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luvsupa · 5 months ago

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001 | THE GARDEN

tags: trueform!sukuna x servant!fem reader, angst, smut(ish), pet names, lots of tension, teasing, mentions of death, mdni.

w.c: 3.9k (damn)

a/n: sorry for not posting in a whilee💔💔 I’ve been so sick and still am 🤧 😓 but this is req from this ask! (I will be making multiple parts to this i was writing a lil too much 😟)

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated!

part 2!

“sukuna-sama expects his dinner,” one of sukuna’s subordinates announces, pushing open the heavy wooden door to the kitchen. you and several other servants are already hard at work preparing the meal.

everyone tenses at the reminder, knowing that sukuna’s patience is thin. this is your first time preparing his dinner—usually, you’re assigned to gardening or cleaning. the sight before you is almost too much: bones, flesh, and organs stacked on the plate, creating a grotesque pile. the stench of death fills the air, making your stomach churn as you try not to gag.

as the meal is finished, you grab the edges of the heavy plate, bracing yourself for the weight of the revolting flesh.

“you’re not worthy to deliver the king’s food,” yorozu sneers, snatching the plate from your hands with a flick of her wrist. “you might upset him and end up as his next meal,” she adds, carrying the plate effortlessly while laughing as she exits. her mocking tone stings, and you can’t help but think of her with contempt as you and the other servants clean up.

bitch.

unable to bear the stench any longer, you leave the kitchen early. the other servants understand and let you go, knowing the smell has become too much for you. as you walk down the dimly lit hallway, you look up at the open ceiling, where stars shine faintly against the night sky. an eerie wind howls through the corridor, its sound both creepy and mesmerizing.

you glance towards the servant quarters but are drawn to the door leading to the garden. it feels like something is beckoning you, so you decide to take a detour. opening the door, you’re greeted by the moonlit garden—a stark contrast to the darkness inside. the flowers and fruit glow vibrantly under the moonlight, and the trees sway with the force of the wind.

walking deeper into the garden, you stop on the wooden bridge over the koi pond. you peer into the water, watching the koi fish below. as you look closer, your reflection shimmers in the rippling water. the fish suddenly dart away, disappearing in an instant. your confusion grows as you focus on your reflection and see four red orbs glowing ominously behind you.

frozen in place, fear grips you tightly. your heart pounds wildly, and you’re paralyzed by the chilling presence that seems to lurk just out of sight. your mind races, but you remain utterly silent and immobile, trapped by the eerie, haunting feeling that you are being watched.

you stand there frozen, the chill of fear gripping your body as your heart pounds furiously. you’re paralyzed by terror, unable to make a sound, not even a whisper.

“awh, i wish to get more of a reaction out of you,” the unknown voice murmurs darkly. slowly, you turn to see an extremely tall man with an array of unsettling features. the sight nearly makes you faint. the king.

“my lord,” you stammer, bowing deeply in respect. he chuckles at your rapid attempt to regain composure.

“it’s very easy to get into your head,” he observes, scanning your trembling form. “is there nothing up here?” he laughs, knocking your head playfully. you wince at his touch and rub your head, frowning at his mockery.

“there is,” you retort, turning your gaze away from him. you’re not trying to be disrespectful, but his subtle insult stings.

your heart still races as you focus on the rippling water beneath the bridge. sukuna towers over you, his presence as oppressive as the dark night sky. the garden around you is shrouded in shadows, illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon and the shimmering koi fish gliding silently beneath the water’s surface. the air is eerily quiet, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of insects.

“so, what brings you to my garden, little one?” sukuna’s voice slices through the silence, smooth but laced with a sharp edge. you turn to look at him; this time, he’s also peering down at the fish.

you hesitate, unsure of what to say. the truth is, you hadn’t meant to end up here—you were simply drawn in by some inexplicable force. but could you really admit that to him? that you felt something calling you?

“i… needed some fresh air, sukuna-sama,” you finally reply, your voice barely a whisper. it’s a weak excuse, but it’s all you can muster.

he chuckles darkly, the sound low and rumbling, as if he can see right through your flimsy explanation. “fresh air? after dealing with my dinner? you must have a stronger stomach than i thought,” he teases, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief. he steps closer, the wooden bridge creaking under his weight. “or maybe you’re just running away from something?”

you stiffen, his words cutting close to home. he’s right, of course. you’re running—from the stench of death, from the sight of flesh and bone, from the reality of serving someone like sukuna. but admitting that feels like exposing your most vulnerable self, and you’re not ready for that.

“no, my lord,” you say, shaking your head. “i just needed a moment to clear my thoughts.”

sukuna hums, clearly unimpressed by your response. he circles around you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey. you can feel his gaze lingering on you, making you hyper-aware of every breath you take, every inch of space between you.

“clear your thoughts, huh?” he muses, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “what could a little servant like you possibly have to think about?” his tone is mocking, almost condescending, yet there’s a genuine curiosity in it.

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. what could you say that wouldn’t sound trivial to a man like him? you’re just a servant—your worries are insignificant compared to his vast existence. but something about his question—and the way he seems to revel in your discomfort—makes you want to push back, just a little.

“i think about a lot of things, my lord,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “like the stars, or the way the wind feels at night. or the flowers in the garden.” you pause, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “even… even what it must be like to be someone like you.”

the last part slips out before you can stop yourself, and you immediately regret it. your heart skips a beat as you brace for his reaction, fearing you’ve crossed some invisible line. but to your surprise, sukuna doesn’t lash out. instead, he halts, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“someone like me?” he echoes, his brow arching with a mix of curiosity and disdain. “and what do you imagine it’s like, little one? to be someone like me?”

you hesitate, unsure how to respond. you hadn’t really thought it through—your words had just spilled out in the heat of the moment. but now that he’s asking, you can’t back down.

“i imagine it’s lonely,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “to have so much power, but no one who truly understands you. no one who dares to stand by your side, except out of fear.”

the garden falls into silence, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. you can feel sukuna’s gaze boring into you, but you don’t dare meet it. your heart races, fearing you’ve gone too far.

then, sukuna does something unexpected—he laughs, a low, dark laugh that sends shivers down your spine. “lonely?” he repeats, as if the concept is foreign to him. “you think i’m lonely?”

he leans in closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. “let me tell you something, little servant,” he murmurs, his voice soft but laden with menace. “i don’t need anyone to stand by my side. i don’t need understanding or companionship. all i need is power, and the fear it brings. that’s what sustains me.”

his words are harsh, but there’s something in his tone—a hint of something deeper, something he’s not willing to admit. you feel a pang of sadness, realizing that beneath all that power, there’s a void he refuses to fill.

“you should be careful, doll,” he says, his voice low and warning. “curiosity can be dangerous. especially when it comes to me.”

with that, he straightens up, turning to leave. but before he can take a step, he pauses, glancing back at you with a smirk. “perhaps i’ll visit you again. after all, i find your little thoughts quite entertaining.”

your breath catches as you watch him disappear into the shadows, leaving you alone in the garden once more. the night is still, the stars shining brightly overhead, but the fear that had gripped you earlier has lessened, replaced by something else—something you can’t quite put into words.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *-

the next evening, you enter the shared servant quarters with a basket of clothes, overhearing yorozu and your other roommates gossiping about what happened in sukuna’s chambers. you pretend not to listen as you place the basket on the bed and start folding the clothes, trying to catch snippets of their conversation.

“he’s a maniac,” yorozu boasts loudly, “he even made love to me until sunrise—oh, how incredible it felt.”

you raise your brows at her blatant lie. after your encounter with sukuna, you had carefully snuck into the room to find yorozu and the others fast asleep.

what a liar.

the girls listening to yorozu gasp in awe, pleading for more details about her so-called night with the king. their excitement fades, however, as the door swings open, and uraume enters. the ladies quickly notice their presence and bow in respect.

“sukuna-sama has requested you to give him his bath,” uraume announces, looking directly at you. you glance around, wondering if uraume might have mistaken you for another servant.

“me?” you ask, pointing at yourself in confusion. the other servants exchange glances of barely concealed disgust. uraume nods, and they take their leave, closing the door behind them and leaving you in an awkward silence.

you smile to yourself as you hear yorozu’s incredulous question about why you’re the one chosen to assist with sukuna’s bath. you’re not a high-ranking servant, let alone someone who should be in his presence for more than a minute, much less during a bath.

discarding the basket of clothes, you rush out of the room, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation bubbling inside you about what might unfold between you and sukuna.

the walk to sukuna’s chambers nearly left you breathless, so secluded is his room from the rest of his vast estate. the wooden double doors, adorned with menacing skulls, creak open as uraume gestures for you to enter. they guide you past the threshold and direct you towards the private pool area, marked as the exit.

as you step into his room, you’re struck by its enormity. it’s so grand that it seems like a small residence in itself, complete with its own living area, kitchen, and even a staircase leading to what you assume must be his private quarters. the room boasts a massive balcony overlooking the villages below, offering a breathtaking view. to one side, a door leads to his expansive garden.

fear courses through you as you sense his overwhelming presence grow stronger. your gaze is drawn irresistibly to the garden door, and something compels you forward. you push the door open and step into the garden, which is bathed in the soft glow of moonlight.

there, in the center of the garden, is a large, dark pool. steam rises from the bubbling water, adding an ethereal quality to the scene.

and there he is.

sukuna sits in the pool, his eyes closed. his two arms rest casually on the edge, while the other two are submerged beneath the surface. his chest, covered in ancient tattoos, glistens with water droplets under the moonlight. the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with each breath is the only movement in the otherwise still night.

“there you are, my little one.”

you stood there, swallowing hard as he opened his eyes to meet yours. his hand motioned for you to come closer, and you obeyed, lowering yourself to your knees beside him.

“something disturbing you?” he asked, feigning concern as he searched your eyes for a reason. “nothing, my lord. I’m just surprised you requested me instead of yorozu.”

a smirk played on his lips as his fingers lightly brushed the fabric of your kimono. “join me,” he said, his tone laced with a provocative edge. your eyes widened at the request, and you stumbled over your words, unable to form a coherent response. all you could hear were the faint pops of bubbles in the pool.

“unless you’d prefer I call for yorozu,” he added, a hint of amusement in his voice that sparked a pang of jealousy in you.

with a deep breath, you carefully stood up, untying your kimono and letting it pool around your feet as sukuna’s gaze remained fixed on your bare figure. he bit his lip, watching as you hesitantly stepped into the steaming water. the heat was intense, but you pushed through, your entire body soon engulfed by the water. sukuna’s arms, hidden beneath the surface, wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer until you were resting on his lap. you flinched at the unexpected contact.

you could feel his cocks.

he chuckled at your reaction, his laughter carrying a hint of cruel amusement. “does her name strike a nerve?” he taunted as you glanced around, avoiding his gaze while taking in the garden’s beauty. without warning, he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I don’t like being ignored, woman.”

“it doesn’t seem fair that you have sexual relations with her and then summon me. you’re only going to make the other servants despise me,” you confessed, your voice trembling. his expression was unreadable, leaving you unsure whether he was angry or merely contemplating your words.

your pulse quickens as sukuna’s intense gaze pins you in place, his four crimson eyes gleaming with dark amusement. his massive form looms over you, every inch of his heavily tattooed body radiating power and menace. the steam swirling around you thickens the air, and the bubbling water at your waist feels like it’s vibrating with the tension between you.

“jealousy doesn’t suit you,” sukuna murmurs, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. his tone is laced with condescension, as if daring you to challenge him. one of his hands tightens its grip on your waist, while another trails a sharp claw along the side of your neck, dangerously close to your pulse.

you swallow hard, trying to maintain composure, but your voice betrays you with a slight tremor. “i’m not jealous,” you lie, even as your heart races. “i just don’t understand why you would entertain her lies.”

sukuna’s lips curl into a cruel smirk, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “entertain her lies?” he echoes mockingly, leaning in so close that his breath fans across your face. “you think i care about what that pathetic woman says? the only reason i acknowledge her existence is to see you squirm.”

he moves one of his lower arms to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. his eyes bore into yours, and the sheer intensity of his gaze makes your knees feel weak. “you’re nothing but a fool to her,” he continues, his voice dripping with venom. “a pawn in her petty games. but you… you’re mine.”

your breath hitches as his words send a jolt of heat through your body, leaving you torn between the urge to slap him and an even stronger, confusing desire. the steam rises thicker around you, wrapping you both in a cocoon of suffocating heat, and the bubbling water feels like it’s boiling against your skin.

“i’m not a toy,” you manage to say, though the words sound weak even to your own ears. sukuna’s laugh is low and menacing, and you feel his upper arms encircle you, pulling you closer to his enormous chest, his wet skin slick and warm against yours.

