can count; as if he knows you better than you know yourself.

Because a part of you can remember —

The things you like.

The things you don’t like.

The hazy desires that plague heated dreams at night.

Yet Levi reaffirms them, teaches your body language right back to you, as his eyes lift from his task to yours to watch you watching him devour you whole.

Mesmerized, you stare back.

His lips close around your clit and suck as if to challenge you to look away, but all you can do is tense your abdomen and moan, louder this time, while your eyes flutter.

Stay open.

Don’t ever forget.

Lips parted with shaken breath, you witness this man mercilessly pleasures you.

Stares, so he knows that you’re still taken by him.

Worships, so he can remember what it’s like to finally have you in his bed after so many months apart.

It won’t take long to fall clear over the edge.

Not at this rate.

But you don’t want it to be over.

“Wait,” you whisper, “wait, I’m almost — I want you in—”

The second syllable of that word is lost in a sharp cry to the ceiling when he abandons solely sucking on your clit to focus instead on flickering side to side, rapidly, ensuring you’ll come no matter how badly you want to fall into bliss alongside him.

There’s no chance you can stave it off.

Your climax, a damn near year in the making, approaches like a bursting star.

“Levi—” you breathe, higher pitched than usual. “Levi, Levi, Le—”

You can’t finish the next syllable before you're surging off of the mattress, and he shoves you down against it by the hips so you don’t hurt yourself.

The world morphs and shapes into brilliant bright colors in the back of your skull as you come, and you do your damnedest not to shout.

As soon as your moan reaches its peak, your hand manages to smack against your mouth, muffling the strained screech.

His tongue slows down, instead focused on leisurely catching your essence with his mouth.

Greedily collecting every last drop.

So he doesn’t have to dream anymore, you realize.

So he never goes without again.

Panting heavily, your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to remember which way is up.

“Holy shit.”

That doesn’t even begin to describe how otherworldly you feel at this moment.

“Levi…”

When you finally open your eyes, you see him resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh, nose and mouth glistening with the essence of you.

You’re not sure who is more satisfied.

“You okay?” he asks, softly this time.

Hardly a whisper.

You nod wordlessly, but hold your hand out for him. “Please?”

“Please what?”

“Let me have you.”

A storm flashes across his expression as he stands from the floor, his knee coming to rest on the edge of the mattress.

You can tell he isn’t putting his whole weight on it, avoiding the creaking of the bed frame as he contemplates.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his fingertips running up and down your thigh absently.

“Why?”

“Because it’s been a while.”

The wandering fingers travel up, toying with the mess between your legs. Your hips jerk from oversensitivity, and a ghost of a smug smile passes across his lips.

“And I’m not rushing this.”

“Why?” you repeat, this time in a whine.

“Like I said—”

He begins, testing the give of your entrance as his middle finger pushes its tip into you.

You sharply gasp, forcing him to instantly stop. Those gray eyes flicker to your face.

“—it’s been a while.”

“I don’t care,” you state. “I can take it.”

“Well I do, so deal with it.”

There.

That commanding tone reserved for his position as captain pokes through, and it shoots straight to your lower belly.

Rocking your hips to try and force more of his finger into you, you shake your head wildly.

“You do realize that the more —”

His fingertip eases out, causing you to cry out in frustration. “Shh.”

There’s only so much sanity left in your body to plead your case.

“It — ah — the more time we spend away from the others downstairs—”

“As much as I like hearing you talk,” he reassures, voice dropping to a husk of its former self, “I really don’t want to discuss the whereabouts of anyone else when I could have my fingers inside you instead.”

Then that same finger suddenly pushes.

One knuckle.

Two.

Your head drops back when he buries his middle finger into you, unapologetic.

His free palm drops to the side of your head as he hovers over you, easing you to relax as he pushes one finger in and out.

The fringe of his black hair falls over his eyes, his face flushed with inexplicable lust.

“Do you remember our rule?”

Do you really expect me to think straight now? is what you want to say.

Instead you keep your eyes on him as he fucks you on one finger, too tight yet not nearly enough. You maintain eye contact, scrambling for an answer.

“With what?”

When his finger curls, you have to bite your tongue not to shriek.

“C’mon, James,” he purrs, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit, “what’s my rule for you?”

Rules.

Rules, rules, rules—

Then it clicks, the puzzle piece unearthed deep from your psyche.

“Three,” you weakly whimper, realizing just what’s about to happen.

When we had our own place—

He nudges his index finger beside his middle finger, opening you up more.

You widen your legs with little shame, sinking into the sheets as this man thoroughly takes you apart in his captain’s bed.

—I always said I’d give you three.

“Think you can give me it?” he asks with feigned confidence.

You know what he’s really asking:

Is this too much?

Am I moving too fast?

Would this be taking advantage too soon?

The opposite; what he’s doing isn’t enough, because you know what you want.

You need to give him what he wants first before you reach your goal.

Belatedly, you nod emphatically.

“Good,” is all he replies in that baritone voice of his, before dropping down to kiss you when he curls his fingers again, relentlessly fucking you.

The kiss is maddening. Searing. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you try to keep up with the messy press of lips, all too eager to indulge in what it means to feel alive.

This.

This is what home feels like.

You never had to build it with nails and wood and insulation.

It was always in the person hovering above you, working you open with a sneaky third finger that causes a pathetic strangled moan to die on your lips the second his tongue dips into your mouth.

Relentless.

You’re so far gone that you don’t even realize you’ve already come a second time.

It’s Levi who pulls back, looking down at his hand as he keeps curling his fingers into you.

“Shit, already? Can feel you getting tighter– Fuck, James.”

Shaking from the less intense but no less amazing orgasm, you come silently on his hand as you melt into the sheets.

Stars blur your vision like the first snow of a winter.

Weightless.

Watching Levi pull his fingers out of you to immediately put them into his mouth, licking each digit clean, is an out of body experience.

Nothing to waste, nothing to lose — he relishes in the taste lingering on his tongue before you leisurely nudge him with your knee.

He’s still wearing his underwear, but his cock is practically ready to burst through the fabric. His hardness looks painful, the flush of his skin prominent against the ivory cotton.

“...do we still have condoms?”

Your voice is faint, an exhale at best.

His eyes widen briefly before his jaw clenches, and his hair flutters as he nods.

“Yeah. They… should be expiring in about two months.”

“But not right now.”

Levi considers your inquiry, searching your face. “Not right now, no.”

A moment of content silence passes, his eyes glued to yours.

You want to reassure him that you’re more than ready, that it’s been too fucking long since you’ve had him, that you need this more than anything you’ve ever needed in your life.

You can’t.

All you can do is beg, as you have this whole day.

“Please?”

His head drops in defeat, shoulders slumping.

All of the air leaves his lungs as he leaves your side to rummage in the nightstand by his bed, and you can see it clear as day on the hand that is still pressed to the mattress:

He’s trembling.

Sitting up on your elbow, you reach to gently place your palm over it. His attention whips back to you, first staring at your joined hands before looking back at you.

“Are you sure?” the captain asks, looking for complete and utter consent.

You open your mouth to respond, but Levi curls his fist over the condom foil and sits up taller.

His hand lifts the two of your hands together, switching their positions so your palm ends up on his cheek.

In a tender moment, his lips press a chaste kiss to its center.

“We can wait if it’s too much.”

You shake your head wildly. “It’s not too much.”

“You only just—”

“Levi.”

Exasperated, you crawl around him to slowly hike your bare leg over his hip.

Hovering over his lap, his eyes round when you snap the waistband of his briefs between pinched fingers. Instinctively his hand reaches to steady your bare hip.

“I know you have every good reason to worry that I could change my mind. That I could forget.”

He flinches, if only for a fraction of a second.

“But I never left you. I never stopped wanting to be near you. I never…”

Trailing off, you realize.

The words are right there on your tongue.

The image flashes through your mind: two kids just barely making sense of this cruel world, tangled together, when his whispered words tickled the shell of your ear.

Words that would change your life forever.

“I never stopped loving you.”

With a single blink, the lines on Levi’s weary face soften.

The captain’s throat bobs, swallowing the emotions that come with your confession.

He speaks with a conviction unlike anything you’ve ever heard.

“...I never stopped loving you, too.”

Joy blossoms in the center of your chest as you lean in, capturing his lips in a kiss that seals the promise of forever. He kisses back just as eagerly, his hands leaving your body to push his underwear hastily down his hips.

You hear the tear of a wrapper foil, feel the shuffling of his hands between your bodies, before lining up the tip of himself against your entrance.

You both stop.

Testing the give with a gentle nudge, you both let out a gut-punch exhale.

“Want you to set the pace,” he states against your lips, trying his damnedest to keep his voice from shaking. “Take whatever you want from me. It’s always been yours.”

Yours.

Nose to nose, you allow him to hold his hard and eager cock steady as you wrap your hand around the back of his neck for an anchor.

Levi lets out a shaken breath when you begin to sink, face flushed with sweat and arousal.

No going back.

(You never want to leave again.)

Inch by inch, you ease yourself onto Levi’s cock. Your eyelids flutter from the sheer ecstasy of finally, finally, having him inside you again.

The captain seated beneath you is oh, so focused, nostrils flared as he bites back a heavy groan.

Although it takes baby steps to get there — you rock your hips and fuck the tip of him, your body slowly relaxing enough to take up more of him — you eventually end up seated with your legs wrapped around his waist.

Levi instinctively curls a strong arm around your waist to keep you in place, looking utterly wrecked as he fully submits to your will. His brows are screwed tightly together, eyes struggling to stay open — to watch.

So you watch him, too.

When you lift yourself off of his cock and drag back down to the hilt, you both groan in harmony.

You can’t help it.

A smile bursts on your lips, stretched wide.

This.

This is where you’ve longed to be.

You roll your hips and ride your captain with reverence.

The room reverberates with the sound of skin against skin, your moans and his grunts, the squeak of a well-worn mattress on an ancient wooden frame.

To hell with subtly.

You don’t care who hears downstairs.

Once he has his own emotions under control, Levi memorizes your pace and begins to buck up in a thrust from below.

You gasp, and you see it: he smirks, his own confidence gaining on him.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, his words as finite as ash. “Fuck, there she is.”

The praise has your blood singing, burning, as you bounce on his cock with an urgency to bring him to his long-awaited climax — and your third.

“I love you,” you tell him, earning a bitten-off grunt for him.

“Fuck, don’t,” he begs as he matches your pace, bringing himself deeper. “I’ll cum so fast.”

“Maybe I want that,” you tease.

“James,” he warns, pinching your nipple as punishment.

You can’t help but cry out, head dropping back. Levi takes the golden opportunity to lean in, kissing the column of your neck to mask his own needy moans.

The fingers once rolling your nipple as you ride him glide down your belly until they catch your clit, causing you to collapse into his chest. You whimper, and you can hear the utter filth against your ear as Levi picks up the pace.

“Love you.” You clench around him, causing him to hiss. “Shit, I love you so goddamn much. Feel so fucking good.”

“Levi—”

“I got you,” he promises, holding you up as he pounds into you from below. “Won’t let you fall. Gonna make me cum so hard, s’like you were made for me — fuck…”

He loses his train of thought as his fingers rub your clit in furious circles, desperate to get you to the same edge where he hovers.

Over and over you moan out his name, unable to even think straight as pleasure succumbs and fills every vein in your body.

From the way his rhythm is faltering, you know:

He’s close.

You’re not very far behind.

“I love you,” you tell him one more time under your breath, unable to say anything else beyond that and broken variations of his name.

His thrusts become more urgent as he answers between clenched teeth.

“I love you, too.”

“Let go.”

You wrap your arms around his body to hold him close.

“I’ll catch you, just let go.”

For what it’s worth, he holds on for a few seconds more.

He gives you the performance of a lifetime as he thrusts up into you, running after his orgasm with a desperation reserved for you and you alone.

Then you feel it.

Levi grabs the back of your head and slams his lips to yours in one final, devastating kiss before you abruptly come around him.

Your muscles spasm and clamp down around him, milking him for all he’s worth before he’s moaning loudly against your mouth.

He’s forced to fall off the deep end with you, coming inside you.

You leisurely ride him through your joined orgasms until his hand comes to your hip, stilling your movements.

Eventually the fingers at your clit still, pressing against it to feel its erratic heart beat.

Forehead to forehead, the two of you stay here, catching your breath—

Refusing to part.

Author's Note:

taylor swift vc: it's been a long time coming...

If you've been around my blog for the last several months, then you know I got hit with the author curse (seasonal depression kicked my ass, my day job issued an RTO mandate, I was sick a few times, I have a surgery in late February) so the creative juices were not there. Apologies (and the biggest thanks!) to all who have been waiting so very patiently. To readers old and new, I am so grateful for your reblogs, comments, and inbox messages.

So I ask, after five long months away from you: how are we doing, Jevi Nation?

#feedback.#fic: silver underground

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 12 hours ago

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Handle With Care 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your work blurs the lines between professional and personal.

Note: I’m on a Bucky kick and can’t stop myself.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Bucky sighs and shifts in the seat, trying to see past the clog of traffic. He sits back heavily, enough to jolt the entire car. You glance at him as you steer away from the bottle neck.

"We're not going in the front, are we?" He smooths his hair and furrows his brow.

"Not unless you want cameras in your face," you pull into an underground lot and roll down your window to swipe your card in the fee machine.

"Mm, exactly my point," he brushes his palms over his stubble. You can hear the bristle.

"Look, we're both just trying to get through this. For Wilson." You slowly roll through and look for a spot.

"He doesn't need me--"

"Stop saying that," you snip. "You wouldn't be here if that was true. I didn't exactly wake up thinking I'd be crawling through your window."

"No one asked you to."

You veer into a spot and slam on the brake. "Actually, Barnes, he asked me to. That's why I did it, so let's cut the lone wolf schtick and grind our teeth through the pomp and ceremony."

He grumbles. You shift into park and kill the engine. You take a deep breath and search for your zen. He's undoing a lot of self-work right now. You undo your seat belt and get out. He mirrors you with reluctance.

"We'll circle around and head in through the rear," you shut the door and stomp in your heels, clasping your bag tightly as you check the time.

"Yes, Captain," he says sardonically.

"No, he's inside, waiting," you return.

He's quiet as he follows you. You don't fail to notice the looks he gets. You can't blame him for not appreciating prying eyes. Still, it's the least he can do for Sam. Just this once.

As you get around to the back doors, past the fervour and rush of attendees, he catches up to you. There's a man in a uniform keeping watch. You wave as you approach.

"Tito," you smile.

"Huh..." he squints at you as his burly arms tense in his jacket. "Oh, it's you? I didn't recognise you in that... thing."

You glance down at your dress, "special occasion."

"Mm, right."

"Come on, Tito, I got clearance," you argue.

"No one's in the back but personnel."

"I am personnel. Didn't I disarm that bomb way back--"

"Hmmm," he looks past you at Bucky. "Hey, it's you."

Bucky growls and shuffles closer.

"Look, my friend here is having a rough day. The front is a circus, please, Ti?"

"You still owe me that drink," he nibbles his lip.

You chuckle, "I got a flask--" You show him your clutch.

He laughs. "You know what I mean."

"I told ya I would. I'm a busy gal," you fend him off. "So, pretty please, Tito?"

He rolls his eyes and reaches for his belt. He scans his card and opens the door. You wobble through hurriedly and Bucky drags his feet. He follows you down the hall.

"You know a lot of people," he mutters.

"Some. My work takes me all around. Just like yours."

"Sure," he sniffs.

You slow as you hear noise. You'd rather not make a whole round of small talk. You grab Bucky's sleeve and drag him down a long hall.

"Where are we going?"

"Stage door. We can sneak down the stairs," you explain.

"Won't someone be watching?"

"Sure, and I'll get us through," you assure him. "Just like I've done everything else."

He sucks his teeth, "you're mad."

"I'm not mad, Barnes," you let him go. "Trust me, you would know if I was."

You meet another guard along the way. She stops you and asks for credentials. As you try to search out a suitable way past, she looks past you.

"Wait, oh, I know you," she points at Bucky, "no problem, go right through."

"Know me?" Bucky utters.

"The Winter Soldier," she bubbles. "Sure thing. Go on. Say hi to Cap for me."

He moves stiffly ahead of you and you follow. His metal fingers fidget at his side. You can tell he's uncomfortable. Hell, you are too.

You come out through the stage door and quickly snake around the distracted honorees and presenters, the crew scurrying around like ants in a hill. You get Bucky down the stairs and find the seats reserved for you. 'Guest of S. Wilson.' You sit and he does too.

He sets his feet wide and rests his hands on his thighs. His fingers rub up and down the fabric restlessly. You put your phone on silent and put it in your clutch. You wiggle in the stiff seat and crane to see the doors as guests slowly trickle in.

You peek at Bucky. His jaw is squared, his eyes are unfocused, he stares at the curtains over the stage. You know it's a lot for him. You realise that he's not doing this on purpose.

People line the seats behind you and around you. Their voices break the tenuous calm. You greet a few that are familiar but otherwise bide your time.

When at last the ceremony begins and the lights dim for the brighter ones over the stage, Bucky coughs and you can feel him jittering. His leg is bouncing and he's picking at the edge of his jacket. The host goes through their whole intro as his fidgeting intensifies. The sudden blast of horns makes him jump.

You reach over and put your hand on his. He locks up and squeezes your fingers, so tight he might crack your knuckles. You lean against him gently.

"Barnes, you're doing good," you say.

He doesn't respond. You don't expect him to. He's entirely still. You know he's not there anymore. You bring your other hand over his and rub his knuckles. You'll get him through this just like Lagos.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #handle with care #drabble #series #captain america #avengers #mcu #marvel #winter soldier

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sherewrytes · 2 days ago

Text

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 9

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki @helightknight21 @dylsw @ria-s-writes @sleepymothafterhours @sukunasstomachtongue @cosmic-lovr @imm0rtalbutterfly @kyo-kyo1

if you wanna be added to the tag list comment

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Chapter 9: Death or Rebirth

I woke up in the hospital again. The sterile scent of antiseptic and faint beeping of machines told me where I was before I even opened my eyes. When I did, the first thing I saw was Yuuji sitting in the chair beside me. His head was bowed, shoulders slumped in a way that made him look so small—so broken—that my heart squeezed painfully in my chest.

I blinked hard, hoping I’d imagined him, and closed my eyes again, willing myself back to darkness.

The reprieve didn’t last long.

The door swung open, and I heard heavy footsteps—one set deliberate, the other storming with anger. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. Toji. I could practically feel the heat of his glare, his frustration filling the room like smoke. Satoru followed close behind, quieter, but I knew he was watching too.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Toji’s voice hit like a hammer, sharp and unrelenting. “This is twice now. Twice in barely two weeks. What are you trying to do, kill yourself?”

It was like the words tore something open inside me. Before I knew it, I was shouting back, my voice raw. “What if I am?” the words slipping out before I could stop them. My voice was raw, rough from everything I’d been bottling up. I didn’t care that he was pissed. Hell, I didn’t care about anything anymore.

The room went dead silent. I could feel the eyes on me—Yuuji, Satoru, Toji. They were all waiting for something. Waiting for me to break, to explain myself. But I wasn’t going to. I wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction.

Toji stepped forward, his face hard and unforgiving. “You’re not fucking with me like this, Sukuna. I get it, you’re in pain. We all are. But this—” he gestured around the room, his eyes burning with anger and something else, something softer that I wasn’t sure I wanted to see. “This isn’t the way to handle it. You’re hurting everyone around you, but especially Yuuji. You don’t get to keep doing this to him.”

I glanced at Yuuji, his face a mask of exhaustion and worry. His eyes were red, his posture slumped.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve me.

But still, I couldn’t stop myself. The words came tumbling out like a dam breaking, uncontrollable and sharp.

“Maybe I don’t deserve anything, Toji. Maybe I don’t deserve him or any of you,” I muttered bitterly, turning away from them. “I’m just tired of everything. Tired of pretending.”

Satoru spoke up, his voice softer than usual, almost like he was trying to tiptoe around me. “We’re not asking you to pretend, Sukuna. We’re asking you to let us help. But you have to want it first.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Help? You think you can fix me? You can’t fix this, Satoru. No one can.”

“You’re right,” Toji cut in. “We can’t fix it for you. But we can help you get the fucking help you need.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. There was no escaping them. No escaping the reality of what I had to face.

I closed my eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on me. My mind was swirling, a chaotic mess of guilt, regret, and anger. But underneath it all was something else. Something softer. A flicker of hope.

A hope I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. “I don’t know how to fix myself.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Satoru said, his voice steady and reassuring.

I wanted to believe him. I really did. But the fear—the deep, gnawing fear that I was beyond saving—was louder than anything else.

“I don’t know if I can let anyone in again,” I muttered, my voice breaking. “Not after everything I’ve done. Not after what I’ve lost.”

Toji sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to be perfect, Sukuna. Hell, none of us are. But you gotta stop running from it. From the people who care about you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt stuck in my throat.

Yuuji finally spoke, his voice small but steady. “I just want you to be okay, Sukuna. We all do.”

His words hit me harder than anything else. I wanted to lash out, to say something cutting and cruel. But I couldn’t. Not this time.

I didn’t have the strength to keep pushing everyone away anymore.

I shot up off the bed, my heart racing, the anger and fear bubbling to the surface. "I'm not going," I spat, voice shaky but defiant. I wasn’t about to let them control me. Not again.

Satoru’s eyes narrowed, his patience thinning. "Don't do this, Sukuna," he warned, stepping forward, his voice steady but carrying the weight of an unspoken truth. "It's gonna make shit worse if you keep this up."

I took a step back, my chest tightening, the overwhelming flood of emotions crashing over me.

I can’t go.

The idea of being locked away, stripped of my choices, made my skin crawl. "I said no. I don't need any of that shit."

