#then made him regain his powers against his will despite him not wanting it since he knew hed fall right back into old bad habits

[samsloves]

was so excited for season 4 of umbrella academy and boy is it bad 🥲

five my boy what did those writers do to you?? klaus too

[illyrianbitch]

Of Our Own Devices — Part Four

For @erisweekofficial Day 4: Traditions

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: The Autumn Equinox Ball is a tradition of royalty, an event to symbolize the growth, prosperity, and power of the court. This year, Eris has set his sights on having you at his side.

Warnings: yearning tbh

Word Count: 3.5k

Part Three | Part Five

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

"No."

Eris grimaced at the door shut in his face, the sharp sound echoing through the quiet night. The heavy oak door, adorned with intricate carvings, gleamed under the porch faelights.

He took a deep breath, grip tightening on the box in his hands— it was large enough to require both of his palms and weighed heavy in his hold. Not because of its contents, no, but because of the importance it held to him now, in this moment.

He knew you were still there, lingering behind the door. He hadn't heard your footsteps to prove otherwise. 

And he knew you. You were curious, and despite how much you loathed him—something he assumed was quite a lot at this point—your curiosity would be biting at you, begging you to understand why he’d come.

After all these years, you'd want to know why he was here, at your door. 

"Y/n," Eris said tightly. “It’s considered bad taste to slam doors in the faces of court royalty.”

He heard a scoff from the other side of the door. The sound tugged at his lips, almost coaxing a smile. His words had hit their intended mark, indeed.  It was oddly comforting, in a way he couldn’t fully grasp, to know he still knew how to get under your skin.

The door clicked as a lock was undone, but it only opened a crack. Through the narrow gap, the warm light from inside casted a halo around your silhouette. An angry eye glared at him.

"Go away," you sneered. "It's in bad taste to harass females who don't wish to speak to you."

Eris didn't have a chance to open his mouth before the door was shut on him once more. He let out another deep, frustrated breath. 

"You're going to ruin your door, Vixen."

Silence.

He shifted his weight on his feet. He hadn’t seen you since before the second war on Hybern—since that night in his cabin following Feyre and Lucien’s trespassing. Maybe the time hadn’t been long enough. Perhaps it would take centuries to regain your trust, if he had ever held it in the first place. 

But Eris didn’t have that long. He needed to make this work now.

"Y/n," he tried again. "Please let me in."

More silence.

He was nearly ready to walk away, to accept this as one of his rare defeats, when he heard the click of the lock again. The door creaked open wider, revealing you standing just inside. Your anger was still evident, still rippling off you in waves, but there was something else in your gaze—curiosity.

And he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

He'd almost forgotten how beautiful you were. 

The years, which had been rough on him, seemed to have only made you more breathtaking. Perhaps it was the distance, or maybe it was what he’d seen in the war, but Eris had found a newfound appreciation for the beauty in life.

All of it paled in comparison to you.

It was a shame—a sin, even—to have you hidden away from the eyes of the central Autumn Court, from the vibrant life that might have appreciated your beauty. It felt wrong to deprive the world of such glory, of the ability to witness you. But then, he thought, he was grateful for it. There was no other scent in the house, no jewelry on your hands, no glow of a bond. It was just you, here, and he was thankful for that.

You stepped aside. "Well?" You said, tone clipped. "Come inside before I change my mind.”

Eris didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped over the threshold, his heart pounding as he crossed into the warmth and light of your home.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

“No.”

Eris almost rolled his eyes, the word feeling like a brick wall he was constantly battling against. 

“Is that the only word in your vocabulary?”

Something flashed in your eyes.

"Maybe,” you said. “I guess I’m too ordinary to have the vocabulary of someone as well-regarded as a High Lord’s heir.”

Eris flinched— he didn't bother hiding it, though he knew he should've. Instead, he quickly collected himself, straightening his posture further, adopting a cold, unamused face.

You were always one to hold grudges, always one to remember the details. It was why you'd bonded with Lucien, someone equally as observant.

Lucien had gotten that habit from Eris, whether he'd realized it or not.

Ordinary. It was one of the last things he’d called you, a comment that had haunted him more persistently than other nightmares. The memory of his father’s cruel hand, the sight of wounded siblings—all of it seemed to merge with the sting of that word, with the memory of your palm against his cheek.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a moment to look around, absorbing the space around him. It was alive with the essence of you—every detail, every personal touch. He walked over to a table near the entrance and placed the box down, his fingers lingering on its edges for a moment. His gaze wandered to the art on the walls, running a finger along their frames. 

You cleared your throat from behind him. Eris turned, finding you standing with your arms crossed, jaw tight and rigid. You looked like someone who had allowed a wild animal to prowl around their home, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.

For a moment, he was at a loss.

There was no sinister agenda here, no political gain, no deep analysis needed for his next move. But he still needed to tread carefully. He hated that he had to. There was too much to say and not enough at all. Small talk would be useless. You wouldn’t entertain it anyway. He was treading a thin line.

You nodded towards the box. “What is it?”

Eris, casually fixing his sleeves, replied, “A gift.”

“A gift?” you echoed, a bitter laugh escaping you. “I don’t want your gifts.”

He stared at you for a moment, taking in your features, your stance. 

“Come to the Autumn Equinox ball with me.”

You blinked. A smile broke across your face— it lacked any genuine warmth, any kindness. It was pure disbelief, pure anger even. Another bitter, humorless laugh escaped you as you ran your hands along your face. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Eris didn’t react, didn't so much as move a muscle. It only seemed to anger you further. 

“Where do you hold all of your audacity? Is there a specific pocket in those tailored jackets?”

In another situation, he might have laughed at the comment. It was funny, truly, it was. But this wasn’t that moment. Instead, he merely raised an eyebrow, unphased. “The ball is—”

“I know when it is,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “I also know who it’s reserved for. And I’m not going.”

Your hands curled into fists and Eris’s eyes tracked the movement. His steady gaze returned to your face as he repeated, “Come to the ball, Y/n.”

Had your jaw been any tighter, you might have shattered your teeth from the sheer force of clenching them.

"Did you lose your hearing in this war?" You sneered. "I said no."

Usually, in any other circumstance, Eris would have respected your wishes, recognized the discomfort in your stance, and taken his leave. He would have understood, would have taken the clear signals that you wanted him gone. But tonight was different. He couldn’t afford to walk away, not when he needed you there, not when he needed a chance, a moment. His resolve hardened, his gaze unwavering as he faced you. He knew he had to press further, even if it meant pushing past your boundaries. With a determined breath, he pulled out the only card he had left:

 “Consider this calling in my favor.”

The world went quiet for a moment, absent of your breath as you processed his words. He watched as you blinked once, as your gaze took him in, then watched as you blinked again. A small crease appeared between your brows. 

"You're calling a centuries old bargain for some ball?"

Eris scanned your face, allowed his gaze to linger on your lips, to drift to your eyes. Then, he smiled. 

"Seems so."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The Autumn Equinox ball was a spectacle of opulence and splendor.

It stood as one of the premier events in the Autumn Court, the kind of affair that young females, newly recognized as adults, fantasized about attending alongside someone of high standing, someone deserving of an invitation. You had only heard whispers of it, never coming close enough to the court’s grand celebrations when Beron hosted such festivities.

Despite his appreciation for the grander, more beautiful things in life, Lucien never attended such events. You always thought it was a waste. Lucien was immaculate in his presentation, in the way he dressed and carried himself. You used to long to see him dressed for a ball, waiting for you, asking you to stand by his side.

But you weren’t a family of title. These events were reserved for royalty and high-ranking court members. Beron extended invitations to other courts as well, but it was never out of friendliness. It was a display of power, a way to showcase the flourishing of his court.

But now you were here, surrounded by the Autumn Court's elite.

And you'd never felt so out of place. 

The grand ballroom shimmered as you entered, the soft glow of faelight casting a warm light over the crowd, the chatter of conversation blending with the gentle strains of a string quartet.

You looked around, hands clenched at your sides, gripping the fabric of your gown as if it were an anchor. You avoided the eyes of those around you, afraid that their looks would make you feel smaller than you already did, that you'd hold their gaze wrong, prove to them that you didn't belong. 

Within seconds of scanning the sea of elegantly dressed guests, you found Eris’s amber eyes. 

The rest of the world seemed to blur as that fire met yours. 

He made his way toward you, cutting through the crowd with the same grace and authority he commanded in all things, regal like a blade through silk. His attire was impeccable:  a deep, rich burgundy jacket adorned with intricate golden embroidery that caught the light with every movement, fitted trousers, and polished shoes that gleamed like liquid shadow. His outfit was completed with a pair of exquisite gold cufflinks and a matching set of earrings, each studded with garnets that mirrored the fiery tones of the autumn leaves.

Eris paused, running an attentive eye down your figure. A small beat of silence passed, as if he was deciding how to approach the night, contemplating what to say. 

“Dance with me,” he finally said, extending a hand toward you.

You hesitated, glancing down at the gown that hugged your form. “I—I don’t know how.”

Your answer didn't seem to phase him.

“Dance with me,” he repeated, his voice carrying a note of insistence. “I will show you how.”

You hesitated. It would be so easy to refuse, to walk away and leave this entire farce behind. But something in his tone, something in the atmosphere of the ball, made it clear that this was not just another game.

Fighting it was no use. This could be your last night around the eldest Vanserra. If you truly wished to never see him again, he would probably respect that. He had always been a male of his word when he wanted to be.

But as you looked around the beautiful ballroom, draped in the soft glow of countless lights, you felt the weight of the opportunity slipping through your fingers. You would never be in such a lavish dress again, never witness such finery. Take advantage of it, your mind whispered, pretend for a night that you are more than ordinary.

With a resigned sigh, you placed your hand in his, allowing him to lead you to the center of the ballroom. His touch was more gentle than you would have thought, though the palms of his hands are calloused. You felt an urge to compare him to something divine, to admire how he was finely polished like a beautiful, stone statue. Something of greatness, something worthy of being praised.

You did your best to keep your breathing steady as his hand wrapped around your waist, tried not to fully inhale his scent as his head dipped down when he spoke.

“Is the dress to your liking?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, struggling to keep your expression neutral. To say it was to your liking was an understatement.

The box Eris had left was unassuming, its exterior plain and nondescript. But when you opened it, you were greeted by the most breathtaking gown you’d ever seen. It was a rich, burnished amber, catching the light with every movement. The fabric shimmered like fallen leaves in the dusk, and the intricate embroidery, reminiscent of autumn’s delicate patterns, wove around the bodice and down the skirt. It was as if the essence of the season itself had been captured and spun into the fabric.

It felt entirely too beautiful to be worn by the likes of you.

You glanced at Eris. Up close, you could see every freckle that decorated his nose and cheeks, could count them if you truly wanted to, each dot pronounced against the pale skin. 

“Yes,” you replied curtly, struggling to keep your voice steady. You turned your gaze away quickly, not wanting to stare at him longer. "What poor seamstress did you have to threaten to have it made on such short notice?”

 "None," he replied. "Do you truly think so low of me?"

"Yes."

Against your better judgment, you found yourself glancing back at him anyways, your eyes meeting his as he studied you. Eris’s gaze flickered, his expression briefly faltering before that well-practiced charm returned. He laughed, and the sound carried a note of sincerity, a rough edge that hinted it hadn’t been used recently.

“Well, no matter. You look beautiful in it.” His hand moved against the small of your back. "You look beautiful."

Your stomach flipped, a feeling so embarrassingly strong that your cheeks began to burn. You were supposed to be angry at him— you were angry at him.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you retorted, though a small smile tugged at your lips. The gentle movement of the dance seemed to ease some of your tension, some of that anger that had settled in your bones. Either that, or the warmth that radiated from Eris's hand. You'd never been this close to him, never felt his skin against yours. It resonated somewhere deep inside you, brought warmth to places you weren't aware were cold.

“Distance isn’t what I seek tonight,” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur.

For a moment, you faltered. He noticed, of course—he always noticed. His hand tightened on your waist, guiding you back into the rhythm. His eyes were trained on you, but there was something different in them tonight. A weight. A silence behind the usual arrogance.

“What are you seeking?” 

His lips quirked into a smile, not the biting, sarcastic one you were used to, but something softer. “Time to think.”

You frowned, a crease deepening between your brows. “At a ball?”

“Yes.”

"Liar," you muttered, but there was no venom in your voice.

Eris hummed softly, a thoughtful sound, but offered no immediate response. Instead, he guided you through a graceful turn, the fabric of your dress swirling around you.

There it was again—that strange softness. He wasn’t needling you like usual, wasn’t pushing for a reaction. It made your stomach tighten with suspicion. His grip on your waist felt protective now, and as you stared at him, you realized that the usual front he presented—the one of the cruel prince, the sharp-tongued heir—was slipping.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight," you murmured, "Did you finally run out of clever quips, or are you saving them for another unfortunate soul?”

You wanted to provoke the usual sharp retort from him, something to break the coil in your stomach, to bring a sense of cold familiarity. You wanted the mask back, wanted the bitter, sharp Eris. The one you knew, the one you could hate. But he didn’t bite. Instead, he glanced around the room, taking in the grand ballroom and its glittering guests. 

You followed his gaze, watched as it settled, momentarily, on a corner far across the room. On the Night Court's contingent. They were one of the few courts in attendance tonight. Rhysand stood in all his glory, a beacon of effortless power, and beside him, two females. One was shorter but radiated undeniable authority, and the other— the other you recognized instantly. The High Lady. Feyre Archeron. 

Cursebreaker. 

Their eyes seemed to lock onto you, and a shiver ran down your spine. You couldn’t breathe for a moment, an unsettling sensation settling over you. Instinctively, you turned to Eris, but he had yet to look back.

When his gaze did return to you, there was something unreadable in it, something that made the hair on the back of your neck rise. “Do you believe in second chances?” 

"What?" You blinked, instinctively pulling back, but Eris’s hands caught you, pulling you back in with a natural, effortless motion. 

“Second chances,” he repeated, his tone as calm as ever. "Do you believe in them?"

He spun you again gently. For a moment, you felt a flash of disorientation as you twirled, your feet struggling to keep up with the rhythm of the dance. Thoughts were pounding against your head, all equally heavy, equally damning. Your chest felt tight with an emotion you couldn't quite describe— not now, not here.

"I'm not sure."

Eris didn’t offer another word. Instead, he studied your face, his gaze tracing over your features like he was memorizing you.

“Our ancestors,” he began, “Used to believe this time of year marked change. The Autumn Equinox. A point when things are supposed to shift, make way for something new.”

You raised a brow at him. “Is that what this ball represents? Growth?”

Eris’s lips curled into the faintest smile. “In theory,” he said, "Our Court is one of endless change, after all. Decay and rebirth.”

You eyed him closely. There was something about the way he spoke tonight, something too pensive, too reflective. He was rarely like this—rarely this vulnerable, even in his cryptic way.

"Why did you ask me here?”

You fought to keep your voice steady, to keep it level despite the way his touch made your skin tingle. 

He continued to guide you in a slow, measured dance. You hadn't even thought about your skills, hadn't been granted a moment to overthink your movements. The ballroom around you seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you in a world of elegant isolation. With a practiced twirl, he spun you, and you found yourself dipping into a graceful arch.

“I owe you an apology, Vixen,” he said softly. He brought you back into his arms. Your head swirled with the motion, with his face so close to yours. Your bodies were touching now, nearer than you had been when the dance begun. The proximity intensified the warmth of his touch, making it difficult to breathe. 

“Many, in fact," Eris amended. His hand tightened around yours, and you could feel the solid weight of his words as if they were pressing into your very bones. 

“I know you may hate me,” he continued, his voice low, almost a whisper, a confession of sorts. To you. To himself. “But I do care for you. There is something about you. It unnerves me and entices me all the same.”

You were at a loss for words, completely unaware of the song’s ending or the shifting crowd around you. As you came to a halt, Eris’s eyes widened slightly, as if he were nervous. 

“I don’t hate you,” you said, the words slipping out before you could fully grasp their weight. His eyes now glowed with something else, flickered with something that felt like hope. You swallowed, forcing yourself to continue, “I wish I did. It would be easier. It would make more sense. But I don’t hate you.”

Eris looked down, a sense of vulnerability, of thoughtfulness, passed through his face. It was almost bashful, and the sight of it was so foreign, so out of character, that it made your chest tighten.  He lifted his gaze to meet yours, and as he released your hand, he took a step back and bowed. “Then I ask for you to hold onto that.”

A frown tugged at your lips. “Why?" You took a step forward towards him, now eager to close the gap, to have his warmth near you again. "What are you up to?”

But Eris simply looked at you, tilting his head with a fleeting smile that vanished almost instantly as he straightened up.

“Enjoy the rest of the ball, Y/n. But make sure to leave before the feast. You won’t enjoy it.”