“oh, but you are,” he purrs, his voice both mocking and seductive. “my toy. my plaything. and i’ll do with you whatever i please.”

the heat of the water and the intensity of his gaze create a pressure that feels almost unbearable. his four crimson eyes lock onto yours with a predatory gleam, while his massive, tattooed form looms over you. the steam from the bubbling pool rises in thick clouds, obscuring everything but the two of you, wrapping you in a suffocating cocoon of heat and desire.

sukuna’s hands continue their torturous exploration. his lower arms grip your waist, holding you flush against him. his touch is deliberate, almost maddeningly slow, as his fingers trail lightly along your sensitive slit, spreading your folds making you whimper at his touch. every brush of his fingertips makes you shiver, your body reacting instinctively to the teasing pressure.

“you feel that?” sukuna growls, his voice rough with dark pleasure. his fingertips linger at your entrance, grazing the sensitive area with tantalizing slowness. “every inch of you is responding to me. don’t try to deny it.”

the water around you bubbles more furiously, the heat intensifying as sukuna’s touch grows bolder. your breath hitches with every pass of his fingers, your hips slowly grinding on his fingers for something more. the tension between you thickening until it feels like it’s pressing down on you from all sides. the steam is stifling, making it hard to think, and the heat of the water feels almost like a physical presence, amplifying the pressure of sukuna’s touch.

you try to maintain your composure, but your voice betrays you, trembling with barely contained desire. “i’m not yours,” you manage to say, though the words sound weak against the backdrop of his dark amusement.

sukuna’s lips curl into a cruel smile, his sharp teeth flashing in the dim light. “oh, but you are,” he murmurs, his voice both mocking and seductive. “and deep down, you know it. you can’t hide from what you want.”

his lower arms grip your hips firmly, pulling you snugly against him. you gasp as his fingertips graze your clit with a teasing touch, sending a shiver of electric pleasure through your body.

“my precious brat,” sukuna growls, his fingers continuing their teasing caress, barely making contact but just enough to drive you wild with anticipation. the sensation is maddening, the heat of his touch against your sensitive skin making it hard to focus on anything but the overwhelming need building within you.

you try to maintain control, but your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps. “’m not yours,” you repeat, shutting your eyes, hoping he would do something.

sukuna’s eyes glint with cruel satisfaction as he increases the pressure slightly, his fingers brushing over your clit with a teasing rhythm. the dizziness increases as the pressure of his touch and the intensity of his gaze combine.

sukuna smirks as he brings his hand from the water to pinch your neglected breasts, pulling and teasing your nipples until you gasp loudly. simultaneously, his fingers rub circles on your poor clit with a harsh rhythm, each touch sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your body. the sensations blend together, leaving you dizzy and disoriented, as if you’re drunk off his touch.

the steam seems to wrap around you tighter, making it hard to think clearly. sukuna’s touch is relentless, the teasing strokes sending waves of heat through your body. your mind is spinning, caught between the heat of the water, the pressure of his touch, and the oppressive weight of his presence.

his fingers trace along the edges of your entrance with agonizing slowness, the touch making your body quiver with anticipation your breasts aching at the teasing. sukuna’s hands grip you tighter, pulling you closer, and the sensation of his body against yours only adds to the unbearable pressure.

“say it,” he commands, his voice rough and demanding. “tell me you’re mine.”

the words catch in your throat, the intensity of the moment making it almost impossible to speak. the steam, the heat, the pressure of sukuna’s touch—all of it overwhelms you. the tips of his fingers push into your hole, your body instinctively wanting more. the tension breaks, and the words slip from your lips, barely audible over the sound of the bubbling water.

“f-fuck yours- ‘m yours ,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission. he widely smirks as you gave in, knowing that you’re his. the heat of the water, the intensity of sukuna’s touch, and the oppressive presence of his gaze converge, leaving you breathless and dizzy, completely trapped in his embrace.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the next morning, you and the other servants were summoned to the kitchen by the higher-ups. as you prepared, memories of your night with sukuna kept making you smile, his words-you’re mine- echoing in your mind. sukuna wanted you, and only you.

in the large, cobblestoned kitchen, you and the servants gathered around the wooden island table where uraume had called everyone. chatter and gossip filled the room as you stood with your friends, one of them clutching your arm nervously as everyone waited for uraume’s arrival.

the wooden doors creaked open as uraume and several guards filed in, immediately commanding attention. “good morning, everyone,” uraume said, silencing the room.

“sukuna-sama has been keeping an eye on a few of you while you worked,” uraume continued, causing a collective gulp of fear to ripple through the room. whispers of suspicion and dread filled the air, as many feared sukuna’s scrutiny meant trouble.

“and he is beyond pleased with one of your skills,” uraume added, and the room erupted in gasps and murmurs of relief. you heard whispers behind you—could it be me? it has to be me.

you couldn’t help but chuckle at their eagerness. most of the servants slacked off when uraume or sukuna’s subordinates weren’t around, but you always made sure to be diligent. you weren’t trying to be a suck-up; you were just keenly aware of the consequences of falling out of favor. after all, many had met grim fates.

was this about me? had the king of curses been watching? you think.

uraume walked closer to your side of the room, maintaining their usual emotionless demeanor. a few of the other servants' smiles faltered as uraume pushed through the crowd, making a beeline for you. their eyes were filled with a mix of envy and disbelief, and you straightened your posture with a slight bow, a wide, hopeful smile spreading across your face.

“i’m very thankful for this—”

“move.”

you choked on your saliva, your face flushing with embarrassment as you froze, head down. the realization that you were not the one being recognized hit hard as uraume moved past you to the girl in the back. murmurs and chuckles spread through the room, and you could feel your cheeks burning with shame.

i just want to disappear.

uraume pulled one of the servants deemed ‘skilled’ to the front of the room. you slowly raised your head to see yorozu, standing there with a beaming smile, clearly thrilled.

“sukuna-sama is beyond satisfied with your skills and dedication,” uraume announced. “he has requested a personal dinner with yorozu.”

what?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #sukuna angst #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jjk angst #ryoumen sukuna smut #true form sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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sukunasweetheart · 8 days ago

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beneath snowfall, we meet and part ways.

sukuna x reader, canon compliant, mild fluff and angst. a prequel to uraume's epilogue.

the forest is a haven of pure white.

your feet sink into the floor with each step, making the journey home a more difficult one. cheeks feeling frozen and achy, you wish to make a little stop to thaw your face out in some heat, but you are almost home, and it seems like a waste of time to build a fire so close to the end of your travel.

your head feels heavy. halting momentarily, you take your kasa hat off, and brush away the built-up snow from it, before putting it back on. the cold has now permeated into your fingertips, making them icy and stiff - you bring them up to your face to blow some warm air on them, to alleviate some of the numbness.

being so preoccupied with warming your hands, you are completely ignorant to the predator that is prowling behind you, ready to pounce and sink it's teeth into your neck.

when you finally turn around at the sound of snow crunching beneath a heavy weight, the wild bear is already charging at you in full speed.

the shock and fear has planted your feet deeply into the snow - you cannot run, or muster the strength to even try. but before it could tear through your soft and warm flesh and lap up your blood, it suddenly stops in its tracks, and collapses into the floor at it's feet. deep crimson trickles into the pure white snow, dying it red.

you're huffing from your anxiety and as the adrenaline leaves your body, you lose strength in your legs and fall backwards, onto your behind, palms sinking into the ground.

a third figure approaches the scene. he is almost the same size as the bear, and appears half naked, with only a black haori draped over his shoulders. how bold, in this weather...

he ignores your presence entirely, and is only inspecting his newly hunted fresh meat. you fall to your knees and say your gratitude, from having your life saved. there's little to no response, as the man is seemingly only interested in the bear.

you slowly stand up and your gaze falls to his bare feet in the snow.

"kind stranger... are your feet not cold in this snow?" you ask innocently. "i'm only a self-taught tailor, but i could make you some simple sandals and clothes just to-"

"unnecessary. piss off."

he uses a tone that's as cold as the air around you.

the nameless man hoists the bear into his shoulder, as if it weighs nothing, and carries it away like a sack of rice. you watch as he disappears into the distance, only leaving behind deep footprints into the snow.

roughly a week has passed since his first interaction with you.

this forest is where he frequents to hunt for wild animals, and so it was inevitable for him to also run into you again, since you use this same path to get to and from town twice a week to trade goods.

when he spots you again, you are foolishly trying to grasp his attention from a distance away, jumping and waving your hand around, almost like you want to attract, or scare, every possible wildlife animal to your location. sukuna ignores you, and walks away to try his luck in a different patch of the forest. but you catch up from behind.

he narrows his eyes. what an annoying pest. perhaps he shall have you as his dinner tonight?

his hand is itching to cleave you, but when you stop in front of his path, you are holding up a neatly folded kimono and a pair of large sandals on top of it.

"it may be imperfect... i worked with only what i saw of your size on that day. but please, take them and use them as you see fit."

the straw sandals look as though they're seamlessly woven. you're standing there, sweating, hoping he takes the items, wondering if he will be displeased if you grab his hand and make him take it. he hasn't spoken to you once since you called over to him. and yet again with silence, you watch as he holds your offerings with one of his four hands.

your anxiety turns into relief, and you're smiling tenderly. after a deep bow, you walk away to return home.

once you are gone, sukuna finds a branch to hang his haori onto briefly, to try on the items. they both fit perfectly, eerily so. you made this after only eyeing and estimating his size, hm? the tiniest smile is on his face as he continues his hunt, in the remainder of the afternoon.

he seems to run into you at least once every two weeks. overjoyed to see him wearing your gifts, you always bow as he walks past you. he pays you no mind.

but for the most part, he tends to clear out the wild animals closest to your area.

in a few weeks' time, he notices his sandals are getting worn out, which makes him click his tongue in annoyance.

the next time you see him, the man approaches you on his own accord, and holds up his sandals that are now full of holes. it should have lasted a bit longer, but the battle that he fought last week left them a little more damaged than he would've liked.

"oi. these are getting unusable. do something about it," he tells you, bluntly.

"... it would be my pleasure," you respond, taking the old sandals from him. you can use them as reference to replicate the exact same size.

the following week, you see him once again, and he receives a brand new pair. there is a look of satisfaction on his face.

such a routine continues, for the remainder of the year.

seasons pass. oddly, he hasn't seen you in some time. and the next time he does, it just so happens to be a snowy winter's day, once again.

you have a larger amount of luggage than usual, on your back. when you see him, your eyes light up and a small gasp escapes your lips as if you're glad to see him.

"sir!" you wave, walking close towards him. "it's always pleasant to see you. there's something i must give you."

you take your luggage off your back and start fishing for something.

sukuna stands with one pair of his arms crossed, silently looking down at you and watching.

"i've been recognised by a nobleman in town. he has expressed his desire for me to come and travel with him to the city for a permanent position as a tailor," you explain as you're going through your things.

"...is that so," sukuna replies monotonously.

what you bring up is a sack, seemingly filled with items. sukuna takes it and opens it up to find multiple pairs of shoes and clothes.

"there was no longer any need for any of the materials i had at my home as i was told not to bring them with me... so i used them all up to make clothes and shoes that could be of use to you," you continue, hoisting your luggage back onto your back.

sukuna sees that this is evident in your hands, as they look like they've been overworked and scratched up from strenuous straw braiding and sewing.

"i... probably won't be able to come back. the city is a long way away," you smile wistfully, "so, if you're ever in need of shelter or an icehouse for your hunts, please make use of mine. it should be down along this path, south-east, in the outskirts of this forest."

you give him a final bow.

"i'm truly thankful. my travels to and from town became much easier since the wild animals began avoiding this area. we never shared our names... but i will remember you for the rest of my life as my saviour."

you've always wondered if it was purposeful for him to always go hunting in this particular area.

sukuna scratches his ear at your awful lot of chattiness, being unused to listening to someone for this long. he hadn't really even meant to "save you" back then as you like to state, it was a simple coincidence. but he knows such details don't matter to someone like you.

"i wish you all the best," you say, beginning to walk off, as you wave at him.

sukuna... stands silently as he watches you leave. you're a few metres distance away now, but a sudden question he's wanted to ask blossoms in his mind, with a deep-seated annoyance sitting in the pit of his stomach.

"...why did you never question my abnormalities in appearance? is this something you're giving me out of sympathy?" sukuna asks in a loud voice, holding your bag up in his hand.

you stop in your tracks, and turn back around with a face of silent surprise at the sudden question from the usually wordless individual.

"...eh? uhm... well..." you stutter, seemingly troubled. sukuna raises an eyebrow.

"i've never thought about the situation in such a complicated manner... when i first saw you, i thought that the person who saved my life deserved clothes befitting him, and there was nothing for me to offer except my hard work, despite being an unremarkable tailor..."

you look like you're struggling, while lost in your thoughts.

"as for your appearance - i'm struggling to see what relevance that has with anything. clothes can be worn by anyone, and it's an essential part to any human's life."

sukuna sighs at your naivety.

"... nevermind, i suppose. get out of here," he mutters, turning his back to you.

you smile again, the confusion being wiped off your face entirely.