Toji, who had been standing in the corner, arms crossed and eyes focused, now moved closer. His voice was low, but the authority in it made me stiffen. "You need help, whether you like it or not. You’re pushing everyone away, and it’s not gonna end well if you keep doing this."

"I don't care," I muttered, my hands trembling as I balled them into fists. "I don’t care what any of you think. Just leave me alone."

Satoru’s eyes softened, but his tone was firm. "You're not okay, and you're not handling this alone. You need help, even if you don't want it. We're doing this for you, not to you."

I was shaking now, not from the cold or the exhaustion, but from the weight of the truth they were forcing on me. My mind was a blur of thoughts, and the words felt like they were tearing me apart.

I locked eyes with Toji. "You think I want this? You think I want to be like this?!" The words spilled out before I could stop them. "I hate it. I hate everything about myself right now, but I'm not going to some fucking psych ward."

Toji didn’t back down. "Then what the hell do you think you're doing? You’re just running, hiding from it all."

I turned away, unable to look at him anymore. "I'm not running," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I just... I don’t know how to face it. How to face all of this."

Satoru stepped in closer, his voice quiet but insistent. "We don't have to force you, Sukuna. But we will take you there if it means you'll get better."

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. I wanted to scream, to fight, to push them all away. But there was something deeper—something broken inside me—that knew they were right.

I didn’t have a choice, not really.

I stared at them, my mind a mess of anger and fear, the words I wanted to say, the words I needed to say, stuck in my throat. My fists clenched at my sides, the tension building as I looked at Satoru, Toji, and now Geto, who had just strolled in. The weight of their gazes felt suffocating.

I wanted to scream at them, tell them to leave me the hell alone, but my voice was low, barely a whisper. "I'm not some head fuck, man," I muttered, my eyes flicking to the floor. "I’m..." I trailed off, unable to finish.

Geto’s voice cut through the silence. "You’re an addict with mental health problems, Sukuna. You need help. You know this."

I shot him a look, feeling my insides twist.

Of course they would say that.

They were all on the same page, ganging up on me. They didn’t know. They didn’t get it.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but all that came out was a pained laugh. "I’d rather join Jin than do that," I said, the words slipping from my mouth before I could stop them. The thought hung in the air, dark and suffocating. The weight of my brother’s death—the guilt that had eaten me alive ever since—made it feel like the only way out.

The room went still, the tension thick. I could see the shock on their faces, but I didn’t care. Maybe they’d finally understand me.

Satoru’s voice broke the silence, his tone more forceful now. "You don’t have a choice, Sukuna." He stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine. "They’ve done up the paperwork. You’re going whether you like it or not."

I felt like the walls were closing in on me.

This wasn’t my decision anymore.

They had made it for me. It didn’t matter what I wanted or how much I fought against it—they were forcing me down a path I couldn’t escape from.

I opened my mouth to protest again, but the words died in my throat. I looked at them—their faces filled with concern and frustration—and realized they weren’t trying to control me. They weren’t trying to hurt me. They were trying to save me.

But I didn’t want saving.

I didn’t want any of this.

I just wanted to be left alone, to disappear into the darkness.

I scanned the room frantically, my mind racing.

I need to get out of here.

The walls were closing in, the sterile white room suffocating me, and I couldn't breathe. I couldn’t stand the feeling of being trapped, controlled. I had to leave. Now.

I pushed myself off the bed, my legs shaky but determined. I stumbled toward the door, but before I could get more than a few steps, a heavy hand landed on my shoulder.

Toji.

"Sit down, Sukuna," his voice was low, firm, and I could feel the weight of his hand as he gently but forcefully pushed me back toward the bed. He wasn’t letting me leave. Not like this.

I whipped my head around, my eyes locking with Gojo’s. His usual confident smirk was replaced by something closer to concern—something I wasn’t ready to deal with. He stood beside Toji, blocking my escape, both of them creating an impenetrable wall.

Yuuji was still in the corner of the room, staring at me. His face was a mix of disbelief and hurt, and I could see the silent question in his eyes.

Why are you doing this, Sukuna?

I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t. I wasn’t doing this for anyone else. I was doing it because I had nothing left.

“Geto,” Yuuji finally spoke, his voice breaking the silence, “What’s going on? What’s happening to him?”

Geto sighed, his tone calm but with an edge I hadn’t heard before. “Yuuji, just step outside for a second. We need to talk.”

Yuuji shook his head, his hands clenched into fists. “I’m not going anywhere. He’s my brother. I’m not leaving him like this.”

A nurse walked into the room at that moment, sensing the tension. She glanced from Toji and Gojo to Geto and Yuuji, clearly trying to assess the situation. Her eyes flicked to me, and her face softened in sympathy, but there was something in her gaze that made me feel like a caged animal. “Is everything alright in here?” she asked, her voice tentative.

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

The room felt like it was spinning, the lights blurring at the edges of my vision. I wanted to scream, to push everyone away. I wanted them to leave me alone.

Just let me go.

Toji’s voice broke through the haze. “Get the staff to check on him. We need to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

I looked up at him, my vision blurring once again. “I’m fine,” I muttered, though I knew I wasn’t. I wasn’t fine. I hadn’t been fine in months.

Gojo took a step forward, his eyes narrowed, though the concern was still there. “Sukuna… Don’t do this. You know they’re just trying to help you.”

But it didn’t feel like help. It felt like a trap. A cage.

I looked around the room again, my mind screaming for a way out. But there was no escape. Not now. Not here.

I stood there frozen, my chest tight, heart pounding in my ears.

I need to get out.

Every part of me screamed to run, but I couldn’t even move my legs. It was like they were chained to the floor, heavy, useless.

The nurse, who had stepped back to give some space, looked at me with sympathy in her eyes, but it wasn’t the kind of sympathy I wanted.

I didn’t want anyone’s pity.

I wanted to be left the hell alone.

Gojo stepped closer, his gaze firm but tinged with something softer beneath the surface. "Sukuna... don’t make this harder than it has to be," he said, his voice steady, though I could tell he was trying to keep his own frustration in check. I could feel the tension radiating off of him and Toji, both of them not budging an inch. The walls were closing in. There was no way out.

I finally broke my silence, my voice rough, like it was being dragged out of me. "You don’t get it," I spat. “I don’t need your fucking help. I need to get out. I don’t belong here.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t back off. "Yeah, well, we’ve all been there. But that’s not what’s happening now, Sukuna." He shot a glance at Toji, who was still silently standing guard, his arms crossed, a sharp look in his eyes. "You don’t get a say in this. You’re going to the psych ward."

My chest tightened further at the words.

Psych ward.

The idea of being stuck in there, being forced to confront all this… pain, this guilt, this fucking endless spiral of shit—it made my stomach churn. The walls of the room seemed to get even tighter, the air thinner.

“No.” I gritted out, voice low and trembling with anger. “I won’t go.”

Toji’s hand landed on my shoulder again, the pressure grounding but suffocating at the same time. "You’re not in a position to make demands right now, Sukuna," he said, his voice surprisingly calm, but the weight of his words hit me like a punch in the gut.

I tried to jerk away from him, but my body betrayed me. My muscles were too weak, too drained.

I couldn’t fight back anymore.

Yuuji stepped forward, his voice breaking through the tension in the room. “Please, Sukuna,” his eyes were filled with raw emotion. "I don’t want to lose you. You’ve gotta let us help you.”

I looked at him, and it felt like a knife was twisting in my chest. Yuuji was my brother—he had every right to be angry, to be upset. But I couldn’t handle his concern, his desperate need for me to be something I couldn’t be. Something I didn’t know how to be anymore.

He doesn’t understand.

"I don’t need your help, Yuuji," I muttered, the words tasting bitter as they left my mouth. "I’m just a fucking mess. I’m not who you think I am."

Yuuji flinched like I’d slapped him, and I immediately regretted saying it. But it was too late. The damage was done.

Toji’s voice broke the silence again, more forceful this time. “You need to face the truth, Sukuna. You’ve been running from it for too long. All of us have seen it. We’re not going to let you destroy yourself anymore. Not like this.”

I stared at Toji, fury mixing with a deep, hollow emptiness inside me. “And what if I don’t want to be saved, huh? What if I don’t give a shit anymore?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. I could see it in their eyes. They were worried. They were angry. But most of all, they were disappointed. And I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear the idea of letting them down.

I turned my back to them, stepping toward the far side of the room, a tear slipping from my eye that I didn’t even realize had fallen.

I had no place to go.

I didn’t know what I was even fighting for anymore.

Kenjaku’s voice came then, steady and calm, the kind of tone that always felt like he was looking at me like I was some puzzle he hadn’t figured out yet. "You’re going, Sukuna. It’s not up for discussion. Do you think this is some kind of joke?"

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breath, trying to stop the world from spinning. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to face this. I didn’t want to be seen.

But they weren’t leaving me any choice.

“I’m not going to make it out of this,” I muttered, almost to myself. “I can’t.”

But no one heard me. They were already planning, already moving in to take control of my life. And I hated it. I hated feeling this powerless.

I couldn’t run. I couldn’t hide anymore.

“I swear, if you force this on me, I’ll make it my mission to be worse off,” I spat, my voice shaking with equal parts defiance and exhaustion. The words echoed in the room like a dare, and for a moment, no one said anything.

I didn’t even see Choso walk in.

The first thing I felt was his fist slamming into my face, my head snapping to the side from the force of it. Pain exploded across my cheek, and before I could process it, another hit followed, sharper, harder.

“You’re so determined to kill yourself? Then do it, Sukuna!” Choso’s voice roared, loud enough to drown out the sound of blood rushing in my ears. His breath was ragged, his face twisted in fury.

The pain from Choso’s fist hitting my face was sharp, but it was almost a relief. It snapped me out of the haze I’d been sinking into. I staggered back, feeling the sting of the impact across my cheek. My head throbbed, and for a moment, all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. But his words, those cut deeper than any punch ever could.

“You’re worthless. You don’t mean shit.”

It was like the truth was slapping me in the face over and over again, and for the first time in weeks, I let myself feel it.

Finally, someone who understands.

I stood there, dazed, not sure how to react. I was pissed, but part of me felt... liberated by the anger Choso had thrown at me. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was beyond saving. Maybe all this fucking pain and guilt I kept drowning myself in... was deserved.

Was I really just wasting everyone’s time?

I looked at Choso, who was standing there, his fists clenched at his sides, his chest heaving with the emotion that mirrored mine. There was something cold and final in his gaze, a kind of resignation I couldn’t ignore.

"You think you’re the only one hurting?" Choso’s voice was low, but there was a tremor in it, like he was holding back more than just anger. "You think you’re the only one who’s lost someone? You’re not. But you’re fucking pathetic if you think you’re the only one with a reason to fall apart."

His words hit harder than the punch, and for a second, it felt like I was being gutted. He was right. Everyone was hurting—Yuuji, Choso, all of them. And here I was, selfishly drowning in my own misery, shutting them out.

But then, something twisted in my gut.

I didn’t care.

I couldn’t care about their pain when I didn’t even know how to handle my own anymore. Why should I fix myself for them?

"You don’t get it," I spat, trying to steady myself, but my legs were shaky, and my head was still reeling from the blow. "You think I give a shit about any of that? I don’t. I’m done pretending."

Choso took a step closer, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper. “Then do it. End it. I won’t stop you. But don’t expect anyone to fucking care when you do.”

The words hit hard—harder than they should’ve, because they forced me to think about everything.

What if I really did end it?

What would they think? What would Yuuji think? What about... Y/N?

Would she be better off without me?

The thought lingered, and I felt a hollow pit open up in my chest. The anger that had surged through me now dulled, leaving a cold emptiness behind.

I wanted to fight back. I wanted to snap at Choso, to tell him he was wrong, that he didn’t understand. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Because a part of me knew he was right.

I was at the edge, and I didn’t even know if I wanted to step back.

Toji, Gojo, and Kenjaku stayed silent for a moment, watching the exchange unfold. It was clear they didn’t want to get involved in this—this raw, ugly part of me that I tried so hard to hide from them. I wanted to break, wanted to shatter in front of them, but I couldn’t.

"You’re gonna regret this," I muttered, feeling the familiar spiral of helplessness and anger closing in again. "All of you. You’re gonna regret trying to save me."

Choso just stood there, his eyes unwavering, like he was daring me to push him away. "I don’t give a shit if you regret it or not, Sukuna," he said, voice cold. "But know this: you’ll never be free if you keep running from everything, including yourself."

The room was quiet for a moment as those words hung in the air, heavy with truth. I wanted to scream, to shout that I didn’t need this shit, didn’t need any of them. But instead, I stood there, frozen, caught between the desire to escape and the reality that I didn’t know how to anymore.

It was like I was being torn apart, each side of me pulling in a different direction. One part of me wanted to run, to escape the people who cared too much, who expected too much. And the other part… the other part just wanted to be understood, to finally let go of the pain that had been eating at me for so long.

Maybe I was just too broken to be fixed.

Choso’s words echoed in my mind, and as much as I hated to admit it, they stuck with me. I couldn’t keep running.

The cold, sterile walls of the psych ward felt like they were closing in on me.

Two weeks.

Two weeks of confinement. Two weeks of therapy sessions that felt more like forced interrogations than healing.

I sat in the same shitty chair, staring at the therapist in front of me, who was droning on about my "emotions" and "coping mechanisms" like I actually gave a damn. Her voice was just background noise, blending into the constant ringing in my ears. The withdrawal symptoms were unbearable—my skin felt too tight, my stomach twisted into knots, and the restless energy in my veins made it impossible to sit still for long.

"You’ve been here for 24 hours, Sukuna," she said, tapping her pen against her notepad. "How are you feeling?"

How the fuck do you think I feel?

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my composure, but the sharp ache in my chest threatened to spill over. "I feel like shit," I muttered, shifting in my seat, wishing for a fucking cigarette. Anything to take the edge off.

She didn’t flinch. “What’s bothering you the most right now?”

Everything.

The question was almost laughable. The cravings, the guilt, the loneliness... the constant feeling of being trapped in my own mind. But I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing all that.

“I just wanna go,” I said, my voice low, desperate. “I need to get out of here.”

She scribbled something on her notepad, her expression neutral. “I understand that this is difficult, but you’re here for your own safety, Sukuna. You’ve made it clear that you’ve been struggling with self-destructive behavior and substance abuse. We need to work through that.”

I rolled my eyes, though my hands were trembling slightly, betraying me. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard this shit before.”

The therapist leaned forward, her voice soft but firm. “Have you been feeling any suicidal thoughts since you arrived here?”

The question hit like a punch to the gut, the reminder of how far I’d fallen in such a short time.

Am I still suicidal?

I didn’t know anymore. The numbness in my chest made it hard to feel anything at all, but the constant pull to just give in, to end it all, never fully left.

“I don’t know,” I finally muttered, trying to avoid her gaze. “Maybe. I just wanna get out.”

Her silence was suffocating, as though she was trying to read into every word, every movement. “I know it’s tough right now,” she said, breaking the stillness. “But the important thing is that you’re here. You’re taking the first step toward getting better.”

Better?

The thought was almost laughable. Could I ever really get better?

I didn’t respond. Instead, I looked at the clock on the wall, counting down the seconds until this session would finally be over.

Two weeks. I can’t do two weeks.

Just as the session was about to end, I leaned forward, my voice almost pleading. “Listen, I don’t need therapy, I just need to get out. I don’t belong here.”

The therapist didn’t even flinch. She stood, signaling the end of the session. “I think we’re done for today. We’ll talk more tomorrow. And remember, Sukuna, you’re not alone in this. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

I could feel the anger bubbling inside me again, but I swallowed it down.

I don’t need help.

I didn’t care what they thought or what they were trying to force on me. I wasn’t one of them. I wasn’t some broken kid looking for someone to fix him.

As I walked out of the room, I could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. The staff, the patients—everyone in this goddamn place. But it didn’t matter.

I’m not staying here.

I was already planning my escape.

I walked into the common area, the sterile, off-white walls feeling like they were closing in on me with every step. The soft hum of fluorescent lights above, the distant murmurs of people talking, the occasional clink of something being set down—it all felt so... lifeless.

I could see a few patients scattered around the room, some playing cards, others half-heartedly flipping through magazines. The smell of disinfectant mixed with the faint scent of sweat from someone who had probably been in this place too long. I hated it here. Everything about it. But I had no choice. Not yet.

I could head over to the piano in the corner, its dark wood calling to me with a promise of something familiar, something I could lose myself in. But the idea of sitting there, forcing my fingers to move across the keys in some mechanical way—it didn't feel right. The music wasn't a relief anymore, just another reminder of everything I used to enjoy before I fucked it all up.

I glanced at the group of people in the corner, playing cards. There was an older man who looked like he’d seen better days, a young woman with wild eyes who kept glancing at the clock, and a guy who looked like he had just crawled out of a hole—scruffy, disheveled, probably on something.

Do I really want to talk to them?

The answer was simple. No, I didn’t care about their stories, their issues. I was here because I had to be, not because I wanted to make friends with anyone who couldn’t get their shit together either. They all seemed like they were here for their own reasons, their own battles. And that’s all they were to me—battles. I didn’t need more.

Instead, I leaned against the wall and folded my arms, staring out the window at the dull, overcast sky. It felt like everything was bleeding together, just a blur of nothingness. I was just another fuck-up, stuck in the same cycle, same pain.

I was still trying to figure out how I ended up here, why the hell I had to be the one to go through this.

Then, I heard the shuffle of footsteps behind me.

Fuck.

I didn’t need anyone talking to me right now. I didn’t want to deal with anyone, least of all some well-meaning idiot who thought they could help me. But when I turned around, I saw her.

It was Y/N. Her presence hit me like a punch to the chest.

She didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, her gaze locked on me. The last time I saw her... well, it wasn’t good.

What the hell was she doing here?

I swallowed hard, the dryness in my throat making it even harder to breathe. She looked the same, just as beautiful as always, but there was something in her eyes—something that made it impossible for me to hide from the weight of everything I had done.

"You're here..." I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N stood there for a moment, her eyes searching mine, like she was trying to figure out whether I was even worth talking to. I couldn’t blame her—who in their right mind would want to deal with someone like me?

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, her gaze dropped to the floor, and I could see the hesitation in her posture. She was torn between walking away and facing the wreck that I had become. I didn’t deserve her attention, not now, not after everything. I could feel myself spiraling again, that familiar pull to shut everything down, to turn it all off.

But then she spoke.

"I came to see how you're doing." Her voice was quiet, soft, almost like she was afraid of what she'd find. "I heard about what happened... after you left."

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the way her words hit me. She didn’t get it.

No one gets it.

"You shouldn't have come," I muttered, shaking my head. "You should be anywhere but here, Y/N. I’m a fucking mess, and you don't need to be around for any of this."

She took a step closer, her expression unwavering, like she didn’t believe a single word I was saying. "I’m here because... because I care," she said, each word laced with a kind of tenderness I didn’t deserve. "And I think you know that."

Care?

I almost laughed at the thought.

How could she care about me when I couldn’t even care about myself?

"Don’t, Y/N. Don’t do this," I said, my voice shaking despite my best effort to sound indifferent. "You can’t save me. No one can. I’m too far gone for that."

She was quiet for a beat, and I could see the conflict in her eyes—the desire to help me, to pull me out of this dark hole I’d dug myself into, and the realization that maybe she was too late. But then she spoke again, this time with more conviction.

"I’m not trying to save you," she said. "I just want you to know that you’re not alone. No matter how fucked up everything is, you don’t have to face it by yourself. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

I couldn’t breathe. The words hit me harder than anything else had since I’d been locked in this place. I didn’t deserve her loyalty. I didn’t deserve any of this. But here she was, standing in front of me, offering something I wasn’t sure I could accept.

"You don’t have to do this," I said again, my voice almost pleading. "You don’t owe me anything."

She shook her head. "I’m not doing it because I owe you, Sukuna. I’m doing it because... I want to."

There was a long silence between us. The kind of silence that made everything in the room feel impossibly heavy, like the weight of my past was suffocating me. I didn’t know what to say to her. I didn’t know if I could even let myself believe she was serious.

But in that moment, as I stood there, trying to process everything she had just said, I realized something I hadn’t let myself acknowledge before.

Maybe she was the one thing I could hold onto.

But I couldn’t say that. Not yet.

I turned away, rubbing my face with both hands, trying to clear the clouded thoughts in my head. I couldn’t get caught up in this. I couldn’t let her in, not after everything I’d done.

"I don’t know what you want from me," I muttered, my voice barely audible. "But I’m not gonna get better. Not like this. Not here."

She didn’t respond right away, but I could feel her standing there, still watching me. I could almost hear the thoughts racing through her mind, trying to figure out the next move. I didn’t make it easy for her, did I?

"You don’t have to be perfect," she finally said, her voice quiet but steady. "You just have to try. And you have to let people help you. You don’t have to do this alone."

I closed my eyes, fighting the tightness in my chest. My hand gripped the edge of the piano, and I tried to steady myself, not wanting to let the weight of her words drag me under. But it was getting harder to keep pretending that I didn’t care.

She really did care.

And maybe—just maybe—I needed to start caring too.

When I opened my eyes again, she was still there, waiting for me to say something, anything. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, I looked at her and nodded, though I didn’t say a word. It was all I could do.

Maybe this was the first step. And maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t completely beyond saving.

Y/N’s expression faltered for a brief moment, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. She just stared at me, her eyes searching for any sign of weakness, some crack in the armor I was desperately trying to keep up. But I wouldn’t let her see it. Not now.

Her jaw tightened, and for a split second, I thought she might argue. I thought she might try to push through whatever wall I’d just erected. But instead, she nodded slowly, as though my words had made some kind of final sense.

Maybe she finally realized that I was too far gone.

"I’m not gonna fight you on this, Sukuna," she said quietly. Her voice had lost its softness, the warmth draining out of it as if I had sucked all of it out. "But if you ever change your mind... if you ever stop pushing everyone away..." Her voice cracked slightly, but she cleared her throat, steadying herself. "You know where to find me."