He adjusted his clothes with a delicate hand, his face hardening into a mask of cold indifference. With a final glance, he turned and walked toward the far corner of the room, to where the Night Court’s presence lingered like an encroaching dusk. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note: idk guys something about having someone who just sees straight through eris and despite knowing they have every reason to hate him, they still try to dig deeper and dont accept him at surface level... it gets me.

almost as if...she just has some innate sense... some connection...that pushes her to him...over and over.....hmm. strange.

thanks for reading <3

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@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters

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@melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

[kusakabesimp]

KusaHigu: One Week

By: kusakabesimp - also on Ao3 [here]

[MDNI] Summary: Kusakabe and Higuruma find themselves sharing a room for a week. What starts as an awkward arrangement soon turns into something more. [notes /credits / love at end]

-- MONDAY ---

Kusakabe was utterly exhausted. He let out a heavy sigh, wiping the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his gi, feeling every muscle in his body ache and scream for relief. Although he had no problem matching Itadori's energy during training sessions, his body wasn't as young as it used to be, and the physical strain was taking its toll on him.

The building they were staying in was run-down, with creaky floors and peeling wallpaper, but the prospect of a hot shower and a horizontal surface to lie on made it seem like a palace. He trudged down the hallway to his room, rotating his shoulder to ease the soreness, hoping the sounds he heard were the old wooden boards underfoot and not the final groans of his body giving out.

He nudged his door open, expecting familiar silence and emptiness. Instead, he saw Higuruma standing motionless at the foot of the bed with an oversized suitcase clutched in his hand. Kusakabe had only exchanged a few words with the lawyer since his arrival a few days ago, so he needed to figure out the best way to approach this situation. But right now, the discomfort of his gi clinging to his clammy skin took priority over everything else. He sidestepped Higuruma and began collecting his things for a shower, the soft padding of his feet against the tatami the only sound in the room.

"More sorcerers came in today," Higuruma remarked, a discernible hint of frustration in his voice. "They've had to shuffle rooms to accommodate everyone. I've been assured that this is a temporary arrangement, maybe a week at most."

Kusakabe didn't bother to look back as he pushed open the bathroom door and peeled off his gi. "S'fine with me," he said with a shrug. "Make yourself at home."

Higuruma continued to stand at the foot of the bed, his gaze fixed on the wall as he stewed in silence. It wasn't so much the choice of roommate that bothered him as it was the idea of sharing the room itself. Although staying with the other sorcerers was the safest bet for survival, he couldn't find it in himself to trust any of them. Jujutsu society was riddled with the same pervasive corruption as the legal system he'd left behind: unwilling to reform, content to let the most powerful people thrive at the expense of everyone and everything else. The thought of letting his guard down with someone, even for a week, made him uneasy. But he resigned himself to the fact that there was no other option and reluctantly released his grip on his suitcase.

=================

"Right or left?"

Higuruma didn't respond to Kusakabe's question; he was focused solely on wrestling his bulky suitcase under the bed. After several failed attempts, he sighed and gave up, leaving the case awkwardly wedged under the corner. Frustrated, he flopped onto the bed and gave the case a final angry kick with his heel. "Right or what?" he grumbled.

"Do you want the right or the left side?" Kusakabe asked.

As Higuruma shifted his attention towards Kusakabe, his breath hitched in his throat. Despite his practiced self-discipline, his eyes seemed to take on a life of their own, tracing the lines of the other man's body with an involuntary curiosity. Kusakabe was toweling his damp hair, his spiky locks softened and gently falling over his forehead. There was a faint scattering of freckles across his broad shoulders.

"Snap out of it, Hiromi," Higuruma chided himself, trying to get his attention back under control as his eyes continued to drift. The contours of Kusakabe's chest were covered with a soft veil of brown hair, a few droplets of water from the shower still clinging to it.

Kusakabe's deep, baritone voice pulled Higuruma back to reality. "Oi. Oi, Earth to lawyer."

Higuruma quickly regained his composure, his face resuming its usual steely expression. "Right side is preferable," he answered sharply. He snatched his pajamas from the edge of the bed and walked towards the bathroom, trying his best to hide his eagerness to escape the situation. As he shut the door behind him, he leaned back against it, trying to forget what he'd seen, but knowing his photographic memory was already burning it deep into his consciousness.

"It's only one week," he whispered, trying to convince himself it was just a momentary slip-up. "One week."

As Higuruma emerged from the bathroom, he found Kusakabe reclined on the left side of the bed, book in hand and still bare-chested. The thought of striking up a conversation with him made Higuruma uneasy, but he was also worried that his own silence might inadvertently reveal something significant. He made his way to the other side of the room, deliberately avoiding eye contact. Much to his relief, Kusakabe was engrossed in his book and oblivious to his discomfort. Unsure of what to do with his work clothes, Higuruma hesitated before tossing them next to his suitcase.

Left with no other distractions, he climbed into the bed and nestled under the blanket, snuggling it up under his chin. Lying there with his back turned to Kusakabe, he wondered how long they'd keep pretending to ignore each other.

The other man's voice finally broke the silence. "Is my reading light going to bother you?" he asked quietly.

"No, it's fine," Higuruma responded. Another silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. "But thank you."

  --- TUESDAY ---

The first rays of morning pierced through the half-broken blinds, casting thin beams of sunshine across the bed. Higuruma stirred beneath the covers and let out a heavy groan, pulling himself upright, still half-buried in the folds of the blanket. As he blinked away the remnants of sleep, memories of the previous night flooded his mind with a whirlwind of emotions.

"Oh, good. You're up." Kusakabe said, poking his head out from behind the half-open closet door. With a casual flick of his foot, he nudged the door shut and started to make his way around the room as he buttoned up his shirt. Grabbing his tie from the dresser, he shot a quick glance at Higuruma and motioned toward an open drawer. "I cleared out the second one in case you need it."

Higuruma felt his gaze drifting again, drawn to the other man's hands as they looped one end of the tie over the other.

"There's an extra towel in the bathroom," Kusakabe continued, settling the knot of the tie against his collar. "But fair warning -- the hot water in the mornings is pretty unreliable." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a lollipop, its wrapper crinkling as he unwrapped it.

Turning to face Higuruma, he saw him cocooned in the blanket in the center of the bed; his tousled curls flattened on one side from resting on the pillow all night. Kusakabe found the contrast between this and Higuruma's usual demeanor incredibly endearing.

"I train Itadori-kun in the evenings," Kusakabe said. "Harnessing cursed energy is pretty straightforward, but hand-to-hand fighting requires a different kind of skill. Getting a grasp on it will make it easier to work with those flashy techniques of yours." His tone had an underlying warmth, a subtle invitation masked by practicality.

Another silence lingered in the air, and again, Kusakabe took the initiative to break it. "Well... I'll see you later," he said, tucking the lollipop in the corner of his mouth before striding out the door.

Higuruma threw off the blanket and shuffled across the tatami to the dresser. He stood there fixated on the open drawer. Kusakabe's simple gesture had no weight or explicit intent behind it, but Higuruma analyzed it anyway, dissecting it for some underlying implication. Logically, the dresser was just a piece of furniture. But the act of sharing this space, of someone granting him access to a part of their world, felt strangely intimate.

He was probably overthinking it.

=================

The dojo was filled with sharp claps and heavy thuds as Higuruma and Itadori exchanged blows. Kusakabe grew up in spaces like this, nose bloodied and body bruised, but never imagined becoming a teacher himself. Mei Mei always said he was too gentle and soft on his students. But every attempt to adopt a harsher approach felt forced and unnatural. He showed the kids how to fight, but his deeper purpose was to teach them that they weren't just sorcerers; they were humans, too, with the same emotional needs as anyone else. For Kusakabe, love was the most important lesson.

He'd given Higuruma and Itadori some brief pointers, but now they were teaching themselves, pushing each other to the limit. With a sudden burst of speed, Itadori launched a powerful kick at Higuruma's midsection, but the lawyer anticipated it and countered with a flurry of hand strikes. Catching the sleeve of Higuruma's gi, Itadori drove him backward into the wall. Refusing to back down, the lawyer raised his fist, sparking with the telltale crackle of cursed energy. Kusakabe rushed over to intervene, quickly grabbing both their collars and separating them before the situation escalated any further.

"Oi, that's enough," Kusakabe's voice cut through the tension, firm but without any anger. "If you want to use cursed energy, do it outside my dojo. I think we're done for today."

Despite his initial instinct to pull away from the touch, Higuruma allowed the hand on his collar to linger. He registered the warmth of Kusakabe's hand seeping through the fabric and every subtle shift in pressure. It was a simple, ordinary touch, but it ignited a profound response: an urge to lean closer, tempered by a keen awareness of the vulnerability that might come if he allowed even the smallest form of contact. He casually shrugged off the touch as he reconnected to reality, trying to conceal his emotion behind a mask of indifference.

But Kusakabe noticed the lawyer's slight hesitation. He'd been in enough fights to recognize an adrenaline surge and the body's instinctual reactions afterward. What intrigued him was Higuruma's deliberate restraint, the conscious effort to hold his breath. There was a complexity to this reaction, and his eyes swept over the lawyer as he tried to decipher it. If Itadori noticed this silent exchange, he didn't say anything, offering Kusakabe a respectful bow before leaving the dojo.

Higuruma and Kusakabe's eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded into nothingness. But as quickly as the spell had been woven, it was shattered as the lawyer abruptly walked away, leaving Kusakabe standing alone in the empty room, wondering what might have happened if he had dared to break the silence.

=================

Despite his best efforts, Kusakabe's mind stubbornly drifted back to Higuruma, consumed by thoughts of what happened in the dojo. As he stepped into his room, he saw the lawyer standing by the dresser. The collar of his gi had slipped down his shoulder, revealing a glimpse of his slender frame, and Kusakabe's gaze traced the line of his collarbone. Their eyes met again, and another heavy silence passed between them, but now with a shared recognition of the chemistry simmering just beneath the surface.

Seeking respite from the heat building inside him, Kusakabe retreated to the coldest shower he could stand. He let the icy water run over his skin as he leaned against the tiled wall, but he knew the relief was only temporary. The numbing sensation dulled the ache, but the fire still burned.

  --- WEDNESDAY ---

Higuruma's eyes slowly opened, and he felt the comforting weight of the blanket wrapped around him. Then, a sudden surge of awareness hit him, and he realized that the pressure he felt was from Kusakabe nestled against his back, with an arm casually draped over his waist. The warmth of the other man's breath against his neck sent a shiver coursing down his spine. Despite his training in law school to dissect and analyze every thought, there was no framework or precedence for the rush of emotions triggered by this type of contact.

"Kusakabe," Higuruma whispered. There was no response, just the sound of the other man's deep, measured breathing. "Kusakabe, wake up," he urged, but still nothing. Higuruma got anxious and gave him a firm nudge in the chest with his elbow. "Kusakabe, wake up," he repeated, his tone carrying much more insistence this time. Finally, Kusakabe took a deep breath and began to stir, squinting against the early morning light. Rolling onto his back, he used his arm to prop up his head on the pillow as he stretched and absentmindedly scratched the hair on his chest. With a satisfied yawn, he finally opened his eyes.

Immediately, Higuruma sat up in the bed, the blanket trailing behind him, trying to put some distance between them. The lawyer had a seemingly calm expression, but Kusakabe noticed him fidget with the edge of the blanket, his fingers anxiously twisting and turning it. As Kusakabe replayed the last few seconds in his mind, the pieces fell into place, and the memory of Higuruma's body pressed against him reignited the fire with new intensity. But he masked it, using his playful nature as a shield against the feelings threatening to break through.

"Ah, sorry about that; I toss and turn a lot when I sleep," Kusakabe said casually. "You're pretty comfy...maybe I thought you were my pillow," he added, trying to lighten the mood.

Drowning in emotions, Higuruma turned to the familiar comfort of logic. "That would imply you were consciously aware during REM sleep," he said, trying to sound detached. "But the frontal cortex is inactive, inducing atonia — a transient paralysis. Only the muscles controlling breathing and eye movement remain active."

There was a moment of silence as Kusakabe processed Higuruma's response, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. "Are you seriously trying to lawyer me right now?"

Higuruma tried his best to keep his feelings in check, but the subtle tension in his facial muscles gave him away. "I'm simply pointing out that your excuse lacks credibility; what you're suggesting isn't possible. You can't move like that when you're in a deep sleep."

Kusakabe shifted his arm behind his head, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Says the man who's stolen the blanket two nights in a row."

Higuruma's eyes momentarily dropped to the blanket, the fabric wound tightly around his shoulders. He felt a twinge of embarrassment and a rush of heat creeping up his neck. When he looked back to Kusakabe, he was met with a sly smirk and a raised eyebrow — a silent declaration of victory.

Flustered and red-faced, Higuruma hastily cast the blanket aside. Clinging to the remnants of his composure, he grabbed a crumpled dress shirt from his dresser drawer and silently retreated to the bathroom.

=================

Kusakabe keeps an old photo in his wallet - a moment frozen in time, where he and Takeru are flashing peace signs, the young boy comfortably perched on Kusakabe's hip. He can't help but imagine the life his nephew could have had: he pictures him graduating from college, his eyes shining with pride and excitement. He imagines Takeru falling in love, starting his own family, and experiencing the ups and downs of being a parent.

This old wound still refuses to heal; he remembers his nephew's laughter and the warmth of his tiny hand clasping his own. As Kusakabe's feelings for Higuruma grew, he worried that history would repeat itself; he worried that opening up to him would inevitably lead to heartbreak. But he can't deny the connection between them, and the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he is tired — tired of allowing fear to control his life, tired of playing it safe, and tired of not taking the leap.

  --- THURSDAY ---

The first light of dawn cast a gentle glow over Higuruma's sleeping face. Standing beside the bed, Kusakabe was filled with emotions that words could never fully express, but then, words had never come easy to him. He showed affection for those he loved in other ways: late-night drinks and hanafuda cards with Hakari, playful arm wrestling matches with Yuji, a reassuring hand on Miwa's shoulder -- it was through these small acts that he spoke with his authentic voice. So, in the stillness of the morning, Kusakabe spoke in this voice with a tenderness he reserved only for those closest to his heart. He gently tucked the blanket around Higuruma's shoulders, weaving strands of love and affection into every crease and fold.

=================

Higuruma woke up wrapped in the soft embrace of the blanket. Shifting in bed, the space beside him felt unnaturally empty, and he realized he was growing accustomed to Kusakabe's familiar warmth. But the other man's presence still lingered in the quiet corners of the room: the typical mess of crumpled shirts in his dresser drawer were stacked and neatly pressed, his ties carefully rolled, and a fresh towel lay on the bathroom counter. Then he saw the tiniest detail that stirred something deep inside him; he noticed the sunflower on his suit jacket was intentionally pinned slightly askew. In Higuruma's morning rush to get ready, he never took the time to check the mirror and straighten it, something only Kusakabe would notice. Higuruma ran his fingers over the pin, and for the first time in years, he felt a soft smile tug at the corners of his lips.

=================

Leaning against the auditorium wall, Kusakabe stifled a yawn as the meeting dragged on with all the excitement of watching paint dry. He tried his best to pay attention, but his focus shifted back to Higuruma. The lawyer sat with his hands clasped in front of his face, fingers intertwined, looking every bit as disinterested as the other sorcerers. Then, Kusakabe felt a change in the room's energy, and glancing over, he caught Higuruma's eyes drifting over him.

A soft voice broke through the moment, pulling Kusakabe's gaze away and jarring him back to reality.

"He seems to have put in some extra effort today," Mei Mei said.

"Mhmm?" Kusakabe mumbled absentmindedly. He squared his shoulders and settled against the wall, glancing down at her.

Mei Mei let out a playful laugh. "I mean Higuruma — he looks really nice today. Don't tell me you haven't noticed; you're always so observant, Acchan," she teased, peering up at him from behind her braid. "His shirt is so neatly ironed, so crisp...like someone took special care with it."

"Lawyers are sticklers for detail," Kusakabe said defensively, "and considering how late he was to the meeting, he probably ironed it right before he left." He propped his leg against the wall, hands tucked into his coat pockets, trying to appear calm and deflect any further scrutiny.

Mei Mei tapped her finger to her chin, a playful glint in her eyes as she pretended to weigh Kusakabe's explanation. "Hmm...maybe. But isn't it interesting that there are stays in the collar of his shirt? You don't often see those, especially on men in our line of work." She paused and then added, "Come to think of it, you're the only man I know who uses them."

"Tch," Kusakabe clicked his tongue and looked away. "You're reading too much into it," he said, trying to mask his embarrassment but failing to conceal the faint blush coloring the tips of his ears.

Mei Mei's tone softened, her usual facade melting away to reveal a genuine warmth. "I know it's your way of showing him how you feel." She reached out and gently placed her hand on his arm. "I'm happy for you, Acchan."

=================

As moonlight filtered into the room, Kusakabe and Higuruma settled into their usual routine: Kusakabe reclined on the left side of the bed, lost in the pages of his book, and Higuruma nestled on the right, wrapped up tightly in the blanket. Neither of them brought up what happened in the auditorium; instead, they buried it under layers of familiar shared silence. This time, it was Higuruma who took the initiative to break it.