"farewell, sir! may you be blessed!"

sukuna feigns as though he's leaving with his back turned to you, but a few moments later he turns around to watch your figure disappear in the distance. this will be the last time he ever sees you in this lifetime.

it was the first time someone had viewed him as nothing more than a human, and treated him with any sense of everyday normalcy. and perhaps it is the first time he has received a genuine blessing, in this life of his that is always filled with conflict and malevolence.

but what use is a singular blessing against the multitude of curses that stir deep within his gut? sukuna has already established his path, and has no intention of changing his ways.

regardless of that...

he throws your bag of items over his shoulder to bring with him, and walks alone through the snow, following your directions towards your home. he shall make good use of that icehouse of yours....

- fin -

author's notes; my first proper canon compliant fic!! you may think of this as a late christmas fic hehe

in my humble opinion, sukuna was truly not capable of committing to loving someone in his jjk lifetime. i wouldn't say not capable, but he actively was against going down that path - the only reason he was able to choose to change his ways was due to his loss in the final fight - losing his life in a battle of ideals was the one and only way to get him to accept the value of love! (stubborn old man)

anyway i hope u liked this, i had fun writing it, i wanted to mention that yes, reader's icehouse is the same icehouse that his fatass accidentally crushed a while later before finding uraume! i tried to think of a creative way to involve reader in his life without altering jjk canon...

you are his soulmate, but you found him at the wrong time. perhaps if you'd met him earlier...

sukuna is probably somewhat relieved that you parted ways with him without knowing his true nature and he finds that it was better off this way; he is far too deep into this side already at this point, it would've been impossible for you to understand him to his core.

hopefully his encounter with you in his next life won't be so brief! <3

masterlist

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna

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chibinasuu · 28 days ago

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Zoro x Reader ― by the fire; cuddling

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― @kyllium tags: sfw, pure fluff, established relationship, GN!reader, no use of y/n

Roronoa Zoro was not and had never been a cuddler.

…or so he claimed.

As you sat on a log by the bonfire, in a banquet after the Straw Hats successfully liberated yet another kingdom, Roronoa Zoro was clinging to you like his life depended on it.

Sanji was running around trying to find a cam-snail, hoping to capture the moment for future blackmail material. Robin was giggling quietly to herself, amused by the swordsman’s uncharacteristic behavior.

The green-haired man was too drunk to care.

He had (foolishly) challenged Jinbe to a drinking contest, which he had obviously lost, badly.

The fishman was chatting happily with the locals across the clearing, seemingly unbothered by the unholy amount of alcohol he had just consumed. Meanwhile, his opponent had entered a relaxed, half-drowsy state that he always found himself in whenever he drank more than he should, which admittedly, was not often.

You could only sit frozen in space, cheeks burning, trying to avoid Nami’s gaze as she teasingly made kissy faces at you. Your arms were tight on your sides, trapped by Zoro’s thick ones wrapped around your figure. His face was buried in your neck, and your breath hitched when you felt his lips brush once, twice, against the sensitive skin.

You were no stranger to Zoro's touches. He had his affectionate moments whenever the two of you were alone, but in public? The most he had ever done was hold your hand in front of the crew.

“Zoro,” You whispered, “People are watching.”

“Don’t care.” He mumbled as he nuzzled closer to you, “Let ‘em see how much I love you.”

You couldn’t stifle the smile that crept up your face, but Zoro was apparently not done talking yet.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He slurred as he pulled his head back to look at you, his smile as soft as you had ever seen it, “I’m so in love with you, it‘s making me dizzy.”

You decided that you liked drunk Zoro.

The man was not exactly vocal with his declarations of love, so it was always nice to hear him say it out loud once in a while.

You laughed and wriggled your arms out of his tight grip, using them to pull him even closer to you. You gave him a small kiss on the top of his head, “I love you too, Zoro, but that’s probably the alcohol making you dizzy.”

You know your beloved swordsman would probably be mortified by all of this tomorrow – if he could even remember anything – but for now, you gladly basked in his affection, despite being slightly embarrassed yourself.

You let him lean on you as he rested his bones – he deserved it after today's long battle. The crackling of the dying fire only added to his drowsiness, and you could see his eyelid fluttering, struggling to stay open.

You stroke his hair gently, playing with the spiky ends on his nape. Zoro sighed out your name, muttering a couple more I-love-yous into your ear for good measure. His hand on your waist subtly slipped under your top, his thumb drawing lazy circles on your bare skin.

As the flames slowly turned into embers, you were grateful for the darkness that hid your flushed skin and dilated pupils.

“Zoro, are you asleep?”

A soft grunt indicated that he was still awake, but barely.

“Do you want to go back to the ship? You should get into bed and get some proper sleep.”

He answered with a deeper grunt. You were fluent enough in Zoro’s grunts by now that you knew that meant ‘yes’.

After bidding good night to everyone who remained at the banquet, you half-led, half-dragged Zoro back to the Thousand Sunny, with your arm wrapped around his waist, and his arm slung around your shoulders.

You didn’t complain about his massive weight bearing down on you – not when he stopped every few steps to press tender kisses to your cheek.

a/n: this is practically a self-indulgent fic that feeds into my headcanon that zoro gets extremely affectionate whenever he was drunk

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ main event page || event masterlist ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

↳ main masterlist ↳ taglist

#zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fluff #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro fluff #chibinasuu fics

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chithereader · 1 month ago

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losing my cool / aaron hotchner

part 2 to playing it cool !!! hope you like it word count: 1.6k pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader genre: angst at first, but fluff!!!!!! cw: more sickeningly sweet and soft aaron x reader, mentions of insecurities

The smile on Aaron’s face slowly fades as he takes in your frozen stance. You’re staring at him like he just shot you in the back and worry starts to fill him, “Honey..?” waving his hand in front of your face, hoping it would be enough to break you out of your stupor.

“Hello?” Still waving his hand in your face, your eyes darted to his. Your body is in a state of shock– in your mind, there’s a tiny version of you desperately digging her way out of a landslide of disbelief. Waves and waves of doubts and insecurities hindering you from processing what is happening.

Aaron watches as your mouth moves with barely any sound coming out. Like a fish out of water, you’re scrambling, “W-what?” That’s… a bit too shaky to be good.

He pauses to think. The doubts are starting to creep up on him.

Maybe he was too rash with his question.

Maybe that wasn’t the best way to spring it on you.

Maybe he should have waited for a better time.

Maybe he should have planned something.

Maybe she isn’t ready.

Maybe she just doesn’t want to marry me.

He tries hard to swallow all these dark thoughts, clearing his throat to fake the confidence that’s slowly diminishing, “I said, ‘Marry me.’” After he says those words again he stills, hoping that this time he’ll get an answer. And that.. it would be the answer he so badly wants.

But time slows down and his heart soon follows as he watches tears start to pool in your eyes. You’re shaking your head– they’re tiny shakes and you look panicked. This isn’t good. Not good at all.

He really wasn’t expecting this. It never occurred to him you’d say no. Or ..not yes. Aaron’s mind is running a million miles per hour. He doesn’t know what to do, or say. He barely even knows how he feels. And so he defaults to doing the one thing he does best (as a prosecutor at least): object.

This is triggered by your movement. You move around him, leaving the kitchen towards your living room. Your goal was to sit on the couch, craving some stability as your legs get weaker the more you’re processing what was asked, how you reacted, and how it could be coming across.

But Aaron’s legs are longer than yours. Before you even reach the couch, he’s holding your arm firmly and gently at the same time. He’s got that furrow in his brows that makes him look stern, but his eyes betray him as you can clearly see the worry in them.

“Well yes!” he says in disagreement. He doesn’t understand why you haven’t said yes, and as much as he isn’t the kind of man to ever force a lady into anything, a part of him is scared of what he’ll hear if he asks you why you’re not saying yes.

Though instead of allowing that fear to paralyze him, he allows it to control him. To bear its face because the softer, more rational part of him is hiding.

You’re avoiding his gaze, crossing your arms– you’re turning away from him. “No- Aaron, you– I don– I ca–”

You know he’s studying you. You can feel his eyes roaming your face, your neck, your body. He’s taking in everything he can because you’ve given him absolutely nothing so far. And oh how you wish you could voice it all out.

You just wish it was easy to say I don’t think I’m enough for you. What if you realize one day that I’m not good enough? Are you sure? Are you sure about this? About me? What if you start to want someone smarter? Prettier? Hotter? What if you want someone who is as accomplished or important as you? What if you get bored of me? What if–

You’re broken out of your thoughts when he suddenly straightens. He looks as if he’s realized something and the next thing you know you’re hit by a gust of wind because he’s running up the stairs.

Within an instant you run after him. A dozen scenarios are running through your head, the worst being Aaron packing your things because he’s going to ask you to leave. Your heart beats faster as you reach the top of the steps. You peek into your room and see him rummaging through drawers.

Your worries quiet significantly when you realize they’re his drawers. And just when you’re about to approach him, he turns around meeting you halfway. You’re both illuminated by the sunlight that’s coming through the bedroom window you’re standing in front of.

He’s still. He’s got a serious look on his face. You take him in, trying to read him but he’s got his profiler look on– unreadable and determined. His voice rattles you, “I’m sorry. That was a mistake.” Firm and devoid of any emotion.

Oh god.

You’re shaking your head, reaching to hold him by his arms. You start to cry, “Aaron please, that’s not what I–” but… he’s going down on one knee.

What?

He watched multiple emotions flicker on your face. Defeat, panic, confusion– “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said that. I– I planned to do it better than that. I don’t know why I let it slip out, you deserve better than that.”

Before you can process it, Aaron’s holding out a ring. He’s holding your hand in the other while tears are streaming down both your faces. You have no idea how you heard it but you guess it’s simply a testament to how attuned you are to him when he whispers, “Please, please, please. Will you marry me, honey?”

Time stops. Literally. You can feel your heart in your chest beating louder, heavier. It’s pounding as if begging to be heard. Begging to let Aaron know that it beats for him and him only. You’re lowering yourself to kneel before him. You want to see his face properly. His eyes. His nose. His lips. This is the man you love. This is the man you want to marry. Your eyes are simply capturing every angle of this moment.

You’re leveled now. Equals. You grab both his hands in yours and you stare into his brown eyes. You want him to know you mean it, as you nod your head slowly and breathe out, “Yes.” A smile breaks across his face, tears starting to stream again.

You watch him as he tries to put the ring on your finger, getting it on the first try even if his sight is slightly hindered by his tears of happiness and relief. The sun makes the ring sparkle, catching your attention and you look at it properly for the first time.

It’s beautiful. Aaron would argue that the stone screams you – grace, loyalty, peace. He catches your eye and the both of you start to smile. You start to giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck while his arms snake around your waist.

He buries his head in your neck, breathing in your scent while silently thanking the heavens for granting him this. You break apart, startled to hear tiny footsteps nearing. The both of you start to stand up from the floor, straightening yourselves out and wiping the remaining tears staining your faces.

You both look to the door, waiting for the little boy to show himself. You hear a soft knock right before the door opens slowly, a head peeking in, “Daddy?”

Aaron goes to the door, opening it more for Jack to come in. The little boy goes straight to you and you pick him up in your arms with ease, resting him on your hip. You have your left hand holding him stable, and even though the little boy’s still groggy with sleep he notices the sparkling addition to your hand.

You take notice of how his little face lights up in excitement and you have no idea what about it he understands, “I help Daddy buy you that!” His voice is full of pride, genuinely proud that he had played a part in picking.

You’re confused, not fully understanding what Jack means. Looking to Aaron for an answer, you’re surprised to find him blushing. He looks shy and he’s shrugging at you but you can tell he’s trying hard to play it cool. The smile fighting its way on his face betrays him.

You decide to take your chance on the adorable kid that is now fiddling with your ring, watching in amazement at how much it’s twinkling in the light. Children are the most honest people you know anyway. Pursing your lips with squinted eyes, you investigate “What do you mean, bubba?”

“Daddy asked me what ring pop you want, so I asked you when we watched Spiderman and you said your favorite is the green one so I tell Daddy you want the green one!”

Your heart stutters and the tears start coming in again. Aaron asking Jack for his opinion for your engagement ring. Jack thinking it's a ring pop. Jack asking for your favorite ring pop flavor. Jack being proud that you got the ring you want, pop or not.

Brought out of your thoughts by Jack wanting to leave your hold, you put him down. You watch as he happily walks out of your room, presumably to go to the kitchen. You look at Aaron again, and just as you’re about to say something about what you just found out, you realize one thing. Spiderman.

You gasp. Covering your mouth in surprise, you slap his arm lightly, “That was our third date!”

Aaron laughs loudly, rushing out of the room before you can throw questions at him or even comments about how insane he is. He couldn’t care less. He was right.

a/n: just want to say thank you so much for the love and support i've been getting for my hotch fics!! as someone who's new here, it all means so much to me <33 i recently made a masterlist as i plan to write so much more and branch out to other characters i've been perpetually in love with!! leave requests of what you want to read or characters i can write about, i'd love to write for you guys ◡̈ tagging the people who wanted a part 2 for this: @pear-1206 @dedicatedfangirl2001 u guys are so sweet

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rodolfoparras · 2 months ago

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PLEASEJADGW I AM NEW, SPEAK ABT THE THE SOFT COCK FOR ME AGAIN

Thinking about hooking up with a divorced father whose only company for the past years has been the bear bottles in his fridge.