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

I just watched as she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing in the quiet of the room.

Good. Let her go.

The moment she left, the weight in my chest didn’t lift. If anything, it grew heavier. But I didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t.

I’d pushed her away, just like I’d pushed everyone else away.

But what if I really did need her?

No.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking the thought from my mind. I couldn’t afford to think like that. Not now. Not when everything was falling apart.

Maybe one day I’d wake up and realize I made the wrong choice. But that was a problem for future Sukuna. Right now, I need to get through the day.

I walked over to the piano, my fingers grazing the keys. My body was aching, the withdrawal pulling at me, making every movement feel like it took twice as much effort as it should. But I kept going. I had no other choice.

I couldn’t afford to care. Not about her. Not about anything.

I got up from the piano after a long moment of playing

I needed a smoke, anything to take the edge off. I was approached by this weird chick. I think I know her from high school.

Selene.

She strolled up to me with her bubbly ass voice. “I got the plug in here.” I smiled “ In here people are dealing shit. Wild shit. What you got?” “Whatever you need.” She watched me with a smile.

I found myself sitting there in her room, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls, I could feel the rush of anticipation building in me.

I’d hit rock bottom a thousand times before, but this felt different.

A part of me told me that I was spiraling deeper, that this wasn’t just a bad habit anymore—it was my new reality. But I didn’t care.

Selenr was sitting on the bed, her hands busy with something I didn’t quite pay attention to. She was talking, but I barely registered the words, too focused on the dull ache in my muscles and the gnawing emptiness inside me that only the thought of drugs could fill.

She said whatever you need, and I needed something to take the edge off.

I let my fingers drum absently against my thigh, my eyes trained on her as she pulled out the little bag and spread the contents on the table. She looked at me, a smirk on her lips.

"You sure you want to go down this road?" she asked, a playful tone in her voice. But there was a look in her eyes—something knowing, like she could see through the mask I wore every damn day.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. She could see it too—the exhaustion, the desperation, the parts of me that had long given up.

Selene knew the deal.

We’d crossed paths before, back in high school. We never really hung out, but I knew her type—dangerous, alluring, and always just a step away from trouble.

She slid me a couple Xanax in front of me, and I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed it, the familiar coolness of the tablet comforting in my hand.

"You should really think about rehab," she said, her voice suddenly serious, cutting through the fog of my thoughts.

I chuckled darkly, shaking my head. "And do what? Sit around and pretend everything’s fine?" My words came out sharp, but the pain underneath them felt deeper than any of the substances I could take.

What the hell was I supposed to fix?

She didn’t answer. Instead, she just sat there, watching me with those cold eyes, her own hands working to prepare the next dose. There was a tension in the room now, like the air was thick with the weight of everything I was avoiding—everything I had been avoiding for so long.

I popped the pill in my mouth without a second thought, the bitterness lingering in my throat as I swallowed.

For a second, the world stopped spinning.

The tightness in my chest eased, the gnawing anxiety slipping away as the drugs started to work their magic. I leaned back against the bed, letting the wave of relief wash over me. Everything was quieter now. I didn’t feel the need to think. I didn’t feel the need to be anything other than numb.

Selene looked at me, her lips curling into a satisfied grin. "There you go," she said softly. "See? It’s not so bad."

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The Xanax was already working its way through my system, leaving a dull haze in its wake.

Maybe I didn’t need to fix anything. Maybe it was easier to stay broken.

As I sat there, fading in and out of lucidity, I thought about Y/N again.

I shouldn’t have pushed her away.

But it was too late now, wasn’t it? I didn’t deserve her, not with the mess I’d become.

And yet, that thought lingered—like a whisper in the back of my mind

As I leaned in and kissed Selene, something about it felt off—yet familiar.

Maybe it was the Xanax, or maybe it was the desperate need to feel something, anything that wasn’t the weight of my own brokenness.

Her lips were soft, and for a second, everything seemed quieter. The chaos, the guilt, the voices in my head—they all faded into the background, leaving just the feeling of her against me.

She kissed me back, but it wasn’t passionate or full of fire. It was numb, like we were both just going through the motions, seeking solace in something temporary. I couldn't help but wonder if she felt the same way, if this kiss was just another escape for her too.

I pulled away, breathless, but not from desire. From the haze. The drug was starting to sink deeper into my system, and my head was swirling in a way that made everything seem surreal.

"You're not even here, are you?" Selene whispered, a slight smile playing on her lips, as if she could see right through me.

I didn’t answer, just stared at her, barely registering her words.

What the fuck was I doing?

This wasn’t who I was. Or maybe it was. Maybe the version of me that existed now was just a reflection of my choices. My actions.

I stood up, stepping back from her, trying to shake off the fog that had settled over me.

I wasn’t supposed to be here, not like this.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice a little softer now, a little more concerned.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I moved towards the door, my legs unsteady as I tried to walk it off. I felt a strange urgency, like I needed to be somewhere, anywhere but here.

I couldn’t stay here with her. Not when I couldn’t even face myself.

I stumbled out into the hallway, leaving Selene behind. The high was starting to wear off, and with it came the reality of what I was running from.

Fuck this shit. Screw everything. I didn’t know how to fix myself.

I trudged back to my room, the sterile walls closing in around me as I stepped inside. The quiet was suffocating, and I hated it. No distractions, no escape, just the sound of my own breath and the distant hum of the building.

I looked around, trying to find something—anything—that could give me some sense of comfort, but all I saw was a bland, lifeless space that mirrored how I felt inside. I threw myself onto the bed, face-first into the pillow, wishing I could just disappear into the fabric, escape from everything that weighed on me.

I didn't even have my phone.

I hadn't realized until now how much I depended on it for distractions, to avoid the overwhelming silence. There was nothing here but me, my thoughts, and the suffocating guilt.

I tried to push it all away, close my eyes, and force myself to sleep, but the memories came flooding back—the loss of Jin, my grandfather, the people I pushed away, the mistakes I couldn’t undo. I was fucking drowning in it.

I let out a frustrated sigh and buried my face deeper into the pillow.

Why am I even still here?

Every part of me screamed to leave, to do something, anything, to break free from this place, from the weight of what I’d done to myself. But there was nowhere to run anymore.

The silence of the room pressed in around me, the guilt festering.

What did I even expect to happen?

I wanted to get out of here. I wanted to go back to the chaos, the distractions, the numbness. Anything to avoid the reality that I was falling apart. But I couldn't. Not yet.

And so, I lay there, feeling the walls close in on me, waiting for whatever came next—whether it was the release of sleep or the crushing weight of everything I'd lost.

#jjk x black reader #sukuna x black reader #sukuna angst #sukuna x female reader #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #black tumblr #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sherewrytes

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freakbabyy · 20 hours ago

Text

soft universe - Eris Vanserra x Princess!Reader Chapter Two

< chapter one | chapter two | chapter three >

2.561k words

warnings: mentions of neglect, smitten!eris

second chapter!!!! ty for reading, for the loves and reblogs and comments!!! I LOVE COMMENTS!!!

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Story preview: Y/N Erling - youngest descendent to the King of Vallahan, not special, youngest of seven girls and four boys, and certainly not next in line to the throne. A kind soul, free-natured, always does what's asked. Content with spending the rest of her fae life taking care of her nieces and nephews while her elder siblings dealt with court dealings. That was until they drew up an agreement - her hand in exchange for their agreement to the treaty with Prythian. Enter Eris Vanserra - new high lord who did not want a wife, nor a mate. Can they work it out together - under pressure from a blood rite, a language barrier, a culture barrier, and Eris' unfortunate attempts at flirting.

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chapter two - runaway

Eris’ POV

I wouldn’t say I was dreading meeting Y/N Erling; but I wouldn’t say I was ecstatic. I didn’t know anything about her, I didn’t want to be married this fast, and I surely didn’t want to do a blood ritual and potentially put myself in danger - or my future heirs. But here I was, standing outside of Rhysand’s townhouse picking my cuticles – a nervous tick I’ve had since a child. What if she was insufferable? What if she was annoying, or would try and overthrow me to get Vallahan more land? Kill the remaining allies I have, which were few and far between before I married someone from Vallahan.

“What’re we looking at?” I jumped, not realizing that the Illyrian brute had snuck up on me.

“Nothing.” I snapped back, motioning for him to go first as I followed, we were most likely going to the same place. Rhysand’s office. “Haven’t you heard its rude to sneak up on people?”

“I didn’t exactly sneak up; I’m surprised you didn’t hear me land right beside you.” Cassian took a stop in the kitchen, “I’ll catch up with you in Rhy’s office, I need some food first – Az kicked my ass in training.”

I didn’t reply, simply walking down the decorated hall before ascending the stairs. I knew where I was going, often meeting Rhy’s for our own meetings here when needed. Though, a lot less lately since Beron was dealt with. Following the hand painted portraits on the walls, I stopped when I heard a sound out of place.

It was almost too quiet to hear, but the cracked door let the sound out – a humming. I felt compelled to stop, to listen. I doubted it was Morrigan, she was too loud to be this quiet, the soft tone of the hums clearly establishing it was a female. Amren didn’t sing, and if she did it would be a battle hymn. It wasn’t Feyre – she was with Nesta and Elain; I passed them as I entered. That didn’t leave anyone other than Y/N, unless it was one of the shadow wraiths.

“And I was running far away, would I run off the world some day? Nobody knows, nobody knows.” A female stood in the middle of the room with hair that looked as soft as a feather. She was facing away from the door, her body seemingly relaxed and holding something close. “And I was dancing in the rain, I felt alive, and I can’t complain, oh,”

She swayed back and forth, getting into the song it seemed. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her form to take in the rest of the room, but when she turned and was staring down at what she was holding I knew. She was singing a lullaby to the small bundle that was Prince Nyx, cuddling him to her chest singing as if it was her favorite thing in the world to rock him to sleep. Her eyes, which were sparkling like gemstones were no longer staring at the sleeping prince, but now at the window. She continued to sing her haunting melody, and I continued to listen.

“Take me home, take me home where I belong,” Her stare was longing almost, and her voice was hauntingly beautiful, falling from her plush lips with ease as she didn’t even appear out of breath; like it was second nature. “I got no other place to go, take me home, take me home where I belong; I can’t take it anymore.”

The more the song went on, the more I couldn’t bring myself to look away and the more it took for me to remember to breathe. Her song continued, as she slowly lowered the prince into his wooden crib, kissing her fingertips before lightly brushing them against the small amount of black hair atop his head. He fussed, but only for a moment before she started to sing more – even more angelic as she began to dance.

Her movements were slow, as if she were performing for the prince instead of lulling him to sleep. She twirled in a circle slowly, her eyes closed, as she tilted her head to the ceiling – twirling so much grace it had to of been second nature. My head tilted as well, watching her mesmerized. I was unsure why it was pulling me in, why she was pulling me in – until it happened.

“And I kept running, for a soft place to fall-” She continued, and I was sure the young prince was asleep by now although she kept singing. When she stopped in her tracks and stared outside the window once more and a dreamy smile graced her lips, as it snapped.

I physically had to clench my teeth to stop myself from making a sound, holding onto my tunic as emotions flooded my entire being – warmth being the most prominent one. Her singing faded into the background; my eyes blurred as I tried to focus on a single thing to no avail. I held the doorframe, turning and sliding down the wall beside the door landing on my knees as I had realized what just happened.

“Incredible, huh?” A voice startled me out of my stupor, as I stood quickly to brush my trousers off.

“What?” I shook my head, staring up at the Illyrian brute eating half a sandwich still.

“Her ability to get Nyx down so fast, it takes anyone else like an hour to get him to stop fussing enough to give in to sleep.” The long-haired male patted my shoulder before I followed him into Rhy’s office, still feeling my heart beating in my ears. “Nervous for the meeting, bud?”

“No.” I cleared my throat, straightening my hands to stop them from fidgeting and betraying me in my lie. “And I’m not your bud, Cassian.”

He shrugged as he shouldered the door to Rhysand’s office open, inside was Morrigan, Azriel, Rhysand, Feyre and Nesta. When had those two snuck pasts me to go into the office? Rhysand pointed to one of the open chairs, where someone wasn’t sitting. I chose the one in the corner as usual.

“Good morning, Eris. How’s high lord life treating you?” Rhysand started conversation as usual, too.

“Oh, just a blast, like unicorns prancing through meadows.” I drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm before rolling my eyes and speaking once more. “It’s rough right now, I just had to gather a completely new advisory council after one member was trying to bribe guards to not tell me his crimes Beron had hidden.”

“What were the crimes?” The shadowsinger questioned, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Four counts of arson, three counts of treason, and eleven counts of illegal prostitution.” Cassian choked on his sandwich, to which Nesta took the rest of and gave him a look before finishing it.

“Well, isn’t that lovely of him, I do wonder if those were recent or not – from my memory Beron’s advisors are- were all dirt old.” Rhysand shuttered as Feyre spoke.

“Very recent, and they were.” A few others shuttered at the thoughts, as I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I do believe we should get this over with. I have many meetings later on in the afternoon to deal with that.”

“Ah, of course; though there are some things first we should talk about before we introduce you to Y/N.” He motioned to his cousin, as Morrigan took over.

“First things first, she’s a lot younger than we anticipated.”

“You’re not making me a baby snatcher, are you? Because if that’s the case-”

“She’s of age! She’s 23. She’s mature for her age, too – I've known her for a couple years and I swore she was at least 100.” Morrigan reassured me, if only a little. “More importantly, she isn’t fluent in Prythian common tongue. She doesn’t know basic mathematics, and she doesn’t know much about geography.”

“What does she know? I thought she was royalty? Aren’t the royalty overseas generally very well educated?” Rhysand spoke next, an almost solemn look on his face.

“They are. They just didn’t educate her. She’s the eleventh child – and mostly forgotten about by her parents. Her siblings were much older than her and had other obligations to attend to. In short – she was practically neglected.” He took a breath, “She was basically the live-in nanny. She took care of her sibling's children and gave up her career and future for that – just because they asked.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She didn’t have a choice. Either that or become forgotten again. I know you heard her on your way up, yes?” Feyre questioned, a sparkle in her eye. I nodded. “She was going to be a theatre performer. She did orchestra and loved plays. Her dancing rivals Nesta’s. Nyx enjoys her voice, and she enjoys taking care of him.”

That explains the dancing and singing in the nursery, her expertise in dancing and singing were definitely not unnoticed.

“She was forced to take care of children, and now you have her taking care of yours?”

“She volunteered. Practically jumping up and down when she asked to hold him.” Rhysand smiled, a knock resounding from the door, bouncing around the room.

“Ah it is me!” The thick broken accent spoke from the other side, slightly muffled from the thick wood of the door.

“Yes, come in.” Rhysand responded, as Cassian leaned towards me,

“Don’t panic if she falls to the floor. She does that sometimes,” He smiled before slapping my shoulder again, and I was even more confused. Giving me advice? Is he trying to be my wingman?

“Wait, what?” I questioned, his sentence sinking in. If she collapses? I stood abruptly as the door swung open slowly,

“Sorry. This is heavy.” She said, pushing the door shut after entering. She walked towards where the empty seat was, holding her hands clasped together behind her, holding a small soft smile and bowed her head to everyone. “Elain told me to visit, I here.”

Rhysand smiled, Morrigan giving a thumbs up in encouragement – as I turned to look at her fully, she adorned a simple gown with an apron, it had slight stains on it – accompanied by a small shovel in her pocket. She gardened? Her feet were in simple flats, and her hair was in a comfortable hairstyle.

“Y/N, this is Eris Vanserra, Eris, this is Y/N Erling.” Immediately she straightened up.

Her hands letting go of each other and rejoining in front of her, wringing together. Her brows shot up, furrowing, as she glanced to Feyre. She looked from Feyre to my feet. Then back to Feyre. Feyre smiled a bit but then nodded while stifling an amused look. Before I could even stick my hand out for a greeting, she was on the floor. I heard the audible ‘thunk’ as either her head, or body hit the floor. I was thinking the lather as everyone else made a face.

“I told you,” Cassian whispered loudly behind me, and I was unsure what to do.

“You can get up, Y/N.” Nesta spoke, as she clambered up. Nesta drawled on as if this was her hundredth time saying it. “It’s how her custom shows respect. Lower the more respect.”

“Oh,” Her bowing her head to everyone made sense now, I bowed my head as well, glancing up to make sure it was okay, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

“You, too.” She stuck her hand out, “I do your custom now.”

“Ah,” I agreed, unsure what else to do, and went to shake her own hand. She looked baffled after, “Did I do something wrong...?”

“You shake wrong.”

“I- what?” I could hear muffled laughter followed by a slap behind me,

“Here, I teach. Hand.” I complied, sticking my hand out, as she grasped my top two fingers before bringing my hand up and down. “See?”

I was confused but nodded anyway. Where did she learn that? It must be another Vallahan custom perhaps.

“That’s how she shook Cassian’s hand, and no one had the heart to correct her.” A voice spoke inside my head, and I gave Rhysand a curious look.

“Well now that that’s over with, why don’t we talk about when you two would meet next, and where. Did you want to stay here, or?” Rhysand questioned, looking back and forth between us, as I went to agree she spoke up.

“Can we meet there?”

“Where?” Morrigan questioned, speaking in Vallahan.

“Autumn?” Y/N responded also in her native tongue, turning to me and looking me in the eye, “I am sorry, I do not know the word.”

“No need to apologize, it’s alright. We can help you learn now.” I did my best reassuring smile, which was probably more of a smirk, and turned to Morrigan. “What did she say?”

“She... actually asked to go to Autumn.” I was shocked. Surely, she wanted to stay somewhere she was comfortable already, since she was just pulled from her home? “Is Autumn stable enough to visit for an hour or two?”

“It is in some places. I can take her on a nature walk? Do you enjoy the woods?” I directed the question to Y/N, and she looked a bit puzzled.

“He wants to know if you want to see Autumn’s nature? I’m sure you can find some flowers native to Autumn there.” Feyre translated, and she seemed to perk up.

“Oh! I like flowers. Yes.” She said the answer to me, and at her excited face – her wide eyes and even wider smile I felt my heart do a couple flips.

“Great. Then it’s settled. Autumn, should we say two days from now? Noon-ish?” Feyre confirmed, glancing more at me for the time.

“I can do one o’clock. I have an early meeting that may run late to noon.”

“Wonderful. See you then.” Rhysand nodded once in confirmation, as I stood to leave, and bid farewell before making my way to the door.

“Ah, wait!” I turned, stopping myself from winnowing by the Sidra. It was Y/N, a bit out of breath from running down the stairs.

“Yes, princess?”

“Here, my custom.” She had me hold my hand open before she dropped something into it, closing my fingers around it with her tiny hands – and I had hoped mine hadn’t started sweating with nerves. “We give handmade stone to other.”

“Handmade stone?” I opened my fingers to look at a bright orange crystal, it was shaped as a tiny animal. Upon further inspection, it was a tiny fox. “What is it?”

“Sunstone,” She moved my hand, so it glistened in the sun, becoming even brighter. “It brings good luck and energy. For you.”

I was touched. She hadn’t even met me yet, and she already made me something handmade. She took her hand back, and picked up a rock from the sidra, it was already fox shaped – probably chiseled already and cooling off in the river, she cupped her hands around it before squeezing. When she let go, it was another orange fox, but smaller. She placed it also in my hand, smiling again.

“Now he has friend.” I took her hand in mine, clasping the foxes in the other, and bend my head to lay a kiss on the back of her hand, lingering. She turned the color of Morrigan’s shirt today, a deep crimson,

“Thank you.” I let go, and before disappearing, I turned once more. “See you in two days.”

“Ah, goodbye. Two days.”

-----

eek! im so excited to write more of this series and im so glad you guys like it too!

taglist: @bxm-2121 @itsxchar6 @iambored24601 @sparksandstarss @an-introverted-nishinoyasimp

#acotar #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader smut #eris acotar #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar fandom

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hoo-n-i-ki · 14 hours ago

Text

Cold One. (Chapter 3)

Only when death looms do regrets surface.

PAIRING - Volturi!Riki x Cullen!fem!reader

GENRE - Twilight AU

CHAPTER WC - 7337

WARNINGS - Vampires, shapeshifters, graphic violence, cursing, plot heavy. Mentions of death + organized crime. Brief cameo of villain shapeshifter Enhypen. (This is a complete work of fiction and is in no way a representation of Riki or Enhypen).

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Once the shock wears off, Misora lunges at her brother.

At the Mind Stealer. At the most devastating angel—despite the eyes of a demon.

You watch as your new best friend moves, driven by over a century of pain. She slams into him with all her inhuman strength, knocking him back, snarling like a feral creature.

And the Volturi guard? He stands as he is, and takes it, despite the likelihood that he could overpower her.

“You left us!” She roars, but her voice is ragged. “We thought you were dead! We thought the Yakuza killed you after you stole all that blood money and left it on our doorstep!”

“I’m sorry.” His apology drips with sincerity. But his words fall onto deaf ears.

“But in reality—this is where you were? Off playing assassin for those parasites? Do you know what you did to mom? If you thought she lost it when she lost her husband, you should’ve seen her when she lost her son.” She laughs bitterly, a cackle so loud it sends the birds flying off the treetops. “She used up part of the money you left us to throw you an elaborate sōshiki, to honor you, and even though there was no body, she cried at your memorial stone for weeks.

“Weeks, Puppeteer, weeks!”

Misora starts screaming. Actual, gut-wrenching screams.

And him? If vampires could cry…

“Jasper, how about you calm her down?” Carlisle whispers to him on your side of the clearing.

“Let them keep going,” Edward interrupts. “He deserves it for using his power against Bella 19 years ago. Any Volturi bastard deserves it.”