"Do you..." the lawyer's voice wavered slightly, a soft tremor betraying his nerves, "Do you mind if I borrow a book?"

"Go for it," Kusakabe said casually, his attention still fixed on the pages. "Shelf's by the desk."

Higuruma shifted out of the blanket and shuffled across the room, crouching down in front of the shelf. His fingers danced over the worn spines of the books as if searching for something in particular. "Kakinomoto, Chiyo-ni, Issa... I didn't know you liked poetry," he said with surprise.

Kusakabe nodded but remained focused on his book. "Poetry's always been a part of my training; Sensei required it," he replied. "Sword drawing is all about rhythm and flow; each move is like a small verse that builds up to a larger work."

Higuruma picked up a volume and flipped through the pages with a concentrated expression. Kusakabe stole a glance in his direction, a warm smile spreading across his face before he turned his attention back to his reading. Nestling back under the blankets, Higuruma positioned himself to face Kusakabe, a subtle but significant shift in their usual dynamic.

=================

The sound of turning pages from Higuruma's book gradually faded away, and the volume slipped from his hand before landing gently on the bed. Kusakabe carefully retrieved it and adjusted the blanket around Higuruma's shoulders, knowing he'd inevitably steal it anyway. As he settled back onto the pillow, his hand lingered on the light before finally turning it off.

The world outside was in chaos. Tomorrow wasn't promised, and he realized he couldn't afford to wait. Higuruma deserved more than just simple gestures and heated glances; he deserved to hear the truth.

  --- FRIDAY ---

Kusakabe worked at the counter alongside Miwa and Yuji in the dimly lit kitchen, the comforting aroma of nori and fresh sushi rice filling the room. He did his best to piece together some kind of 'normal' for them, someplace Miwa and Yuji could be themselves, just like any other kids. In this makeshift kitchen, using ingredients scrounged from convenience stores, they could pretend everything was okay, at least for a little while.

Miwa crossed her arms tightly over her chest, staring at Yuji with an aggravated look. "I'm telling you, you don't add cucumber to toru-taku rolls," she insisted. "I learned how to make them in first-year cooking class!"

Yuji flashed her a hopeful smile and pointed to the ingredients on the counter, "No, I mean...I get it, but sushi can still be creative. Can't we at least try it?"

As the debate escalated, their voices grew louder, accompanied by exaggerated eye rolls and dirty looks. Kusakabe propped himself against the counter and watched the exchange with amusement, knowing that any attempt to intervene would only add fuel to the fire. When Yuji playfully grabbed a wooden spoon and twirled it in his hand, Miwa's expression shifted instantly, and with a flick of her wrist, she grabbed another spoon and closed the gap between them. She danced in and out of Yuji's reach, leaving him flustered and off-balance.

Watching Miwa confidently hold her ground, Kusakabe felt a surge of pride. "That's my girl," he smiled to himself.

Yuji stumbled backward, and Miwa gave him a playful smack on the wrist with the wooden spoon, causing the boy to raise his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay! No cucumber!" he relented, and then Miwa's seriousness melted into a grin.

=================

The finished toru-taku looked more like abstract art than traditional sushi. Still, Miwa and Yuji smiled proudly, their earlier disagreement now forgotten. With practiced precision, Kusakabe drizzled soy sauce and sprinkled a handful of sesame seeds over the rolls before placing the platter on the table. As he reached for a few pairs of chopsticks, the bickering started again, this time over who would sit next to Kusakabe at the small table. But just as the argument was getting heated, it came to a sudden stop.

"Ah! Higuruma-san! Come eat with us!" Yuji called out cheerfully and waved.

Kusakabe's head snapped up, maybe a little too eagerly, to see the lawyer standing at the doorway. Higuruma blinked a few times, slightly surprised by the unexpected invitation. Kusakabe reached for an extra plate to set another place at the table. When he turned around, he found Miwa and Yuji sitting together on the opposite side, grinning from ear to ear.

"We'll sit over here," Miwa beamed.

Kusakabe pulled out the chair beside him. Higuruma settled in, and their knees grazed against each other under the table, sparking a mix of nerves and excitement in the lawyer. Briefly exchanging glances, Kusakabe's expression softened before he turned his attention back to the kids. He smiled affectionately as he passed around small dishes of wasabi, dodging the kids' chopsticks as they eagerly tried to grab the rolls they wanted.

Higuruma had developed a deep fondness for this side of Kusakabe -- the Kusakabe who filled the room with infectious laughter, the Kusakabe who had the kids hanging on his every word, and the Kusakabe who ensured everyone had enough to eat by quietly sneaking an extra roll onto their plate. Their knees brushed again, and Higuruma leaned into the contact, pressing their legs together. In response, he felt a warm hand settle gently on his knee, and Kusakabe continued chatting with the kids as if the touch was just a normal part of their connection. Through the rest of dinner, Higuruma sat quietly content, a subtle yet undeniable smile on his face.

=================

Tangled black curls spilled out from under the mound of blankets as Higuruma snuggled up with his book. Kusakabe lay uncovered, having surrendered any hope of ever reclaiming the blanket. The lawyer had edged closer than the previous night, lying in the middle of the bed, just a few inches away from Kusakabe's side. The shared silence felt warm and comforting, as if reading together in bed was a natural part of their routine. Peeking over his book, Higuruma looked at Kusakabe's face, illuminated by the gentle glow of the lamp. The book he held appeared well-loved, with a tattered cover and creased pages.

"More poetry?" Higuruma asked softly.

Kusakabe glanced up from his book. "Mmhmm, it's Ono no Komachi," he replied, his fingers tracing the edge of the pages.

Higuruma watched as Kusakabe slowly extended his arm across the pillow, inviting him to come closer on his own terms. There was no pressure or expectation, just an offer of space and acceptance. So he cautiously leaned in, torn between a desire for closeness and the vulnerability of touch. Aware of Higuruma's sensitivity, Kusakabe gently wrapped his arm around the blankets, allowing the lawyer to relax into his embrace and rest his head on the broad curve of his shoulder.

Higuruma's voice trembled slightly. "Do you have a favorite?" he murmured.

Kusakabe paused to think about his response. It felt more like an invitation than a question, an opportunity for him to share something deeper, something personal. He turned his attention back to his book and flipped through the pages. When he found the passage he was looking for, he shifted his position and pulled Higuruma closer to his chest.

Was I lost in thoughts of love when I closed my eyes? He appeared, and had I known it for a dream, I would not have awakened.

The verse trailed off, and Kusakabe's heart thudded against this ribcage. He'd promised to tell Higuruma the truth, but when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice failed him, and the words slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. So, he drew Higuruma closer, wrapped his arms around him, and tucked the lawyer's head under his chin. He buried his face in Higuruma's soft curls, breathing in the scent of home and belonging.

Time ceased to exist as he held Higuruma in his arms — for minutes, hours, an eternity.

"Hiromi, I...." he started to say, but when he looked down, Higuruma had already drifted off to sleep.

  --- SATURDAY ---

Kusakabe was already awake before sunrise, listening to the steady rhythm of Higruruma's breathing, his fingertips tracing small circles on the lawyer's back. He craved more mornings like this, where they could be together — two souls in their own little world, where nothing else mattered. But he knew if he didn't tell Higuruma how he felt, moments like these would be nothing more than dreams, forever out of reach.

=================

Kusakabe tugged the t-shirt over his head and adjusted the arms to fit his broad frame. He could hear the lawyer shuffling behind him, opening and closing drawers.

"You're out," Kusakabe called over his shoulder.

Higuruma continued to rummage through the dresser, only half paying attention. "What?" he mumbled.

"Shirts. You're out," Kusakabe said, holding a t-shirt out to him. "Just use one of mine; I'm about to do laundry."

Higuruma hesitated, prompting Kusakabe to raise an eyebrow, patiently waiting for him to decide. Finally, he gave in and accepted the shirt. While Kusakabe gathered Higuruma's scattered clothes from the floor, the lawyer took advantage of the distraction and quickly swapped his crumpled pajama top with the t-shirt.

Kusakabe turned to steal one last glance before heading out. "I'll be back in a..." he stopped short as he caught sight of Higuruma, the oversized shirt hanging loosely over his slender frame. God, how he wanted to freeze this moment in time, to capture the image of Higuruma in his shirt, in their room, and replay it endlessly in his mind.

The lawyer's cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink at the intensity in Kusakabe's expression, and he nervously toyed with the hem of the shirt. "Does it look bad?" he asked.

A warm smile tugged at Kusakabe's lips, and he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "No, no," he reassured, shaking his head. "You look beautiful."

Kusakabe's hand hovered in the air, a silent pause of thoughtful consideration for space. He brushed aside the neckline of Higuruma's shirt and trailed his fingers along his collarbone. With a soft sigh, the lawyer closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensation, leaning into the touch. Spurred on by this reaction, Kusakabe's hand continued to explore, traveling up the curve of Higuruma's neck, and as he threaded his fingers through the lawyer's soft curls, he felt him shiver in response.

Looking down into Higuruma's eyes, he saw a reflection of his own desire but also a subtle ache, silently begging him to let his guard down and break through the final barrier.

Why was this so hard? Why was it so hard to tell him?

"Stay here and relax," Kusakabe whispered as he pressed a soft kiss on top of Higuruma's head. "I'll be back in a bit."

=================

As the echo of Kusakabe's footsteps gradually faded, Higuruma's mind was flooded with emotions he didn't understand. He'd always seen physical intimacy as a transaction, a calculated exchange with no emotional connection, just a means to an end. Even during sex, he kept his partners at arm's length, guarding himself from getting too close.

But Kusakabe was different. Higuruma craved his touch, not just for the physical sensations but for something deeper, a connection he'd spent a lifetime avoiding. His heart ached for validation, desperate for reassurance that what they shared was more than superficial attraction. Higuruma scrutinized every word and tender touch, questioning if his desire for something more had clouded his judgment.

As time went by, he couldn't shake the feeling that Kusakabe's silence was an answer in itself.

=================

It was a lazy Saturday morning, and Kusakabe lounged on the couch, lost in his book. The comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted into the living room as Higuruma walked in, offering him a cup. Just as his fingers touched the handle, the lawyer teasingly pulled it away. With a knowing smile, Kusakabe pulled Higuruma towards him for a sweet kiss before finally claiming his coffee.

Miwa's voice seemed to echo from a distant place. "Sensei. Senseeeeeeeeeeeeeei," she called urgently. "You're burning Higuruma-san's shirt."

As Kusakabe snapped out of his daydream, he was hit with a sharp and unfamiliar smell. Confused, he glanced around and finally noticed the look on Miwa's face. As he followed her gaze, he saw wisps of smoke rising from the iron clutched in his hand. He winced when he noticed the charred pocket on the shirt.

With a heavy sigh, Kusakabe set the iron down on the board with a loud thud. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his hand wearily over his face.

Miwa sat on the edge of the counter, her feet dangling freely and swinging in the air. She watched Kusakabe's face closely, and her movements slowed when she saw his reaction. "Are you going to tell him?" she asked.

Kusakabe gave her a deadpan stare and held up the shirt. "I think it's pretty obvious with the missing pocket.", he said dryly.

Miwa leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. "Sensei," she pressed, her voice soft but insistent, "you know what I mean."

Kusakabe ignored the statement and turned his focus back to the burned shirt. Taking his time, he folded the sleeves and smoothed out the fabric, trying to convey his unwillingness to participate in a conversation he was clearly trying to avoid.

Miwa hopped off the counter and stretched her arms above her head. "I know when I'm struggling, you always said there's different ways I can find strength." She straightened up, resting her hand on her hip as she mimicked Kusakabe's deep voice. "Miwa-chan, before you swing the katana, think about the people you love. If they're important to you, they're worth fighting for."

As Kusakabe's eyes lingered on the damaged shirt, he felt like a hypocrite. He'd spent countless hours teaching Miwa that true strength came from embracing vulnerability, that love wasn't just an emotion but also a lesson in bravery. He wasn't just failing to follow his own advice; he was failing the person he cared for the most, denying them both a chance for something more.

Turning towards Miwa, Kusakabe raised his eyebrow in exaggerated surprise, hoping to keep his true feelings out of sight. "Oh, so you were listening during our training sessions," he teased. He grinned as he pulled the lollipop from his mouth, pointing it towards her. "I'll remember that the next time you decide to conveniently forget a kata sequence."

=================

Kusakabe paused in the hallway, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He took a deep breath before nudging the door open, and what he saw made his heart sink like a stone. Higuruma stood motionless at the foot of the bed, clutching his suitcase so tight that his knuckles had turned pale with the strain. Kusakabe closed the door and made his way across the room with purpose. There was an urgency now; no time for hesitation and no room for doubt.

Tears streamed down Higuruma's cheeks, his body shaking uncontrollably as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "There's a spare room now," he faltered, his voice barely above a whisper. "They said I can move if I want to." He lifted his head, his lips moving silently for a few seconds before he choked out the words. "But I want to stay," he pleaded. "Please...tell me that you want me to stay."

Kusakabe reached out and placed his fingers over Higuruma's hand, releasing his grip on the suitcase and guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. He crouched down to meet the lawyer at eye level and cupped his tear-stained face in his hands. "I want you to stay," Kusakabe said softly. "I'm not saying that because I have some sense of obligation or because of the spare room." He paused, brushing away Higuruma's tears. "I want you to stay because I want you here, with me."

With an infinitely tender touch, he lifted the lawyer's chin, encouraging him to meet his gaze. Every hope, every dream, and every thought of Higuruma pushed him forward, and he finally said the words he'd guarded for so long. "Hiromi," he whispered, "I love you."

With a subtle tilt of his head, Higuruma extended an invitation, and in response, Kusakabe moved forward with a gentle determination. Closing the distance, he brushed his thumb across the lawyer's cheek, seeking his permission with a soft touch. A shared breath passed between them, and Kusakabe leaned in, his lips capturing the sweetness of Higuruma's surrender.

Higuruma had felt Kusakabe's affection before, but this was profoundly different. It wasn't the warmth of his touch or the softness of his kiss; it was the care and devotion poured into it. This was Kusakabe's love — slow, measured, and infused with a tenderness that took Higuruma's breath away. As he leaned into the kiss, a lifetime of self-restraint melted away, replaced by a hunger unlike anything he'd ever known.

A warm hand pushed up the edge of Higuruma's shirt, searching and teasing -- wildfire trailing along his skin. And then the gentle pressure of another hand slipped up the back of his neck and threaded through his curls, and he was drawn irresistibly closer, kissing him deeper, eager to let Kusakabe consume him completely. He reached out, sliding his hands along the broad expanse of the other man's shoulders and winding his arms around him.

Kusakabe's arms circled Higuruma's waist as he gently lifted him into his embrace, cradling the lawyer against his chest. With each step, he pressed a soft kiss - on Hiromi's lips, his forehead, the bridge of his nose. Carefully, he eased Higuruma onto the pillows and settled in beside him, propping himself up on one elbow. His gaze was filled with affection as he traced the contours of the lawyer's face, sweeping away the stray curls from his forehead and tenderly caressing his cheek.

"Atsuya...," Hiromi whispered.

Of all the times Kusakabe had heard his given name, it had never sounded more beautiful or made him feel more alive than when he heard it float off Hiromi's lips. He wanted to hear him sing it, moan it, say it softly before he drifted off to sleep — he wanted to hear it again and again and again. His fingertips trailed a delicate path down Higuruma's jawline, guiding him closer. Leaning in, he lightly brushed his thumb across Higuruma's lips and whispered, "I love you, Hiromi," against his skin.

The once-difficult words flowed effortlessly now, each "I love you" heavy with devotion, assuring Hiromi that now and forever, he was the center of Kusakabe's world.

As he felt Atsuya's breath on his face, Higuruma's eyes drifted shut, the warmth sending shivers down his spine. Lips hovered so close, so teasingly close, and he let out a quiet sigh before he was pulled into another slow kiss. Every sensation was amplified — the heat rushing through his body, his racing heartbeat, the firm press of Kusakabe's touch.

Kusakabe's tongue swept across Higuruma's lower lip, silently asking for access. Without hesitation, he granted it, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. There was an undeniable pull, as if Atsuya was gently tugging at the thread of his desire, coaxing it to unravel. So, he gave into the pull, feeling the tension build until it finally snapped, and he heard himself whine into Kusakabe's mouth.

Despite Higuruma's efforts to quicken the pace, Kusakabe remained unhurried and teasingly gentle. He shifted his weight to the right, straddling Hiromi and resting his elbows on either side of his head. As he planted a trail of kisses up the side of his neck, the lawyer tipped his head all the way back in response, leaning into the sensation of the heat on his skin.

"Hiromi," Kusakabe whispered, his breath warm against the shell of Higuruma's ear, "I love you."