He’s greedy as ever as he sloppily licks into your mouth, lips tasting of whatever he had at the bar, practically moaning like a little slut while grinding down on your cock. His poor worn out coach is barley able to hold your weight but he couldn’t care less about that as he continues to hump you like some horny teenager.

Everything’s going well or at least you think so and soon you find yourself nestled between his thighs, hands swiftly pulling down his pants along with his boxers, hungrily watching as his cock spills out.

There isn’t much to the size but there’s some girth to his dick, shaft flushed an angry red and tip already weeping from just a little teasing.

Suddenly you find yourself eager as ever to get your mouth around him. However you don’t get much further than that before you feel him go soft in your mouth, with the older man looking absolutely horrified, apologizes rolling off of his tongue as he tries to get out of your grasp “fuck fuck- I’m so sorry I don’t know what happened,”

You don’t respond nor do you loosen your grip leaving the man looking both frazzled and confused where he lays pinned beneath your body. “What are you doing son? Let me go!”

Before he can say or do anything else you sink back down on him again, leaving the man loudly gasping as he bucks up into you “ahah! Fuck!”

As you work your mouth on him, you can’t help but notice how much smaller he feels. Cock fully soft yet so girthy. The weight of it on your tongue leaves you feeling numb but instead of having it be a frigid cold that encomposes your bones it’s a certain warmth that starts from the top of your head and works its way down to your toes.

The man beneath you seems frozen in place, looks at you with wide eyed and mouth agape as if he can’t believe this is happening. “ Jesus Christ You like this huh?” You hear him say but there’s no bite to his words, sounding more in disbelief if anything as his hand tentively cradles your skull.

Instead of responding you take him all the way down, obscene squelching sounds mingling with his whines and whimpers, only fully stopping when you’re buried in the fringe of curls and you got his balls pressed snug against you.

“Okay okay fuck you really like this yeah? Show me ah - show me how greedy you are for this soft cock then,”

Without wasting another second you do as he says,this time going at a much slower pace since your goal isn’t to get him off anymore but rather to feel all of him, and that’s exactly what you do as you bob your head down, mind focused on how hot and velvety he feels under your tongue.

“Fuck just like that, suck this old man’s cock,” he says through gritted teeth, the hand in your hair turning rougher as he yanks on it. “You know my wife never liked it when I got soft, fuck- she ah- she even left because of that but you? God you suck it like you were made for it,”

His words paired with the bitter taste lingering on your tongue makes you hungry for more and before you know of it you find yourself sucking harder, head bobbing erratically and losing yourself in the feeling of him jerking against the roof of your mouth, the way you can easily take more and more and more of his soft cock without chocking up, and the feeling of his spit slicked balls sliding against you with every thrust.

“God yes ah yes yes,” he gasps out but it’s not long before he pulls you away from his cock and you’re almost ashamed of the pitiful sound that escapes your mouth.

“Shh shh easy there, “ he coaxes out as he strokes your head “we’re going to have plenty of fun I promise, go and get that bottle of lube for me yeah?”

#cod x reader #cod x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #satoru x reader #satoru x male reader #suguru x reader #suguru x male reader #toji x reader #toji x male reader #Nanami x reader #Nanami x male reader #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #price x reader #price x male reader #sub male reader #dom male character

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bi-writes · 10 months ago

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ex-tf141!mercenary!fem!reader x ex-husband!simon because there's nothing hotter than being covered in blood and debating whether or not to kill him or fuck him (18+) ⚠️🔞

cw: reader is curvy (deal with it), mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dramatization + graphic depictions of murder + violence, criticizes military service, blood kink, size kink (simon's huge ok), pet names (luv, sweetheart, baby, honey), mw3 spoilers, reader is unhinged and unapologetic about it, dark content ahead, unprotected piv, cumplay, (can this also be considered a throuple fic? maybe...)

this isn't her. he doesn't recognize her. she doesn't fight the way he remembers, she doesn't look like she used to.

she wears all black. the black cargo pants are tight around her perfect thighs, and the way they cinch around her waist makes his mouth water. her vest covers her torso, but he has vivid memories of ripping an identical one off of her, ripping the fabric of her shirt so he could bury his mouth between her tits.

when she used to be his. when she used to be a good girl.

he watches, frozen, as she shows off her newfound ruthlessness. she fires her weapon at one man's knees, bringing him to the ground. he feels sick when she kicks him onto his back, getting on top of him, and uses her tactical knife and shoves it into the softness of his neck. she leans over him, splatters of blood freckled across her face, and she watches the life leave his eyes.

she doesn't get up until he stops twitching.

he doesn't remember this. when she used to watch his six, he remembers having to hold her close at night, quieting her cries. he remembers the conversations they used to have, where she used to tell him that whenever she closes her eyes, she sees every person she ever killed.

the justification of murder behind the patches she wore on her vest had never been enough to quiet her nightmares. she was always so soft-hearted. she was always too good, too considerate, too kind. it was something her superiors always wanted to rip away from her; it was something simon fought hard to keep.

he had lost his humanity, but she had not, and he remembers smoothing his hand over her chest and across her heart, telling himself that he would never let it go, never let her lose it.

it is gone. he knows it--he knows it because she doesn't just kill her opponents, she tortures them. she aims for vulnerable places, and then she kills them angrily. she likes to hear them scream. she watches them cry. she wipes the blood of her enemies on her thigh, and then she gets up and does it all over again, in different ways, in heinous ways. she's terrifying, and she's laughing, and there is nothing behind those fucking eyes.

he holds her in his sight. he adjusts the scope, gripping the rifle tighter, and suddenly it feels too heavy in his hands. he can see her in it, and he watches in horror.

he knows his orders. permission to kill on sight, those are his orders--mercenaries had gotten the same intel as them, but they are not here to destroy the biochemical weapons. they are here to steal them.

he can kill her right now. he has her, right where he wants her, and even from this far away, he knows he won't miss.

when she's finally alone, she stands, and she looks up, turning in a slow circle. his heart squeezes--she knows he's here. she holds up a hand, four fingers held up. he reaches up to his radio and turns the knob to the right channel. it crackles, and then he hears her voice.

"hey, baby," you coo, and he sees you smile, and it's ugly, and he hates it. "you miss me that much that you gotta follow me around at work?"

"'f y'know wot's good for you, you'll pack up your shit and leave."

you tsk, spinning the knife around in your hand before sticking it back into your boot. you wipe the sweat from your forehead, and blood smears along your brow.

"awww, teddy bear, don't be that way," you pout. "how about you come down here?" you grin wide, turning just his way, giggling when you see him perched for overwatch. "hmm? you're just cranky, baby...need me to help you relax..."

"you're right fuckin' mad," he spits, and you reach down at the man beneath you, snatching his rifle off his back and making sure it's loaded. "and i'm gonna fuckin' kill you."

you wink up at him.

"yeah? so take the shot, honey," you challenge. the smirk that blooms on your face infuriates him. he hates you. but then you turn around and keep walking, knowing that he won't shoot, and his gaze follows the sway of your hips. instead of thinking about your brains splattered against gravel, he thinks about when he used to bend you over his bed in the barracks and eat your pussy from behind you--when he used to get on his knees and fuck you with his tongue and make you cum into his mouth.

when you disappear from his view, you laugh over comms. "you're pathetic, simon," your murmur. "could never trust you to get the fucking job done."

he remembers when you left. johnny had left a scar on you--an angry one, one that refused to heal. and while simon was equally as buried in his grief, he always felt just a little better when he was kissing you, holding you, feeling the warmth of you, knowing you were alive.

"you didn't love him. not like i did--" you snap, continuing to pack.

"are you fuckin' mad?! do y'hear yourself talk?! wot the fuck do you know about me and johnny?!"

"then how are you not angry?!" you scream. "how are still standing there, so fucking normal, how are you so fucking calm?!"

"sweetheart--"

"don't fucking touch me," you bite. "you don't get it--" angry tears flow easily down your face. "--you didn't love him the same."

"i did--" he grips your face, making you look at him. "i loved him like i love you, don't say that. don't fucking say that, don't you dare pretend you're the only one that feels anything--"

you rip his hands off of you, narrowing your eyes, and he does not recognize you. this is not you.

"y-you're a liar," you whisper. "you're a fucking liar. and you make me sick."

ghost steps over the bodies that you left behind. it is a massacre of men that you leave at your feet. slit throats, bullets in knees, in stomachs, little finishers you leave between their legs. you are not a fan of men--he knows this because of how hard it had been to get close to you. how difficult it had been to even so much as touch your arm, your face--to get you into his bed, to marry you in secret and fuck you spineless. the only easy thing that had ever happened to you was the way johnny fell right into step with you.

and the hardest thing that he had ever done was fucking die.

when he finds the trunk of biochemical vials, you are not there. he has found it first, and he bends down to inspect them, closing the lid and securing them inside before moving his hand up to press on the button of his comms to alert his team.

"uh uh uh," a low voice warns. "take your hand off the radio, sweetheart."

he moves, but the bloodied tip of a tactical knife is sharp against his throat, and he swallows hard. he calls your name, and you just giggle. this is a game to you. he lowers his hand, and you reach down, grabbing his rifle and tossing it. you also unholstered his handgun and the throwing knives from his boot, throwing them behind you.

"mmm..." you smooth a hand down his back. "you're as hot as the day i met you, baby..."

ghost grunts as you grip one side of his ass, and you grip his shoulder tight, kicking him just right so he was kneeling on both knees now. you lean over him and plant a warm, wet kiss to the jaw of his mask, moving so you were standing in front of him now. you kick the trunk of vials to the side, looking down at him, digging the sharp edge of the blade harder against his neck.

"look at you..." you hum, licking your bottom lip. "you're still so big, teddy bear..." he hisses when you lean over, cupping him through his pants. your warm hand squeeze the length of him, and you whine when you feel how hard he is, how much he still feels for you. he glares at you under that plastic, terrifying mask, but your panties are soaking. "so fucking hard for me, too...you miss me, baby?"

he leans over, into the blade, growling.

"'f you leave now, you can still take your life with ya."

you pucker your lips, and he snarls. your face is not one he knows--you have drying blood along your cheeks, smears of it along the softness of your neck. you have blood and dirt under your fingernails, and there is fire in your eyes, and you are not the good girl he fell in love with, but you look like her, and it scares him.

"awww, baby, if i thought you would kill me, you would be dead--" you lean forward and lick along his hard jaw, tasting the salt and sweat of his mask. "...right along your other boys. don't lie to me. it's not a good look for you."

he bites, and you laugh, and then you nod your head.

"sit down," you demand, and he sits. he is big, and his gear is heavy, and he sits with a grunt, and you climb over him, into his lap. you reach down, your eyes on his, and you unzip his cargo pants, your hand slipping under and pulling his cock out, and you smile when it stands hard and heavy. "oh, baby...you want this, don't you?"

you lean in, kissing him through the mask, sucking along the fabric and whining.

"you want this, don't you? you still want me? you still love me?"

"fuckin' hell--"

"you wanna fuck me, teddy bear?" you spit into the palm of your hand, reaching down and smoothing your wet hand over the red tip of him. "you're so big...as big as i remember..." you whimper. "say you wanna fuck me, simon--" fuck, you're using his name, "--say you want me."

against your lips, you feel him whisper yes--fuck--yes, luv--and you can't help it. you can't help yourself.

he's so warm and big. you hold onto his shoulders, still gripping the bloody knife, and you sink down on him. it's easy though, because you're soaking, and even though you're so fucking tight, you suck him in, right until your clit is grinding against the little hairs at the base of his cock and you're bouncing in his lap.

simon is weak. he's weak, and he knows it, because he loves you, and your pussy is so tight, and your moans are music, and fucking you is the only thing he truly understands, the only thing that still makes sense.

you smooth your hands along the back of his neck, and when you whimper and moan, simon thinks he sees you. his good girl, his pretty little wife, the soft girl that he loves, the one crying as she rides his cock because he's hitting all the gooey, pretty places inside of her that make her so fucking wet. he grips your ass tight, guiding you up and down, fucking up into you as he feels his stomach turn and his balls tighten.

"simon--" you cry, and he nods his head, cradling you to his chest, his head tilted back as he looks up at you. there is blood on your skin and a knife digging into his back, but you're saying his name, and his heart aches, and your pussy is so good-- "gonna come--gonna come--"

"yeah--" he growls, and you push up his mask, lick into his mouth, kiss him sloppy and hard and desperate. "fuck--fuck, yeah--"

he takes off his glove to touch you, two big fingers on your clit as you fuck him desperately. when you come, you soak his cock, and when you tighten, he comes, too, rolling his hips as he spills out of your tight hole and onto your thighs, onto his.

it feels so good. it feels so good to be full of him, to feel him deep, and you smooth your hands down your stomach, feeling him there, stretching you so wide with his come on your thighs, and when he pulls out, you giggle when he gathers the slick onto his fingers and feeds it to you.

you suck his fingers, tasting him, and you whine, looking right into his dark eyes. your heart hurts for a moment--but only a moment. when he pulls his fingers from your mouth, your eyes flicker.

because he still wears his fucking wedding ring.

at the sight of it, you grip your knife tight, and you sink it right into his stomach.

he is laying there in a pool of blood when you're dressed, when the trunk of vials is secure for you to take. you lean over him, pressing on the button of his radio, and you call for medevac to his team, and then you rip the radio in two.

you cup his cheeks, kissing him softly over the mask, and you smooth a finger down his cheek.