“But he’s with us, now.” Carlisle says.

“No he isn’t. He’s with Misora. And…” Edward throws a momentary glance at you, almost contemplative or confused. But he doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I only left to protect you from myself, I swear—“

She punches him, square in the stony jaw.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare swear a single thing to me, because I’ll never believe you, anymore.” Her chest heaves. “You swore that our family would always be together. But guess what? You left. You’re not even the son our parents raised, anymore. Mom, dad, Konon, they’re all gone.” She lifts her arms in exasperation. “I was almost gone, and I was excited to finally see my big brother again, but I got hit with the curse that you so openly embrace.”

He kneels.

“Miso, please, hear me out.”

“I will never,” her voice breaks, “ever be your Miso again!”

She starts shouting in Japanese, but he simply watches with furrowed brows.

It’s like he… forgot his mother tongue during his time with the Volturi.

He lost his identity.

She keeps going. He keeps kneeling. The Cullens keep curiously watching.

And you keep wishing to intervene. But it’s not your place.

Until Misora’s voice tires, and finally stops. She stares at him for a while, heartbreak radiating off of her skin. She recognizes her brother, but she doesn’t know him at all.

She turns to re-enter the Cullen house, you follow her, and the Cullens follow you.

You turn to the angel one last time, and he’s still on his knees with his eyes cast downwards.

The family tries to calm down Misora by giving her a bag of O-.

“(Y/N)?” Esme turns to you with the second blood bag in hand.

You shake your head. You haven’t drank in a week. You feel weak, but you don’t wanna give in—not to human blood, at least.

There’s nothing wrong with you that you’re so unable to ingest animal blood, whereas the Cullens are able to.

Right?

“No, thank you. I wanna give animal blood a try again.”

Esme nods with a sympathetic smile. “Just drink this so you can be strong enough to hunt with us next time, then?”

You sigh and take it with a grateful nod.

A couple sips. Just a couple sips.

Hm.

It’s not as warm as it is fresh—straight from the source—but it still has the sweetness no deer or mountain lion can replicate.

Your fingers tighten around the bag and your fangs ache the more it floods every single one of your senses.

It’s an addiction, but you can control it. You can. You have to—because you refuse to relive that shame.

You tell yourself that this is just closure. Just one last drink. You certainly need it in more ways than one.

It’s just so easy.

But you’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’ve never chosen the easy way out—so when you’re done, you force yourself to pull it away for the final time, even as your throat burns as though it’s upset at saying goodbye.

Misora turns to you. “You’re sure you can do the deers with the sliminess in their blood?”

You trade a glance, and the two of you burst into miserable laughter.

“I’m not sure about anything, anymore,” you scoff.

The two of you sit in a distracted silence whilst the Cullens split off—washing away the remnants of the morning. So you take the opportunity to slip outside.

You weave your way through the trees, feet silent against the damp earth. Something in your gut tells you he’s still here. It’s not logic—it’s instinct. A quiet pull in your chest that you don’t quite understand. You don’t know why you’re doing this. You don’t know him. His scent isn’t familiar like the Cullens’ or Misora’s—it doesn’t pull at any memories or feelings of safety.

And yet, there’s something about him. Something magnetic. Something that urges you forward, despite every rational part of you telling you to turn back.

And then you see him.

Riki kneels at a small creek’s edge, staring into the water like it might hold all the answers he’s lost. His reflection wavers, distorted by the gentle current, but he doesn’t move. He’s unnervingly still—too still, even for a vampire. And his cloak is discarded on the ground, beside him.

For a moment, you just watch.

It’s strange, isn’t it? That you followed him here. That your feet carried you straight to him. You shouldn’t be here. He was sent to kill you, wasn’t he? And now, with Jane and Alec gone, the Volturi will come for him.

And that should scare you. It does scare you.

But you don’t turn away. Instead, you step closer.

“This place… it reminds me of home. There’s a creek behind our old neighborhood in Okayama. My sisters and I used to play there—before everything changed.”

He exhales sharply, gaze still fixed on the water.

He heard you… or maybe he felt your presence, the way you did his.

“Volterra isn’t like this. It’s stone and shadow. Cold. The only water runs through the underground tunnels, and it reeks of death.”

The sound of his voice settles into your bones the more he speaks—a deep, rich tenor that seems to hum through the air itself, and it lingers even after his words have faded.

Yet, when he speaks now, there’s a quietness to it, a vulnerability beneath the depth of his tone.

It shouldn’t be so mesmerizing. He shouldn’t be so mesmerizing.

But the way his voice brushes against your senses—it’s like gravity itself shifts, pulling you closer.

You smile softly as you near his side. “Misora never talked about her old life.”

He shrugs. “It was a tough life, I don’t blame her. And pretty sure I only ended up making it worse, no matter how much I thought I was doing good at the time.” He looks down for a couple of seconds, then back at the water. “I never spoke about it either.”

“Well, pretty sure the company you kept isn’t the type where you sit in a circle sharing secrets while you braid each other’s hair.”

He laughs.

It’s quiet at first—just a short exhale through his nose, like he’s caught off guard by the amusement creeping in. But then it deepens, a low, rich chuckle that rumbles from his chest and melts into the evening air. It’s unpolished, like he isn’t used to laughing anymore, like the sound itself has been buried beneath years of blood and duty.

And it’s… warm. Unexpectedly warm, considering everything about him should be cold. You shouldn’t be wondering how someone who has done such terrible things could sound so human when he laughs.

But you do.

He quiets down and continues. “Not just that. I didn’t want to remember, because I knew that the memories would never stop haunting me if I let myself dwell on the past. It worked… even though it was at the expense of everything I’d ever held dear to me. Until now.” He sticks a tongue in his cheek. “And now? It feels like I’m drowning in everything.”

You hesitate for a moment, studying him as he stares into the water, lost in something only he can see. His words hang between you, heavy and raw, like he’s only just realizing the weight of them himself.

And then, before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Why are you telling me this?”

His jaw flexes. For a second, you think he won’t answer. That maybe he regrets saying anything at all. But then, he exhales sharply through his nose and finally turns to look at you.

His eyes—so red, so beautiful, so unreadable—search yours like he’s trying to find the answer in them before he even speaks.

“I don’t know,” he admits, voice quieter now. “Maybe because you’re the only one who doesn’t look at me like I’m already damned.”

You nod thoughtfully, and turn to gaze at the waters, trying to see what he’s seeing.

If he was truly damned, he wouldn’t have betrayed the kings for the sake of love.

There’s humanity in there, somewhere. Perhaps you’ll be lucky enough to get to slowly uncover it as you uncover your own.

The silence you share is not awkward. It’s peace.

“You were right, by the way. I did hesitate. And maybe that cost me everything. But it feels like I gained something, instead.” He scoffs. “I definitely didn’t gain Misora back. Hell, I deserve everything she threw at me—because I don’t even know how to be a brother anymore. I just…”

You turn to face him fully, the weight of his words pressing into you. You can see the conflict in the tense set of his shoulders, the way his hands rest loosely at his sides, as if he’s unsure how to move forward.

“You got some closure?”

For a long moment, he doesn’t speak, doesn’t even move. His eyes flicker to yours, and when rubies meet bloodstains, there’s an intensity—something raw and searching.

His gaze holds you captive, and you’re not sure if you’re the one who’s getting pulled in or if it’s him. Maybe it’s both. It’s like the world itself has narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Maybe I’m just trying to figure out how to be someone who’s worth trusting again.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile. “She’ll come around. You just have to prove to her that she can trust you again. And hey, you have all the time in the world to do that, right?”

He chuckles dryly. “If Aro doesn’t kill me by tomorrow.” He shrugs. “I’m not sure she’ll be able to look past the past 200 years, though.”

“You might’ve known the Misora from back then, but I know the Misora now. I genuinely do believe she’ll forgive you one day. She might be cynical and great at holding a grudge, but she is crazy loyal. Just try to live long enough to see her loyalty, okay?” You try to laugh.

He smiles with those plump lips. “I was sent here to kill you. Why would you want me to live?”

You pause. Why indeed. “Because it would make my best friend happy, and you didn’t kill me, now did you?”

“Is that it?”

You both fall into a charged silence, and for a fleeting moment, the world feels like it’s holding its breath.

Something stirs inside you. Maybe it’s the lingering threat of danger, or maybe it’s the unspoken understanding between you two that you don’t know how to name.

You can’t hold his gaze for long. The intensity is too much, like it’s pulling you into some unknown abyss. Had you still had a beating heart, the pulse would thumping in your ears.

“I don’t know,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. The truth.

He nods slowly, eyes never leaving yours, and it’s as if he understands—like he knew you didn’t have an answer, but he needed to hear you say it. For a moment, there’s nothing but the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the soft gurgle of the creek before you.

Then, you both get the urge to move at the same time. As you do, your hand brushes against his, and it’s a fleeting touch, but it’s enough to send a jolt of electricity up your spine.

You don’t pull away immediately. Your eyes flicker down to where your fingers are lightly grazing against his skin. Riki’s eyes shift to your hand, then back to your face, his expression curious. But there’s something in the way his lips twitch upward, just slightly.

You pull your hand back, awkwardly, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The connection remains, thick in the air, heavy with unspoken words.

You both start walking, and you try to fill the silence, trying to let your mind wander away from the ending conversation you just had, but it keeps coming back.

“So,” you ask, breaking the quiet, “you planning to stick around at the Cullens’ place for a while?”

Riki scoffs, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he walks beside you. “Highly doubt Carlisle would let a Volturi into his home, even if his daughter does vouch for him.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not his daughter.”

The words are out before you even think about them. But then they land heavier than you expect. You hadn’t really thought about what it meant to not have parents ever since you entered your… current state.

You slow your step, the sudden weight of the memory crashing into you. Your parents. Their deaths. The vampires who took them from you. What would they think of you now? What would they think of where you are, who you’ve become—who you’re standing next to?

The thought is suffocating, and it almost stops you in your tracks.

Riki’s footsteps falter slightly beside you, and when you glance at him, his gaze is far off, focused on nothing in particular. His brow furrows in quiet thought.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I can’t help but wonder what my parents would think of me. If they could see me now…” His voice trails off, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you once again. You’re sharing something, without ever having to say it.

You understand that neither of you can change the past, can undo what’s been done. But you both have to keep going.

You force yourself to shake off the dark thought and turn your attention back to Riki, the smile creeping back onto your lips. “Don’t worry about it. Carlisle’s good with lost causes. You’ll fit right in.”

He glances at you, that same quiet amusement flickering in his gaze.

But it falls once you step up to the edge of the property. You follow his gaze—to where his sister sits in the living room, exposed by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“On second thought, I’ll go occupy myself with something else.” He gulps. “Thank you for your… kindness.”

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Riki walks away, and he doesn’t stop until the lights of the Cullen house disappear behind the trees.

It’s better this way—that’s what he tells himself.

But the weight in his chest doesn’t agree.

He tells himself Misora is safer without him, that she’s better off not facing the repercussions of what he’s done. He tells himself he didn’t leave because he was afraid of her reaction to seeing him again.

But that’s a lie.

He is afraid.

He saw the way she looked at him. That uncertain betrayal, like she was trying to make sense of the person in front of her. Like she didn’t recognize him.

Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she never will again.

Because the brother she remembers—the one who looked out for her, protected her, stayed by her side—he doesn’t exist anymore.

The person standing here now?

He’s a murderer.

The words taste like blood, metallic and bitter.

He doesn’t regret it. Alec and Jane deserved to die.

But the Volturi won’t see it that way, because they don’t care the way he does. The members of the Volturi all have their mates with them, and that’s all that matters to them.

He’s never had a mate… but today struck him with the loneliness and seclusion he’s been in for 200 years, and when faced with impending death, he wishes he went about everything differently.

They’ll come for him. That much is certain. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. But eventually.

No one kills the Guard and walks away unscathed. Not even the Volturi’s most prized possession. In fact, they’ll probably be more eager to kill him, considering his position.

He knows too much.

So why does he still feel like he lost something else, tonight, besides his life?

He exhales sharply, shaking his head.

Misora will be fine. The Cullens will protect her.

And (Y/N)…

His steps falter.

Her face flashes through his mind—eyes steady, voice unyielding. She spoke to him like he’s a person. Not just the boogie monster of vampires. He’s been somebody else for centuries, now, but for a moment… he felt like Riki Nishimura.

He laughed.

She looked at him like he was more than just his sins. Like there was still something left worth saving.

Stupid.

He scoffs under his breath, pressing forward. She’s just a reckless newborn. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She doesn’t know him.

And yet, that brief moment with her is the only thing that doesn’t feel tainted by the rest of tonight.

His fingers twitch at his sides.

Stupid, reckless, exquisite newborn.

But none of it matters.

Not her. Not Misora. Not this useless ache in his chest.

Because soon, the Volturi will come for him.

And when they do, there won’t be anything left of him to mourn.

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Morning light filters through the trees outside, casting soft, shifting patterns on the Cullen house’s pristine walls. The peace feels deceptive—something you haven’t had since turning.

And then Rosalie, standing by the door, lets out a sharp breath.

“You’re going to want to see this,” she says, unfolding a piece of parchment.

It’s the blood-red V emblem imprinted into the wax seal. It’s the same logo on the letter itself.

You’ve seen it before, months ago in Carlisle’s office.

Back then, it was a warning about the tiger shifters. A very vague warning, because there’s nothing actually in it for them. It wouldn’t have affected them or their authority if the Cullens were killed by the Baekho clan.

This letter, though, leaves no room for interpretation.

“To the Cullen Family,

It has come to our attention that one of our own has chosen to defy us. Riki, a member of the Volturi Guard, has committed an unforgivable transgression. The breach of our laws cannot go unpunished.

We understand that he may be under your protection, but we warn you—this is not a matter to be taken lightly. His actions will have consequences, and we demand that you return him to us.

Bring us the boy.

Failure to comply will result in actions that will not be limited to just the one who defies us. You may believe yourselves untouchable, but know this: the Volturi do not make threats. We make promises.

Consider your next steps carefully.”

You’ve barely read the words before Misora’s exhale, barely more than a whisper, breaks the silence. “Riki…”.

She’s already on her feet before anyone can react, moving toward the door like she’s running on instinct.

“Where are you going?” Jasper asks, stepping into her path.

“To find him.”

You speak before you even realize it. “I’ll go with you.”

Misora hesitates for only a second before nodding.

Once outside, the cold air bites at your skin—not that you mind. You don’t speak at first, just move quickly through the trees.

But where would he go? Misora seems to be as aimless as you are.

Then you remember him at the creek. Quiet, lost in thought. So water is nostalgic to him.

“Should we try the Goldstream River?”

Misora shakes her head. “No. That doesn’t make sense. Riki isn’t… he isn’t that person anymore.”

“Then where would we find him in this entire town?”

Misora doesn’t have an answer, but this is the only idea, the only lead you’ve got.

So you run.

The forest blurs around you as you race toward the river, branches whipping past, footsteps quiet against the undergrowth. And then, finally—

There he is, in all his shimmery glory.

Riki stands at the water’s edge, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the slow-moving current. His expression is unreadable, but something about the way he holds himself—shoulders stiff, jaw tight—tells you that brain of his has not quieted down.

Misora exhales sharply, and glances at you, then back to him.

You just watch him for a moment. Misora doesn’t think he’s the same person she used to know, the brother that played with her by the water. But this is where he always finds himself.

Misora freezes, and she can’t bring herself to move closer. He’s noticing, though. You can see the red of his irises in the corner of his eyes watching, waiting, hoping.

Well, you hope that you’re enough.

“Riki,” you start, stepping forward. “You need to hear this.”

He doesn’t turn, doesn’t shift from where he stands. But you see the way his fingers twitch at his sides. He’s listening.

“The Volturi sent a letter,” you continue. “They’re demanding that we hand you over.”

Misora flinches beside you, but Riki… he just smiles. It’s small, barely there. A resigned kind of thing.

“Of course they did.” He finally turns his head to glance at you. “It was only a matter of time.”

Something about how calm he is unsettles you. There’s no panic, no urgency—just this quiet acceptance, like he’s already laid himself at the Volturi’s feet in his mind. Like he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell him, stepping closer. “The Cullens—Misora and I—we’re not going to let them take you.”

His gaze flickers, but he shakes his head. “You don’t understand. This isn’t a fight you can win.”

“That’s not your decision to make.” Your voice is steady, firm, and that surprises even you.

He looks at you then—really looks at you. Eyes scanning, searching, trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing standing here, offering him something no one ever has.

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“Absolutely not.”

The words hit the air like a slap, and Riki flinches, though he doesn’t show it. Edward stands rigid, his gold eyes dark with what Riki knows is a mix of disbelief and fury.

“You can’t seriously think we’re going to risk everything for you,” Edward continues, voice low and harsh. “I don’t care how much we owe Misora or care about (Y/N). We’re not going to stand by you when you’ve already made it clear how little you think of us,” Edward spits out, the words laced with a sharp edge. “All you’ve done is hurt people, Riki. You were there when the Volturi wanted to kill Renesmee. You don’t get to walk in here and expect us to fight for you.”

Expect them?

He never expected a single thing. The only thing he’s expecting is death.

It’s just that (Y/N) let him hope. He really should’ve known better.

His guardian angel who for some reason decides to speak up. “If he dies, it doesn’t change what he did. It won’t undo the blood on his hands.” She narrows her red eyes at her gold-eyed family. Because the way they stand together? This really is a family—regardless of whether or she accepts it.

And he… is envious.

“But this isn’t about the past. It’s about the present,” she continues. “I thought you guys don’t leave someone behind, not someone who needs us!”

Carlisle, who had been quiet up until now, finally speaks. “The moment that letter arrived, we were already implicated. The Volturi made that clear—we’re in this, whether we like it or not.”

The words settle over the room like a cold realization.

Still, Misora doesn’t move. She hasn’t said a single word since they returned, standing with her arms crossed, watching it all unfold. But now, finally, she steps forward.

“Why should I fight for you?” Her voice is quiet, but the bitterness in it is unmistakable. “You never fought for me during this life.”

Riki exhales slowly, his expression unreadable. “Misora…”

“You stood by and let me believe I was abandoned,” she continues, the edge to her voice sharp. “I fought to keep myself alive. I’ve already done more than I needed to by deciding to warn you.”

She laughs bitterly, but there isn’t a single glint in those crimson eyes of hers. The eyes that used to hold nothing but mischief are now all sorrow, and it’s his fault.

But like she said, she did warn him. Does she want him to live long enough to make things right?

Carlisle exhales. “I understand why none of you want to fight, and I’m not asking anyone to put themselves in danger.” His gaze lingers on Riki before moving to the others. “But that doesn’t mean we do nothing.”

“So, what?” Rosalie crosses her arms. “We just watch from the sidelines?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Silence stretches, thick with tension.

Alice shifts, arms wrapped around herself. She looks at Riki, then at Edward, then finally at Carlisle. “I’ll try to see what Aro’s planning,” she says, closing her eyes.

Riki watches the crease form between the psychic’s brows. Her fingers twitch at her sides. Seconds pass.

Then Alice’s entire body tenses.

“I… I don’t see anything.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. Her hands curl into fists as her golden eyes snap open, wide with disbelief. “It’s blank.”

The words freeze the room.

Riki stands with his body taut, trying to plaster on that mask of indifference he had screwed onto his face back in Volterra. It would be easier to block everything out—to feel nothing and not care that no one is willing to fight for him. He wishes his sister’s bitterness didn’t pierce so hard, and didn’t remind him of all the years he let slip away. The numbness was so much safer—it prevented him from disappointments. But now? With Alice’s vision going blank? He realizes that it’s all too late.

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A week passes. A whole week, and still—nothing.

The Volturi don’t come. There’s no sign of them, no whispers of their approach, no ominous figures in the distance. Just silence.

It’s like the entire purpose of the letter was to put everyone on edge. And it worked. Even Alice, who has spent the past few days trying and failing to see anything, looks unnerved. Every conversation in the Cullen house circles back to the same thing: Why haven’t they come yet?

You don’t have an answer. No one does.

But in the meantime, you force yourself to focus on something you can control.

The animal blood still doesn’t taste right. It never will. Even the hunt doesn’t fill you with the adrenaline rush you used to chase for three whole months. But you drink it anyway, pushing past the revulsion, the longing for something richer, warmer, stronger. Every time you force it down, you remind yourself why.

You lost your way and became the very creature you resented your entire life. You let yourself forget that when you woke up with red eyes, let yourself believe the hunger was all that mattered. Even now, part of you still wonders if it’s too late—if you’ve already crossed a line that no amount of restraint can erase.

But if you can’t bring back the lives you’ve stolen, then maybe this is the least you can do.

Still, you miss it. The chase, the thrill—the way Misora used to grin at you right before the hunt began, sharp and wicked. But you hunt with the Cullens now.

Misora still chooses human blood, but she doesn’t hunt here. The Cullens made their treaty with the tiger shifters clear: no human blood within Victoria. So she vanishes for hours at a time, returning only when the hunger is sated, and you don’t ask where she goes, so that it doesn’t trigger your cravings.

Riki, on the other hand, appears to be too… dejected to hunt. He’s only drank a single blood bag so far, courtesy of Carlisle, just enough for his eyes to not turn black. But he did try out a coyote that Emmett dragged back to the lot a couple of days ago, and he didn’t look as disgusted as you’re certain you still do.

You’re perched on the back steps of the Cullen house, staring at the trees beneath the grey clouds when you hear him approach.

“You’re changing,” Riki says. His voice is quiet, not quite neutral, but close.

You glance at him. He’s standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable as they flicker over your face.

“What?”

He gestures vaguely. “Your eyes. They’re not as red as before.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off, before realization settles in. He noticed something so little. You lower your gaze, staring at your hands.

“Well.” You shrug. “I never liked the red much, to begin with.”