Kusakabe felt an insistent tug on his shirt, trying to pull him closer, but he remained unmoved. He nuzzled softly against the curve of Higuruma's cheek, moving his fingers under the hem of his shirt. Every smooth inch of skin was slowly catching Kusakabe on fire, pushing the heat lower in his body. As he ran his hand up Hiromi's abs and chest, he nudged the fabric aside with his fingertips and leaned down to graze his lips over the lawyer's collarbone.

Higuruma moaned softly as he tangled his hands firmly in the other man's hair, pressing his head down into his chest. Kusakabe smiled against his skin, willing and eager to please. Slowly, he dragged his tongue along Higuruma's pecs -- the taste was so sweet, like warm honey. Sweet Hiromi, his Hiromi.

"Atsuya," Higuruma whined, attempting to urge Kusakabe along, and this time, he conceded.

Warm hands slowly slid Higuruma's shirt over his head before tossing it on the floor. As Kusakabe settled back on his knees, he looked down at Hiromi's chest, his gaze wandering over every curve and contour. With a gentle touch, he took the lawyer's hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on each knuckle.

"You're absolutely beautiful," Kusakabe whispered. Turning Higuruma's hand, he pressed a kiss to his palm, feeling the slight curl of his fingers in response.

With Kusakabe's gaze holding him captive, Higuruma paused briefly before his hand gave a determined tug, pulling the other man in. In that moment, all logic and reason crumbled, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to be touched. He grabbed at the back of Atsuya's shirt, pulling it over his head before he could even raise his arms, running his hands along every bit of exposed skin.

A low, deep rumble came from Kusakabe's chest as Hiromi's hands wrapped around his shoulders, pressing him even closer. He began a slow descent, kissing his way down Higuruma's body. The lawyer's muscles twitched under his touch, chest pulling up and down rapidly as his lips brushed across Hiromi's stomach.

Teasing along the soft skin at Higuruma's waist, Kusakabe's fingertips skimmed just under the top of his pants. Pausing, he lifted his gaze, as always, gently seeking consent without any pressure or expectation. A deep blush spread across the lawyer's face and chest, and he answered the unspoken question with a shy nod. Kusakabe smiled, kissing down Higuruma's stomach as he tugged the pants below his hips, earning a soft moan.

Every nerve in Hiromi's body came alive as the fabric was eased off his legs, his skin humming with electricity. The touch was slow and gentle, warm fingertips trailing back up his bare leg and gently caressing under his knee. As Kusakabe stretched out over him, the lawyer trembled, his body reacting to the broad hand settling on the inside of his thigh.

Kusakabe gazed down at him, desire glinting in his eyes, yet tempered by a tenderness that was undeniably his. Leaning in, he brushed his lips down Higuruma's jaw, his voice deep and husky as he whispered in his ear. "Let me know if it gets to be too much."

His hand moved softly along Hiromi's thigh, tracing up the underside of his shaft with just the slightest brush of his palm before gently closing his fingers around it. Then, with a slightly firmer touch, his hand slowly inched back and forth, and he noticed Higuruma's hips begin to twitch.

It was a new and intoxicating feeling for Hiromi to surrender himself so completely, to lose himself in someone else. His breath hitched in his throat, his pulse racing with each deliberate stroke from Atsuya's hand. A particularly slow drag sent his head snapping back onto the pillow. He felt the hot press of the other man's lips travel along his neck, kissing him in time with the smooth rhythm of his hand.

"Hiromi," Kusakabe said softly, nuzzling against the lawyer's cheek. "My sweet Hiromi."

Each word pushed Higuruma closer and closer to the edge. A surge of desire danced down his spine, and his hips instinctively chased after Atsuya's touch. He let out a low whine as heat burned through his body, fingers clenching tightly into the sheets as he found his release.

Gradually, Kusakabe loosened his hold, moving to interlace his fingers with Hiromi's, silently encouraging him to let go of the fabric. He was acutely aware of the trust Higuruma had placed in him by allowing this level of intimacy into his personal space, and he wanted to honor that trust with the utmost care. With a tender touch, he tilted the lawyer's head and eased the tension in his body with a slow, reassuring kiss.

Kusakabe carefully shifted his weight, supporting the curve of Higuruma's neck in his hand as he adjusted the pillow under his head. Running his fingers over the lawyer's damp curls, he delicately swept them aside before placing a lingering kiss on his temple.

"I'll be right back," Kusakabe said softly, getting up from the bed and crossing the room.

Higuruma let out a contented sigh as he relaxed into the bed, basking in the blissful afterglow. The faint sound of running water floated in from the bathroom, and moments later, he felt a warm towel circling over his skin as Kusakabe gently cleaned off his stomach. A small smile played over Hiromi's lips; as always, every simple gesture was a powerful expression of Atsuya's love and unwavering devotion.

Kusaskabe set the towel aside and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching over to caress the lawyer's cheek with the back of his hand. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Good," Hiromi murmured. "I feel…good". His voice trembled slightly as he turned his head, trying to hide the flush spreading across his cheeks. "But what about you? Didn't you want more?" He met Kusakabe's gaze again, his expression a mix of vulnerability and desire.

In response, Kusaskabe took the lawyer's hand and intertwined their fingers. "That's something we'd share together," he said gently, his eyes reflecting warmth and understanding, "but your choice is what matters most to me. You decide if and when it's right."

Higuruma tightened his fingers around Kusakabe's hand, seeking reassurance and finding it in the tender squeeze he received in return. "It feels right. With you."

"If that's your wish," Kusakabe said, his voice filled with respect as he bowed his head slightly, "then I would be honored." Leaning in, he rested their foreheads together. "We'll go at your pace, okay?" he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the bridge of the lawyer's nose. With a small nod from Higuruma, Kusakabe smiled and slipped out of his pants, letting them fall off the edge of the bed.

As Higuruma drew a slow, deep breath to center himself, he heard the soft click of a drawer open and close and then the rustle of fabric as the other man shifted on the bed. Without realizing it, Hiromi's eyes had drifted shut, and as he opened them, he found Kusakabe settled back between his legs, those molten amber eyes looking up at him. With deliberate slowness, Atsuya leaned down, leaving a hot trail of open-mouthed kisses along the lawyer's hip as his broad hand gently guided his leg open.

A slick, wet heat trailed down Hiromi's thigh, and his jaw went slack as he felt the slow press of Atsuya's finger. It stretched and dragged against his walls, searching inside him before being teasingly pulled back. Kusakabe observed every shift in the lawyer's expression, saw how his brows furrowed and then gradually relaxed as he adjusted his movements to a rhythm Hiromi seemed to enjoy.

"How does it feel?" Atsuya asked, continuing a gentle back and forth. Hiromi whined softly and covered his face with his arm, attempting to hide the overwhelming feelings that were bubbling to the surface. Leaning in close, Kusakabe kissed up the lawyer's torso, his breath grazing along the sensitive skin. "Hiromi."

"You already know the answer," Higuruma managed to choke out, his voice catching in his throat as his body trembled under Atsuya's touch.

Kusakabe's lips hovered near the lawyer's ear. "I want to hear it from you," he said softly, his deep voice filled with tenderness. "I want to know you're comfortable and that this feels good for you." He paused and looked down at Hiromi, letting his finger come to rest as he waited patiently for a response.

Having someone so fully focused on his pleasure made Higuruma's head spin. He was so used to being an afterthought; his needs constantly pushed to the sidelines in favor of someone else's desire. But this — this was different. It sparked an entirely new sensation, a visceral response to the raw emotion flowing from Kusakabe's touch. "Atsuya, it feels," the lawyer's voice trailed off as he slowly lowered his arm, a rush of warmth spreading across his flushed cheeks. "...really good."

Kusakabe leaned in and pressed a kiss to Hiromi's forehead, lingering for a moment before he met his gaze with a gentle smile. Moving back down the lawyer's body, Atsuya softly rubbed across his waist and hips with a steady touch, helping to keep him present and relaxed. He gradually changed the angle of his other hand, his finger drawing slow, languid circles around Hiromi's walls as it moved slightly farther in.

Time seemed to blur as Higuruma lost himself to the blissful rhythm of his lover's touch, quietly murmuring Atsuya's name. He felt Kusakabe's finger curve upward, grazing a sensitive spot, and his breath hitched before a few calming strokes on his side settled him back to slow, measured breathing. When the pressure of Kusakabe's finger began to pull back, Hiromi's hips subtly canted towards the touch, and an impatient whine escaped his lips.

Easing all the way out, Kusakabe watched the rise and fall of the lawyer's chest, and as he took a deep breath, Atsuya gently slid two fingers back in, drinking down the euphoric moan he received in return. He curled and uncurled his touch as he edged further in, watching Higuruma's leg gently fall open to grant him better access. Pressing against a sweet spot, Kusakabe felt a hand tangle in his hair and another grabbing at his shoulder, attempting to pull him back up. He kissed up Hiromi's torso as he stretched back out over him, exploring all the dips and ridges along the way.

Looking up, Higuruma was met by Kusakabe's affectionate smile, brimming with love and a silent pledge of understanding and patience. Slowly, hesitantly, the lawyer raised his hand, fingers trembling as they hovered in the space between them. Atsuya leaned in slightly, his soft, steady gaze fixed on the lawyer's face. After a brief pause, Higuruma reached out, gently brushing the other man's cheek. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "Atsuya... I want... you."

Kusakabe pressed a tender kiss to the bridge of Higuruma's nose. "Are you sure?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Hiromi replied back, tilting his head to lean into the contact.

Nuzzling against the lawyer's cheek, Kusakabe closed his eyes briefly, savoring the moment. With care and tenderness, he reached for the spare pillow from the head of the bed, and then, with a supportive touch, he guided the lawyer to raise his hips, delicately tucking the pillow underneath. After Hiromi was comfortable, Kusakabe settled back on his heels and picked up the condom packet he'd grabbed earlier, tearing it open with his teeth and then rolling it on in one smooth motion.

Kusakabe leaned forward to settle between Higuruma's legs, gazing down into the lawyer's face. His heart swelled with a mix of emotions—love, desire, and a deep-seated respect for the lawyer's boundaries. "Hiromi," he whispered, "Are you sure?

Higuruma felt a gentle heat rise to his cheeks. "You don't have to ask," he murmured.

Atsuya took the lawyer's hand in his own, bringing it tenderly to his chest, close to his heart. He drew closer, locking eyes with him, and spoke in a quiet, sincere voice, "Yes. I do."

Holding Kusakabe's gaze, Higuruma gave a slight nod, his soft brown eyes darkening to a deep, almost inky black. Atsuya planted a kiss on the back of the lawyer's hand and lowered it to the bed. He lined himself up and pressed in slowly, gradually easing down, and as their hips met, he paused, allowing Hiromi time to adjust. A rush of sensations washed over Higuruma as his eyes fluttered shut, and as he blinked them open, he was met by the other man's warm smile.

Atsuya gently pulled out before sliding back in again, keeping a steady, reassuring hand on the lawyer's waist as he began to move inside him. With each careful roll of his hips, Kusakabe kept the same gentle rhythm, relishing the feeling of the smooth velvet around him. Watching Hiromi's expression, he noticed his head tilt to the side, the lawyer's gaze attentively tracking his every movement. A subtle blush crept up on Higuruma's cheeks, and Atsuya smiled to himself. "Sweet Hiromi — truly beautiful. Nothing short of perfect."

Reaching down, Kusakabe cupped Hiromi's cheek in his hand while the other hand gently guided the lawyer's waist back towards him. Higuruma's breath hitched in time with each press, losing himself in the slow grind as he rocked up to meet the pace they'd both set. Their bodies moved reflexively now, every motion perfectly in sync.

As Higuruma felt the rhythm of their connection, a deep certainty settled in his soul. Love, a concept he had always confined to logic, now burned in him as a living, breathing force, and for the first time, he felt the full weight of what it meant to love someone. Higuruma's neurons fired more rapidly than he could process, and as Kusakabe hit his sweet spot, the dam inside him broke. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and overcome with emotion, he hid his face in his hands. "Atsuya..."

Without hesitation, Kusakabe leaned down and wrapped his arms around Higuruma's shoulders, lifting the lawyer up towards him. As they settled back, he drew him close against his body. Taking Hiromi's hand in his own, he gently pressed the lawyer's palm against his chest, allowing him to feel the reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat. "I'm here," he whispered.

Higuruma buried his face in Kusakabe's chest. He took deep breaths and let his muscles relax, focusing on the comforting warmth of the hand moving in slow, soothing circles on his back. Higuruma wound his arms around the other man's broad shoulders. His voice wavered as he looked up at Kusakabe, his heart laid bare in his gaze. "I love you, Atsuya."

Kusakabe's smile lit up his entire face, causing his eyes to crinkle at the edges. "And I love you, Higuruma Hiromi."

Feeling the embrace grow tighter, Kusakabe leaned in, meeting the lawyer's waiting lips with a soft kiss. He gently shifted their position and lowered Hiromi against the bed. Then, with a loving touch, he slid an arm under the lawyer's waist, easing his hips back up onto the pillow as he kissed away the last of his tears. Still inside Hiromi's silky warmth, Kusakabe eased himself down just as gently as before, then started to move slowly, in and out in small drags.

Hiromi let his hands wander, fingertips trailing down through the soft brown hair along Kusakabe's chest, the skin flushed pink and glistening with a light sheen of sweat. He craved more contact, more everything, and he tugged the other man closer. In response, Atsuya tilted his hips, inching deeper, and the lawyer let out a gasp that melted into a soft moan. Higuruma's back arched up off the bed, the added pressure amplifying the fullness inside of him, but a warm, reassuring hand on his hip grounded him and brought his senses back online.

Their rhythms synced again, each roll of their hips flowing seamlessly into the next. Every gentle press and each slow pull from Atsuya sent pure bliss cascading down Hiromi's spine, fueling the fire in his core. He slipped his arm between them, reaching down for himself, and was met by a tender touch on his wrist. Kusakabe took Higuruma in his hand, tracing along the curve of his shaft and brushing his thumb gently over the tip as he continued to move inside him.

Atsuya pressed forward, gradually increasing the pace with each glide. There were no words now, only a connection that felt timeless and unbreakable. Higuruma's thigh inched up off the bed, and Kusakabe caught the cue, softly sliding his hand underneath it and drawing the leg up over his shoulder. He settled back, his amber eyes growing darker as he took in Hiromi's beautiful blissed-out expression. Shifting his hips, he began to move in longer strokes, pulling almost all the way out before easing back in again.

Higuruma was so close, and a quiet moan fell from his lips as he locked eyes with Kusakabe, a silent request to take him fully over the edge. He felt Atsuya press deeper, rolling his hips until Hiromi arched his back, one of his hands gripping the sheets, the other tangling in the brown tufts of hair on the other man's chest. The heat burned through him, and his legs shook as he spilled over Kusakabe's hand. Atsuya followed quietly after, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the leg draped over his shoulder.

Kusakabe gently guided Higuruma's leg down and leaned in close, resting their foreheads together. As their gazes met, a smile slowly spread across Higuruma's lips, and he sighed, relaxing back into the mattress. They lay there wrapped in each other's arms, lost in the peaceful comfort of each other's presence.

Shifting his weight, Kusakabe moved to the edge of the bed, reaching back to brush his fingers lightly against Higuruma's hand. "I'll run us a bath," he said softly.

A flush crept up the lawyer's cheeks. "Atsuya, you don't have to--," he started, but the other man just hummed, a warm smile on his lips as he walked towards the bathroom.

=================

Kusakabe reached for the nightstand, skimming his fingers over a stack of worn books until he found the one he wanted. Opening it to a marked page, he drew Higuruma closer and settled back into the pillows. Hiromi nestled against him, soothed by the deep, calming baritone as Atsuya began to read. Tonight, there was an added warmth in Kusakabe's voice, a tender cadence that brought the words to life as they floated off the page.

Never enough time, Never enough words to say, Yet our hearts still know.

"That's beautiful," Higuruma whispered, tilting his head to look up into Kusakabe's face. "Which poet is this?"

Atsuya smiled warmly and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the bridge of Higuruma's nose.

  --- SATURDAY ---

It was a lazy Sunday morning, and Kusakabe was busy in the small kitchen, adding the final touches on breakfast. As Higuruma stepped into the room, Atsuya's face lit up at the sight of the lawyer wearing his oversized t-shirt, his hair still tousled from sleep.

With a hint of nervousness in his eyes, Higuruma looked up and softly said, "All I could find was instant coffee; I hope that's --." Before he could finish, Kusakabe gently took the mug with one hand and, with the other, drew Hiromi into a sweet, affectionate kiss.

Atsuya found himself caught in a dreamlike state, wondering if the gentle warmth of Hiromi's lips was real or just a beautiful illusion. He thought about the journey that led them to this point: the stolen glances, the moments of doubt and hesitation, and the courage it took to bare his soul to the one he loved. But now, as he held Higuruma close, the weight of that journey seemed to melt away.

This was no longer a fleeting dream or a hopeful wish — it was a beautiful, breathtaking reality.