"don't pull the knife out, baby, or you'll bleed out," you coo. you tilt your head to the side, knowing you only have a few second window to leave, and you smile down at him.

"until next time, simon."

when you go, you take a piece of him with you.

and fuck--fuck you. because he wants it back.

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novaursa · 5 months ago

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The Dragon and The Wolf

- Summary: Rhaenyra sends her daughter instead of her son to fly North. You.

- Paring: velayrion!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is second born child of Rhaenyra, has silver hair and violet eyes and is a dragonrider. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (expect for rating to go higher in the next chapter)

- Word count: 3 681

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @21-princess

- A/N: I had this one stored away, but I've decided to post it on a request. Harwin Strong one is not yet finished, but will be posted in coming days. I'll see how both of these are received before posting more.

The wind whips across the snow-dusted fields, biting and cold, as you soar above on your dragon, Thraxata. The North stretches below like a vast, white ocean, with Winterfell looming ahead in the distance, its grey walls rising like ancient guardians against the winter sky. The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting a pale light that glimmers off the frost-coated land.

Thraxata’s dark scales gleam like polished obsidian, a stark contrast to the endless white beneath. Her massive wings carve through the air with graceful power, the membrane tinted in deep shades of violet and blue, like the twilight sky before night fully descends. She is known as the Midnight Fury in whispers—born of shadow and flame, a terror in the night skies. Her roar splits the silence, echoing across the fields, a sound both commanding and otherworldly.

From your perch on her back, you spot the waiting banners below: the direwolf of Stark, surrounded by lesser sigils of Northern houses. Lord Cregan Stark stands at their forefront, a tall figure clad in thick furs and armor, as still and stern as the land he rules. He expects a prince, no doubt, a son of Rhaenyra, a warrior with fire in his veins. But you are no prince.

You are Y/N Velaryon, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Silver-haired like your mother, with eyes the color of amethyst flames, you are the embodiment of old Valyria—a sight that would capture any man’s breath, even in the frozen heart of the North. Unlike your brothers, there is no questioning the blood that runs in your veins. You carry both the fire of your ancestors and the steel of the sea, a daughter of dragon and salt.

Thraxata descends with a mighty sweep of her wings, stirring a storm of snow and ice as her talons dig into the frozen ground. Her head swivels as she growls low, a deep rumble that vibrates through your body, her violet eyes fixed on the assembled Northerners. You dismount with practiced grace, the long cloak of thick fur billowing behind you as your boots crunch into the snow.

The men whisper, their breath misting in the cold air, eyes wide with awe and trepidation. No prince, but something more—something wilder, something that belongs in tales and legends.

Cregan Stark steps forward, his eyes fixed on you. They are grey like the winter itself, hard and sharp, yet there is a glint of something else—curiosity, perhaps, or a flicker of admiration beneath the layers of duty. He dips his head in a respectful nod, though his eyes never leave yours.

"Princess," he greets you, his voice deep and resonant, like a wolf's growl beneath the snow. "Winterfell welcomes you. I had expected a prince, but the Queen has sent a dragon nonetheless."

Your lips curve into a small smile, cold as the winter air. "My brothers may be princes, but it is I who bears the fire and ice that binds our realms, Lord Stark. I trust you will remember the oaths sworn to my mother, and the duty you hold to the true Queen."

His eyes narrow slightly, though there is no hostility, merely calculation. "The North remembers its oaths, Princess. But oaths are easily sworn and easily forgotten when the fires of war draw near. I would hear your words and judge for myself where our loyalties lie."

Thraxata’s tail lashes behind you, sending a spray of snow into the air. You can sense her restlessness, her desire to protect you, to assert her dominance in this land where dragons are more myth than reality. But you place a gloved hand on her scaled flank, a silent command, and she stills, though her eyes remain fixed on Cregan.

"You speak with wisdom, my lord," you reply, your voice firm but laced with the authority of the blood you carry. "But the North has never bent to whispers or empty promises. My mother’s cause is just, her claim undeniable. The realm needs strength, and you know as well as I that only fire can bring the long night to its knees."

There’s a flicker of something—approval, perhaps—in Cregan’s gaze. He steps closer, his boots crunching in the snow, until you are but a breath away. The North has always been a place where respect is earned through strength and resolve, not titles or finery. In that moment, you realize that your mother’s choice was not a mistake; you were sent because here, in this land of cold and iron, you are seen not as a delicate princess, but as something fiercer.

"Then perhaps the Queen chose wisely in sending you," he murmurs, his voice low, for your ears alone. "The North respects strength, and it seems that is something you possess in abundance, Y/N Velaryon."

There is a tension between you, a silent acknowledgment of the game you both play. He is the Wolf of Winterfell, and you are the Dragon sent to bind him to your mother’s cause. But there is something else too—a flicker of intrigue, of something more personal beneath the formalities.

“I shall make my case before the gathered lords,” you say, breaking the charged silence. “And I trust that Winterfell will extend the hospitality due to a dragon and her rider.”

He gives a slight incline of his head, a gesture of respect between equals. “Winterfell is yours, Princess. And I look forward to seeing just how fierce the fire of a dragon truly burns.”

With that, he steps back, signaling to his men. The banners dip in a formal show of respect as you walk forward, the Northern lords parting to make way for you. Thraxata stays behind, watchful, a dark shadow against the snow.

As you enter the gates of Winterfell, you can feel the eyes of Cregan Stark on your back, heavy with unspoken questions, and perhaps—just perhaps—the first stirrings of something that could grow amidst the frost and flame.

The warmth of Winterfell’s great hall is a great contrast to the biting cold outside. The stone walls are thick and ancient, adorned with tapestries depicting wolves in the hunt and battles long past. A roaring fire burns in the hearth, casting flickering shadows that dance across the rough-hewn beams above. The scent of woodsmoke and roasted meat fills the air, mingling with the faint tang of iron and earth, as though even the stone itself remembers the blood spilled within these walls.

You stride forward with measured grace, your fur-lined cloak trailing behind you. Eyes turn your way as you pass, curious glances that are quickly averted once they meet your violet gaze. The courtiers and bannermen of Winterfell are not accustomed to your kind—a dragonrider with Valyrian blood, a figure more suited to the tales of Old Nan than to the cold North. They murmur among themselves, voices hushed but thick with speculation, wondering if you are as fierce as the stories of your mother suggest.

Lord Cregan walks beside you, his stride steady and sure, the embodiment of Northern strength and resolve. He leads you to the head of the hall, where a carved wooden chair sits, draped in furs—a seat of honor, meant for you. As you take your place, his voice rings out, commanding the attention of everyone present.

"The Princess Y/N Velaryon graces us with her presence. Her arrival is most fortunate, for it seems the North’s business does not wait. House Glover has brought a criminal before us—a man accused of grave crimes—and they demand justice. Perhaps," he says, his grey eyes locking onto yours, "it would be fitting for a dragon to pass judgment."

There’s no mistaking the challenge in his words. This is a test, one meant to gauge your strength, your understanding of Northern customs, and how you wield your authority. He watches you closely, waiting for your reaction, as do the assembled lords. You know this moment is pivotal; how you handle this situation will determine whether they see you as just another southern princess, or as something more—someone who can command both fire and frost.

You meet his gaze evenly, a faint smile playing on your lips. "It would be an honor to dispense justice in the North, Lord Stark. Show me this criminal and let us see what manner of man he is."

Cregan gives a slight nod, and with a gesture, the doors at the end of the hall creak open. The sound echoes through the chamber as two men of House Glover drag a prisoner forward, shoving him to his knees before you. He’s a ragged, weathered man with wild eyes and a face marked by scars. His clothes are filthy and torn, his hands bound with rough cord. There’s a stink about him—of sweat, fear, and desperation.

One of the Glovers steps forward, bowing briefly before addressing you and Cregan. "This man, Wyl Gray, is accused of murdering his kin and stealing from their holdings. He fled north to escape our justice, but we tracked him down and brought him here, as is our right."

The hall falls silent, all eyes on you now. The weight of their expectation is palpable. You rise slowly from your seat, descending the steps with a regal grace. Your voice is soft but carries through the room with the authority that only a dragonrider can wield.

"Wyl Gray," you say, your tone cold as the Northern winds, "you stand accused of betraying your own blood and committing theft in the lands sworn to House Glover. What have you to say in your defense?"

The man’s eyes dart around wildly, searching for some hope, some mercy, but finding none. He looks up at you, trembling slightly. "I did what I had to," he snarls, his voice hoarse. "My kin treated me worse than a dog, taking what was mine by right. I took back what they stole from me—nothing more!"

The hall murmurs in response to his words, some in anger, others in grudging acknowledgment. You can see the flickers of approval from a few of the assembled Northerners—they value strength, even when twisted by desperation. But you know better than to be swayed by the claims of a desperate man. His actions speak louder than his words.

You step closer, your gaze piercing. "You claim they took from you, yet you took their lives. Blood demands blood, Wyl Gray. In the North, justice is harsh and swift, but it is also fair. A man who cannot protect what is his without resorting to murder is a man unfit to live among honorable men."

Cregan watches you intently, his expression unreadable, but you can feel the shift in the room. The lords are weighing your words, assessing how well you understand their ways. It’s not enough to be just, you must be decisive—and you must show that you are not ruled by softness.

"You are guilty of murder and theft," you continue, your voice unwavering. "But the North does not deal in mercy for such crimes. You shall face the punishment decreed by the Old Ways. Justice shall be meted out by the one who passes the sentence."

A heavy silence falls over the hall. This is the moment—where the test truly lies. You could ask Cregan to deal with the criminal himself, and none would question it. But you understand what is truly being asked of you. The North respects those who do not flinch from difficult decisions, those who stand by their words with action.

You turn to Cregan. "Bring me the sword," you command.

There’s a ripple of surprise among the lords, but Cregan’s expression shifts, a hint of approval crossing his stern features. He gestures, and a massive sword, long and sharp, is placed into your hands. Its weight is heavy, but you hold it with ease, feeling the cold steel beneath your fingers.

You step before the kneeling man. His eyes widen in terror, realizing that you intend to carry out the sentence yourself. You look down at him, feeling no pity, only the cold resolve needed to see justice done. "In the name of House Glover, for the blood you have spilled and the dishonor you have brought upon yourself, I sentence you to death. May the gods judge your soul as they see fit."

With a swift, clean stroke, you bring the sword down, severing his head from his body. The hall is silent, save for the soft thud of the head hitting the stone floor and the hiss of blood soaking into the rushes.

You let out a breath, handing the sword back to a waiting Stark guard. The lords nod with approval, respect in their eyes. This is not a land for those who shy away from harsh truths or difficult choices. You have shown them that you understand the North’s ways—and that you are as much dragon as you are queen’s daughter.

Cregan steps forward, a slight smile touching his lips. "Well done, Princess. The North remembers strength, and today, you have proven yours."

There’s a weight to his words, a subtle acknowledgment that you’ve passed his test. The respect between you has grown, forged not only by fire and ice, but by a mutual understanding of what it takes to rule.

As the hall begins to stir with renewed conversation, you feel Cregan’s eyes linger on you a moment longer than necessary, something unspoken passing between you. It’s not just respect now—there’s a flicker of something deeper, something that might grow, given time.

But for now, you’ve earned your place among the wolves. And in doing so, you’ve taken the first step toward binding the North to your mother’s cause.

A little more than two weeks have passed since your arrival at Winterfell, and in that time, you have come to understand the North in ways few from the south ever do. The cold no longer bites as fiercely, the rough customs of the Northerners have become familiar, and even the solemn howls of the wolves at night are a comfort rather than a cause for concern. You’ve spent your days among Cregan’s people, riding alongside his bannermen, sitting in council with his advisors, and breaking bread with his warriors in the hall. You’ve proven yourself capable in all the ways that matter to them—skilled with both words and steel, a dragon in human form.

The Northern lords have come to trust you, their respect won by your ability to speak plainly and match them in courage. They see in you a reflection of their own values—honor, strength, and loyalty. Even Thraxata, the Midnight Fury, has found her lair in the craggy wilderness nearby, roosting among the jagged rocks as if she, too, feels at home in this stark and wild land. The villagers whisper tales of the black dragon seen circling the mountains, her shadow long across the snow, a fearsome guardian from the days of old.

Today, you ride out with Lord Cregan and his men on a hunt. The sky is a bleak grey, thick with the promise of snow, and the air carries the scent of pine and earth. The forest is dense, the trees tall and ancient, their branches heavy with frost. It’s a test, of sorts—Cregan’s way of seeing how well you handle yourself in their world, not just as a rider of dragons, but as a hunter and a leader.