Riki doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, there’s only silence between you. It’s not uncomfortable, not really. It’s just how things have been. He doesn’t seek you out, but he doesn’t avoid you either. There’s a strange in-between that you’ve both settled into—where he doesn’t push, and you don’t pry.

But now, he stays.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He looks as beautiful as always—messy dark hair, sharp features. And yet, something is different. Maybe it’s the way his shoulders don’t hold the same rigid tension, or how his expression isn’t completely closed off.

He almost looks… lost.

You watch as he shifts his weight, debating sitting down next to you.

Until he does.

“Is it a you hating vampirism kind of situation?” He asks calmly.

“I hate… what it reminds me of.”

You tell him everything.

Your memory of your parents’ death. The rampage you went on up until a month ago. All the while, he doesn’t judge. Certainly not the way you’d expect red-eyed royalty to—or at least, the direct subordinate of royalty. He just takes in what you have to say, the red of his eyes warm.

After a moment, he runs a hand through his soft hair. “I get it,” he says, voice quieter than before. “The whole… hating what you are thing.”

You blink, caught off guard.

He doesn’t elaborate immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, gaze fixed on the woods ahead. “Back in Volterra, I used to tell myself it didn’t matter. That I’d already lost everything, so what was the point of feeling bad about it?” His jaw tightens. “But then, at some point, I stopped having to tell myself. It just… was.”

“So what changed?” you ask, because clearly, something did.

He hesitates. Then, his lips curve into something that isn’t quite a smirk, isn’t quite a frown. “I saw the very reason I begged to be turned, again. I was killed, and then I was almost drained, but I begged the vampire I woke up to to save me somehow. I just wasn’t aware that by being saved, I would end up having to leave everything behind.”

You look at him, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. It’s not avoidance, exactly—it’s something else. Like he’s letting you in, just a little, but not enough to be exposed.

Little does he know, you were in a very similar position. Except you didn’t have a family to leave behind, you just had to let your career go… but in turn, you gained a family.

“I don’t wanna leave people behind, anymore, as long as they’ll have me.”

Instead, you huff a soft breath, nudging his arm. “Careful, Riki. That almost sounded sentimental.”

That earns you a glance, a glimmer of amusement in his expression. “Guess your coven rubbing off on me.”

“You wish.”

The corners of his full mouth twitch, just slightly. And you notice. You always notice. And you can’t help but stare.

But your gaze drags his to your lips, as well.

Until the creak of the door breaks you apart, so you re-enter the house.

Carlisle steps in, his footsteps a lot more… guarded than usual.

And in behind him comes Dr. Park.

You haven’t seen him in months. Since that night.

“(Y/N),” Carlisle starts, his lifted eyebrows almost telling you to be wary. “Dr. Park here wanted to check on how you were doing.”

Riki gets the hint and walks away, away from the brown-eyed man.

“Dr. (Y/L/N), how lovely it is to see you!” His tone is cheerful, but his eyes flicking between your blood orange ones are uncomfortable. Assessing.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, in a tone that suggests he’s genuinely curious—but something about it feels calculated. He gives you a sympathetic smile, but you’re in no position to trust it. “I can only imagine what a change it’s been for you, adjusting to this… new lifestyle.”

You tense, but you force a smile. “I’m managing.”

Dr. Park shifts, and though he’s trying to act casual, his body remains rigid. “I must apologize again for what happened that night… with the tiger shifters.” He holds up a hand, as if to stop you from interrupting. “I know it wasn’t just a simple accident. It was my responsibility, and I—” He pauses, then looks at you like he’s about to offer a kind gesture. “I never intended for any human to be hurt.”

He doesn’t regret attempting to kill Carlisle. He regrets the outcome.

“I’m sure you’ve been through a lot, with… everything you’ve had to give up,” Dr. Park adds, his gaze flicking to your hands briefly. “Family, friends, everything that you once were.” His words are soft, almost too soft. “But you should know that as soon as you build up your self control , if you ever want to come back…” His voice trails off, leaving a silence in the air.

Riki, standing off to the side, frowns slightly. You catch the flash of annoyance in his expression, but he says nothing. Misora, too, watches from the living room—her similar expression making her appear more like Riki’s twin than just his sister.

Carlisle steps in. “She’s doing fine, Dr. Park.”

“Of course, of course.” His smile falters for just a moment before it returns to its practiced warmth. “I just thought I’d offer my assistance.”

He turns toward the door, clearly not wanting to overstay his welcome. But his gaze lingers near the living room for a second longer than necessary.

But you might have hallucinated it.

Just like how the next day, when night falls, you start hallucinating a tiger’s roar. Because there’s no way Dr. Park would violate the treaty for no reason, right? Right?

You, the Cullens who aren’t out hunting, and Riki all share curious glances.

They heard it too.

A low, rumbling growl that wouldn’t belong to any vampire or human. It carries through the trees, deep and guttural, setting every nerve in your body on edge.

Riki hears it too. You see it in the way he tilts his head slightly, listening—then in the sharp flicker of his gaze toward the door. The two of you move almost at the same time, stepping outside alongside Carlisle and the others.

And that’s when you see them.

The tigers.

Your entire body locks up before you can stop it. The world narrows, sharpens—too bright, too loud, too familiar. The way they stand, the way their muscles coil like they’re ready—

It’s just like that night.

Your fingers curl into fists at your sides, nails biting into your skin. You try to force yourself to stay still, to ignore the way your throat tightens—but then Riki shifts.

At first, you think it’s just him moving closer to get a better look. But then, without a word, he steps in front of you.

It’s subtle. Casual, even. He doesn’t bare his teeth, doesn’t snarl like he’s challenging them—he just exists between you and them, a silent blockade.

“What is this, James?” Carlisle calls out to the woods. The man isn’t actually around, but who else could be commanding the shifters?

The amber-eyed tiger steps forward. You remember him—Jay, Dr. Park’s son. The one with icy eyes, Sunghoon. The largest, Heeseung.

And the one who attacked you, the one currently standing at the back but is the fastest, regardless. Jake.

Then shadows shift behind the tigers.

“Ah, how lovely to see you all again. I do hope we aren’t intruding.”

A voice that’s all warmth and poison.

A man you’ve never seen before steps out, with his long, brown hair and black and red coat, followed by a taller man with similarly dark hair and a blonde man.

Gasps ring out near you. Riki tenses in front of you. And you know his name right away.

Aro.

The one Misora once told you is the worst of them all. Thank goodness for her that she’s currently away from Victoria, hunting.

Alice takes a hesitant step forward, flanked by Jasper, her anchor. “So that’s why I couldn’t see you coming,” her voice shakes. “You were hiding behind shifters.”

Aro’s smile widens at that, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Ah, dear Alice,” he muses, tilting his head slightly. “You always have been quite the gifted one. But yes, it seems our little allies here have provided quite the convenient cover.”

His gaze flickers toward the tigers, then back to you. His expression is unreadable, but the way he looks at Riki, and then you behind him—like he’s peeling back your layers, examining you from the inside out—makes your stomach churn.

The tigers remain silent, their eyes fixed on you. And you truly wish that Edward is here to read their thoughts. It’s clear they don’t like standing alongside the Volturi, but they’re tolerating it. A temporary truce.

“We have a truce with the Baekho clan.” Carlisle’s eyes flicker from the shifters to the Volturi.

“Your treaty was nullified the moment you allowed the boy and his sister to stay in your town,” Caius growls.

“And so,” Aro’s quietly delighted voice rings, “we formed our own treaty with them. Kill the red-eyed, and they’ll never have to see us in Victoria again.”

A slow, creeping chill settles into your bones.

Aro watches you carefully, but there’s something particularly pleased in the way his gaze drifts to Riki, his fascination clear.

“How curious,” Aro muses, almost to himself. “That the very one who was sent to eliminate you is now your shield.” His gaze flickers between the two of you, lingering on the way Riki’s posture remains stiff, unwavering.

Riki doesn’t move. He doesn’t react. But you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

Aro’s fingers twitch at his side, as if the urge to reach out and confirm what he’s seeing is almost unbearable. “Riki, Riki, Riki,” he sighs, tilting his head. “I must say, you continue to surprise me. First, you slaughter my dear Jane and Alec. Then, you desert us. And now?” His eyes gleam, lips curling upward. “You protect the very newborn you were sent to destroy.”

His voice is almost admiring, like Riki’s betrayal is nothing more than an interesting puzzle to solve.

Riki shifts slightly, but he still doesn’t move away from you. “Not my problem if you sent me on a job I didn’t finish,” he mutters. “Guess you should’ve picked someone else.”

Beside Aro, Caius stiffens, and Marcus—who has remained silent this entire time—finally lifts his gaze, watching with interest.

Aro, however, just laughs. Soft, entertained, yet there’s something razor-sharp underneath it.

“Oh, Riki,” he sighs, almost fondly. “You misunderstand.”

He takes a small step forward. Riki doesn’t back away, but you can feel the way his muscles tense.

“You didn’t just fail your assignment,” Aro continues, his voice dropping into something softer, silkier. “You abandoned your family—your true family that has been with you for centuries. You took the lives of our own.” He claps his hands together gently, though the sound is eerily hollow. “That is not something we can simply forgive.”

The threat lingers in the air like poison.

Riki still doesn’t move.

Aro hums, his gaze flickering back to you. But I must know—” His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing in thought. “Where is your accomplice? His lovely sister?”

You keep your expression carefully neutral. You cannot let him see an ounce of concern.

Aro studies you for a moment longer, then sighs. “Ah, well. No matter. We’ll find her in time.”

His focus shifts back to Riki. And this time, the amusement slips, leaving something far colder in its place.

“You do understand, my dear boy,” Aro murmurs, voice quiet but unyielding, “that deserting the Volturi is a crime punishable by death?”

The moment Aro speaks, the air changes.

It’s subtle at first—a shift in the atmosphere, the way the trees seem to stand still, listening.

For the snarl. Low and rumbling.

The tigers move first.

Jay lunges, a blur of muscle and fur aimed straight for Riki. Thanks to his vampiric speed, he’s able to shift his weight, sending them both tumbling.

You stumble back just as Sunghoon and Jake launch forward. Jasper intercepts Sunghoon, the impact sending shockwaves through the ground, while Jake barrels toward you.

For half a second, you freeze.

Not again. Not again.

The memory punches through you—Jake lunging in the dark, his weight crushing you, claws digging in.

But then—

Riki.

He rips himself free from Jay’s grasp, and in a blink, he’s in front of you again. His fingers twitch at his sides, and the tiger freezes in the air, until he falls backwards. The massive body jerks like it’s being pulled by invisible strings, and Jake snarls, trying his hardest to to break free.

But the Puppeteer is far too practiced.

And then the Volturi join.

Caius moves first, aiming for Carlisle. He’s fast—but Carlisle sidesteps him, forcing him off balance just long enough for Alice to charge in. Jasper and Sunghoon are locked in a brutal exchange of claws and limbs, neither gaining the upper hand.

Riki is facing both Jay and Jake at once, switching between combat and his own power, since it appears two minds are his limit.

And you move.

The heavily striped one, Jungwon, comes at you, but this time, you react. He lunges, and you drop low at the last second, sweeping your leg out to knock his balance. He stumbles, and before he can recover, you slam your palm into his ribs, sending him skidding backwards.

Your hands shake, but you refuse to stop.

Until movement flickers in your periphery. Aro.

You whirl just in time to see him standing perfectly still amid the chaos, watching you, studying you.

Like he’s waiting.

You feel it before you see it. The shadow moving behind you. The air shifting.

You turn too late.

And cold fingers wrap around your throat.

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Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

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bitchinbarzal · 2 days ago

Text

Shut Me Out | K Kaprizov

summary: kirill isn’t handling his injury well and he takes it out on his girl.

Kirill's days had blurred into one long cycle of frustration. His injury was still healing, but it felt like time itself was moving too slowly. Sitting in their apartment, he had spent hours watching the Wild play—just as they had done the day before and the day before that—but it wasn't the same. Not being on the ice, not feeling the rush of the game, the roar of the crowd—it was all a distant memory now. Instead, he was left here, on the couch, immobilized. And, if he were being honest, he was angry.

He was angry at the situation, at the injury, at himself.

Y/N had been trying her best to keep him company, bringing him his favorite snacks and sitting by his side. She’d even begun watching games with him, though her interest in hockey was more out of love than any genuine passion for the sport. She tried to engage him in other ways, suggesting they go for walks, or that he try watching a new show, anything to distract him. But it all felt like a blur of activity that didn’t change anything.

This morning, she had brought him coffee and sat down next to him on the couch, offering words of encouragement. But he had been distant, barely acknowledging her, his focus entirely on the TV.

"Hey," she said, sitting beside him and watching his eyes stay glued to the screen. "You’ve been watching the game for hours. Maybe we should do something else for a bit?"

He didn’t answer right away, just let out a deep sigh, and then muttered, “I'm fine.”

Y/N frowned. “You sure? I can tell you’re not feeling great.”

Kirill set the remote down and turned to her. “I’m fine, Y/N,” he repeated, his tone sharper now. “I just don’t want to talk right now.”

She recoiled, surprised at the bite in his voice. "I just want to help, Kirill. I’m worried about you. You’ve been stuck here doing nothing, and I feel like you’re pushing me away."

“I’m not pushing you away," he shot back, his voice rising. “I just don’t need you all over me. You’re treating me like I’m some fragile thing that can’t function without your help.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words. She had been nothing but caring, trying her hardest to support him through a tough time, and now, he was acting like it was too much.

“That’s not what I’m doing!" she snapped. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay. I don’t know what you want me to do.”

"I want you to stop treating me like I’m broken!” Kirill’s voice cracked a little, the frustration of the last few weeks pouring out. "I’m not a kid. I don’t need you constantly asking how I feel or what I need. I just... I need space."

Y/N stood up, taking a step back from him, her eyes wide with shock. “Space?” Her voice trembled. “You’ve been on the couch for days. You haven’t left this apartment, Kirill. You don’t want space, you want to shut me out.”

His expression darkened, his jaw clenched. “Maybe I do want to shut you out. I just... I just want to feel like myself again, without everyone hovering over me.”

“Everyone?" Y/N blinked, almost laughing bitterly. "I’m the only one here. I’m the only one who cares about you like this, and you're acting like I’m a nuisance."

The words hit him harder than he anticipated, and for a moment, he faltered. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing away from her, trying to control the mess of emotions swirling inside him.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” she said, her voice softening as she watched him. “I just hate seeing you like this. You’re in pain, you’re frustrated, and I want to be here for you, Kirill.”

He turned to face her, his eyes tired, and there was something vulnerable in them that he hadn’t allowed himself to show before. “I don’t want to need anyone, Y/N. I’ve always been the guy who handles things on his own. I don’t know how to lean on someone, and it’s killing me.”

Her heart clenched at his confession, the sharp edge of his words now sounding hollow and raw. "You don't have to handle it all on your own," she whispered, taking a step toward him. "But I can't help you if you don't let me in."

He stared at her, his eyes shifting from frustration to something else—something softer, regretful. "I’m sorry," he muttered, his voice quiet now. "I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I’m acting like this. I just... I hate feeling useless. I hate that I can’t play, that I can’t do what I love."

“I get it,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. "But that doesn’t mean you have to push me away. You’re not useless, Kirill. You’re still you. And I’m here for you, no matter what."

He let out a shaky breath, rubbing his eyes, as if trying to erase the frustration that still lingered there. He looked at her, really looked at her, and the weight of his words sank in. "I don’t know what I’d do without you," he whispered. "I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t helping. You’re the only person who gets it. I just... I didn’t want to seem weak."

Y/N walked over to him and gently cupped his face in her hands. “You’re not weak, Kirill. You’re human. And sometimes, even the strongest people need help.”

The apology was slow, but it was there, and she could see it in the way his shoulders sagged with relief, in the way his eyes softened.

"I don’t want to be this guy, the one who shuts you out," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I hate being like this. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough when I’m not playing."

She smiled softly, tracing her thumb along his cheek. "You’re more than good enough. You're more than hockey. You’re you. And I love you. And I’ll love you even when you’re sitting on this couch all day, feeling sorry for yourself."

He chuckled softly, his hands moving to her waist as he pulled her into a tight hug. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair. "I promise I’ll try harder to let you in. I don’t want to make you feel like you’re not important to me."

Y/N smiled into his chest, feeling the weight of the tension finally lift. "I know you’ll try," she said, breathing him in. "We’ll figure this out. Together."

And for the first time in a long while, Kirill allowed himself to believe it.

#kirill kaprizov x reader #kirill kaprizov imagine #nhl imagine

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mixelation · 2 days ago

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✨blood covenant✨ fic preview ->

for those of you that missed it, @tozettastone, @waffliesinyoface and i all agreed to do a blood covenant challenge where we write OC/character fics.

here's the potential first chapter of mine, which is OC/Minato

****

I’m going to fuck up that guy’s whole life, is the only thought in my mind as I leap through the trees.

Every time I come down on a new branch, my right thigh screams in protest. It screams again as I come back up, hurling myself as ungracefully as a new genin to my next landing. WHat’s left of the fabric of my leggings is hot and sticky with blood.

But, dear reader, I have advice for you: if you want to kill a medic, make sure you make a killing blow. Don’t just leave her for dead and assume she’ll crawl off and die like a good girl. I know, if you’re a megalomaniac with an ego the size of Hokage Mountain, this will seem tempting, to leave her to wallow and suffer while you go off to do something more important. Do not do it.

I’m not Shisui, I thought furiously, pausing in my sloppy run as the temple I was aiming for came into sight. I’m not just calling it quits and giving away my eyes. Fuck off, Danzo.

I lean against the trunk of the tree, panting heavily. Through the branches, I can see the curving roof of the temple. There are a lot of old abandoned buildings out here, dotting the forests of Fire Country, and this one doesn’t stand out as special. I only knew where it was because I’d previously found it by happenstance, and I only recognized it as important by chance knowledge. I have never been inside before.

Pausing my run was a mistake. The loss of momentum means that I am abruptly and painfully aware of how shaky and weak my legs feel. I make a clumsy jump for the forest floor and have to turn my landing into an embarrassing roll.

If anyone is following me, they’re far enough behind that I can’t sense them. I can see the spiral emblem on the door of the temple, the carved wood smoothed and faded with time. I limp forward confidently, using my left hand to push more healing chakra into the hole in my leg, which I would generously describe as “gaping,” but is definitely less gaping than when Danzo had stabbed me.

I’ll get both his legs, I think as I push open the temple door. Ugh, it’s going to scar!

The movement of the door tosses an enormous amount of dust into the air, making my eyes water. The air smells stale and musty. The windows are boarded up, and only a few sickly strands of moonlight illuminate the innards of the Uzumaki temple.

I have to stop my healing to activate my sharingan. I can usually do both at once, obviously, but I’d been running on nothing but adrenaline and spite for too long, and my body currently doesn’t contain nearly enough blood as it should. I’m starting to get dizzy.

The sharingan does nothing to enhance color vision, but with it I only need the smallest source of light to make out the contents of the temple clearly. There are some hanging scrolls and abandoned, rotting furniture, which I ignore. My eyes go straight for the rows of masks hanging across the back wall.

I limp into the temple. When forming this half-made plan on the way over, I’d had some trepidation about identifying which mask is the one I want, but looking at them, I know instantly.

It’s not that the mask looks extraordinary or that my sharingan can pick up something special. The mask appears to be nothing but wood: paint peeling just slightly with time, a grinning demon’s face with curling horns, a jeering smile on its lips. Nothing is peculiar about its craftsmanship, and my sharingan can detect no jutsu or chakra on it.

And yet, to look into its eyes, is to see the inevitability of your own death.

A hint of fear tingles up my spine. A bad omen, my superstitious mother would have said. A warning to my most primal senses that this is a power not to be taken lightly.

I step limp forward anyway.

It’s fine. I’ve been staring down the inevitability of my own death for over two decades. The feeling still makes my blood run cold with terror, but it’s a feeling I’m used to. This is my last chance at defying fate.

I pull the mask for the wall and lift it to my face.

If you kill me, I think at the mask, make sure you bring those assholes down with me, will you?

xXx

Dear reader, here is what you need to know about me.

My name is Uchiha Renka. I was raised by a great aunt after both my parents died in the Second Shinobi War. My hobbies include reading, baking, and dabbling in make-up and fashion. After a lot of study and hard work, I have passed most medic-nin competencies and work mainly in the hospital.

I am a painfully normal sort of young woman, as you can see. At least for a ninja. I work my shifts, and I treat myself to a new book once a week. The most scandalous thing I do, aside from occasionally going out on state-mandated missions that sometimes include various types of murder, is that every once in a while I go out drinking with my girlfriends, and even that isn’t too scandalous. The rowdiest I get is wearing unique shades of lipstick. We even have a three drink maximum. I did not do anything to merit the fucking headhunt after me except exist as an Uchiha.

And… well, okay, I’ll admit something, just between us. Another thing you should know about me is that, even if my main goals in life are to not die, to help people at the hospital, and then to go home and read a good book over some hot tea on my balcony, I do have a bit of a fatal flaw. It’s nothing more than a basic Uchiha family trait, really:

I am just a teensy-weensy bit vindictive.

It got me into trouble a few times growing up, but it’s really nothing too bad. It definitely wasn’t enough to make me deserve the absolute clusterfuck you just read about. You make one mistake, and next thing you know, your boss is calling you a vile woman and a disgusting, cowardly failure and trying to kill you.

Well, fuck him, honestly. I’d survived everything up until him, and I’m not going down without a fight.

I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how the shinigami mask worked when I put it on. When I’d decided to try it, I thought I could maybe use the shinigami to chuck Danzo and-slash-or “Madara” into the afterlife for good. My second choice was to bring back Tobirama and have him tell off my enemies and maybe my clan for… whatever the hell they were doing.

Honestly. All I want is to sit in my patio chair with a blanket and read…

I vomit up the Fourth Hokage instead.