This is a gift for my bestie @jjk-eugie for all her unwavering support and constant encouragement while I struggled to write this. The beautiful banner is by @tsukimefuku, who was also kind enough to offer advice and input and even more emotional support. The KsHg community is truly the best thing in existence.

[apathycares]

could you write about Sukuna being bored after he conquered the world again and taking itadori’s girlfriend as his wife cause he always ,,noticed her’’. You know like he kind of liked her when she was with Yuuji and he wanted to experience the same love and warm she gave to Yuuji?

Hola anon, thank you for the request! I sort of explored this concept (sans Yuuji and a little bit more dark) in my multi-chaptered monster I created here, so feel free to tune in if you're interested! Here's a little something for your request though -

※ Warnings: suggestive violence against people and children, Sukuna in general

※ Characters: Sukuna x reader, implied Itadori x reader, Gojo Satoru

Sukuna lives for his pleasure and displeasure alone. Defeat would mean death for him, which is why he was able to conquer his adversaries and ascend to the highest position in the world. No matter how much those sorry excuse for sorcerers were willing to die fighting him, they were not ready to die, leading to their defeat.

Japan had not only reverted to the freedom of the Heian Era, but devolved to an anarchist society upon the curse's reign. The rest of the world dubbed Japan a dead country, and refused to partake in any of its affairs. Despite this, they were very much aware of Sukuna's power and wanted nothing to do with it.

They simply lived on his whims alone.

Sukuna had not only conquered and reigned supreme, but he had taken everything that he wanted - he had kept Gojo Satoru alive as a pet, his eyes gouged out and kept in a case among his war spoils. All other sorcerers were killed and returned as cursed spirits, some held in captivity for entertainment and others loose in the world. And his wife?

She was the cherry on top of his possessions.

Not that she was happy about it.

The door to Sukuna's chambers creaked open, allowing a stream of light into the dark yet lavish space. You barely moved from your sprawled form on the massive bed, eyes dull and faraway as the sound of the door closing punctured the quiet of his room and duly reminded you that you were still alive. The inaudible yet heavy footsteps of your captor echoed off of the high walls, in a beat that you could pick out from anyone else’s, as he undoubtedly made his way to you as he always does when he needed to –

“You seem lively.” Sukuna said sarcastically, staring down at your unmoving body before he poked your side. “I’ve been informed of your refusal to eat – are you going to make me go through this again?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Sukuna tilted his head as he watched the minute rise and fall of your back, counting your breaths for a minute before he was satisfied. You were steadily regaining your health back after your last 'emotional lashing'. He had to endure several attempts at you harming yourself in the beginning of your union, up until he could finally enjoy the fruits of his labor and keep you by his side at all times. Sukuna only kept you in his chambers when he needed to take care of some business alone, which was rare.

Taking a moment to run his eyes around the room, he noted the bath water needed to be replaced after your use, and the room needed to be aired out so you would flourish a bit more. He asked if you would like to get some Sun and fresh air with him, sighing a bit when you said no.

“I’m not going to kill myself, Sukuna.” You spoke up suddenly after he sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling his attention back to you when you finally lifted your face off the mattress and cast your gaze at him for the first time in weeks. “My goal is to be just shy of that so you’d get bored of me and let me go back to Yuuji.”

“Impossible.” He shot down, pushing your leg to make room for himself so he could lie down, placing his head on your back and smiling at the ceiling when you made a noise of protest. “Whatever happens, there’s one absolute truth that has remained so since I first saw you – I’ll never abandon you.” Sukuna rolled over on his side to face you, never really able to stop himself. “Moreover, where would you go? All your little friends are either dead or curses.” He laughed a little as he said, completely ignoring the brat's name. “You wouldn’t want me following you into the foreign lands, would you?”

No matter how broken you were, you would never tempt yourself to lead Sukuna into the curse-less, populous world outside of Japan after causing this whole mess in the first place. No matter how much you believed that he kept you as a trophy after you survived Kenjaku’s ritual, morphing into a vessel for his ‘lesser’ emotions when the thrill of killing and fighting wasn’t doing it for him anymore, you wouldn’t doubt that he’d take your escape as a challenge to hunt you down, endangering anybody in his path to get you back by his side, as prideful as you've come to recognize him to be.

He had truly won, and there wasn't anything left to conquer.

Sukuna would hold death tournaments when he returned from his travels around his kingdom, sometimes jumping in when he got too bored or too excited, eviscerating the competition.

On monotonous days, he'd have you around as a spectator, dragging your detached form to his death matches and travels around Japan, laughing in pure ecstasy when you'd betray a small reaction at the carnage he'd hosted.

That's when he realized once again that it was you - you would always quell his boredom and restlessly cultivate his fire for pleasure when he needed you to.

So he kept you closer. You barely ever had a moment to yourself. He'd put you in exquisite kimonos and kosodes and hair ornaments, dressing you up like a doll ready to be shown off at all times. If anyone visited him, they knew to bring along gifts exclusively for you, and if he wasn't pleased with your reaction, he would use the visitor to pull one out of you.

Eventually, you got used to his antics, causing Sukuna to quickly grow bored once again, and so he decided to pull out his best -

"You wound me, wife." Sukuna drawled, clawed fingers reaching down and tracing your spine beneath your kimono as you sat at the foot of his throne. Your empty stare ahead did little to deter him, as he'd gotten used to your acts of rebellion pretty quickly. His fingers trailed down until he turned you by the jaw, leaning down to smile lovingly at you. "What will it take for you to smile for me again?"

Roll over and let me stab you in the ass until you die, you thought, but kept your mouth shut. Time and time again he'd ask you how he could melt the ice from your stare, or show some affection towards him when he was in the mood, and you'd respond with something along those lines hoping to hurt his ego, but all it did was make him laugh and derive pleasure all the same. You've come to find out that what hurt Sukuna the most was your non-reaction, and although it was hard to steal your heart, that's what you would give him until the end of your days.

"Hm, seems like you need a little inspiration."

You perked up a little as he descended from his throne and disappeared from the room, curious to see what he'd come up with next. Was it another death match? Maybe a few more children to skewer and roast in front of you?

Despite teleporting out, he'd chosen to return through the door.

Your heart froze over and dropped straight to your stomach.

"Surprise!" Sukuna tugged the chains in his hands and pushed forward his captives to kneel in front of you, reveling in the hot tears that fell freely from your widened eyes.

A disheveled Gojo stared up at you with empty sockets for eyes, bruises littered on whatever bit of skin that was exposed, and a hefty collar around his neck. His cracked lips parted in a silent plea to free him, before he was shoved out of the way and landed on the ground, the crack of his bones echoing in the large throne room, by a cursed spirit. No matter how deformed and disgusting this cursed spirit looked, you instinctually knew who it used to be.

"Yuuji?" You sobbed, placing your hands on your mouth.

"Die." It said in a cracked voice, reaching out to claw you just as Sukuna reeled him back towards himself. "Die. Die. Die."

"You're correct!" Sukuna dropped to a knee in front of you, holding the cursed spirit of your dead boyfriend back without a sweat as he smirked at you, completely unbothered by Gojo who had obediently sat up again like a robot. "Now, do you want to see them fight to the death, or will you give me a little smile?" He cooed at you, rolling his wrist to better hold on to Yuuji.

With eyes drowning in tears and a chest heaving up and down with a building panic attack, you cracked the most devastatingly broken smile he had seen in his entire existence.

"Beautiful." He mused, his heart fluttering for a moment in nostalgia before he reigned it in again and shot you a wide grin.

Sukuna released them to fight anyways.

I just realized I completely went left from the request. I'm sorry anon LOL might do another part to depict why he chose her and do the fluff bit (as close to fluff as we can get from this man).

[ellie-24]

Just A Fan Part 2

Idk why this took so long! I have no excuse! Here's part two for those who are still interested.

You might want to catch up on Part 1, it's really been a while. Sorry again!

And, once again, just very self indulgent fluff ahead! Also, this is a response to the writing prompt "Elvis in a car"

Word count: 4.1 k

March 24th 1977, Amarillo Civic Center, TX

Cara let out a watery laugh, her cheeks already hurting from smiling so much and quickly wiped away the tear that rolled over her cheek, trying to regain her composure. Not even five minutes had passed since he got on stage and she already felt a nervous breakdown approaching, just being in the same room as him was enough for that to happen.

The zipper of the Arabian jumpsuit he wore was pulled dangerously low, offering her a wonderful view of his hairy chest and belly. She wasn't the only one having a hard time controlling her emotions though, the whole auditorium buzzed with excitement, shrill screeching filled the air and a woman behind her just straight up sobbed hysterically at the sight of him. Cara would lie if she said she didn't do the same thing when she saw him live for the first time though.

She quickly focused back on Elvis after taking a deep breath. With a heavy heart she noticed that he didn't look too well. Although the nearly blinding spotlights made it a bit hard to see his face - she wondered how he even navigated on stage with the bright light probably blurring his vision - she could tell there were heavy bags under his eyes. He also sounded rather tired when he sang, often slurring the words and carrying a piece of paper with him, explaining that he didn't know the words to every song.

His behaviour was very different from the easy-going and relaxed man she met in Hawaii. There was such a lightness and ease about him then, something she didn't see right now. The exhaustion was written all over his face and showed in his at times almost sluggish movements. Cara was convinced that the vacation would give him some well-deserved rest and some fresh energy, but apparently, she'd been wrong.

Still, he powered through it, eager to give a good performance despite the circumstances. Suddenly she felt very thankful for the over-enthusiastic fans around her. He seemed to appreciate the audience's positive reactions, his mood evidently improving with the heavy applause and cheering. His smiles got wider and more genuine as he started engaging more and more with the crowd.

Cara quickly scrambled to the front, her entire body tingling with nerves and excitement. He stood up straight again after handing out some scarves to a few crying women a few feet away from her. With anticipation written all over her face, she watched as he leisurely strolled in her general direction.

But would he remember her? It's only been about two weeks since their encounter in Hawaii and, after all, he's had it specifically arranged for her to come after promising her a scarf at one of his shows. But he was Elvis Presley, the number of people he must've already met, the number of fans, it's probably impossible to keep track of everyone.

And Cara wasn't entirely sure if she'd really stand out from that crowd. Or any crowd, for that matter. The prospect that he may have actually forgotten about her hurt, and her face fell for a moment. The uncomfortable feeling only increased when his eyes quickly flitted past her, not even acknowledging her. She forced herself to take a deep breath and told herself she wouldn't hold it against him if he didn't recognise her. Just being here was more than enough.

Elvis let out a small laugh at something Charlie said to him and accepted the cup of coke he was holding out for him with a sniff. After letting out a low whistle he took a sip and used the scarf that was wrapped around his neck to wipe away some of the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. A brunette woman next to Cara suddenly started yelling frantically, asking him to let her have the cup he still held in his hand.

He pretended to look confused for a second, raising one cocky eyebrow at her. "I'm not wearing one, honey." He then joked. More scarves and also occasional kisses were given out to lucky fans and she got more and more impatient. She called out his name a few times, hoping he'd notice her. Eventually, his eyes landed on her and he approached her with a wide grin.

"Hey there, sweetheart." He drawled as he leaned down and wrapped the scarf around her neck, using it to pull her closer to him. Cara gasped as she was suddenly pulled forward and stood on her tiptoes in an effort to make herself as tall as possible so he wouldn't have to crouch down as much. Watching him bend down the whole time made her own back hurt and she was a good twenty years younger than him. His lips felt just like she remembered them, soft and warm and she had a hard time resisting the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down, on top of her.

Elvis pulled away from her and turned around, walking away again. But then he suddenly whipped his head around with a playful smile. He cocked his eyebrow at her and jokingly narrowed his eyes at her before doing an exaggerated double take. His ring-clad finger pointed accusingly at her, looking like he was warning her. Warning her not to pass out. A wide grin spread on her face when she realised that he did remember her. He winked at her when he saw her euphoric expression and there was this mutual understanding between them once again.

His eyes found hers every now and then throughout the rest of the concert. Gauging her reaction whenever he hit a note especially well or joked around, cracking himself up or playfully bantered with members of the band. Giving her a mischievous glance before moving his hips or jiggling his leg in the way he knew made everyone lose their minds. It made her heart flutter every time.

He's just performed a few gospel numbers and now the opening notes to How Great Thou Art started playing when somebody lightly tapped her shoulder. "Miss?" A man's voice sounded next to her, making her whirl around.

She squinted at him, her eyes flashing with recognition, though she couldn't quite place him. She's definitely seen him before. He stepped a bit closer before speaking up again. "Miss, you're gonna want to come along now before the big rush."

She blinked and inclined her head, not sure if she heard him right, only half listening to him anyway, as Elvis was currently performing one of her favourites. It quite bothered her that he just started talking to her while he was singing. She also found it rather rude that he wouldn't introduce himself. "Huh?"

"Come on now." He insisted, his tone laced with an urgency she didn't quite understand.

"But-" She backed up a little and looked back up at the stage, confused and not wanting to let her idol out of her sight.

"Boss said so." He nodded towards the stage. In that moment it suddenly clicked that the man standing in front of her was Joe Esposito, she'd also seen him in Hawaii as part of Elvis' entourage. Her eyes went wide, not quite daring to think about the implications.

"What?" She asked again, the question not even necessarily directed towards him.

He sighed and once again motioned for her to get moving. "Damn girl, just come along, boss wants to see ya. He asked me to bring you to the car."

"Uh-"

Elvis wants to see her. He asked for her. How does one process this information exactly?

"But-" she weakly gestured towards the stage, wanting him to understand that she wanted to watch the show until the very end.

"It'll be easier if I bring you the car now."

"Elvis asked for me?" She asked, wanting some clarification from him again.

Joe let out an exasperated sigh and nodded, beginning to look rather annoyed.

The prospect of talking to Elvis in a few minutes prompted her to finally agree, though it also made her feel kind of lightheaded again. "Okay."

He nodded with a curt "Thanks" and turned around, indicating with a wave of his hand that she was supposed to follow him.

She started trotting behind Joe as he made his way through the crowd. At one point she was sure she heard him mutter something under his breath about not wanting to deal with Elvis' bad mood tonight, making her frown.

Joe eventually opened the back door for her, the chilly night air a stark contrast to the almost sweltering heat in the auditorium. She looked down at herself, inwardly cursing the outfit she chose. She wore the same sundress she'd worn when they first met in Hawaii. It served both a practical purpose, increasing the chance that he'd recognise her, but also a symbolic one.

That's at least what she told herself over and over when she realised March in Texas just wasn't the same as March in Hawaii. You wear something that's not weather-appropriate, you pay the price, simple as that. But the relatively simple concept of causality seemed way too complicated when her mind was utterly preoccupied with a single thing. A single man in fact.

She was grateful when Joe ushered her into the car, the plush cushion of the backseat feeling grounding against the back of her thighs. Everything seemed to happen in a blur as she was still wondering what the hell was happening right now. Elvis wants to see her.

It was eerily quiet in the car after all the screaming - her own and everyone else's - and her ears were ringing as she expectedly looked through the tinted glass towards the back door from which he'd emerge any second now. In an attempt to look a bit more presentable, she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle some of the knots that got there from jumping up and down for nearly two hours.

A few more minutes passed, her heart nearly beating out of her ribcage as she waited, until the door opened and his unmistakable silhouette was rushed over to the car, the white, glittery jumpsuit standing out in the darkness of the back alley. Cara sucked in a breath when she heard his wonderful voice.

"What do we have here? The pretty little girl from the front row just sitting there, waiting for me. What a sweet surprise, I'm a lucky man." He whistled jokingly as if he really hadn't expected her to be there, even though he obviously sent someone out to get her.

He'd barely gotten fully inside the car and she already moved to clutch his arm in a tight grip, unable to stop herself. "Elvis! Oh my god, you were incredible, thank you for letting me be here. Oh my god, I don't even know-"

He chuckled and cupped her burning cheek with his big hand. "Shush, darlin' take a breath, it's okay. Thank you."

Cara nodded and did as he told her. "What am I doing here?" She then blurted out. Elvis wanted to see her. No, she still hasn't processed this information. And now he's here, just casually sitting next to her while she was a shaking mess.

He shook his head in a good-natured way and looked her up and down before gesturing towards her, ignoring her question. "Baby, whatchu even wearin'? I-I mean it looks real pretty, honey, but you'll catch your death in that."

Cara blinked and lowered her gaze, pulling her dress down in an attempt to hide the goosebumps on her legs. That still didn't help to conceal the very evident goosebumps on her arms though. "I didn't think this through, did I?" She muttered, still breathless. A small blush rose on her cheeks as she weakly hugged herself.

He let out a small laugh at her silliness and reached out to run his warm hand over her forearm, causing another shiver to go through her body. His eyes twinkled gleefully and she could see the dimples in his soft cheeks as he smiled. God, he looked so handsome. "And ya didn't even bring a jacket?"