You ride astride a hardy Northern stallion, its breath steaming in the cold air, and you match the men stride for stride as they navigate the rough terrain. Cregan rides beside you, his expression more open than it had been when you first met. Over these past weeks, a bond has formed between you—one built on mutual respect and a growing sense of trust. He speaks more freely now, and there’s a warmth in his tone that was absent when you first arrived.

When the hunt begins, you do not hesitate to join the chase. The hounds bay as they track the scent of a massive stag, and you ride hard, your cloak snapping behind you in the wind. You’re no stranger to riding, and you handle your steed with ease, navigating the twisting paths and snow-laden ground. When the time comes to strike, you draw your bow with practiced precision, letting the arrow fly. It finds its mark true, and the stag falls. The men around you roar with approval, slapping their shields and calling your name in praise. They respect a woman who can hunt as well as any man, and here, they see you as one of their own—a warrior, not just a princess.

As the hunt winds down, Cregan approaches you, his face flushed from the cold and the thrill of the chase. "You’ve more than earned your place among us, Y/N," he says, his voice gruff but warm. "Few could keep pace with Northern men in their own forests, let alone best them. I see now why the Queen sent you instead of a prince. You’ve shown strength and wisdom—two things the North values above all else."

You incline your head in acknowledgment. "I’ve come to admire the North and its people. But admiration is not the same as allegiance. I must ask, Lord Stark—will you now stand by my mother and send your armies south to fight in her name?"

Cregan’s expression shifts, a shadow crossing his eyes as he considers your question. He’s silent for a long moment, his gaze turning toward the distant horizon, where the land stretches into a vast, icy wilderness. "The North is not like the South," he says finally, his tone measured. "Our duty is first and foremost to our own. With winter coming, my responsibility is to the Wall and to the people who must survive the cold months ahead. I cannot, in good conscience, march thousands of men south when their families might starve without them."

You frown slightly, frustration creeping in. "So you’ll abandon my mother’s cause? You gave your word, Lord Stark."

Cregan’s eyes meet yours, unwavering. "I do not break my word, Princess. I swore to uphold my oaths, and I will. But sending armies south would be folly with winter approaching. However," he continues, his tone softening as he watches your reaction, "there are those in the North who would fight, even in the harshest winters. The Greybeards—elders, warriors who have lived long and seen much. When winter comes, many of them leave their homes, believing it is better to pass in battle than to linger and be a burden on their kin. They are few in number, but each is worth a dozen younger men in skill and experience. I will send them to your mother, to fight in her name. They may not be an army, but they are a force to be reckoned with."

It’s a compromise, one that you didn’t expect but cannot wholly dismiss. You nod slowly, understanding the practicality behind his words. "Your support, even in this way, will strengthen our position. I thank you for honoring your oath, Lord Stark."

Cregan remains silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, more personal. "There is another matter I wish to discuss—a way to bind North and South even closer. You’ve proven yourself in the eyes of my people, and I have come to value your counsel and your strength. The North needs a Warden, but it also needs stability and unity. I am in need of a wife, Y/N."

His words catch you off guard. You had expected negotiations over troops and strategies, but not this. You study him closely, searching for any hint of jest, but there is none. His gaze is steady, earnest even, and the weight of his words is not lost on you.

"A marriage alliance," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. It’s a move that makes sense, politically and strategically. Your mother’s cause would be strengthened by such a bond, and Cregan’s position would be solidified, uniting the North under his leadership. But you know it’s more than just politics—there’s something personal in his offer, a recognition of the connection that has grown between you over these weeks.

Cregan inclines his head. "A marriage would do more than just bind our houses. It would be a show of unity between North and South, and it would ensure that whatever may come in this war, our strength remains undivided. You are a woman worthy of the North, and I would be honored to stand beside you as more than just allies."

You consider his words carefully, your mind weighing the implications. There’s a certain inevitability in the offer, a recognition that your paths have been converging since the moment you arrived at Winterfell. You could refuse, insist on keeping your independence, but you know that this is more than just a marriage proposal—it’s a partnership that could shape the course of the war and the future of the realm.

Finally, you meet his gaze, your voice clear and firm. "If this is the path we choose, Lord Stark, know that I will be as fierce in our union as I am in battle. The North will have a wife who is as much dragon as she is Velaryon. But I do not take such matters lightly—if we are to do this, it must be done with respect, trust, and understanding."

Cregan’s smile is genuine, his eyes gleaming with both respect and something warmer. "I would expect nothing less, Y/N. We’ll have much to discuss in the days to come, but I believe this could be the start of something greater than either of us alone."

The weight of his words lingers between you, and as you ride back toward Winterfell together, there’s an unspoken understanding—a shared resolve. You have won the respect of the North, secured their support, and now, perhaps, you are on the verge of something more—an alliance forged not just in duty, but in fire and ice, strength and trust.

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra targeryan #cregan stark #hotd cregan #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x you

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awearywritersworld · 1 year ago

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the three times gojo thinks he might be in love and the time he knows for sure

gojo satoru x reader summary: title says it all w/c: 1k tags/warnings: ft baby megumi. fluff, then some more fluff. gumi refers to reader as mom. one curse word. brief reference to canon typical violence. a/n: i am ridiculously soft for this man. he needs a hug masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

the first time it happens, it's the dead of winter and you're both still teenagers. it's the year before the star plasma vessel mission, when everything in gojo's life feels like it's falling into place. he has friends, real friends, for the first time in his life.

you drag him, kicking and screaming (it's all for show, he'd go anywhere with you), out to a snow covered field. you innocently beg him to turn off limitless, and of course he acquiesces, only to be pelted in the face with a snowball.

he throws himself into the snow upon impact, arms flailing dramatically. "i'm dead! you've killed me!"

you join him on the ground, arms out stretched and nudging the fabric of his coat. "hm, then i guess i'll have to drink all the hot chocolate by myself-"

"i have returned to the living realm!!" he shouts, shooting up into a sitting position. "had to fight god for it, told 'im i couldn't bear to leave my (y/n)-chan!"

"oh, you are so full of shit," you accuse with an amused smile.

you gaze at one another as the snow falls around you silently, both somehow feeling warm despite the frigidness of the air. his glasses have slipped down his nose, giving you a glimpse at his eyes. you're thinking about how the flakes blend in with his lashes before melting away entirely. he's thinking that he might be in love with you.

~~~

some time passes before the second instance, which takes place in the spring. gojo makes his way around campus, looking for wherever you and megumi ran off to. the small boy has been attached to your hip ever since gojo brought him home two years ago.

when he finds you, you're both splayed out in the grass and pointing up at the clouds.

"that one looks like a dog!" megumi exclaims excitedly.

"and that one looks like it might be his ball, don't you think?" you question. he agrees wholeheartedly with an enthusiastic nod.

after awhile, megumi sits up, rubbing at his eyes. "can we go inside now, mom?"

there's a split second he doesn't realize what he's said, but when it dawns on him, he looks down right scared. "'m sorry!"

your features soften and your heart soars before you're gathering him up in your arms.

"oh, my sweet boy," you coo.

rocking him back and forth, you hold him for a few passing moments. he hides his face in your chest, his hands gripping onto your shirt as if it's his life line.

you pull away just enough to see his face. you'd do anything to stop the tears swimming in his eyes, just like any mother would. "you can call me whatever you like 'gumi."

"p-promise?"

"yup!" you assure, bopping his nose with your pointer finger. it earns a small giggle.

gojo watches as you rise from the ground, megumi's head now resting on your shoulder and his arms around your neck. you're humming as you walk back toward the buildings.

gojo's legs are like lead and his heart feels as if it's shifted up into his throat. for the first time, he thinks about getting married, about having a family. your face is at the forefront of every image that forces itself into his mind.

~~~

the third time happens in the dead of night. megumi is asleep and the two of you decide to watch a movie, but you're yawning before he even presses play.

you sit so close to him that you can feel the warmth radiate from his body and although you fight to keep your eyes open, you can't help but be lulled to sleep.

he tenses for a moment when your head lands squarely on his shoulder. it seems as if you're both frozen, but then you let out a soft snore as your body shifts and your hand moves to his stomach. he finally relaxes.

your hair had fallen across your face and he pushes it back behind your ear so that he can see you. he tries to ignore the urge to brush his fingers across your cheekbone, or over your bottom lip. he fails.

gojo remains still for hours, and it feels strange to the usually hyperactive man, but he's terrified of disturbing you. terrified that you'll pull away from him and he'll never get to feel like this again.

he lets that stupid movie play through twice, but he spends most of the time stealing glances at you. he does eventually turn the tv off and the only sounds that remain are the trill of summer crickets outside his window and your soft, slow breaths.