I know. It sounds gross. I know. But I’m not making any of this up. I put on the mask, and it’s like the shinigami is inside me, and then inside of the shinigami was this horrible squirming feeling. I want it out. I need it out.

I throw up. It feels awful, worse than any vomiting session I’d had before, my whole body retching. The mask falls off my face.

Then the Fourth Hokage is standing in front of me.

Reader, I assume that you are coming into this story with certain expectations for how pulling a soul out of the shinigami’s stomach should work. Well, toss those expectations. You’re basing them on people who knew what they were doing. I’m just one innocent little Uchiha.

Namikaze Minato appears before me in a white funeral kimono, folded neatly right side over left, a white band with a triangle over his forehead around his head. Clearly instead of a fighting-fit Hokage like I expected, I’ve grabbed him… right out of the grave…?

He turns to me and blinks rapidly, like the sun is in his eyes, despite it being the middle of the night. Reader, this man is handsome. With this wide, dazed expression, he looks like a confused male model, not the most lethal ninja in history.

My throat feels raw. I open my mouth to speak but can’t. His eyes move away from me like he hasn’t quite registered that I'm there.

He pats himself down absent-mindedly, his hands going down his chest and stomach like he’s surprised they’re there. I watch as his brows furrow a little as his hands approach his hips. Then he reaches down to his right thigh, his fingers moving toward the inner part of the front. He presses down.

I scream. It’s like someone has stuck their fingers directly into my thigh wound. Pain completely cuts off all my thoughts and I finally topple over completely.

I’m aware he’s moved over to stand over me, although my vision has gone white with pain. His gait is uneven, something of a limp. I fumble for my wound, pressing numbing chakra into it. Danzo had clearly been aiming for the femoral artery to make me bleed out, and I’d fixed it up enough to not endanger my life, but it still hurt.

There’s no new damage to my wound, even though that definitely felt like that should have ruptured something.

I feel the Fourth Hokage squat next to me, and his hand comes down over mine, pressing gently against my wound. It’s not enough to hurt this time, not with the help of the healing chakra numbing the nerves, but it increases the pressure over it markedly.

“Huh,” he says.

“What the fuck,” I croak out, and dust on the floor gets in my throat and eyes and makes me have to fight back a cough.

He removes his hand. Then, even though he’s clearly not touching me, I feel a pinch on the back of my hand.

“Ow,” I say accusingly, and then give into the coughing fit.

“You can feel that?” he asks, sounding surprised.

He waits patiently while I sit back up, coughing again. He seems completely unrushed and unbothered, watching me with extreme interest. He doesn’t have the slightest idea what’s going on.

I stare back at him. I’m clearly a wreck. There’s dust all in my hair now, flooding my nasal passageways and making me sneeze. Between the sharingan and having to use Mystical Palm again, my head is swimming and my arm is barely strong enough to hold me up.

He holds my gaze despite the active sharingan, studying me like he’s never seen another human face before. Brave man. But maybe being dead for eight years makes one brave.

Or… who am I kidding? He’s the Yellow Flash. He probably thinks he could kill me before I could cast a genjutsu.

(I think he couldn’t. But I’m obviously not going to test this theory unless I have to.)

After a few moments in which I let out several unsexy, wheezing breaths, he turns away from me and picks up the fallen shinigami mask.

“So that’s how you did it,” he says, flipping it around in his hands. “I’m remembering now… I think I was hoping someone would come for this, at first, or another tool to let me pass on properly. But then… I forgot…” He frowns, deeper this time. “I forgot a lot of things. How long has it been?”

“Since you died?” I say. “Eight years.”

“Only eight?” he repeats and absentmindedly scratches the side of his face. I cannot feel this on my own face, I notice. Perhaps we can only share pain. “It felt so much longer, with nothing to see or feel or do…”

His head turns up, and it takes me a few moments of concentration to realize Danzo’s cronies have finally caught up with me. He hadn’t immediately sicced any on me, as he’d confronted me himself and then left me for dead. But likely he’d sent a team to confirm I’d actually died, and I hadn’t exactly covered my trail.

The Hokage doesn’t look worried, just mildly curious.

“They want to kill me,” I say, unsteadily getting my feet under me in preparation to stand. “I… you have to help me. You have to help Konoha.”

He turns his eyes back on me, and they still have that look of mild curiosity, like he’s watching a television show he doesn’t understand the plot to.

“Why do they want to kill you?” he asks.

“It’ll take too long to explain,” I say. “Please.”

I had thought that summoning the dead meant you got to control them. This doesn’t appear to be how it works. Instead of getting up to kill the team of ROOT agents outside, Minato tucks the shinigami mask into his white kimono and then leans over me to set his hand on my shoulder. A second letter, we’re on Hokage Monument, overlooking the village.

“Wow!” Minato says, standing over the village with hands on his hips. “It’s been so long… look at all those lights…”

“Can we please focus?” I ask. I’m still squatted on the ground, and I don’t have the strength to stand casually. I fall back on my butt.

Minato looks pained as he pulls his attention away from the view.

“Right, right, the fate of Konoha or whatever…” he says, sitting cross legged in front of me. He smiles widely. It’s a beautiful, inviting smile. “Now you have time to explain it to me.”

xXx

When I graduated the Academy a little over ten years ago, Konoha was still at the height of war. I’m sure you’ll hear more about that if you stick around.

Back then, I knew of Namikaze Minato because he was one of the Jounin sensei for our cohort. I never spoke to him, but I’d seen him talking with my sensei sometimes. Sometimes I had to talk to Obito about Uchiha related things, and he’d waved at us once or twice from a distance.

My very first real impression of who he was came from an Iwa-nin.

I don’t really like talking about this part of my life, but I want you to trust me, so I’ll be open. When I was thirteen, my team was captured by Iwa. Everyone but me was killed. I was only spared because I had some medical training, and they agreed to let me live in exchange for healing their wounded.

One day I was treating a man with a nasty burns across his entire body, and he suddenly grabbed my wrist, which was all bruised up from being tied when I wasn’t actively healing people.

“You’re one of those Konoha floozies?” he asked. His eyes were unfocused from pain.

I didn’t say anything. Speaking rarely ended well. His grip on me tightened and I winced. I’m always surprised by how strong some people can stay, even when they’ve been beaten half to death.

“Do you know the Yellow Flash?” he asked. “My whole platoon… all of them, gone in an instant…”

He gibbered on and on for several moments, eyes wide. He’d been towards the outskirts of his platoon’s camp when Minato had showed up, which was why he’d had the few precious seconds to realize what was happening.

“We’re supposed to flee on sight,” he said, his whole body shaking. “What they don’t tell you is that once you see him, you’re already dead.”

“You’re alive,” I said diplomatically.

“I used a suicide jutsu, tried to blow myself up,” he said. “I should have died. I would have preferred it, if he’d killed me…”

The man did eventually pass from his wounds. There hadn’t really been much I could have done. Even Tsunade herself probably couldn’t have saved him.

They punished me for it anyway. When I was sitting in the prisoner’s tent, cheek smarting from where the commander had slapped me and stomach growling from reduced rations, I thought about what the man had said.

Once you see him, you’re already dead.

That was the first time I’d really understood the sheer power that a singular ninja could have.

xXx

One reason I think Konoha loved their Fourth Hokage so much, is that he’d go out and kill countless enemies, and then he’d come home and look and behave like the protagonist from a shoujou manga. He was devastatingly lethal, but in everyday interactions, he just had a way of making you feel safe and valued.

Sitting in the cool breeze breeze on Hokage monument with him smiling back at me, it’s not hard to confess to him what had been happening. The planned coup, the proposed counter massacre, the way I’d been caught up in it all. I cry a few times. Beautifully, I might add. I’d practiced in the mirror.

I might be… a little vane. That’s not important right now, though.

Minato nods along with a thoughtful look on his face, more like he’s watching a TV show than listening to a poor woman explain that his village is exploding. It feels off. I hope he’s appreciating my show, at least.

“There’s also…” I turn my face so he can see my flawless profile, staring out over the village. The lights below twinkle in the night like always. There’s really no sign of my entire family— including me— potentially being wiped out tonight.

“There’s also the masked man,” I say.

Minato blinks, his expression suddenly snapping into focus. He frowns at me.

“The masked man?” he asks.

“He claims to be Uchiha Madara,” I say. “He’s obsessed with me. He approached me, saying he’ll help me if I volunteer for the massacre–”

Minato stands, turning towards the village again. In his white kimono fluttering in the breeze, he almost looks like a Hokage again.

“I think…” he starts. “I think I want to kill him. I was angry about him, before. I can’t quite remember…”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, a twinge of hysteria teasing at the edges of my mind. I try to stand, but my head is dizzy and my injured leg gives out.

Minato turns to me, absentmindedly patting at his own leg.

“This is really annoying,” he says. “Why are we connected?”

“I don’t know,” I snap back, the hysteria bleeding into my voice. “Of course you want to kill the masked man.” I want him to kill the masked man! That’s the whole point! “He’s the one who killed you and your wife.”

His eyes widen.

“Ah…” he says. He sticks out his bottom lip. “I really missed Kushina, the first hundred years…”

“You’ve only been dead for eight!” I screech back at him. Honestly, what was the point of summoning the deadliest ninja in history if he’s a basket case?

I get to my feet for real this time, grasping at the loose pieces of his kimono to pull myself up. He makes no move to intervene, but he also doesn’t help me. Instead he pouts down at me, wincing when I put my weight on the injured leg.

“You have to help,” I say. “Or I will throw myself off this cliff, and we’ll both find out how much pain an undead man can feel.”

He catches my elbow as if to stop me, face still all pouty. It’s a cute look, except that I want him to be a cool leader fixing all my problems!

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Look, I’ll help you. I spent hundreds of years with nothing but the dark pit of the Shinigami’s stomach, thinking about how I wanted to kill the masked man.”

I don’t correct him on his time period.

He smiles brightly at me. “And the Uchiha coup is an easy fix!” he says. “I’ll just do what I did last time.”

“Last time…?” I repeat. I had no idea there’d been a “last time.” What on earth…?

“Mm, they tried this when I was Hokage,” he says. “What did I do again… wow, look at this tree…”

Red autumn leaves flutter off a scraggly tree a few meters away. Minato watches them in the breeze intently, like he’s never seen leaves before.

“Hokage-sama,” I half yell, yanking at his kimono sleeve. “You can look at all the trees you want later.”

“Oh,” he turns back to me. “Right. Last time, I just put one of my Hiraishin markers on their heir. Fugaku’s son… what was his name… anyway, I put a marker on him, and said if the Uchiha tried anything, I’d simply kill their precious child.”

He beams at me. I stare back, mouth unfortunately gaping. It has to be a very unsexy look, but I can’t help it. I’d assumed… I’d assumed there had been no problems under the Fourth, that the Uchiha had been fine and at peace under him, and that he’d be able to make them see reason…

“We can just do that,” he says, cutting through my anxiety spiral. His smile gains a reassuring quality. “I already have the marker in place. We can take the child hostage to make them back down, easy-peasy.”

“N-no,” I sputter out. “We can’t do that. Uchiha Itachi… Fugaku-sama’s first son is dead.”

#blood covenant #my writing #renka is a liar

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nexiva · 1 day ago

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You made me hate you

Part 4

Bucky x reader

Warnings: ok now they really hate each other, really angsty part and a lot of swearing (again)

Summary: A not so nice morning in the kitchen with Sam and Bucky

A/N: I couldn’t wait any longer haha so enjoy this part :)

Masterlist

Five months. Five months of avoiding each other like the plague. And when we do run into each other? Jesus Christ, even Captain America himself would bolt from the room.

Barnes has gotten a little more… how do I put it? Confident. In the wrong way. About three months ago, he was still trying to talk to me, still trying to convince me—just like everyone else. But I wouldn’t give in. I would never forgive him. Maybe after all this time, it seems childish, but I didn’t care. I stood firmly on my ground.

And once everyone realized I wasn’t going to change my mind, that’s when things started heating up. Barnes was starting to get so cocky. The worse my remarks got, the more he started snapping back at me. I could see I was driving him insane—not that it was my intention. I just didn’t want to see him. But since he was already there, I couldn’t stop myself from throwing sharp comments his way. Until, finally, he had enough and started fighting back.

“Fuck, Sam, I swear I tried everything. But she wouldn’t even let me get a word in. I’m so done with this. Guess some amends just can’t be made.”

I walked into the kitchen with every intention of ignoring Barnes and making myself a great breakfast. “Morning, Wilson.” “Hey, Y/L/N.”

I could tell Sam was uncomfortable, but that didn’t stop him from asking a stupid question. “So, Bucky and I were about to go for a run. Do you wanna join us?”

Oh God. Pathetic.

Barnes practically choked on his coffee, barely stopping himself from suffocating (what a shame that would be).

“If I were you, I wouldn’t let him outside. He might ‘accidentally’ run over someone and then claim he was forced to do it.”

Oh, I knew that one was going to hurt. But it rolled off my tongue so sweetly that I couldn’t stop myself.

Barnes threw his cup against the wall. Sam flinched slightly.

“You are a cunt, you know that?”

Bucky stepped closer like he was about to throw hands. I got up immediately.

“What? You gonna kill me too now? Finally finish collecting the whole family, asshole?”

And he just stared.

Nothingness in his eyes.

I wanted it to hurt. I wanted him to feel exactly the way I did. But strangely, there was no satisfaction in seeing him suffer. It wasn’t as enjoyable as I had imagined. So much time had passed, my rage had only grown, and yet… I couldn’t put a name to that stupid feeling inside me. Oh no, it definitely wasn’t sympathy or guilt—it was just exhausting.

For the first time, I saw something in his eyes. Fear?

I didn’t care to figure it out. Not at that moment.

“Fuck you,” was all he said before leaving the kitchen.

I sat down with a small smirk but also with a hint of uncertainty (hopefully, it didn’t show).

“Um, so that went well?”

Sam, not knowing what else to do, sat down with me.

“Y/N, aren’t you tired of this?”

The bastard could actually read my mind sometimes.

“Despite everything, you two have a lot in common. He was under HYDRA, you had NEXUS. You really should—”

I couldn’t listen to him any longer.

“Despite everything? You mean the fact that he killed my sister? And HYDRA? NEXUS? We have nothing in common. I never killed anyone for someone else. No one ever controlled me like some brainless puppet!”

“Because Fury saved you! You little brat! You think you wouldn’t have done the same as him if Nick hadn’t stepped in?”

Silence.

A long, awkward silence.

I had no idea how to respond. And I sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he was right—even if he was.

“I wonder if you’d say the same thing about him if Fury hadn’t shown up back then. You need to get it together, Y/N, because everyone is tired of your shit.”

Sam stood up, looked at me, and walked out.

I couldn’t admit he was right. I couldn’t get rid of the fog in my head. That horrible memory.

I refused to back down.

The kitchen felt emptier than before.

Sam’s words hung in the air like a goddamn storm cloud, suffocating me, pressing against my chest. "Everyone is tired of your shit."

I clenched my fists. Fuck him. Fuck them all. They didn’t get it. They weren’t the ones who had to wake up every morning and remember that someone ripped their soul apart like it was nothing. They weren’t the ones who had to stand in the same room as the murderer and pretend like he was just another member of the goddamn team.

I grabbed a piece of toast and took a slow bite, staring at the shattered ceramic from Bucky’s cup still lying on the floor. Someone else could clean it up. I wasn’t going to.

The compound was quiet now, except for the faint hum of the fridge and the distant sound of traffic outside. I let myself breathe. But my hands were still shaking.

Then I heard it—the door slamming shut.

I exhaled through my nose, already knowing who it was.

“What the fuck do you want now, Barnes?”

Silence.

I turned my head slightly, and there he was, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. He looked like he hadn’t cooled down one bit since storming out of here a few minutes ago.

“I’m not done talking.”

I let out a dry laugh. “That’s funny, I could’ve sworn you told Sam you were done trying.”

His nostrils flared. Good. I wanted him angry. I wanted him to feel something.

He took a step forward. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Y/N.”

I shot him a look. “Oh, I don’t? Enlighten me. Please.”

His eyes darkened. “You think you’re the only one who lost someone? You think you’re the only one who wakes up every day hating the person in the mirror?”

That caught me off guard. For a second. But I didn’t let it show.

“The difference between us, Winter Soldier?” I stood up, stepping closer until there were just inches between us. “I lost my family. You were the one pulling the goddamn trigger.”

He swallowed hard. I saw his fingers twitch—just slightly. Like he wanted to punch a hole in the wall. Or grab something. Maybe grab me.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he let out a bitter chuckle and looked down.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice was lower now. Tighter. “Every goddamn day, I think about the people I killed. I hear them screaming in my fucking head. And you?” He shook his head, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “You don’t even want revenge anymore. You just want something to be angry at.”

I stiffened.

He saw it. He fucking saw it, and I hated him for it.

“Go to hell, Barnes.”

His lips curled into a humorless smirk. “Already been there, sweetheart.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and left, leaving me standing there, fists clenched, pulse racing, and for the first time in a long time—completely speechless.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #enemies to lovers #slow burn #marvel #the avengers #white wolf #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #sam wilson #captain america #i hate everything #i hate this #winter soldier #soldat #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x y/n

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purplepeptobismol · 2 days ago

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Doctor Kenneth McCormick & The Beautiful Concept of ‘Love To The Point of Invention’

Okay! So I could not stop thinking about the dynamic between Dr. McCormick and Victor Chaos, and more importantly— chapter 13 of my fic… I’m sorry y’all. It’s just,,, there was so much discussed in this chapter and I just wanted to talk about it MORE. I wanted to voice everything out, even revealing some behind the scenes stuff, implications, deleted paragraphs, investigative research, and my thought process throughout the chapter. It was a long one; it could’ve been longer, but I genuinely forced myself to stop. Anyway, feel free to read my very own ‘directors cut’! Just letting you know ahead of time that it WILL be containing spoilers for Chapter 13 of ‘I Will Make of You’ and my one-shot (Un)Forbidden Love.

The backstory starts off as newly graduated Kenny and Butters, with Butters asking him to run away together. The reason for his hesitation is explored on (Un)Forbidden Love, but actually a big scene I cut out [and was going to be featured in this chapter] was —

The one where Kevin gifts his truck to Kenny and Butters. I was planning on hinting that Butters had explained his plan to Kevin beforehand, and had asked for his help into getting a truck of his own. Kevin, being literally the coolest person ever, basically told him that they can take his truck, and he will be gifting it to them. Butters and Kevin go back and forth about it, Butters being “no, I can’t possibly take yours! That’s unfair and selfish”, until Kevin hits him with the “I’m not doing it for you, it’s for him. We both want Kenny to be happy.” Obviously, Kenny doesn’t know this conversation happened 🥹, but caring older brother Kevin tugs at my heartstrings. I also wanted to add a tidbit where Kevin is helping them pack their things in the truck, he whispers to Leo to “make him happy and give Ken the life he deserves.” KILL ME NOW, I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!

—

Moving on past their new established relationship, we get the first hints of Vic’s negotiating skills. It is already established in the canon universe of the Post Covid South Park specials that Kenny is a very talented scientist who’s done all these amazing things— but we also find out that Butters (Vic Chaos) is the one that actually funds all of Dr. McCormick’s projects! I tried to mess around with this concept in my own story, but the one thing I always wondered was: What made Kenny want to become a scientist in the first place?

Love to the Point of Invention

I think there is something so pure, and so genuinely beautiful about loving someone so much, you’re capable of inventing something revolutionary BECAUSE of them. There are many examples of this actually happening in real life:

Kenny seeing Butters come home— fatigued and stressed from all the workload— it motivated him into creating something to help Butters feel better. And it not just worked, but someone actually bought Kenny’s invention. Of course, if it wasn’t for Butters [Chaos’s] negotiating tactics, they wouldn’t have secured the millions of dollars that helped them get into an Ivy League Uni.

Personally, I feel like Kenny truly is talented when it comes to being an inventor, but both in canon and in IWMOY, his main motivators where always the people he loves. Butters is also canonically good at running a business, and his Vic Chaos persona proves that he’s capable of getting some good money off of investors. Scientist Kenny who invents all these crazy things and Vic Chaos who invests, sells, markets, funds his inventions— It’s literally a match made in heaven y’all 😞, they’re a power duo!

—

There are a lot of other things I want to get into but I’m going to skip ahead a bit to talk about the main event of this chapter: Cooper’s creation! I’ve always headcanon that Stan and Kyle are more family oriented and the more likely to have kids first, while Kenny isn’t as caring about the concept. So when Kenny witnessed their joy and Butters cuddling up with a baby, it sort of planted him with an image of a family in his head. What really sold the idea was that conversation he had with Butters. Kenny wasn’t aware that Butters was having daydreams of starting a family with him until that very night 🥲, it once again motivated him into creating something that will make Butters’ daydream a reality. LOVE! CREATION!!

Now, the concept of bringing a human to life in the ‘non-traditional’ sense is actually very complex AND controversial 💀. I was aware that there were some negative views towards the study of human cells and artificial wombs, but I didn’t know just how bad it’s perceived… Bro, even IVF and surrogacy are still somewhat frowned upon. I’m the type of person that even if it’s not mentioned or come up in my essays, I still do extensive research so I can get a general idea of what I’m writing about. For Cooper’s ‘birth,’ there were three main things that needed to be focused:

The study of cells and how to make gametes of two people of the same sex to successfully produce a zygote (fertilized cell/embryo)

Artificial Wombs, how they work, and how will they function for a developing human fetus

The weekly development of a baby and what they will need inside a womb to grow/develop healthy

All of these things have their own concerns that required different forms of investigation, and it brought up a lot of moral dilemmas that I REALLY (and I mean really) overthought during the entirety of my research and writing process.