"Forgot it at the hotel." She shrugged with a shy smile. Truth is she would've forgotten her head if it wasn't attached to her body due to her nerves going crazy all day, anticipation the only thing occupying her mind for the past few weeks.

He playfully clicked his tongue and raised his eyebrow at her before reaching next to him, pulling at a big piece of fabric. "Gonna break ya teeth will all that chattering and shaking." He muttered as he draped his coat over her shoulders. "Better, little one?"

It took her a few seconds to answer his question. The only thing on her mind was that the heavy coat smelled exactly like him. She only wished he would've worn it before, so his warmth would surround her as well. It was big enough that she could use it as a blanket and she wiggled around in her seat, pulling her legs up in an attempt to cover her whole body with the precious garment. As subtle as she could she nosed at the fabric, inhaling his scent that was both nerve-racking and comforting to her. With a small nod and a shaky exhale, she eventually turned towards him again. "Thank you."

"Can't have ya freezin' to death now can I?"

Cara bit her lip, not sure how to articulate what was going through her head. The post-concert adrenaline and euphoria still pumping through her veins made everything feel a bit disconnected and foggy. Not only did she get to see him today, but she was sitting in the back of a car with him. Because he wants to see her. And he had kissed her again. And he just gave her his coat. It was too much. "But... and don't get me wrong, but, uh, what am I doing here?"

"You're coming with me, honey." He offered like it was the most natural thing.

The simple statement gave her butterflies and she swallowed hard. "But why?" She whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Because I wanna spend some time with you." He scooted closer to her and gently draped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her to his side. "Get to know you a little. You don't mind that, do ya, sweetheart?" The low murmur made her skin prickle, a very faint tremor still running through her entire body. She inhaled sharply at the contact and tried her best to hold his gaze. It was almost painfully tender.

No, she didn't mind at all.

"Are you sure? Because I'm not too sure if there's anything interesting about me." She shrugged with a small smile.

An endearing grin spread across his beautiful face and Cara felt an odd sense of pride. Making him smile had to be one of the best feelings in the world. Along with kissing him of course.

"Oh, honey, I'm sure that's not true." He drawled and played with a strand of her hair that fell over her shoulder. The gesture was so intimate, so familiar, it nearly made her cry again.

"I don't get it." She murmured, more to herself, just unable to believe that this was happening. To her, out of all the people.

"Ya certainly know how to leave a lasting impression, Cara." He continued teasingly, gently nudging her.

"Oh god, no, please don't." She almost whined as the memories of their first meeting replayed in her mind and tried to to crawl further into the coat to hide herself completely. To this day she felt utterly mortified by her reaction and cringed every time she thought about it.

Elvis pulled her even closer and cooed right into her ear. "Aw, baby, that's good, trust me. You're a charming little thing."

She still avoided his gaze, feeling utterly overwhelmed by his presence and proceeded to hide her face in her hands.

"No, no, don't gotta be so nervous, darlin'." He ran his finger over her wrists, gently prompting her to look at him.

She obliged and lowered her hands before turning her head, finding his eyes again. A single drop of sweat rolled down his forehead, over his cheek. Her fingers were itching to reach out and just wipe it away. "I'm trying. I just, just... love you so much."

A bashful smile formed on his lips and his cheeks turned slightly pink at her heartfelt confession. "That's awfully sweet of you. I love you too." He murmured and kissed her temple with a reverence that momentarily made her forget how to breathe.

The thing was, she genuinely believed him when he said this. His tone was so sincere and earnest, his eyes seemingly looked right into her soul. Never before has she encountered someone with such a big heart, so much capacity to love, such an ability to make anyone feel special. It made Joe's offhand remark from earlier sting even more. She leaned further into his touch and basked in the feeling of being at the centre of his attention right now.

His hotel room was dark, the curtains blocking out any light from the city below and rather cool with the AC whirring steadily. Cara looked around and found the room, or suite rather, to be empty, making her realise that she was now alone with him. Really alone with him. No other fans, not even his close friends who always seemed to be around. She had him all to herself now.

He sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his face, grimacing shortly before looking at her expectedly. Slowly, she let herself sink into the soft pillows and pulled off her shoes, relieving her aching ankle. She pulled up her legs and shifted her body to look at him.

"Are you okay?" Cara asked carefully.

He blinked and raised his eyebrows before giving her a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring. "Don't worry 'bout me, honey."

A small nod and silence followed. "... I think I'm gonna keep this one as well." She chuckled and gestured to the coat still hanging off her small frame.

"Looks prettier on ya anyway." He grinned, making her snort. "I-I'm real happy ya came... Been thinkin' about ya." He added slowly.

His words made her tummy flip. "Of course I came." Cara whispered with a puzzled smile. Why would he assume any different? "I've been looking forward to seeing you again so much."

He cleared his throat and brushed over her hair with a lazy lopsided grin. "What did ya think of the show? And be honest, little one."

Cara's eyes widened, taken aback for a second at the fact that he wanted her opinion. She didn't feel qualified enough to answer, she only knew that she loved every second of it. Just like she enjoyed every second of the other three concerts she's been to. With his face plastered all over her room and his voice lulling her to sleep almost every night she wasn't sure how objective she could be.

"I had the best time ever! The way you sang Hurt, it was so beautiful... and of course... the kiss." She blushed and fiddled around with the scarf he'd given her. Right now she doubted she'd ever take it off.

"Ya liked that didn't ya? Me too, baby. Best part of the show, I'll tell ya." He gave her a mischievous smile once again, making it feel as if they were sharing a secret. Something special, just between them.

She looked almost demure as she kept running her fingers over the silky scarf, feeling its smoothness on her skin. "It was all so perfect. Everything. As always."

His face softened and he slowly intertwined their fingers. "You're such a sweet thing for saying that." A surprised gasp escaped her when he brought her hand up to his lips to press a small kiss against the back of it. It took every bit of willpower not to start giggling uncontrollably and embarrass herself in front of him again. The way he'd just show affection like this, like they were lovers, made her feel all giddy inside.

"I mean it. I love watching you perform. I can't get enough of it." She insisted.

He looked away and hummed, his face neutral as he absentmindedly ran his fingers over her arms.

She frowned and dared to raise a hand to lightly scratch his coarse sideburns. "What is it?"

He momentarily leaned into her touch, nuzzling her palm and just soaking up her affections for a few seconds. Then he continued hesitantly. "I-I just, I-I feel like-" He stuttered, shaking his head with a huff.

"Like what?" She encouraged and reached out for his hand, cradling his bigger one in hers and squeezing it reassuringly.

Elvis sighed heavily, the lines on his forehead deepening. She squeezed his hand again. "Honey, I know what they're saying about my shows. About me. I-I don't wanna disappoint anyone. I really don't. Still got six shows on this damn tour." He shut his eyes tightly and started massaging his temples as if the mere thought already caused him a headache.

There was an almost unbearable sadness in his face and she knew immediately what he was talking about, of course she did. So, she did the one thing that came to mind every time she read those horrible things or heard someone make a rude comment about him in her presence.

With an eagerness that hopefully conveyed how much she meant it, she shook her head and tightly wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder smelling the sweat there, remnants from the concerts. She smiled and burrowed further into him, lightly caressing his still damp skin. His breathing quickened slightly when she soothingly trailed her fingers from the side of his neck over the thick patches of hair on his chest and the soft swell of his belly.

Her voice was muffled as she tried to make him understand how she felt about him. "No, don't. You're wonderful the way you are. I know it probably doesn't mean much coming from me, but, uh that's what I think. You are always out there, giving everything for your fans. I hate that you feel like this."

Warmth filled her when he slipped his hand beneath the coat and pulled her closer by her waist, his touch burning through the thin fabric of her dress. Being pressed up against his bulk felt like heaven.

"Baby-" He whispered, sounding rather needy all of the sudden. "-means a lot to me. Come here." His tone was soft and tender and matched his actions as he hooked a finger under her chin and let his lips hover over hers.

She felt his warm breath ghosting over her skin and decided to close the gap between them, kissing him with all the love she had for him. He grunted when she nibbled on his bottom lip and played with the hair at the back of his neck. The feeling of his hand squeezing her waist over and over again spurred her on and she hastily threw one leg over his sturdy thighs, straddling him.

"You're so special to me. You are." She emphasized as she broke the kiss and carefully rubbed her nose against his.

He cupped her jaw and brushed his soft lips against the side of her mouth and her cheek. "Nah baby, you're so special to me." His deep blue eyes bore into hers. "So pretty. Wanna love on ya some." He cooed, making her breath hitch.

"Honey, will you stay for the rest of the tour? I need you here with me. Need you real bad." He muttered against her neck.

An odd sense of calm washed over when he lowered his head and trailed little kisses along her jaw and neck. He locked his hands behind her back, holding her close to him while she pressed her face into his soft hair. His satisfied hum informed her that he must feel something similar.

It pleased her that she was able to take some of the pressure away from him, even if it was just for a moment. Their laboured breathing filled the otherwise quiet suite, a peaceful moment within the unpredictable and gruelling tour schedule he had to endure.

Cara nodded vigorously without even thinking about it, ready to do just about anything to make him happy, to keep him happy. Just the way he made her happy.

..................................................................................

A million kisses and hugs to the loveliest of people. @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @lookingforrainbows @from-memphis-with-love @peskybedtime Thank you for helping me and believing in me. You're truly the most awesome emotional support besties an Elvis fan could wish for!!

@wildhorseinkansas

[motherstone]

Post Rewrite-

What happens when they bring Trellis back?

Is Luger still around? I know you said you were reworking his character, so has he become the docile old man we saw in canon or is something else going on?

Answer:

Trellis agreed to go back on his own will eventually - at the start he only went with Alma was because his presence endangered the small village that took him in, but as he travels all over Gulfen, getting to know its people and the country's issues, the more he feels like he's made a mistake and that he left the kingdom's subjects to fend for themselves instead of actually taking care of them. Trellis has some part of him believing he's not the best guy for the throne, but he wants to enact some good changes, and someone has to take responsibility for his father's terrible actions and make up for it, even if Trellis himself isn't personally responsible for it - he feels like it's what he owes to the people, in Gulfen or otherwise.

Thankfully, people were happy he took the throne because at that point Trellis has built up a good reputation (it also helps he's the one who brought back the River), therefore while the first years were a struggle bringing a country back to proper working after the war, there isn't considerable opposition.

Luger is a villain from start to end, if having a bit more depth but still y'know, a villain - I moved him turning into a giant from book 2 to around book 8 or 9 on the timeline. I don't like him becoming docile after his transformation just quickly absolves him of any personality and impact. If he's gonna be a bad guy, really ramp it up y'know? And Luger was a very effective and a very good bad guy in Amulet, and I really wanted to tap on that potential to antagonize and force the protagonists to grow. He makes a great Foil to Emily, a great archnemesis to Trellis, and a rival for Max.

He's the guy that kicks off Trellis's character arc in the Rewrite (in an extremely brutal way), so when he comes back around, wandering around no memories, stone intact, it doesn't go well. Navin found him and took pity (he got captured by Luger alongside Aly when they got separated from the Cielan Army in Rewrite book 6/7, and at that point Luger was strained thin under the EK's increasing dissatisfaction at Luger, hence Navin was able to see a side to Luger most don't get to see), so he took him in. Emily isn't happy but doesn't feel right retaliating since that isn't technically "Luger". When they asked Trellis for help, he refused to do so, and left them to their own devices, but is forced back to help them because there's a group of people after Luger's head and anyone who helps him.

Luger's storyline occurs a bit over half of the Post Rewrite, and it's all about what "justice" is. Eventually, some events happen (I'd say more but this is getting long but I'd be happy to elaborate if you want), and Luger regains his memories, but the trio let's him go anyway while they resolve things with the people after his head. He shows up again days later in Trellis's court in remorse, as he retains memories during the time they took care of him, and despite knowing full well the punishment to be incredibly severe, turns himself in to take accountability of what he did serving the Elf King. Thankfully, Trellis has also gained understanding that retaliating against Luger by hurting him the same way he hurt Trellis and many others, even when he has all the power and understandable reasons in doing so, isn't justice, and thus ultimately imprisons him for life, but makes it clear he has no intention to treat Luger inhumanely, so no, he won't be tortured or mistreated - he simply would no longer be free until he dies.

Later, we get to see Navin admitting to Trellis he's actually been sending letters to Luger in prison and believes Trellis would disapprove. On the contrary, while Trellis isn't enthusiastic, he doesn't disparage Navin for it and encourages him to write Luger as much as he can as Luger would genuinely appreciate it.

[thescarehoe]

I read Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn a bit ago as a lead up to The Spectre, and I just have so many thoughts about this as an introduction how it all went down in the long run. Not gonna touch on my thoughts regarding knowing of Parallax and how in there's a certain level of me feeling him being doomed by the narrative (the military).

But the aspect of him not wanting the ring at all in this, and him being held to the whims of their constant beck and call to establish ‘order’ to the cosmos, as some highlighted form of I suppose manipulative use of validation. Being insisted that this means you are worthy and destined for great things, after everything in his life has gone so wrong, as a use to turn him into a pawn.  All the military and drafting metaphors and entire multiple plots of authority abusing it's power were so prominent, and really makes the modern adaptions even more depressing.

Vaguely, it kinda reminded of those anti-magical girl stories, which ironically makes the transformation in the First Flight movie more amusing to me. But just-

You're down on your luck, hanging onto your job by a thread.

An alien abducts you from your planet and tells you that it's magical device with powers beyond your comprehension has chosen you because it can sense you are worthy.  Insists it's a validation and that it means you're not a fuck up.  This should be a relief but despite your protests about not wanting it to begin with you are told you have no choice.  

Your boss is not happy that you disappeared with expensive machinery when you manage to make your way back, putting what you still have left of this job on an even thinner line.

Your best friend lands in the hospital because of you. And then dies because of your identity.

You are then introduced to this planet full of magical people who were chosen, like you,  to protect the universe.  They are all very nice and excited and proud to be helping people and very welcoming to you, but the creatures in charge are very demanding, and insist on strict obedience above all else.

So when the alien that killed your best friend comes knocking you beat the shit out of it and your magical item tells you that this is wrong because you're being emotional about it and not just doing this for the magical organization. You don't want to be a part of this organization.  The creature tells you its mission and why it's doing this.  you acknowledge you don't know anything about this organization so you're fighting him for your cause, not the corps.   The 'all-knowing' guardians don't even remember this creature at all.  

You miss your best friend's funeral.  

They have the best lantern they have train you because you ask too many questions.  He controls the section he patrols with an iron fist and demands perfect order above all else.  He will not allow you to visit your other friend who got stabbed for your sake.  In his absence the people he reigns over finally get a chance to rebel and free themselves.  Your mentor tells you that since he couldn't regain control over them he will be punished for his failure.  

After witnessing how their "best lantern" works you are forced to abandon your new friend you made when he's in the hospital to testify against your mentor in court. Something you don't want to be involved in at all. They simply banish him to the other side of the universe, out of their sight, and discard him as punishment.  He is screaming that he's only ever done what he's told and that they made him into this.  They apologize for his disruption.

Every other lantern is confused and appalled by his behavior. Explain that they've never held a court for a lantern before. That no one's ever done this. They go out of their way to make sure you're okay after being trapped with and working with him. 

You can't help but think how similar his actions were to the guardians’ rules and behaviors.

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Sugar Cookies - L.L.

Pairings: Loki x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2,932

Warnings: ITS SO FLUFFY IM GONNA DIE (Fluff), Mutual Pining, lots of smutty buildup, some actual smut because I love writing it, a super late Christmas read but it's still cute, Jealous!Loki, Somewhat Oblivious!Reader, Idiots in Love, Angst if you squint

Summary: So far, Loki’s stay on earth has been rather unwelcoming. He is relieved to know that some people still have good hearts, and that love sometimes comes in the form of baking cookies.

A/N: Y/N is loosely based off of the character Topaz, and therefore, the powers are reflective as such. You are close with Wong and Dr. Strange, as you are a powerful sorceress. Also, I would like to note that this was going to start out purely fluffy, and now I am so tempted to write a super super smutty part 2. Because I cannot not write smut. I also wanted to say thank you all SO much for all the love on The Grinch. I am so grateful for all of you and I am so glad you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

You were the sweetheart of the compound. The Avengers loved you wholeheartedly. After Dr. Stephen Strange had helped you regain your powers, you were a strong asset for the Avengers. You were able to heal the lot after the battle of New York against Loki Laufeyson.

Since then, it was revealed that Loki was under a powerful mind control from an alien being - Thanos. The power of the tesseract was unyielding, unable to be contained. Therefore, Thanos used it to control Loki and his powers, making him a puppet. You couldn't imagine how incredibly violating that was for Loki. Clint was suffering a similar set of circumstances, but he was still viewed as a hero. Loki was nothing but a villain. Once Loki's trance was broken, you were able to heal him with your magic. Having Hulk throw him around had not been the most gentle incident, and there was definitely some damage done.