he has no idea what time it is when he falls asleep, but when he finally does, he dreams about that day in the snow.

~~~

leaves fall at your feet as the two of you make your way down the sidewalk. every now and then, your fingers brush against his and it makes his heart skip a beat. he wonders (hopes?) if anyone has mistaken you for a couple.

you come across a familiar mansion, one that the two of you exorcised together as teenagers. it feels like a lifetime ago. you stop at the gate, a bronze glint on the ground catching your eye.

crouching down, you brush away shades of orange and red to reveal a memorial for all the people who had died on the once cursed property.

"for the lives that were taken here, and for the lost soul who took them... may they rest now in the afterlife."

gojo scrunches his nose, about to make some comment about how pitiful it was to commemorate a cursed spirit, but the words die in his throat when you look up at him with watery eyes.

"this is so beautiful," you remark, turning back to the engraved words.

he shoves his hands in his pockets, peering down to read over the words once more. maybe he'd missed something?

"this community was so fearful, remember? people lost friends and family here." he nods even though you aren't looking at him, watching how your fingertips move across the words as if you're considering them further. "the spirit scared them and it stole from them, but they still regard it with sympathy and kindness.. it takes strength to do that, you know?"

he feels his chest tighten as he registers your words. for a fleeting instance, he feels like an asshole for ever finding it pitiful, but that was the thing. you have such an easy way about you, a sort of gentleness he had yet to find in anyone else. the time he spends in your company seems like the only respite he ever gets from the horrors of the world.

he hasn't answered you yet, so you look back to him expectantly. "don't you think it's beautiful, 'toru?"

god, he could fall to his knees right then and there. he could roll over and die on the chilly concrete and he'd consider it a privilege to have died by your side.

i love you. i love you. i love you. those are the only three words his brain can muster.

"yeah," he finally chokes out. "it really is."

#m!writes #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff

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tearsofastraeax · 25 days ago

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a/n: (un)intentionally turning this into an ode to price, but who can blame me??! anyways, enjoy and yesssss, simon will suffer, you just wait :)

cw: angst, angst and some more angst

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

you shouldn’t have come here.

how the hell could he?

your emotions felt like an inferno inside you, one that consumed you whole. it left behind nothing but a path of destruction; from every cell of your being, right to your heart. disbelief had turned to confusion, had turned to a pitiful sadness, had turned to hot burning anger. the cocktail of emotions stirring you on in your path.

where you were going you didn’t even know. nor did you know how far you had walked. your surroundings nothing but a blur of colours.

the never-ending cycle of scenario after scenario, thought after thought, made your mind spin.

a gruff laugh took you by surprise and strong arms wrapped around your waist. the soft summer breeze ebbed through your apartment. simon’s face pressed into your neck, so lovingly, so possessively. “so beautiful.” back then you had giggled, twisting around in his arms till you could look at him. your eyes getting lost in the endless depths of his. “i will keep you forever, luv”

now you were left with nothing but a cruel laugh that bubbled up in your throat. the sound that escaped a guttural, angry mess.

slowly your feet stopped moving in their tracks. exhaustion covering you like a heavy blanket. your breath heavy and strangled, as it escaped into the frozen air in tiny clouds.

for the first time since that fight - it felt so long ago now, decades, millennia - tears prickled your eyes. falling in fat drops down your cheeks and leaving burning paths behind.

your mind was spinning out of control, faster and faster. so much so that the approaching footsteps didn’t even register as a threat anymore.

a deep, rumbling voice cut through the noise.

your body went rigid, immediately turning to the source. you must have looked like a rabid animal, expression wild, eyes bloodshot.

“darlin'?” price's gentle voice disrupted the war in your mind.

you couldn't help the nasty snarl spreading over your features. what did he think he was doing here? following you? feeling sorry for you? now that his dear friend had ripped you to shreds in front of a whole crowd of people?

at the cruel reminder, a punishingly cold shame washed over you, the nasty feeling making your insides churn.

"go away, john." your angry words were broken up by the overbearing violence of a sob that rang through your whole body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

you couldn't stand him seeing you like this. not after everything he already had to witness. none of them had cared enough to stop simon from this in the first place. so why would he suddenly develop sympathy for you? why would he care now?

"not much for taking orders, doll. but i’ll stand far enough back that you don’t feel like decking me", he teased, a soft smile pulling on his lips.

at first it didn't even register, though slowly but surely your eyes met his. the flicker of something more than endless sorrow spiking in your heart, bubbling up your throat and escaping as a honest to god laugh through your lips.

"that smile suits you much better, darling."

carefully, as if he was approaching a wild animal, price slowly stepped towards your cowering form. his hands slightly raised, as to appear as nonthreatening as he could be, this bear of a man, a captain in the fucking military. if you had a better sense of humour right then, you'd probably have laughed at the pure ridiculousness of it all. but you didn't. instead, your lips pulled down into a frown, and your eyes took price in warily.

"let's get you home, yea?" a cautious little smile played around price's lips as he regarded you. it almost felt like he saw right past your guarded edges, and somehow, that made it worse.

"why?"

your voice carried so much venom, you were surprised the man didn't just turn around and leave you alone in the dark.

"why the fuck are you even here?" the tone of your voice rose and rose, till you found yourself screaming at price. tears prickled your eyes, and your throat felt rough from all the emotions of the night.

"simon doesn't know what's good for him if it punched him in the face. doesn't mean you deserve this."

his serious eyes looked right into your soul, reaching in and seeing the deepest darkest depths. inside you were battling with yourself, unsure if you could handle someone so close to him comforting you. someone that shouldn't even be in your corner right now.

"let me at least take you home, darling. afterwards you never have to see me again, if that’s what you want."

you couldn't even begin to untangle the weight behind those words. this lifeline wasn't meant to be there, it wasn't meant for you.

but you'd be damned if you wouldn't take it.

ever so slowly and carefully price reached out his hand in invitation.

and for the first time, you reached back.

taglist: @rafaelacallinybbay @fruitymoonbeams-blog @jdeclerc @valuyhh

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #ghost #price #cw: angst #✧･ﾟ⊹ astra writes 📖

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velvet4510 · 25 days ago

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You know, when it comes to the four Cherik actors, the old men walked so the young men could run.

We all give McAvoy and Fassbender the love they deserve, but honestly we wouldn’t have any onscreen Cherik at all if those two old Shakespeare vets hadn’t laid such a strong foundation a whole decade prior in the original trilogy.

Remember that Stewart and McKellen had no beach divorce to work off of. First Class wasn’t even a thought in any writer’s head yet when the OG trilogy was filmed. And yet they understood the assignment from day 1 - the “exes who never got over each other” vibes are just pouring off of both of them in every scene, especially from their eyes, starting from the very first moment Stewart’s jaw drops and his breathing stops as he sees McKellen in the shadows of the Congress crowd, and McKellen then manages to make a threatening line like “don’t get in my way” sound so … gentle. Be it outside Congress or in the plastic prison or outside Jean’s house, you can feel the weight of their shared history bearing down on them, a weight so palpable it’s on the verge of crushing them both every time they so much as lock eyes.

And you can see echoes of the young men Charles and Erik used to be in their performances … you can fill in the gaps with First Class details thanks to their level of nuance.

Every time they call each other “old friend,” you can hear the underlying emotions they haven’t figured out how to express aloud, and the hidden knowledge that those two words only scratch the surface of what they really are to each other.

Within Stewart’s heartbroken look in all of his closeups in their first scene on the Congress walkway in X1, you can see the yearning of a man remembering the first time this other man walked away from him and wishing he knew how to convince him to stay now, like he did then.

Within McKellen randomly name-dropping Charles throughout the trilogy (like when Sabretooth reports the X-Men knew about Rogue and when he’s headed to Alcatraz), you can hear the obsession of a guy embittered by years of opposition but with a secret piece of his heart still living in that moment when he first heard a beautiful voice in his head pulling him back from the darkness.

Within Stewart’s whispered “what’s happened to you?” at the sight of a bruised eye, you can see the grief of a man remembering the sense of a wave of horror and trauma pouring off someone down in the water, and now seeing that same someone has been abused again, and just like then, he wasn’t there to stop it, to protect Erik from getting hurt.

Within their suppressed smiles in the prison scenes and their repartee outside young Jean’s house, you can tell these two banged 40 years ago. You can feel faint echoes of the two guys who once sat on a bed showing off their powers and saying stuff like “more tea, vicar?” and “you’ve never looked more beautiful, darling.” (I even noticed that at the end of X1, in the “I will always be there” exchange, the camera placement leaves their hands out of frame, so they’re obviously touching each other’s arms in that moment but we can’t see exactly where - it makes me imagine that Charles briefly touched Erik’s hand before being wheeled away and that’s why Erik sits frozen for a moment before toppling his king. Again, it’s those actors’ nuances that give birth to these implications.)

Within McKellen’s facial expression of pure anguish and his scream of “CHARLES!” at Jean’s house, you can hear the soul being ripped from the body of a man whose life was, long ago, forever changed by the words “there’s so much more to you than you know, not just pain and anger … there’s good too, I felt it…”

You know two actors are at the top of their game when they’re able to convey the exact history of their two characters long before any actual prequels imprint that history in canon.

I do wonder if Stewart and McKellen watched First Class before they filmed Days of Future Past - it’s impossible to tell because regardless, they once again gave it their all, especially in the Rogue Cut. They took a little sentence “in other words, a door” and a little piece of direction to smirk and nod, and somehow made it one of the most flirtatious/erotic moments of the series. And then of course at the end, they gave us the most heartbreaking moment of the series and one of the top 10 most heartbreaking moments in any comic-book movie ever, period. You know the one.

I’m just so impressed with them for what they started. It all started with them. They knew what they were doing.

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lillithsalvatore · 4 months ago

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million dollar man

pairing: royal!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

summary: the price of loving a million dollar man, a prince

warning: modern royal au!, mention of cheating, angst, minor dni, cursing, asshole jace (?), cried. like and reblog are appreciated!! my 1st imagine, please be nice!!

---

"Did you fuck her, Jace? Answer me!" you demanded your soon-to-be-husband, your voice trembling with anger as you stared at Jace, eyes burning with rage. In your hand was a newspaper from a well-known publication, which you held up in front of him. A news about him with his 'childhood bestfriend'

When Jace finally confessed, nearly shouting, "Once, just once, and I fucking regreted it" your heart tightened. His admission felt like a powerful blow to the trust and pride you had invested in him. Your anger intensified, but beneath it all, a deep sadness began to take hold of your mind.

"Once?" You gave a bitter smile. "Even once is fucking enough to destroy everything we had, Jace."

Jace looked at you with regretful eyes, but that only made you feel more exhausted. "Do you know? I trusted you more than I trusted myself. And you betrayed that trust for a moment of weakness."

"Y/n…" Jace began, trying to approach you, but you raised your hand to stop him.

"Don't!" you choked out, but your voice remained firm. "Don't make this worse Jace”

You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I loved you sincerely, but love cannot continue when trust has been shattered."

Finally, you turned away, heading toward the door,

"I hope you never make anyone else feel the way I did."

Jace stood there, frozen, feeling the pain in every word you spoke. He realized that you were not just angry about the betrayal, but also about feeling disregarded, pushed aside in a relationship where you had poured all your heart and soul.

"Y/n, I'm sorry, —" Jace said, his voice trembling, but you couldn't bear to hear any more. Apologies at this point only deepened the pain.

"Don't apologize, Jace," you replied, your voice breaking with sobs. "Sorry doesn't change anything. You chose her over me, It's always been her, Jace."

You could feel Jace's hand still holding yours, but now, that warmth no longer provided the comfort it once did. Instead, it only reminded you of the times he wasn't there for you, when he chose to protect someone else over you.

“Please don’t do this, please let me fix it” He begged

"I tried so hard, Jace. I gave you everything I had, but you chose her, even if you didn't realize it," you said, your voice now filled with nothing but exhaustion and despair.

Jace didn't know what to do, what to say to fix his mistake. He could feel everything between you falling apart, piece by piece, with no way to put it back together.

"Y/n, I—" Jace started, but you interrupted him, pulling your hand out of his grasp.

"I can't stay here anymore, Jace. I can't keep going like this. I guess that's the price of loving a million dollar man."

"And I giving this ring back to you, I hope you'll find someone who deserve it" You turned away, moving towards the door, trying to leave this suffocating space before your heart completely shattered.

Before opening the door, you looked back at Jace one last time, hoping he would understand what you couldn't put into words: that you had loved him deeply, but you couldn't stay with someone who no longer belonged to you.

And then, you walked out of the apartment. As the door closed behind you, you felt a profound sadness but also a sense of relief, as if a great burden had been lifted. The tears had dried up, leaving a void in your heart, but it was a necessary emptiness, allowing you to move forward, to find yourself again and rebuild your life from the ruins.

And though the pain was immense, you knew you had done the right thing. You chose yourself

Jace might realize his mistake, but it was too late. The love and trust you had given him were no longer intact. Now, you had to seek happiness for yourself, a happiness unbound by emotional scars.

And so, you moved on, looking toward the future, knowing you deserved a true love, a love that would never betray you.

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon imagines #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x y/n #jacaerys velaryon modern au #modern!jacaerys velaryon #harry collett #harry collett imagine #harry collet imagines #harry collett x you #harry collett x reader #harry collett x y/n

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yuzuvrse · 12 days ago

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softly, sweetly

daisuke's there for you when you can't sleep.

daisuke (mouthwashing) x fem!reader, comfort/fluff, not exactly canon-compliant

“Daisuke…” You murmur, tapping his shoulder gently, “You awake?” “Hmm…? What is it?” His voice is hoarse, tinged with sleep as he wakes up. “Sorry…” You press your face into his back, his familiar scent washing over you and calming your nerves, but it clearly doesn’t work well enough, because barely a second passes before you’re sniffling. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” The man rolls over to face you, his brown eyes flooding with concern. “I…” You look up at him and you don’t even know how to string your jumbled thoughts together into coherent sentences – are you all stuck here forever? Will you ever see your family again? Is this where you're going to die?

You finally settle on a broken “I want to go home…”, your eyes filling with a fresh wave of tears. Now you’re crying freely, desperately burying your face in his chest to muffle your sobs lest you wake the others. “Oh, baby…” The pet name slips past his lips accidentally as he cradles your face in his large hands, thumbs calloused from working under Swansea swiping away at your tears, “Shh… it’s okay, let it out.”

Finally, your sniffles turn to hiccups, and then you fall silent. “We’re going to get home, okay? Swansea’s working on getting the cryopods free, remember? By the time 20 years pass, we’ll be back home!” Daisuke does his best to comfort you, one hand wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer and ground you with his warmth. His lips crack into a playful smile, “By then, you’ll be a granny~” That pulls a laugh out of you, “Shut up, you’re older than me. You’ll be a great-grandpa!” The two of you snicker quietly, shattering the tense silence in the room. The walls are awash in orange and red hues, painting a brilliant sunset on his features – he really is your sun.