One

In real life, the use of animals for scientific purposes is controversial because, let’s be real— no one wants animals to be abused for humanity’s own desire to learn. Hell, I wouldn’t want that either! Yet, in my fic, Kenny does use lab mice and monkeys and it’s actually an integral component for this experiment. Personally, I do believe there is an ethical way we could use mice and monkeys for research; and that’s if the experiment doesn’t cause deadly risks and physical or psychological harm to the animals. You can let me know your thoughts! I feel like Kenny would actually be less empathetic about it than Stan, which is why I made him call Kenny out on it. Lol. Getting that out of the way, how would Kenny use those animals to reach his goal?

Lab mice are actually used to this day, and they’re a valuable species for the study of human biology, pathology, etc.. Mice have 20 chromosomes in their haploid genome, their gestation period takes on average 19-21 days, their genetic complexity is pretty low; there’s also low ethical concerns due to their rapid reproduction, small size, and short lifespan. Scientist already have a general understanding of their genetics so it makes the testing more straightforward. Kenny will definitely find more early success and failures during this section since the breakthrough can be proof that conception is possible with two species of the same sex.

I stated this in chapter 13, but the next animal they tested on was the Rhesus Macaque; they’re the primates most genetically and physiologically similar to humans. A single rhesus macaque contain 21 pairs of chromosomes, gestation period is roughly 166 days, and their maternal health has a big influence to a baby’s development much like a human. Kenny testing with these animals will help bridge the gap, enhance the technology, and address any issues that happen throughout the process. But since they’re pretty similar to humans, especially with their reproductive biology, it raises more ethical questions than with the lab mice. The failed attempts of gestation, fetal development, and the long-term health would be very hard to ignore. This step would take significantly more time and patience, lots of care will need to be taken place before ANYTHING becomes feasible. So once everything is overcome, then we could possibly move to humans.

The ultimate and final goal would be testing this technology with humans. Human genomes are extremely complex, they have 23 pairs of chromosomes (which is 46 in each cell), gestation is roughly 9 months, human embryos require precise conditions, and their long-term health need to be carefully monitored years after their birth. The testing of this would definitely be frowned upon by society. Realistically, we would need highly advanced technological breakthroughs to make this happen— it is very likely Kenny would’ve gruesomely fail this step many times. But I didn’t want to make him suffer the losses of his potential children :(, that’s too cruel. Besides, Cooper is a strong kid, and Kenny used his cursed blood to create him!

Overall, it truly isn’t scientifically possible for two species of the same sex to procreate because their biological mechanisms lack the components for fertilization (yet👀). They’ll probably need to reprogram or edit genes and cells to transform at least one male gamete into an egg-like cell. (I’ve sort of drawn inspiration from stuff like CRISPR-Cas9). Then, similar to that of IVF, mimic the fertilization of both of the cells, continue editing the genes to make them compatible, remove any harmful mutations that might occur, and ensure the embryo has the necessities for proper development. What I’m trying to get at is that either Kenny or Butter’s gametes had to be transformed into an egg so that Cooper could exist [and also Tweek and Craig for Emilio if you think about it] 🫢. Y’all can decide on whose cell it was.

Two

Artificial wombs are an actual thing being developed and tested— mice embryos have been used on clear rotating vials and they’ve actually attempted to use an artificial womb for a premature lamb who needed help with their lungs! When I first thought of using the concept of an artificial wombs back when I was drafting this story, the first images that came to my mind were something like the scenes from ‘I Am Mother.’

This technology was my main inspiration for Cooper’s creation because— really guys— how else would Kenny and Butters have a biological kid of their own if not with the use of advanced technology 😭??? Before I reached this scene, even as far back when I revealed the explanation back in chapters 2 and 8, I didn’t think much about this; truly, I wasn’t even thinking of making it a big deal. But then it was time for me to finish drafting chapter 13, and I decided to make more research on the concept, this video by Cleo Abram appeared on my recommended!

It completely changed my perspective on the concept and even made me want to tread with the idea more carefully. I really recommend watching it if you’re interested on what I’m going to be talking about. I didn’t realize how controversial or even the complexity of it. So, not only did I do research, but I also did a deep dive on motherhood and pregnancy 🤓….

Let me start with the negative conversations: The main issue people have with it is that this technology breaks the ‘idea of childbirth’ and the ‘beauty of pregnancy.’ Many mothers believe that it’s an amazing thing to grow a human inside of them, and they feel some type of bond between their child as they grow. It’s a sacred thing and ‘part of being a woman’, and they don’t want technology to take that away from them. *Though the concept of artificial wombs being an actual thing is purely fictional and theoretical, I’d like to point out that alternatives such as surrogacy and IVF are real options and even those are controversial till this day*

The positive side: some mothers believe that this technology could be a great alternative since child birth can be very dangerous to certain women whose biology doesn’t allow them to carry, or can’t conceive at all. Others simply don’t want to experience the labor. Pregnancy in general could be a very difficult thing for both the mother and a baby, this alternative could help alleviate those concerns.

In my heart of hearts, I couldn’t make Kenny be the one to invent this because honestly, he just wouldn’t understand; Heidi Turner was the best decision in my opinion. I always wanted to make her be a part of Kenny’s scientist team, and this experiment felt like the right opportunity. I don’t feel qualified to put my two cents on the topic, so I’m gonna end this segment by quoting what one of my friends said.

“For starters, I don’t want to have kids of my own, nor do I plan on ever becoming pregnant due to my own personal circumstances. But if I were to have a choice, I would like this to be one of my options. I have heard both the horrors and positives of what pregnancy does to a woman and it makes me not want to be pregnant even more. In the end, idk what the process would look like, let alone the aftermath of both my and the babies health. Of course not everyone would agree, and maybe there would be pushback for this sort of advancement, but I feel like we should focus on the idea of giving women more alternatives to choose what they could do with their own bodies instead of being self righteous about what’s natural or not.”

Three

Y’all 💀 a baby developing in a womb is really no easy task. We don’t know what happens inside a uterus when a baby is inside, it’s not like we can peek inside a womb, so we mostly just go by the current research of the weekly gestational period. But I tried my best to sum up how the process would be like. A fetus in an artificial womb would have to be in an environment that replicates the uterus. Nutrients and oxygen need to be exchanged, facilitate waste, hormonal changes that happen during pregnancy need to be mimicked, temperature and pH need to be regulated, amniotic fluid is important for allowing a fetus to move— well, pregnancy is complicated. Not to mention how foreign and disconnecting it could be for a baby to develop outside of their mother’s womb, that connection could be crucial too, no machine can mimic that warmth and feeling, and I made sure Heidi be the one to point that out.

Literally a single wrong move could be the end. It’s a very high level risk… This is a gamble with human life. Everything could go so wrong in many ways if they aren’t careful. Nothing about this could be considered natural.

No matter how you view it, what Kenny is doing is selfish. He is messing with natural order of life to have a son of his own with his husband. He knows this more than anyone else. That’s why when Craig also wanted to try to have a son of his own using this method, Kenny felt displeased. Craig CANNOT be having a spur-of-the moment baby fever, this isn’t something to FOMO about— this is a human they are attempting to create. Conscious human life. If they die in the middle of gestation, or they suffer long-term— it is entirely on their selfish fault. I wanted to add a scene where Kenny straight up tells Craig “NO” and that he wasn’t ready for it. It would lead to a big thing where even Tweek gets involved and explains his side and wheewww would it have turned out way longer.

Though this entire experiment was kinda Kenny’s sort of selfish desire of creating a family— it’s that LOVE he has for Leo that pushes him to invent this (love, invention…. *sighs*), and it was love for his son that pushed to save him in the end. It really is romantic and beautiful to deeply love someone 🙁..

This is such a heavy and interesting concept that I feel could bring on a lot of conversation to the table, I want this to be an open discussion so feel free to comment your thoughts and opinions. I also want to iterate that I AM NOT A SCIENTIST NOR AM I AN EXPERT IN ANY OF THESE CONCEPTS OR TOPICS THAT I’VE DISCUSSED. IM JUST SOME SILLY AND STUPID GUY WHO WRITES SOUTH PARK FANFICTION ☠️

—

Small little things I like to add from this chapter:

Craig living in Houston because he worked for NASA is so funny to me. Idk much about how they work over there but I do know that those roads and highways are no joke. Bro was fighting for his life in those 14 lane roads 😭. They always have construction and accidents too, shit is stressing me just thinking about it </3

Stan and Kyle being family oriented feels so right to me, and Stan getting cold feet because he doesn’t want to end up like Randy 💔 my shaylaaa. Idk what’s it like to be a parent so I hope Stan’s dialogue felt realistic 🙁. I didn’t want to include too much of how they adopted Robin, but I also wanted to give a bit of a recapped explanation that was somewhat realistic. Cartman’s death and the adoption happening around the same time would obviously stress them even more so I feel like anxiety is normal in the situation. It worked out in the end tho hehe 🫶, and it was thanks to this scene that motivated Kenny into starting his family.

Butters saying Cooper was “cooped up in there” and didn’t “want him to feel lonely” down there ☹️

I also wanted to add a bit of background Tweek being an engineer and more of Doctor Heidi Turner, but,,,,,,, chapter too long. We did decent amount of Heidi content tho, but no Tweek. He will appear in chapter 14 y’all 🙏Trust.

—

Anywho— I feel like I went overboard with this deep dive but if you have any input with the topics discussed or the dynamics between Kenny and Butters as Doctor McCormick and Vic Chaos, or literally anything else, please feel free to share 🥹

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sir-fenris · 1 day ago

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Took me a little while to get to this 'cause my head was elsewhere yesterday, but I'm always here for the commmentary :D

I'm in the middle of an allergy attack and running on 4 hours of sleep, I'm gonna do my best.

Vi had lied to him, essentially. Paris was a prisoner just as long as he was here. But, as she reminded him frequently, he could leave at any time. They’d give him his sword back at the door. They’d take it away at the next base they crashed into.

Lorelai was in her element, though. She was one of them now, clear as day. There was a little medallion around her neck, the gold markings which he recognized as distinctly imperial.

So funny to see Paris thinking about his kinda imprisonment, and then Lorelai is just having the time of her life.

He indulged her. He had to. And it was good for him too, to see the last stop before leaving Empire. Some kind of closure. One last goodbye.

I love Paris "having to" do stuff, it's delightful. Especially about Lorelai.

And love closure 👏👏 I know not always it's realistic to have one, but I really enjoy closure in whump.

It was a tundra. The frozen kind, though some stages were now in thaw. It was painfully beautiful.

Ohhhh you didn't............ 😵‍💫

Only in the middle of the night, when they were already tangled in between each other’s limbs, did he realize the fever was upon him.

Own, Paris has a fever? Fucking god, he can't have one chapter of peace 🤣

“It’s my ship,” she said, the same way she ended all her arguments. “I could leave anytime I wanted. Why are you always trying to get rid of me?”

He desperately did not want to be rid of her.

Then, as if reading his mind: “You give yourself way too much credit. I wanted this too.”

Well, Paris does actually give himself "too much credit" (I would say too much guilt). but that's to be expected after everything.

He wondered if he regretted it. Really, he regretted everything.

There we go. Love love love. Whumperflies.

If she was surprised by the change in topic, she didn’t show it. He suspected she wasn’t shocked at all. Delta was on the cusp of his thoughts, all the time. Everything lead back to him. Lorelai raised one eyebrow at the new proclamation.

I need to say it.

👏HAUNTING👏THE👏FUCKING👏NARRATIVE👏

🗣AAAAAAAAAA

He didn’t mean to say that last part. Because he had killed Delta — and it had not felt kind. The ice felt colder beneath him as he went on.

Oh my fucking god, I need him metting face to face alive Delta so much, please, please, please, please.

I LOVE THE GUILT <333333

She barely reacted. He thought she might argue. Maybe he wanted her to. Maybe she saw another way out, some path that he didn’t. If he could do it all over, what would he change? Or would he always end up here — and Delta, dead on the ocean floor?

I'm......... AAAAAAAAAAAAA-

“They told me I needed to. It’s his conditioning. He needed to feel powerless, all the time, or he would stop working. I was fucking terrified of what would happen if I lost control of him, if I lost the only edge I had. I was scared of him. And I needed him.”

“I hated needing. I hated feeling like I was losing control. And that’s all I was doing, the entire time. Just losing control, constantly. Over everything. Over myself.”

THIS IS FUCKING AMAZING AAAAAAAAAA-

I'M KICKING MY FLWOWOWIRJDIAOQOKW GIGGLING

No words, just feelings. Fucking christ.

“I’m sorry, Lorelai. For everything.

I wish I could take it back.”

this is effectively the final chapter of Crash Out

paris and lorelai will return in Destroyer

I'M DYING WITH THIS OMG YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME HANGING LIKE THIS-

Just a reblog and like isn't enough for the last chapter.

Here it is the super like, super kudos, super heart of "I really liked this"

Very very excited about what comes next (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Crash Out - Love

(Content: fever, drug mention, bruises, discussions of past abuse, guilt)

He was in and out of sleep for a long time. He remained supervised. They didn’t trust him with as much rope as he could hang himself with.

Lorelai was in her element, though. She was one of them now, clear as day. There was a little medallion around her neck, the gold markings which he recognized as distinctly imperial.

“Did you scavenge that off a corpse?” he asked.

He had meant it as a joke.

He got the distinct sense that he had killed something beautiful. Like setting a butterfly on fire. Had she been changing all this time?

And yet she didn’t leave him. She changed all the time, but that didn’t. Over the border was still the goalpost. CTRL sheltered them at most stops. She’s their own now, of course she can stay. He offered what he could — intel when he had it, labor when he didn’t, when his body allowed him to. Sometimes he merely slept, looking sheepishly at the night guard for the time they were both wasting.

The border was a stone’s throw away and she wanted to make one last stop.

He indulged her. He had to. And it was good for him too, to see the last stop before leaving Empire. Some kind of closure. One last goodbye.

It was a tundra. The frozen kind, though some stages were now in thaw. It was painfully beautiful.

She had an eye for it more than he did. He’d have followed her up into the mountains and along the frozen stream, walked the whole length of tundra ten time over. Anything. Lorelai pulled winter weeds out from the ground to press into the journal she still carried. Small, living things dashed across the dead-land. Foxes and rabbits. Owls and swans. Living things, not so unlike them. Hot blood flowed through all of them, proof they still existed. Alive.

It was her idea to break into the cabin, which to him did not seem very altruistic, but he had no better ideas. Luckily enough, it was empty, seemingly abandoned for a time. They’d get better use of it.

Only in the middle of the night, when they were already tangled in between each other’s limbs, did he realize the fever was upon him.

A real one, this time. Not induced, not even dopesick. An honest to god fever.

Paris stood up blearily, feeling some of the heat recede when he’d detached from her body, but not much. It was still bright outside, something to do with the equinox. The sky was an odd, soft color. It was freezing out, which felt nice against his flushed skin. Lorelai groaned slightly from the bed. She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself before she shuffled over to the door. At that point, he’d already stepped out.

Paris was on his knees in the snow. He pressed some of it to his face, still appreciating the contrast between the cold and the burning. It felt nice. It was strange, the things that felt nice to him now. As the last dregs of the drugs cycled out from his body, he found pleasures unmuted in their absence.

“You okay?” she called from the doorway. She was barefoot by the entrance, where the carpet was still warm.

He nodded, though he probably wasn’t. The fever was cooking his brain.

The blanket hung off her bare shoulder. He hadn’t seen it as well in the dark, but the bruises marked her skin just as much as the love bites. She’d been busy. She’d been through a lot.

“I’m sorry for dragging you out here,” he blurted out. He’d been meaning to say it for a while.

“What?” She blinked. “I wanted to come. This was my idea.”

“But you didn’t know what you were getting into. I didn’t tell you anything. It was taking advantage.”

“Did you know?”

He shook his head

“I knew it would be bad. I didn’t know it would be like this.”

“It’s my ship,” she said, the same way she ended all her arguments. “I could leave anytime I wanted. Why are you always trying to get rid of me?”

He desperately did not want to be rid of her.

“I don’t understand you.” he said. He couldn’t fathom the thought of anyone staying with him by choice. If he could’ve left himself behind, he would’ve. He’d have done it in a heartbeat.

“What part don’t you get?” she asked. It tickled him how annoyed she sounded then. Like her clarity was being taken for granted.

Then, as if reading his mind: “You give yourself way too much credit. I wanted this too.”

“This?” he laughed.

“Not all of it. I never wanted you to get hurt, Paris. I just wanted us to get out. I didn’t know how hard it would fight to keep you.”

A pause. She said:

“I had fun, though. Is that horrible to say? I had fun. I don’t regret it.”

He wondered if he regretted it. Really, he regretted everything.

When he didn’t answer for a while, she sat down on the wooden steps. The blanket shielded her from the cold contact. She lit up a cigarette, holding it delicately between her lips.

Another pause. He said:

“…You know I couldn’t have let him go, right?”

“I couldn’t just let him go,” Paris said, because he had been thinking a lot about it. “He was too dangerous. Nobody would ever let that kind of power live in peace. He would have always be wanted, always somebody’s captive. He never could have had a happy life. It’s not his fault. He didn’t do anything to deserve it. But its true. There was never any hope for him. The kindest thing to do would have been to kill him.”

He didn’t mean to say that last part. Because he had killed Delta — and it had not felt kind. The ice felt colder beneath him as he went on.

“I know I didn’t have to treat him the way I did. I’m not saying anything about that. But yeah. I never could’ve let him go.”

Clearly.

“I don’t know. That’s beside the point, now.”

“Why did you treat him like that?” Lorelai asked, leaning forward slightly onto her knees. “…You didn’t have to.”

It felt like being stabbed. But it was a miracle he’d even avoided the question for this long. She’d been patient with him, endlessly. He could afford to be honest. The fever would make it so, regardless.

“I was so angry,” he admitted.

“All the time. At everything. I couldn’t stand it. I hated my life and I hated myself. I still hate myself. The only reason I had to live was to try to keep empire running — and I didn’t even want that. It felt like the whole place was fucking diseased. There was this rot at the center of the machine. He was just the worst of all of it, the worst thing it had ever created. It wasn’t his fault. I know that, it wasn’t his fault.”

“I hated needing. I hated feeling like I was losing control. And that’s all I was doing, the entire time. Just losing control, constantly. Over everything. Over myself.”

“It just became a habit, after a while. It started with just…punishment. Then it was just because he was there. Because I could.”

He was acutely aware of how cruel the word punishment sounded in his mouth. He was aware of how absurd it was, without any of the false authority he’d once put behind it. Who had he thought that he was? He’d never had the right.

He forced himself to look up at her, scared as he was of what he’d find. The scars of his body ached in the cold.

“I’m sorry, Lorelai. For everything.