Despite Loki's Asgardian healing, his body wasn't perfect. He still needed help in some regard, and you could help him. Your touch was gentle, and Loki realized that from the start. It was one of the things that drew him towards you the most. She'd never love me. His mind haunted him. I'm a monster.

In all reality, you were drawn towards Loki too. You thought he was good-looking, misunderstood, slightly brooding. He was mysterious, and you wanted to know more.

Eventually, Loki made himself to be a primary resident in the tower he once swore to destroy. Along the Avengers and yourself, Loki began to make himself at home. For the most part. He kept relatively quiet and to himself, occasionally reading in the common room when not in his bedroom. He traveled outside for dinner or a coffee at times, but for the most part, tended to make his meals with Thor in the kitchen. Loki didn't particularly like the attention he was given upon going out in public. People were either scared of him or resented him. They didn't understand.

You empathized with Loki like no one else ever had before. You could, genuinely, feel his emotions. At times, when you felt them, you were tempted to lower their potency to make them more tolerable. However, you also understood that Loki needed to process his emotions regarding this entire incident. You couldn't dilute or show favoritism towards anyone. That would simply be unfair. You also knew that you had the ability to take his emotions on yourself, which tempted you often. Especially when there were days when Loki sulked around the compound. This happened frequently after he had gone out and been ridiculed by passersby. Some days were certainly worse than others.

Another thing that seemed to cause Loki to sulk around the compound was jealousy. You felt it, but didn't know the cause. However, you could sense romantic feelings coming from Loki. Not for me, you thought to yourself. Probably for someone like Natasha, or one of Stark's interns.

Christmas was soon to arrive. Only a few more days. The compound was delicately decorated, with the help of Thor, Pepper, Clint, yourself, and a few others. Garlands lined the ceiling, string lights hanging down from them. Red bows littered the walls, and wreaths were hung on seemingly every door available. Poinsettias were placed on the dining room table and the end tables in the living room. A large pine tree covered in tinsel and ornaments were bestrewed upon it sat in the living room as the main feature.

It was safe to say that Loki was very outside his comfort zone. He had never celebrated anything like this, and you could tell. He sat perched on a chair in the living room, watching as you and several others decorated cheerfully. You danced around the room, and he found himself watching your legs longingly. So elegant, so beautiful. How he'd love to have those legs wrapped -

Loki snapped himself outside of his thoughts for a moment, realizing the direction he'd been taking them. You glanced at him for just a moment, and realized how he'd been feeling just moments ago. The emotion that flooded off of him was one of pure sex. You felt yourself reciprocating and feeling his emotion. As you flung your eyes up to catch his, the look he gave you was one that a predator would give their prey.

Soon thereafter you glanced away, his gaze being too intimidating to hold onto for the time being. But the way he looked at you - so - longingly. It made you wonder how he truly felt for you. Maybe he only thought of you as a sexual escapade rather than a potential relationship. Or maybe you were mistaken, that his eyes were longing for Natasha rather than yourself. You shook off the feeling. What you failed to notice, however, is how Loki's gaze swam up and down your body several times before resting on his novel once more.

He mentally took photos of the effortless bun that sat on top of your head, your doe eyes, your plump lips, the curvature in your breasts and bum, your lengthy legs. When you jumped up with excitement for a moment, Loki became entranced by the bounce that came from your bosom. Fuck he thought to himself. I'm screwed.

Your eyes caught his once more, and the same predatory gaze on his eyes. You bit your lip and Loki felt himself harden in his pants before you looked away again. Why does he look like that? You thought to yourself.

"IT'S CHRISTMAS" you heard Thor shout before, in a moment, your legs were flung from beneath you and suddenly, you were wrapped in Thor's arms. One thing you had learned upon joining the Avengers is that Thor Odinson was incredibly affectionate. Not towards anyone specifically, but you were small enough to lift with merely an ounce of effort, and Thor was entertained by that. Comparatively, you lifting up a 6 Ib. infant would have taken a similar amount of effort. You giggled as he held you bridal style, slightly taken aback by Thor's excitement.

In a sudden instant, however, you felt jealously radiating from the other side of the room. Loki. Surprisingly, when you went to look back at him, he had disappeared. Loki couldn't stand another man's arms around you, especially his own brother's. Thor had always gotten everything that Loki never did. From what it seemed, you would be no different. That in itself destroyed Loki.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Later that night, you couldn't sleep. You hadn't seen Loki at movie night, and you were fearful for his wellbeing. The jealousy that you had felt in the common room from earlier still lingered there. Typically, emotions faded rather quickly. But this one, in its potency, stuck around.

You wandered into the kitchen at roughly 1 am, hopeful that no one would be around. Thankfully, the rest of the compound was fast asleep. Except for one God, but you didn't know that. You began the process of making sugar cookies. Baking always helped you clear your head, and the silencing spell you cast helped make it quieter and more manageable for a 1 am burst of energy. While normally the mixer would be able to wake up the entirety of the compound, now the only thing that would indicate your presence was the sweet, sugary smell of delicious treats.

You combined your wet and dry ingredients with the mixer, meanwhile gathering ingredients for frosting and decorations. Unbeknownst to you, Loki had wandered down from his quarters for a midnight snack. He couldn't sleep either, the image of your delicate form in Thor's muscular arms replayed through his mind constantly.

The image that he saw now, however, made him forget all about Thor's actions from earlier that night. You, dressed in your black, lacy, silky smooth pajamas, reaching for sprinkles in the upper cabinet. The length of the shorts you were left little to the imagination, and the slight v-neck and spaghetti straps exposed the soft skin of your arms, shoulders, and chest. Loki felt himself harden for the second time in your presence that day, and in his slight daze, he approached you. Despite your typical ability to sense emotions and the presence of others, you were so focused on reaching for those damn sprinkles that you failed to notice Loki nearing you.

You gasped as Loki placed his left hand on your hip bone, gently grazing the top portion of your thigh. You shuttered, almost jumping out of his grasp. "Gosh you scared me!" You gasped as Loki had a mere touch of the silk pajamas you wore. "My apologies darling. Allow me," he spoke as his hand passed yours and gently grazed it upon grabbing the sprinkle container. He set it down in front of you, not moving his left hand from your thigh just yet. Loki would cherish this moment for eternity. "Thank you Loki" you spoke gratefully. Loki leaned down to your ear, whispering "My pleasure, love." As you shuttered once more.

Why does he make me feel like this? You wondered, before your thoughts were cut off. "Why are you up so late, doll?" Loki had stepped back now, his body no longer in contact with yours. "I- um-" you started, nervous from your past interaction. "I just couldn't sleep." You responded. "I could ask you the same." You began, gaining a bit more confidence in the conversation.

"Same here, darling." The constant pet names that flowed from Loki's mouth were intoxicating. Despite the little bits of awkwardness you felt, overall you were comfortable with Loki. Although, your outfit choice would have been slightly different had you known that anyone would present themselves in the kitchen that night. A little more coverage, perhaps?

Loki, however, would be thrilled to see you in even less. The dreams and fantasies that he had in regards to you and himself were detailed, but not as detailed as the lovely lace that lined your thighs, your revealed stomach, and your breasts. His fantasies could never compare to your breathtaking presence. God, you were beautiful, in every single sense of the word. He had never seen a creature as magnificent as you.

"Anything specific on your mind, Loke?" You broke him out of his thoughts, now. You grew more and more confident as you felt his emotions pour into the room. As much as you doubted his feelings towards you, you had never been wrong with reading someone before. And Loki's emotions were drowning in sex, love, and sensuality. From what it seemed, they were directed towards you. Either that, or he was feeling extremely deep for someone who wasn't present. But the probability wasn't super likely, considering how strong they were.

Loki suddenly got timid, as if you had caught him. It wasn't often that he became shy, but his emotions towards you made him feel that way. To an extent. Loki was dominant and typically could guide in relationships, but there was something about you that made him hold back. He wanted to be gentle with you. "Not specifically, love. Sometimes I'm just kept up with my thoughts." You nodded in understanding. "Well, if you feel like cookie-making, I'll be up for a little while." You offered, and a smile grew on Loki's face. Being alone? With you? In the privacy of the compound kitchen at 1 am? Count me in, he thought.

"What can I help with?" He offered sweetly. "Well, I have the cookie dough made, so now we need to roll it out and use cookie cutters to make them into fun shapes!" You spoke excitedly, a certain light being brought to your eyes. "You do love this Midgardian holiday, don't you darling?" Loki asked.

"Of course, it's all about giving! What's not to love?" You smiled.

"You're telling me we're not going to devour these cookies all by ourselves?" Loki questioned teasingly. You looked at him in fake offense, placing a hand against your chest. "How dare you speak of such a thing! There's plenty to go around." You rebutted. He winkled at you, sending a shiver up your spine.

You handed Loki the rolling pin, which he looked at, perplexed. You realized that this task may be more difficult than anticipated. At least, for the Asgardian God. You placed the dough down, sprinkling a little flour on top. "Here," you guided him, coming behind him and helping his hands with the motion. "Just like that."

Loki began rolling out the dough, his action becoming more and more confident as he continued. You grabbed the festive cookie cutters that you would use on the dough as he rolled it out to the proper thickness.

You began the process of the shaping the cookies, rolling out the dough after you ran out of space. Stars, Christmas trees, candy canes, ornaments, and stockings lined the baking trays, and soon enough, you had roughly fifty cookies ready to bake. You lightly clapped your hands in excitement, looking up towards Loki. "Thank you, Loke." You smiled, watching as a glimmer of peace came upon his eyes. "You're welcome, doll. This is the most fun I've had in a long time." While the cookies baked, you began on the frosting.

The frosting was finished, and you took a little bit on your pinky finger to taste. Loki watched as you brought your smallest finger to your lips, opening them just the slightest bit, sliding your pinky inside your mouth, and sucking the frosting right off of it. Your cheeks pursed inwards, surrounding the digit.

Loki's emotions immediately skyrocketed at the sight. That was something you instantly took notice of. Oh, I could have some fun with this, you thought. This time, you took your index finger, grabbing some more. You headed towards Loki, who had planted himself on a barstool at the previous sight. "Want to try some, Loke?" You spoke seductively, and his jaw dropped in invitation. You brought your finger into his mouth, holding his jaw with your other hand. He sucked the frosting off as slowly as possible, savoring every single moment of this.

You finally pulled your finger away, a slight bit of resistance due to the pull from Loki's mouth. "Delicious, darling." Loki spoke, smirking the slightest bit. Gaining a bit of confidence, Loki stood up, suddenly towering over you. "I wonder if you taste just as sweet."

You gasped at his remark as Loki backed you until you hit the counter. Your wetness began to grow, and he pressed against you. "May I?" Loki spoke confidently, holding your neck in one hand. You nodded hesitantly, looking back and forth from his eyes to his lips. Loki began to bring his head to level yours, then resting his forehead on yours. Hesitantly, you began the pursuit of his lips with yours. He matched your energy, gliding his lips across yours effortlessly, and suddenly, he pulled at your lip, granting himself access. In the meantime, his opposite hand traveled lower, pulling at the elastic waistband of your shorts. You pulled back, gasping for air. "I need to taste you down there too, darling." You groaned in anticipation, but pressed at his chest. "We need to get the cookies in the oven." You spoke.

"Just let me have a swipe, darling. Please." Loki indicated with his index finger, curling it slightly. You moaned as he instantaneously stuck his hand down your shorts, pushing past your waistband, in order to collect your juices, trailing from your entrance up to flick your clit ever so slightly, then bringing his finger up to his mouth to devour every bit of your sweet nectar. He groaned himself, bringing a peck to your mouth mere seconds afterwards.

"You taste like Valhalla, my sweet. Promise me I will get more of a taste after these cookies are complete." He held your jaw, and your lips met his once more. "Of course, Loki." You smiled as he backed up from your form to resume the cookie making process.

You took the cookies out of the oven, letting them cool for several minutes. In the meantime, Loki latched onto you, his arms wrapped around your shoulders. He pecked your cheeks, whispering delicious fantasies into your ear. Suddenly, a thought hit you. "Um- hey Loki?"

"Yes, love?" Loki responded eagerly.

"Do you- like- actually like me- or am I a sexual fantasy for you?" You pondered.

"Oh, darling. My sweet darling. You are the most beautiful, pure mortal I have ever met. You are adorable, kind, and gentle. I want you to be mine. My sexual fantasies are just the ways I wish to claim you and your precious form." You turned to look at him, smiling. "I'm really glad you came down for a midnight snack." He smiled back. The amount of love that radiated from Loki was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

"You had my heart from the second that your gentle touch healed my wounds." Loki told you. You looked up at him hopefully. "Truly?"

"Absolutely."

You and Loki both grew tired finally, after completing and decorating the cookies. Sprinkles and frosting, slightly haphazardly placed on each cookie, you noted that the further you got into decorating, the worse the treats looked. Not that Thor, or anyone else for that matter, would care about the appearance of the cookies in the slightest.

What they would notice, however, is both Loki and yourself cuddled up on the couch in the common room, sharing a pillow with a blanket covering you.

[izunias-meme-hole]

One Villainous Scene - Cruelty vs Restraint

Fire Lord Ozai, no matter how pathetic he is as a person, is still one of the most chilling villains in any animated series (Outside of like Emperor Belos, Bill Cipher, DCAU!Joker, Slade, and Professor Pericles). Despite only appearing in the flesh in season 3, his buildup through both the Fire Nation and his own family is amazing. We see that he scarred his son for both speaking out against him and not fighting back, we see that he basically groomed his daughter into a killing machine, we see that he's authorized so many war crimes, we see the crimes of his ancestors, and they all showcase one thing. He is unbelievably cruel. Born evil? No. Cruel to the point of disgust? Absolutely. Ozai, as the head of an imperialistic system, believes that he has a "Divine Right to Rule" and that "strength is all that matters", though his idea of strength is pure relentlessness and remorseless cruelty. In his eyes, if you're unable to burn whatever stands in your way with zero hesitation, then that makes you weak. It's a simplistic ideology for a villain, but its effective because of the type of villainous force the Fire Nation is (The fckin' Axis Powers), and the type of protagonist that The Avatar, Aang is.

Aang is an Air Nomad, a monk to put it simply. He lived a simplistic life before his people got eliminated by the Fire Nation 100 years ago, and part of that simplistic lifestyle involved zero killing. It's literally ironic since previous Avatar's have never hesitated to outright execute someone if they had to for the sake of peace. Since Aang is the current Avatar, and the current Fire Lord is literally threatening the world with the most brutal breed of fascism possible... you can see where this is going. Aang wants to stop Ozai, but he isn't willing to betray the beliefs of his long dead people. So when this inevitable fight starts, it got ugly really quick.

After stoping Ozai's attempt at turning the Earth Kingdom into a wasteland, Aang gets his attention and tried talking him into surrendering, but as expected Ozai doesn't back down. Aang does indeed fight this bastard, but consistently spends the fight restraining himself. He has opportunities to just snuff out Ozai's life, but chooses not to because of his beliefs. Meanwhile Ozai isn't hesitating at all. This is a man who burned his own kid for speaking out against him and showing weakness, so he has no qualms with killing this child who froze himself for 100 years.

Aang continues to restrain himself, while Ozai keeps trying to go in for the kill, taunting the last airbender while doing so and making him run. The Fire Lord continues showing absolutely zero mercy towards Aang, even as the boy is hiding, and this ultimately became his undoing. Thanks to his literal inability to show mercy, Ozai forced Aang into the Avatar State, and from there he is shown a power far beyond his own.

Now that he's literally pissed off the most powerful entity on the planet, Ozai begins getting completely and utterly washed. He is getting stomped out, and there is not a single thing he can do about it. He cannot fight back, and running is definitely not a luxury that he's being afforded. Now he's the helpless one while Aang is the one showing zero restraint, and it's made all to clear when Aang literally pins Ozai down onto the ground, getting ready to kill this man with all four elements.

Except, Aang doesn't do it. He regains control of himself, and regains that restraint, that desire to hold onto his people's beliefs, and shows Ozai mercy. Despite literally everything, Aang doesn't want to end it all like this. Ozai on the other hand is pissed.

"Even with all the power in the world, you are still weak."

Ozai was shown the immense power of the Avatar, and he was afraid of that power. Then he is shown mercy by this being who could decimate him in one shot? As scared as he was in that moment, Ozai would've rather died to someone that could overpower or at least have the will to kill him than be spared. So naturally, he wastes the mercy Aang gave him in an attempt to kill him, but ultimately gets pinned down, and unfortunately for him Aang remembered a little trick he learned before this fight. The ability to remove one's bending. So just like that, Ozai doesn't die, but rather is is powerless, humiliated, and shown for what he truly is... a small man pretending to be a big bad wolf.

Ultimately for all of his thoughts on what makes one "strong" and "weak," for all his talk about how he has a "right" to rule, and for all of his cruelty and ruthlessness, Ozai is ultimately just an pathetic human being using the past of his bloodline and his nation to become more than what he is. Meanwhile a literal CHILD MONK, the last personification of restraint and simplicity, not only kicks his ass, but proves that him wrong on so many levels and exposes him for what he really is. Fire Lord Ozai is a simplistic villain with minimal screen time, but what carries him is indeed his buildup as this purely monstrous figure, his constant presence, his cruelty, and the payoff that is this phenomenally done final fight.