Daisuke cups your cheek with one hand, and your eyes flutter shut as you nuzzle into his touch. It makes his breath catch in his throat, the absolute trust you place in him to be this vulnerable even as your life is up in the air – does he even deserve this? His free hand traces the contours of your face, learning every curve and dip and freckle, staring at you as if to commit your visage to memory. “Don’t stare,” you giggle softly as you open your eyes again. “I can’t help it…” His voice is almost breathless, “You’re so pretty.” A soft gasp escapes you, your cheeks heating up at his simple yet genuine compliment. He smiles, and his eyes are filled with adoration as his gaze sweeps over your features; you really are so beautiful. The gentle intimacy makes warmth blossom in your chest, and you envelope his hand with yours, turning your face ever so slightly to press a gentle kiss to his palm.

“A-ah?!” Daisuke's eyes widen, almost bugging out of his head, but then his expression softens into one so incredibly tender it feels criminal to witness this moment while the ship hangs frozen in space. Can it be right to love someone under such circumstances? Or is it love precisely because it persists despite the circumstances? He presses his lips to the top of your head, resting his chin there as you tuck yourself into the crook of his neck. “I’m glad you’re here, Daisuke,” you whisper, savouring the feeling of your body slotted against his, two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly as the world falls apart around them. “I’m so glad you’re here too,” He kisses the crown of your head once more, drawing circles on your lower back with his free hand, “Now go to sleep, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You’ll always be there, won’t you?”

“I will, baby.”

( He lied. )

kira's notes ; first post on this acc yippee! and also first contribution to the mouthwashing fandom... i am so deeply obsessed w this man and this game it is Insane. my writing skills are vv rusty so plz bear with me while i get back into the swing of things,,, anyways i hope u liked this hehe <3

#[ yuzuvrse ]#( mouthwashing )#( daisuke )#mouthwashing x reader #daisuke x reader #mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke mw #daisuke x you #daisuke x y/n #*reader

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stylesispunk · 9 months ago

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"You're always on my mind"

Joel Miller x f!reader.

summary: You are Joel's reason to live and he is yours.

word count: 3k

warnings: some fluff and heavy angst.

a/n: I'm still on my writing break, but I couldn't take this one out of my head, so you have it here. I don't want to go into details because it would spoil the whole fic, but this is pretty much based on a movie, and by the name and the song, you may get the idea which one is it. Reblogs and comments are appreciated, so please come here and tell me your thoughts. Happy reading 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Finding such beautiful things in a world like this was not an easy thing to do. In a world like this, there was no spare room for distractions but survival.

In a tarnished world, you were a rose blooming from frozen ground, when neither the coldness of the cryptic winter could end your sweetness.

You were there even when your heart broke at the sight of him, defeated and lost without his Sarah; without the tiny baby he raised, he died in his arms that night of September.

You were there when he became cold, and Machiavellian, a distant ghost of the sweet man with the gleamy brown eyes that smiled at you without a warning, was just off and gone.

And you were broken for him, anxious and afraid of him letting his life go away because the pain of tightening his chest might have been stronger than his love for you.

He was hurting you by hurting himself, and he knew it. He knew he was hurting you; he was aware of the pain he was causing just by looking at your somber gaze, lost in state. Yet he couldn't care or see beyond his own pain. He had lost his daughter and his baby, and he was losing you as you slipped through his fingers.

He had tried to end his life, but he failed. He was going to leave you behind, and he didn’t think about it. He had decided he was going to die and find solace in the thought that he would be reunited with his daughter in a peaceful world while leaving you in a tarnished reality full of monsters and nightmares. Alone with your fears and pain suffocating your lungs. Alone, just by yourself, as if he wasn't the only reason you had to survive.

After the bullet rubbed the skin of his temple, you became silent. You weren’t able to look at the scar marked on his skin, let alone look at his eyes.

And Joel’s heart was constricted against his ribs. Once he failed, he woke up from his trance, and he became aware that he hadn’t been looking after you as he should, but you were silent and you were on his mind.

You weren’t talking, but he knew you were broken because of him.

One day, you were coughing, and Joel's heart contracted against his ribs, and his breath stopped as he listened to your complaints.

"You're sick," he said, looking at you, pacing angrily at him mostly.

Silence.

"You should drink water or

"Or one of those things is going to come after us, I know," you replied without giving a look.

“Do you want to get yourself?"

"Killed? Yes, maybe I do want that." Your voice was motionless, as your eyes kept staring at the flames from the fire flying away to the sky.

"Don't you ever say that; you hear me?"

Silence, defeating silence.

"Answer when I talk to you, please.” He looked for a glimpse of the spark that used to adorn your gaze. Joel's voice trembled with emotion as he stepped closer to you.

"You can't give up," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned away from him, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting flickering shadows across the walls of your makeshift shelter.

“You were going to give up,” you whispered once you weren’t facing him.

Joel's heart sank at your words, the weight of them heavy in the air between you. He reached out a hand, hesitating, before gently resting it on your shoulder.

"I... I know," he admitted, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "I was lost. I was so consumed by my own pain that I couldn't see beyond it. But seeing you... seeing how much I've hurt you... it's woken me up."

You felt his touch, gentle over your skin, but you couldn't bring yourself to face him. The wounds were still raw, and the pain was too fresh.

"I'm sorry," Joel whispered, his voice filled with remorse. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I promise to do better. To be better."

Silence hung heavy between you, but it wasn't the suffocating silence of before. It was a silence tinged with possibility and the hope of redemption.

Slowly, tentatively, you turned to face him, searching his eyes for any sign of sincerity.

"You tried to kill yourself, Joel!" You called out "You are in pain, but I am too! Sarah was mine too; maybe not by blood, but she was my daughter too." You sobbed, not being able to contain the tears from spilling. "You were going to leave me alone. Here and-"

He cut you off by pressing his lips against you, expressing all the love he held on his chest and on his whole body for you.

"I love you; I love you; I love you," he murmured against your lips, recomforting, "I'm sorry."

As Joel's lips met yours, a flood of emotions washed over you: love, sorrow, forgiveness, and hope. His kiss was a silent confession, a promise to be there for you, to fight alongside you, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

Tears mingled with the warmth of his embrace as you melted into his arms, feeling the weight of the world begin to lift from your shoulders. In that moment, you realized that, despite the pain and the struggles, there was still beauty to be found in the love you shared.

"I love you too," you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with emotion. "I forgive you."

Joel pressed his forehead against yours, holding your face in his palms with such a delicate touch. "We keep each other alive," he murmured.

"We keep each other alive," you echoed softly, the weight of his words sinking in.

He kept the promise. He would live for you, and you would live for him; you were each other's reason to stay alive in a mad world.

With time, he let his guard down. Settling in a place like Jackson, in a world like this, it seemed like a dream and a nightmare at the same time. There were people laughing, wearing nice clothes, and sleeping under a safe roof, and yes, it was nice, but Joel didn't want the conformity to ruin his careful routine.

But he couldn't help it. It was impossible to resist his sights in the mornings when the first rays of sunshine peeked through the window, directly at you on your side of the bed. He was astonished by you, by the effortless beauty of your creases and your ends, by your peaceful demeanor, next to the warmth he would provide.

While his achy bones and silver hair reminded him that he was getting old, you looked the same, as if time and pain never took their toll on you.

"You always do that," you murmured, your voice drained from sleep.

"Do what?" was his question, smiling.

"Staring," you blinked your eyes open, trying to wash your sleep away. "It's creepy"

"I love watching you sleep, so I can remember what you thought the day was."

You chuckled; the sound resonated in Joel's ears.

"Sorry if it creeps you out," Joel said, his smile softening. "I just... I can't help it. You're beautiful, even when you're asleep."

You rolled your eyes playfully, reaching out to tousle his hair affectionately. "You're such a sap, Joel."

He laughed, leaning into your touch. "Maybe I am. But I mean it. You're the reason I’m alive.”

Your smile dropped. “Don’t say that.”

Joel's expression softened, realizing he may have touched a sensitive nerve. He gently took your hand in his, his eyes searching yours with sincerity.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you," he said softly. "But it's true. You've been my anchor through the storm, the light in the darkness. Without you, I don't know where I'd be."

A tiny smile graced your lips as you looked at him, studying his face, the creases on his forehead, and the silver hair growing. Time had hurt Joel, but it made him look beautiful to your eyes, and you felt a sadness within your body.

“What do you want to do today?” Joel asked, smiling at you.

You took a moment to compose yourself, letting Joel's words sink in before responding. Despite the weight of his declaration, you knew his love for you was genuine, and it filled you with warmth.

"I don't know," you replied, returning his smile. "Maybe we could take a walk around the town? It's been a while since we've explored together."

Joel nodded in agreement, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "That sounds like a great idea. It'll be nice to spend some time outside, away from these walls.”

Joel didn't like how people ignored him. His protective instincts kicked in as he noticed the way some people in the town seemed to ignore your presence. He tightened his grip on your hand in a gesture of solidarity and support. Even though he knew that you were the only one who could see him, he couldn't bear to see you being overlooked and dismissed by others.

“You seemed tense,” you joked, nudging his neck with your nose as you walked.

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your attempt to lighten the mood, grateful for your ability to find humor even in difficult situations.

“Yeah, well, I hate how people look at me as if I were," he replied, his voice tinged with warmth as he squeezed your hand gently.

“You know why,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before turning his attention back to the path ahead.

Just then, Tommy noticed Joel walking and approached him with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Brother! Where are you off to?" Tommy called out, his voice breaking through the silent atmosphere in Joel’s little world.

Joel glanced at Tommy, offering a small smile in return. "Just taking a walk," he replied, gesturing the way.

Tommy's smile widened as he nodded, noticing Joel’s cheerful humor. "Nice to see you out and about.” He downed his head for a moment. “Are you okay, right?”

Joel looked at Tommy for a moment, waiting for the words to come out of his lips: “Better than ever.”

"Yeah, Tommy, I'm doing alright," Joel replied, his voice laced with false cheerfulness. "Just enjoying the day."

Tommy nodded, though a hint of skepticism flickered in his eyes. "Good to hear, Joel. If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me."

With that, Tommy bid them farewell, leaving Joel to grapple with the weight of his secret once more. As they resumed their walk, Joel couldn't shake the feeling of isolation that gnawed at him, knowing that no matter how much he longed for connection,.

“Don’t be mad. He’s just worried,” you said, picking up on Joel’s behavior.

Joel sighed softly, grateful for your understanding and support. He knew you were right; Tommy meant well, and his concern was genuine. Yet the weight of his secret still pressed heavily on Joel's shoulders, a constant reminder of the barrier that separated him from the rest of the world.

"I know," Joel murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. "I just wish I could... I’m the big brother.”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, offering a silent gesture of comfort. Joel found solace in your presence, in the way you understood him without needing words.

"I'm lucky to have you," Joel whispered, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

You smiled at him, not speaking more words, and you continued your walk together, hand in hand.

Once you were outside the walls of Jackson, you led the way. As Joel noticed the surroundings, his apprehension grew with each step. Memories of that fateful day flooded his mind—the pain, the fear, and the aftermath.

"I don't like this place," he said, his voice tinged with apprehension as he halted abruptly in his tracks.

You turned to face him, noting the five-foot gap that separated you. "Please, “you implored, your fingertips gently caressing his cheeks. His eyes closed, savoring the warmth against his skin, oblivious to the tears welling up.

"Love," he murmured, his voice trailing off.

“Please, tell me you still have that sweet love inside you," you pleaded, still tracing delicate patterns on his face.

"You know I don’t," he finally answered, his voice breaking mid-sentence.

As the warmth of your touch withdrew, he opened his eyes, meeting yours with a mixture of fear and longing. Tears shimmered in your eyes, and Joel felt his heart clench.

"It's been a year, Joel," you whispered, but he shook his head, unwilling to accept your words.

"You need to let me go," you urged gently.

"I can't. I don't want to," he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart ached as you listened to Joel's words, knowing the depth of his pain and longing. You wished you could ease his suffering; you wished you could erase the sorrow that weighed so heavily on his shoulders. But you also knew that holding on to the past would only prolong his agony.

"Joel," you said softly, reaching out to cup his face in your hands once more.

“I can’t,” he repeated. “This is the only way I can have you,” his tears falling down his checks.

"I can't just let you go," Joel protested, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. "I was so happy that you were mine.”

Your eyes softened with understanding, yet they were also filled with a profound sadness. "I know it's hard, Joel. But holding onto me like this is only hurting you more. You deserve to find peace."

Joel's gaze faltered, torn between the desire to cling to the memory of you and the need to find a way to heal. His heart ached with the unbearable emptiness that consumed him, a void that seemed impossible to fill.

"I don't know how to live without you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours, offering him a silent anchor amidst the storm of his emotions. "You don't have to do it alone, Joel. Let me be a part of your memories, but also let yourself live for the present."

Tears welled up in Joel's eyes, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of your words. Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded, a flicker of hope stirring within his heart.

“Close your eyes,” you told him, grabbing the same hand you had put on the wedding band the day you got married, when the world hadn’t ended.

As Joel closed his eyes, a sense of calm washed over him, knowing that whatever was to come, he was not alone. He felt the warmth of your touch and the gentle pressure of your hand in his, and he let himself be enveloped by the love and comfort you offered.

With a trembling breath, you began to speak, your voice soft yet filled with emotion. "Joel," you whispered, your words carrying the weight of a lifetime of love and memories. "I want you to know how much you meant to me and how deeply I loved you."

Tears streamed down Joel's cheeks as he listened, hanging onto every word and every syllable that passed your lips. He felt his heart ache with bittersweet longing, the pain of losing you mingling with the warmth of your love.

"You were my everything, Joel," you continued, your voice breaking with the intensity of your emotions. "And even though I'm not physically with you anymore, I will always be a part of you, guiding you and watching over you."

Joel's grip tightened around your hand, his chest constricting with a mixture of grief and gratitude. "I love you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

And then, as you finished speaking, Joel felt a shift in the air—a gentle breeze that seemed to carry your presence away. He opened his eyes, expecting to see you standing there before him, but to his dismay, you were gone.

"No," Joel whispered, his voice echoing through the empty space around him. "Don't leave me."

But there was no response, no comforting touch to reassure him. You were gone, leaving behind only the memories and an ache in Joel's heart that would never truly heal. And as he stood there, alone in the silence,.

Ever since that tragic day, when you had died while patrolling with Joel, he had been unable to escape the relentless grip of grief. It was a stupid accident, one he could have prevented if he had been faster, but he wasn't, and he was paying the price.

Right now, every moment and every breath seem to echo with your absence. He had held himself to the memories of your laughter, your touch, and your presence by his side. Everywhere he turned, he saw traces of you. You were there, and he could touch you, but now your goodness fades away with the air. He longed for the comfort of your embrace, the warmth of your smile, and the sound of your voice calling out his name.

But there was silence. He turned around, and with the heaviness in his heart and tears spilling down his checks, he walked back alone to Jackson. This time, there was no reminder of you by his side. Tears blurred Joel's vision as he trudged along the familiar path, the memories of that day replaying in his mind like a relentless nightmare.

But no amount of regret or self-blame could bring you back, and Joel knew that he would have to find a way to carry on without you by his side.

And so, with a heavy heart and tears still streaming down his cheeks, Joel resolved to carry on, to face each day with courage and determination, knowing that even though you were gone, your love would always be with him.

You were always on his mind.

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