I wish I could take it back.”

~~~~~~~

this is effectively the final chapter of Crash Out

paris and lorelai will return in Destroyer

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @whump-queen @sir-fenris

#Destroyer's universe #my eyes don't want to stay open but I can't sleep for another 10 hours or so AAAAAA #why must allergy also make me feel sick and sleepy ugh #bleh #but really really excited to what comes next #my mind is kinda misty now I'm gonna go take a water #thank you for writing to us <33 #Destroyer's universe: comments

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bladedbeauties · 4 months ago

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#zero day #zero day 2003 #cal gabriel #andre kriegman #ben coccio #zero day movie #ok #stop liking this i’m going to kill myself

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sunsetsandsunshine · 1 month ago

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~ 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 ~

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝟹 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚖𝚢 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚑𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 😭👍🏾…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟺,𝟸𝟽𝟻

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙺𝚗𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 🥊❤️

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚎 🥨💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙺𝚗𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙷𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜…𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚙𝚝. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝…

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙰 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙. 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎…𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜, 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙼𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙸𝙽 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Maddie almost fully leaped out of her spot on the bed her and her husband shared as she suddenly awoke, her eyes darting around the room before taking a deep breath, relaxing herself.

She didn’t need to use the bathroom…

And she made sure all of the kids (+ Ozzie) were in their beds…

So why did she feel so…uneasy?

Tom broke through his sleep at the sudden movement from his wife, holding her hand as he rubbed it with his thumb gently, “Everything okay, love?” He mumbled out groggily.

Maddie couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at her husband’s sleepy voice, giving his hand a quick kiss as she got up from the bed, “I’m fine, babe. I just…I-I just…” She trailed off.

The cop yawned, raising a brow, “Having those random feelings of uneasiness again?”

The woman in purple pajamas nodded.

“Gonna go check up on our kids?”

She nodded once more.

“M'kay…” The famous Donut Lord yawned, drifting back to sleep, “Just call me if you need anything…” He mumbled as he closed his eyes and snored like no tomorrow.

Maddie rolled her eyes fondly, putting on her fluffy purple robe that was hoisted on a clothing hanger as put on her house slippers, going upstairs to the attic.

The nurse quietly made her way to the attic, her heart racing with a sort of…adrenaline as she made her way to the beds…

…Although, she didn’t know why.

First, she made her way to Tails' bed, who, was soundly sleeping peacefully underneath his blankets. Maddie kissed his forehead, adjusting his noise canceling headphones on his ears as she further tucked him in as she made her way to Sonic…

And ohhhhhh, Sonic…

The kid was basically sprawled along his bed like a used up rag-doll…

…Which, Maddie didn’t know whether to mark it off as concerning or impressive.

Maybe both.

The adult wrapped the blue hedgehog in his favorite blanket, kissing his forehead and subtly giggling as she saw him smile in his sleep at the kiss.

Lastly, she made her Knuckles' bed…

…That was missing, well…Knuckles.

The woman took a deep breath, taking her phone out of her robe pocket as she tried to calm herself.

He was going to absolutely GET IT if he went out 'adventuring' again.

Maddie could not handle another week asking random people in Green Hills of the red echidna’s whereabout’s…

…Her heart just could not take that amount of stress anymore!

And if Wade was even the SLIGHTEST bit responsible he was going to GET IT too.

The brown eyed human made her way downstairs, relief washing over her as she saw the back quills of a familiar red fellow sitting at the bottom of the stairs that led to the kitchen.

“…Knuckles?” She quietly said.

The echidna swiftly turned around at the woman’s words, his pupils sharpening before softening upon realizing who was behind him.

As he met her concerned yet loving gaze, he looked away, focusing on the wooden floor as if it was the most interesting thing as of right now.

Well…at least it was just Madeline.

Or 'Pretzel Woman' as the red themed teenager liked to call her.

It honestly could have been way worse…

…The blue themed hedgehog could have awoken instead of Maddie…

…And that would have been a whole other problem Knuckles did not have the time or patience for.

The teenager forced himself to relax slightly, his shoulders still tense in case of anything or…anyonedeciding to…surprise him.

Because he was an echidna warrior! He simply just did not get sneaked up on.

“Pretzel Woman.” He hummed, “I would not have expected you to be awake at such hours…”

“I wish I could say the same for you, sweetheart…” The 'Pretzel Woman' in question chuckled lightly, coming down and sitting on the stair the small teen was stifly sitting on, “What are you doing up, love?”

“I am keeping watch.” Knuckles stated simply, his seating spot remaining on the steps but his eyes darting in every which way around the house, seeming to look for a nonexistent threat.

Or grapes. Those he will always look out for.

“Did…I wake you?” His violet eyes morphing into one of guilt, “I am sorry if that is the case…I tried to be as silent as possible whilst scouting this evening.”

“No no! Not at all.” Maddie quickly assured, “I-I just…had a certain…feeling to get up, y'know?”

But Knuckles did not know, only quietly nodding his head as he tried to make sense of what the chocolate eyed human was stating, “…I see.” He hummed once more, now looking up as he peered on the outside door, his eye ridges creasing together.

Maddie fiddled with her fingers anxiously, not appreciating the sudden silence as she tried to collect her thoughts to think of what to say next.

Because, truth be told…Knuckles has been doing this…'guarding' business ever since he came to live in Green Hills.

And it was somewhat nice the first week…

A tad bit jarring the second week…

But now it was the third week.

And Maddie cannot recall one time she has seen Knuckles shut his eyes for more than a second.

“You are distressed.” The short teenager concluded bluntly, observing Maddie’s facial expression and body language, “Are you perhaps…cold?”

The woman let a small smile strech to her features at that, “I’m not cold, sweetheart. But thank you for your concern.” She said gently, resting her hand on the teenager’s shoulder but drawing it back as the teeanger in question stifened further at the sudden contact.

“But…I am worried.” The purple cladded woman stated, well…worriedly as she put her hands on her lap.

The fifteen year old’s eye ridges knitted together in slight confusion, letting out a small: “Oh.”

He looked up at her, “Why is that?”

The nurse started, “You’ve been staying up—”

“Scouting.” Knuckles politely corrected.

“—scouting…” She corrected herself, “…for three weeks straight, Knux. Aren’t you tired?”

“No.” The violet eyed teen uttered, “An echidna warrior is only tired when they need be. Which, I am not.” He stated, ironically burying back a small yawn that was bubbling in his throat.

Which, did not go unnoticed by Maddie.

“Everyone gets tired eventually…” The human said, “It’s not healthy to just…skip sleep, hun. It’s not good for you.”

“Only I know what is good and what is not good for me, Pretzel Woman.” The red echidna huffed, completely brushing off the other’s concern, “I will sleep when my duty is done.”

“Your…'duty?'” Maddie repeated.

Knuckles nodded, putting his right fist on his chest as he spoke, “I have promised you, the Lord of the Donuts, the loud hedgehog and the anxious fox to guard the Master Emerald, yes?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“And I have also promised to protect you all.” He announced proudly and matter-of-factly, “A protector never rests.”

“Hun…I think we’ve proven we’re more than capable at protecting ourselves.” The human lightly joked as she almost immediately regretted her statement and tone as she saw the teen’s expression shift from proud to…distress.

And there it is...

…You have such a wonderful way of words, Madeline…

…SUCH a wonderful way with words…

A flash of hurt made their way through Knuckles' eyes, though, he tried to hide it as we looked away, glaring at the floor slightly he hugged himself, which made the human feel even more guilty, “…I…I am aware of that fact.”

And immediately the adult started to backtrack at the teenager’s now almost distraught and downtrodden expression, “I-It’s not that we don’t appreciate it— appreciate you, love. I just don’t want you collapsing randomly one day because you’re staying up every single night keeping watch of us and the house.”

“I do not collapse.” The kid said in an almost defensive-like tone, “And when I eventually will, I would gladly do so knowing I have protected you all to the fullest.”

And right then and there Maddie could have sworn she felt her heart stop at that, feeling the smallest twinge of lightheadedness as she curled her fingers, forming fists on her lap.

“No!” The human shouted, lowering her voice as she realized she yelled a tad bit too loudly, making Knuckles flinch slightly at the sudden exclamation, “No no no! Knuckles, where is this coming from?!”

The nurse pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stay calm but found it really difficult due to the fact one of her kids openly stated he would be fine literally DYING if it meant he would fulfill his 'duty', “I don’t want you staying up guarding, scouting— whatever you call it! I just don’t want you doing any of those things!”

The echidna’s face morphed to a frown, “But—“

“No, Knux…” Maddie said, her tone leaving no room for argument…

…The 'Mother voice' if you will…

“This is the last time you’re doing something like this. End of story.” The purple cladded human said, crossing her arms across her chest.

And then again, there was…a small silence that fell between the two.

A silence neither of them liked at all.

But the air was too thick with…all of a sudden tension that they both stayed quiet, in fear they would say the wrong thing…

…Again.

But eventually, the red echidna couldn’t take the silence; couldn’t take the tension any longer.

He looked at the figure in front of him once more, fixing his composure to appear more confident…but ultimately just appearing to be straight up panic-stricken.

“Then what can I do…?” He mumbled out meekly.

Maddie’s hands dropped to her sides, her eyebrows creasing together, “…What…do you mean?”

“To…To repay you all.” The violet eyed teenager further explained, mentally punching himself for sounding so completely and utterly…weak, “To make up for what I’ve done previously. T-To…guarntee my stay in the Wachowski clan.”

And those words alone spoke measures.

The nurse’s heart might of well dropped all the way to the floor, because all of a sudden she felt like she could not breathe.

She puts Knuckles' hand in hers, even though the echidna’s hand was obviously and ultimately TWICE her hand size…she didn’t care.

For crying out loud this was her son.

And she would never ever forgive herself if after this he would continue to think otherwise.

Then…

…Everything clicked.

“…Sweetheart…did you…d-did you think we were going to…kick you out…?” She asked as if she already knew the answer, afraid of what the other would say.

The short teenager picked up quickly that Maddie somehow knew now, guilt almost immediately hitting him like a train as he hugged himself with his free hand, looking down at his lap, “Yes.” He admitted, hugging himself more as he saw the other start to become teary eyed, “Before coming here to the Wachowski residance…I was responsible for so many casualties…” He muttered, “…I still am.”

The teenager’s tail droops, bringing his fist to his face to try and hide his also now tearing up expression, “I helped Robotnik seize control of your town and almost the entire planet…”

“…I-If I had just listened to Sonic…your house would not still be under repair. You and the Lord of Donuts would not have to call that 'Uber' you always speak of every morning to simply go to your designated jobs!” He yelled, not really caring if anyone else besides Maddie heard him at this point.

“Growing up, my Father always told me to never put my hands on someone else unless they did so to me first…” He murmured, a hint of fondness in his tone speaking of his as of late Father.

“I broke that promise when I met Sonic.” He mumbled out, ignoring the feelings of his eyes starting to become more wet, “But…B-But above all else…all my Father wanted for me was for me to be a good person…”

Knuckles let out a small sob, harshly wiping his face as his shoulder hung low…

…Out of hatred or frustration…?

Maybe a little bit of both…?

Maddie wasn’t sure.

“A-And I promised him. I swore on my life I would live by those two promises…” The small echidna hiccuped, yanking his arm away from the human as he gripped his arm with one hand until he couldn’t feel it anymore, “A-And I f-failed those two simple oaths b-by j-j-just acting so f-foolish…”

The taller figure watched the other shake with sobs, swiftly scooting closer to him as she gently held his wrists to stop him from further hurting himself.

“Oh, sweetheart…” She mumbled, her heart heavy as she saw the teenager duck his head further, “Hey…hey…” Maddie whispered, cupping the echidna’s face in her palms.

And to be completely honest? Knuckles wanted to hurt himself further as he did nothing but melt to the small but impactful form of affection…

“Can you look at me?” The nurse carefully asked.

Knuckles quietly looked at her, his face scrunched up to try and attempt to stop the tears freely flowing down his cheeks like a waterfall.

Maddie sighed sadly, wiping his tears with her thumb as she gently rubbed his cheeks, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

He shakily nodded.

“You are a good person.” She emphasized sternly, “One mistake that you made doesn’t automatically define your worth.”

“This…” She said, gesturing to herself and Knuckles. “…is not a transaction. We are giving you a room to sleep in because we love you. We are giving you clothes to wear because we love you. We are giving you food to eat because we love you…”

“…Even though I would prefer you eat something other than grapes.” She tried to joke, which ended up finally working very effectively as she saw a small but genuine smile appear on the echidna’s face.

Knuckles couldn’t help but let out a soft snort, rolling his eyes before focusing on Maddie once again, “My grapes have nothing to do with this…”

“And I do also consume Cool Ranch Doritos from time to time…” The teen mumbled, “So saying I onlyeat grapes is inaccurate.”

The nurse gently squished his cheek playfully, “And this?” She gestured as she wiped away his tears once again, “Is because I love you. Not because I’m expecting something in return.” She explained as she now put his hands in her’s as if the size meant nothing to her…

…Because it didn’t.

“Robotnik tricked you. He tricked you into thinking he was a nice man. That isn’t your fault.” The human sternly announced once again.

The red furred echidna shook his head, “But I endangered everyone—”

“—But you also saved everyone.” The purple pajama wearing woman quickly added, “You tried to fix your mistakes…don’t think I didn’t see you punching those egg robot thingies, hun. You weren’t messing around.”

“I am not prone to be one who 'messes around…'” He said, his eyes almost jumping out of their sockets as Maddie planted a small kiss on his forehead.

“And that? That is because…” She gently urged on.

“You…Y-You love me...” Knuckles finished, almost choking on his own words, before lightly pushing her away in an attempt to get her to leave…

…Because she would eventually…

…Right?

“…Y-You hardly even know me.” The violet eyed echidna whispered, looking up at the taller figure as she gently bumped her shoulder with his.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t love you.” Maddie exclaimed as she smiled warmly, the warmness somehow making its way to the echidna warrior as his heart fluttered in his chest.

A small, subtle blush appeared on his muzzle as he looked away, trying to hide his expression.

He cleared his throat, “I…suppose that is true, Pretzel Woman…”

“Just 'Maddie' is fine, sweetie.”

The fifteen year old swallowed, wiping his eyes with his arm as he finally looked at the taller.

And if Maddie squinted…she was almost 100% sure she saw a small sparkle in the child’s eyes.

“Alright…Maddie.” The teenager announced shyly but proudly, resting his head on the other’s shoulder.

The nurse had to keep in literally every single fiber in her body to stop herself from squealing like a high-school preppy girl.

“You don’t owe us anything…okay?” The brown eyed woman stated, “You’re apart of a family, Knux. And one doesn’t protect the whole family…we all protect each other.” She rubbed Knuckles' knuckles gently and comfortingly with her thumb, “You’re a Wachowski. And the Wachowski’s stick together.”

And just like that, another silence fell among the two…although, this one was less tense which Maddie could not be more grateful for.

But the nurse couldn’t shake the feeling that something was being left…unsaid and undone.

And if you knew her…you knew dang well those two words were just simply not apart of her dictionary.

“May I give you a hug?” She asked somewhat hesitantly, but couldn’t stop the smile spreading to her face as she saw the echidna perk up at the mention.

The red echidna collected himself, clearing his throat again as he glanced up at her, “You may.”

The human wrapped the echidna in her arms, her smile doubling in size as she felt the teen wrap his own arms around her…somewhat stifly and awkwardly.

But hey, he was trying.

“I love you, Knux.” The chocolate eyed woman hummed, “And you don’t have to say it back if you aren’t ready.”

The violet eyed echidna nodded, shyly burying his face into the other’s shoulder as they continued to embrace.

“Do you…want to go back to your room…?” Maddie asked in a tone signifying she was alright with a 'yes' or a 'no'.

The warrior only held Maddie tighter at that, shaking his head as he buried his face into her shoulder harder, “In…I-In a little bit…” He answered honestly, “I do not want to go just yet…”

“That’s fine.” The human assured, “How about…we stay on the couch for a while? I bet it’s way more comfy than these old stairs.”

The red furred echidna nodded, “…Alright.”

He followed the taller to the living room, sitting on the couch as she did, watching her as she flipped through the channels.

“You okay with watching 'F.R.I.E.N.D.S.?'” The woman asked as she flipped to the Nick-at-Nite channel, relaxing on the couch cushion.

“I am very fond of my companions, yes.” The young warrior nodded, resting his eyes on the TV as this so called….'F.R.I.E.N.D.S.' show started to play.

The two sat on the couch for a while, small chuckles and snickers being shared as they reacted to the show in front of them.

Knuckles yawned, crossing his arms as he rested his head on Maddie’s arm which the older did not pay any mind to, subconsciously scratching his quills.

The younger’s eyes widened, not moving away from the touch but seeming genuinely shocked by it, “What are you doing?”

At that, the human quickly drew her hand away.

Shit.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, baby.” She said apologetically, cursing herself for making it seem like she was trying to rush him with anything…

“It’s just a thing I do with Sonic and Tails— they find it calming. I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. It’s just…kind of an instinct…” Maddie said to Knuckles as he looked down, fiddling with his gloved fingers as he looked anywhere but the person beside him, “You do not…have to stop if you do not wish.” He admitted quietly, “It feels nice…”

The nurse tried (and failed) to hide yet another dorky grin that spread to her face as she gently ruffled Knuckles quills once more, cooing on the inside as the echidna subtly leaned into the touch, trying his absolute best to concentrate on the television but obviously clearly enjoying the affection as his tail wagged softly against the couch.

As the TV ran, Maddie moved her hand to scratch where Knuckles' ears would be and the young warrior absolutely melted at the new touch, his tail wagging faster.

The purple cladded woman fondly smiled at the reaction, moving her fingers to gently scratch the back of the echidna’s neck but nothing would have prepared her for the loud shriek the teenager let out as she did so.

The violet eyed fifteen year old covered his mouth in shock as the human retreated her hand back, her face morphing to worry once more, “A-Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

The echidna swallowed, not even trying to hide the small blush that appeared on his muzzle now as he put his hand to the side, “I-I am…uninjured.” He said as calmly as he could muster, “I apologize for startling you…I also startled myself…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart…” The purple cladded human said, “…But what happened?”

“I am…not sure.” Knuckles explained as he rubbed the back of his neck as if to redo the feeling he just felt, “You touched the back of my neck and it felt…odd.”

“Odd?” Maddie repeated.

“Odd.” Knuckles said again.

The nurse raised a curious brow, lightly poking the red furred echidna where she was once scratching him as he burst into surprised and confused giggles.

The fifteen year old shook his head back and forth, scrunching up his shoulders as he lightly tried to pry the other’s hand away.

What…was this?

And why did it make him feel so…giddy and carefree?!

“C-Cease thihis s-sohorcery ahahat once!” The violet eyed echidna giggly demanded, hugging himself and falling down on the couch, “Ceeheease ceeheease ceeheeheeheease!!” He snickered as Maddie gently started to spider her finger nails along his sides.

“It isn’t sorcery, love. Your just ticklish.” The adult chuckled, putting one and one together.

“N-Nohohoh Ihi ahahaham nohot!” The red furred teen denied through his chorus of laughs, “Ahan ehechidna waharrior woHOULD neHEHEver hahave suhuHUCH AHA c-chihildish weeheeakness!”

“Really?” Maddie smiled, intrigued as she gently prodded the other’s lower ribs, causing the other in question to automatically jerk, throwing his head back as he buried his heels in the couches cushions, “NOHOH thIHIs ihihis CHIHIHILDIHISH!!” He desperately squealed.

The woman in purple pajamas couldn’t help the small coo she let out at the teenager’s adorable reactions…

…And Knuckles didn’t even need to look at her to know she found his once-in-a-full-moon flustered expression very amusing.

“Awe, Knux…” The nurse lightly teased as her fingers continued their ticklish torment on the echidna’s ribs.

“NOHOH— snrk! DOHOHON’T!!” The echidna in question cried as his cheeks started to match his fur color, internally cursing his natural body movements as his tail wagged happily once more.

“Don’t what~? Don’t tickle you?” Maddie sweetly asked, only receiving a small but LOUD snort from the other as she moved down to gently scratch along his stomach, “Looks like I found a bad spot, huh, bud~?”

“IHIHIT IHISN’T snrt BAHAD!!” The teen insisted, banging his fists on the couch, “IHAT JUHAH—! SNRT! JUHUST FEEHEELS OHODD!!”

“Interesting…” The adult hummed, pretending she was pondering something as he dug her hand’s into the violet eyed echidna’s underarms, wincing slightly as he let out a sharp scream before descending into loud cackles.

“This feel odd too?” She asked innocently.

“IHIHAT’S snrt snrt EEHEEVEN WOHOHORSE!!!” Knuckles laughed, “G-GEHAT snrt AHAHOUT OHOF THERE!”

“Get out of where~?”

“THEHEHEHERE!” The teen quickly retorted, trying to gesture to his underarm but anytime he tried to the other would just simply make her touches even lighter, “MAHADDIE DAHAHON’T AHACT snrt STUPID!”

“'Stupid~?'” The nurse dramatically gasped, “And here I thought we bonded!” She huffed as she fluttered her fingers in the crooks of the teen’s neck and under his chin.

And truth be told…Knuckles was absolutely, positively embarrassed of this whole ordeal.

And to be honest…he could have gotten up anytime he wanted…

…But he didn’t.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever feel such…happiness and carefreeness ever again…

…But it’s like Sonic always said…

'Hope is a hedgehog’s greatest weapon.'

“SNRT! NOHOH!! STOHOP SNRT IHAT!!!” The echidna wheezed out, his legs frantically kicking behind Maddie.

“Guess this is your sweet spot…” The woman smiled brightly.

“NAHAHAH! SNRT! NOHAHOTHING AHABOHOUT SNRT SNRT MY NECK IHIHIS SWEEHEEHEET!!!” The young warrior cackled loudly, tears welling up in his eyes…

…And for the first time in…well, forever…they were happy ones.

“AHALRIGHT!! AHAHALRIHIGHT!!!” He relented, lightly pushing on her hands, “IHI SURRENDER! IHIHIHI SURRENDER!!”

And just like that Maddie immediately let up, sitting back as Knuckles let out a couple more aftermath giggles.

“You okay, baby?” The human asked, wiping away the rest of his happy tears.

“Y-Yehes. I aham snrt fine…” The red echidna hummed, sitting back on the couch as he layed his head on the figure’s shoulder again.

“Thank you, Mo—“ Knuckles' eyes widened, quickly catching his slip-up, “M-Maddie. Maddie. Thank you, Maddie.” He exclaimed quickly, quietly praying to his echidna ancestors that the purple pajama wearing woman did not catch his mistake.

But judging by her wide eyes and agape mouth…she most likely did.

“Uhm…I-I must go to my sleeping quarters now…g-goodnight.” Knuckles stammered under his breath quickly and quiety, not waiting for the other to give an answer as he basically sprinted to the attic, quietly closing the door to not disturb his brothers whom were soundly fast asleep.

Maddie slowly got out of her state of shock, her heart basically leaping out of her chest as she fondly smiled, shutting off all the lights in the living room and kitchen before taking one small glance at the closed attic door.

She felt…so warm and…so fuzzy…

Instead of her heart dropping…she honestly felt like it just soared to heaven.

“Goodnight, son.” She whispered, wiping her eyes as she slipped into her and Tom’s bedroom, going under the covers next to her husband and going back to sleep.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

#Sonic tickle #Sonic tickle fic #Sonic the Hedgehog tickle #Sonic the Hedgehog tickle fic #Lee!Knuckles #Ler!Maddie #Sonic tickle fanfiction #Sonic the Hedgehog tickle fanfiction #Just know after that Knuckles went STRAIGHT TO SLEEP 👈🏾👈🏾😗#MY MANZ WAS T I R E D #Fighting back sleep in fear his new family would get rid of him if he didn’t show his worth HAH…#Could never be me #BUT I MADE SO MANY REFRENCES OML #I FEEL LIKE SUCH A DORK BRO 👏🏾😭…#I’m cringe and I am NOT free 💰💸💵💶💷💴🤑💲#Knuckles' KNUCKLES #BA DUM TSS #I had to out that in kill me if you have to yk its funny #But writing Maddie was so hard I wanted to STRANGLE myself 🙂‍↕️🔫#LIKE IDK HOW WRITING KNUCKLES WAS A PIECE OF CAKE BUT IT JUST W A S #Maybe it’s cuz I watched the Knuckles series like a week ago…eh I’m not sure #BUT ANYWAYS #ENJOY #I’m going to FREAK to BED 😴💤🛌#Wrote 4000 words at the speed of light. I need an award…#Also uh…AHEM #I need more Tom and Maddie content they are SOOOO 💘🔥✨💓💝⁉️#But what I actually need to do is stop yapping about SILENCE in my fics #LIKE IDK WHY I FIND SILENCE FUN TO WRITE ABT BUT IT NEEDS TO STOP.#Bur for clarification in this fic Tails and Knuckles has been living in GH for around 6 months :3

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