[animelga]

I saw a post on the Bleach subreddit which asked about which parts of the series people found most disappointing. And a lot of people there obviously said Chad, and I agree - But I want to be more specific. Chad in the Lost Agent arc is some of the most blatant missed potential I've ever seen.

I think its pretty easy to infer that each of Bleach's five arcs focuses on one of its five originally-introduced main characters. This is something my librarian-coded brain adores!! Our lineup, as introduced in Substitute Shinigami, is Ichigo, Rukia, Orihime, Chad and Uryu (Renji gets added to that group later, but ignore that for now). The first two are pretty obvious - Substitute Shinigami introduces us to Ichigo's character and his moral code, what he fights for, what potential he has. Rukia, or more specifically the Shinigami as a whole, are of course the focus of the Soul Society arc - even though she's trapped in a cell for lots of it, characters like Renji, Ganju and Byakuya specifically serve to explore the different sides of her character. Both her and Ichigo are of course important throughout Bleach in its entirety, but these two first arcs put them and their relationships with those close to them in the focus far more than atany point later in the series.

Arrancar arc and TYBW are pretty self-explanatorily Orihime and Uryu-focused, if arguably a bit misguided with TYBW in particular. Even though, again, Orihime spends most of Arrancar stuck in a cell, she shows tremendous growth and maturity, and the entire arc's theming of what it means to have a heart is centered entirely on her. And Uyru...well, Uryu is the center of the conflict in TYBW, despite it definitely feeling underwritten in the Manga. I think thats mainly a result of its rushed pacing by the back half though, and it seems to be getting resolved with the adaptation now. So I'll hold off on Uryu for now - his treatment is salvageable and if nothing else he's always gotten at least one golden moment to shine in all other arcs.

That only leaves Chad and Lost Agent - a perfect fit for one another, and something Kubo himself was pretty clearly going for at the start. Its Chad's disappearance that instigates the drama, he's there with Xcution to help Ichigo regain his powers, and the existence of Fullbring in general elegantly explains where Chad's powers came from in a way that's true to his character (the "pride in the color of my skin" line is still one of his best character moments imo). It is, effectively, an arc built entirely around answering the questions Chad himself asked about his powers back in the Arrancar arc.

And then...nothing. He explains his powers, helps Ichigo, he trains to get stronger in a video game, and...then falls under Tsukishima's mind powers and gets knocked unconscious. Only for the Soul Reapers to show up and do all the fighting again - even characters like Byakuya and Kenpachi, who clearly don't have any material for growth when pit against the Fullbringers, show up just to clean house. To me it reeks of Kubo deciding to include fan-favorite characters toward the end of the arc just to make people happier with it, since Lost Agent in general was so divisive. Though it was obviously earned for Rukia to return in order to give Ichigo his powers back, having everyone else also show up to do the work of other characters for them felt kind of like a slap in the face.

It feels so obvious in hindsight, but Chad and Tsukishima would have been a borderline perfect matchup for a fight to move the arc to a satisfying conclusion. Out of the entire core cast, Chad is the one who feels most motivated by his past to act - he remembers his Abuelo's words, he remembers his times in turmoil with Ichigo, he remembers just how hard he's had it in life and fights to make sure nobody else has to suffer like him. Pitting him against the character able to alter memories would've been a genuinely fantastic challenge of character, and would've made for the most satisfying Chad victory the series could've pulled. Even though Tsukishima isn't Bleach's strongest villain, he's certainly one of its scariest and most potentially dangerous, and Chad's entire personality and design is built around protecting others from such harm.

Instead, Kubo just kind of... procrastinated with Chad, always hinting at more to come, hoping maybe anotber matchup as good as Tsukishima would roll around eventually. Only for him to still gst nothing to do for all of TYBW, and his send-off being to fight some stone statues off-screen.

It's such a shame, imagining what could've been, and remembering just how damn cool Chad is when he actually gets to play with the cool kids.

[starrysnowdrop]

Hali x Aymeric Ship Timeline: ARR - EW

I am writing out the ship timeline for Hali x Aymeric because I like keeping one as an easy reference when I’m writing my fics, and I’m sure some of you are curious as well. Don’t worry, I’m still going to write out all of this in fics, but I can be slow with my writing most of the time, and I tend to jump around a lot, so this might help readers out to keep everything straight.

This post will cover everything from their first meeting in the post-ARR patches through all of the EW patches, which ends with patch 6.55. If there are any changes or additions to this timeline at all, I will be sure to let everyone know via my pinned post.

Since it will be long, its all under the cut below. Thank you very much for reading!

Updated: 10/21/2024

ARR

Hali and Aymeric first met as it happened in canon, where Aymeric specifically requested to meet Hali when Alphinaud went to try to establish diplomatic relations with a representative of Ishgard.

Aymeric first heard about Hali through Estinien, when she helped to heal her friend and fellow Warrior of Light @traveler-of-light’s Astrid Lucis in battle with the Azure Dragoon. Hali had performed powerful magicks that Estinien had never seen before, and Estinien’s account of the incident intrigued Aymeric.

Hali’s first impression of Aymeric was that he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and everything about him, including his voice, his demeanor, his confidence, it all instantly attracted Hali to him.

Aymeric was shocked when he met Hali, in more ways than one. He was well aware that Hali was a lalafell, but he wasn’t prepared to be so drawn to her. He found her to be beautiful, intelligent, funny, and incredibly charming, and he just wanted to know more.

The next several months, while dealing with Iceheart and the heretics, when Hali and the Scions fought in the battle against the dragons on the Steps of Faith, and even after the Scions and Warriors of Light are taken in by House Fortemps, Hali and Aymeric were cordial with each other, and they had only purely professional interactions for some time.

HW

This purely professional relationship between them began to change after the events of the Vault. Hali was at Aymeric’s bedside in the infirmary the whole time while he recovered from his injuries. Aymeric was incredibly touched by how thoughtful, caring, and selfless Hali was, as she helped the chirurgeons in his treatment, made him all his meals, and kept him company.

Aymeric finally had the chance to ask Hali more about herself, and she asked about him in turn. They both realized that despite them coming from much different backgrounds and having much different life experiences, they still had much in common, as they shared the same interests, held the same values, and dreamed of similar futures.

After Aymeric’s recovery, they became close friends, but deep down, their feelings for each other grew, and though neither were aware of it at the time, they began to fall in love.

The event that actively made each of them aware that they had feelings for each other was after Aymeric’s attempted assassination. As he was fighting for his life, he only had one thing on his mind: he wanted Hali to be by his side. He was calling out to her, and Captain Whitecape sent a message to Hali to come as quickly as she could, because Aymeric needed her. Hali ran to him, devastated that he had almost died, but instantly relieved when Aymeric regained consciousness.

Since it was in the middle of the night when she got there, Aymeric offered to share the bed with her. They ended up falling asleep in bed together, as Hali unconsciously moved over towards Aymeric and began to cuddle with him. This momentarily woke Aymeric up, but he realized in that moment that not only did he not mind it, he had never been so happy and felt so much love before. It hit him that night, that he was indeed in love with Hali.

Hali was so incredibly embarrassed the morning after, because she had no idea what she had done, and though Aymeric tried to tell her that he had never slept more soundly and that he didn’t mind it at all, Hali was mortified and she insisted that for all of the following nights, she would sleep in a separate bed, to which Aymeric agreed, as he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, but deep down he couldn’t help but be disappointed.

It took Hali a little while longer for her to realize that she was in love with Aymeric, and it took a heart to heart conversation with her friend Emmanellain to do so. Once she figured out what is truly in her heart, she tries to hide and suppress her feelings from Aymeric, never wanting to let on that she loves him, as she thinks that he would never return her affections.

After the end of the Dragonsong War, Aymeric decided that he would confess his feelings to Hali, so he invited her to a private dinner at Borel Manor so that he could tell her how he felt and ask her if he could court her properly. Before he has a chance to say anything to her, the dinner is interrupted by a summons for Hali to return to Fortemps Manor right away. They walk hand in hand back to Fortemps Manor, both feeling as though they had almost confessed their love to the other.

Hali gets wrapped up in the mystery of the Warriors of Darkness, and then the Ala Mhigan Resistance after that. Aymeric is confronted by Artoirel, who suggests that Aymeric should keep his feelings for Hali to himself, as not only is Hali not a noble Ishgardian woman, but an outsider and a lalafell. Artoirel says that the populace would not approve of Aymeric’s choice of partner, regardless if she is a Warrior of Light, and it might further divide the people.

After taking some time to consider Artoirel’s words, Aymeric decides to keep his feelings hidden, for the time being. He worries that perhaps Artoirel is right, and if someone were to attack Hali like they attacked him, Aymeric would never forgive himself. He also believes that Hali would be better off not being tied down to Ishgard, and he wishes for her happiness above all else.

Unknowingly, Hali overhears part of Artoirel and Aymeric’s conversation, and she is thinks that Aymeric is not interested in her, but he is much to kind to say it to her face. Hali runs away from Fortemps Manor, distraught and heartbroken.

Aymeric senses that something has changed between Hali and himself, as he notices that Hali has been speaking only professionally to him and can barely look at him. When he speaks with Hali about it, he realizes that she overheard what Artoirel said about her, but he tells her that he in fact does not want to distance himself from her. Though the misunderstanding is cleared up, they still are hiding their true feelings from each other as they turn their attention to the situation with Ala Mhigo and Garlemald.

They both know that they will be away from each other for the foreseeable future, and they tell each other how much they will miss the other. Aymeric surprises Hali with a special gift: a hair ornament adorned with snowdrop flowers. Aymeric explains that the snowdrops remind him of her, as she has brought hope to the people and to Aymeric in particular, and he wanted to give her a gift that would remind her that she always has a home to return to in Ishgard.

Along with the hair ornament, Aymeric gives her a new term of endearment: he calls her “my snowdrop”, which feels incredibly intimate, despite the fact that neither of them have revealed their true feelings for each other. They also decide to write letters to one another while they are apart.

SB

Hali and Aymeric spend a lot of time apart as Aymeric is working with the rest of the Eorzean Alliance forces as they fight against the Empire in Ala Mhigo while Hali goes to help liberate Doma, then she returns to Gyr Abania to go rescue Krile before the Battle for Ala Mhigo. The two are briefly reunited before the battle, to which they are both so happy to see each other that they immediately embrace. But they both have their duties, so the reunion doesn’t last long.

They are reunited a few more times over the course of a few months during several alliance meetings discussing battle strategies. Hali and Aymeric witness Thancred collapsing after the mysterious voice is heard only by the Scions, and soon the Scions fall unconscious one by one.

During the Battle at Ghimlyt Dark, while in the midst of fighting Elidibus, who has taken over Zenos’ body, Hali’s fellow WoL Yume falls unconscious on the battlefield after they both hear the mysterious voice once more. Before the Ascian can strike, Estinien comes to help. Hali instructs him to take Yume to safety while she holds off the enemy. Estinien agrees and whisks Yume away, leaving Hali to take on Elidi-Zenos on her own. She holds him off for a time, but then she is critically injured and Elidi-Zenos teleports away.

Estinien brings Yume to Aymeric and the Ishgardian forces, informing Aymeric that Hali was holding off the Ascian on her own, but she is going to need help. Aymeric runs to find Hali, and finds her alive but weak and unable to move. Aymeric immediately teleports Hali directly to Ishgard, where she is tended to by the best chirurgeons in the city.

While Hali recovers, Aymeric remains by her bedside, fearing the worst but praying for the best. After a few days, Hali awakens to hear Aymeric singing an Ishgardian lullaby to her. Aymeric is overjoyed to see her awake and recovering well, but knows that he must return to the frontlines soon and Hali will be expected to resume her duties after she recovers. He tells himself that once things have calmed down with the Empire, and once he is certain that she will be safe in Ishgard, he plans to tell Hali the truth of his feelings.

Once Yume awakens and Hali recovers, the remaining WoLs seek out the beacon at the base of the Crystal Tower to help their fellow scions. They are then transported to the First.

ShB

Hali and her fellow WoLs are on the First for about a year in total, which translates to only a few weeks on the Source. Hali has Feo Ul send Aymeric her letters to him in the meantime, which confuses Aymeric greatly the first time he meets Feo Ul.

Once everyone is back on the Source, Hali is able to meet Aymeric in Ishgard when she goes there to help get some ceruleum in order to find the cure for tempering. Hali and Aymeric are overjoyed to see one another again, even with their reunion being as short as it is.

Aymeric sends Hali on her way back to Revenants Toll with an entire airship and as much ceruleum as the airship can carry. Cid is stunned to see how much Aymeric helped Hali, but everyone else knows exactly why, though Hali is still clueless.

Hali and Aymeric can’t rest for long, as the Towers pop up all over Eorzea and the Far East, and Hali encounters Fandaniel in Ala Mhigo, hearing his declaration to bring back the Final Days. They are soon thrown into the next conflict with the Telophoroi this time.

The two meet in a series of meetings to unite all of Eorzea, including all of the tribes, in order to fight against the Telophoroi and help prevent the Final Days. Aymeric looks to Hali to name the new alliance, which Hali is instantly embarrassed about being put on the spot, though Aymeric’s intentions were to recognize how much Hali has done to bring peace to Eorzea, as he first met Hali for that very reason. Hali decides that it should be named “The Grand Company of Eorzea”, as that was Alphinaud’s dream.

Following the battle at Carteneau, Aymeric offers to bring the Scions back to Revenants Toll aboard his airship. During the trip, Hali soon falls asleep in Aymeric’s arms due to her exhaustion. While holding his beloved close, Aymeric asks Estinien for a huge favor: to keep Hali safe, as he himself cannot be there to protect her due to his duty to Ishgard. Estinien promises his friend that he will keep Hali safe, as Estinien himself owes Hali for helping to save his life.

EW

As Aymeric and the rest of the Grand Company of Eorzea are fighting off the Telophoroi, Hali and the Scions are able to secure passage to Old Sharlayan via Krile and the Students of Baldesion.

Since Hali is a Sharlayan fugitive and is forbidden from returning to her homeland after bringing Sharlayan Astromancy to the Ishgardians, she must sneak into Sharlayan with a disguise and a alias. Hali wears a simple Spriggan coat and glamours herself to give the illusion of having light blue curly hair, presents herself as a conjurer from Gridania, and gives her name as Galanthi.

When Hali is questioned by the immigration officer, Hali panics because she completely forgot to come up with a surname and not just a given name. She blurts out her name as “Galanthi Borel”, to the shock of all her fellow WoLs and Scions. Not only does Hali blurt out that her surname is Aymeric’s name, but Galanthi is the Ilsabardian term for the snowdrop flower, so she has all but revealed how she really feels about Aymeric.

At the meeting in Ala Mhigo for the Ilsabard Contingent, Hali is reunited with Aymeric briefly, and they embrace each other in the sight of all the Scions and General Raubahn. Aymeric expresses his disappointment at not being able to go to Garlemald with her, but he knows that she will be protected, as Estinien had promised, though Hali is still unaware of that promise.

After Zodiark is killed by Fandaniel, the final days are upon the star once more. Hali is informed that there has been a blasphemy sighting in Ishgard, and Aymeric has asked for Hali’s help in finding and defeating it. Hali assists Aymeric and Artoirel with the investigation, and they all soon defeat the blasphemy near the airship landing in the Vault.

During and after the investigation, Hali encounters Aymeric several times where he is staring out into the Sea of Clouds deep in thought. Aymeric doesn’t divulge to her then what exactly he was thinking about, as he just says that he has had a lot on his mind, and tells Hali to not worry about him.

In truth, Aymeric is happy that Ishgard is now fully moving forward as a nation, and especially now that the Church has been reformed and is moving in a new direction. Though he still fears for Hali with the Final Days, he is more hopeful than ever that she will succeed. He decides that once the threat to the star has been eliminated and peace is restored once and for all, he will confess his love to Hali. Even if she doesn’t return his feelings, he feels that she has the right to know, but he doesn’t want to distract her from her duty at that time.

Hali returns to Sharlayan and once the plan is in place to have the Scions travel to Ultima Thule at the edge of the universe to confront Meteion and save the star, Krile goes to Hali and tells her that she wants Hali to be happy, and to find love once the battle is over. Hali realizes then that she has already found love, and she doesn’t want to have any regrets before the final battle, so Hali thanks Krile and rushes off to find Aymeric.

Once she arrives in Ishgard, she rightfully guesses that Aymeric will be home, as it was so late in the evening. After a very surprised Aymeric comes to the door, Hali can’t hold back as both her tears and her words come out all at once. Hali tells Aymeric that she is in love with him, and that she always has been, which leaves Aymeric speechless.

Before Aymeric has a chance to respond, Hali starts to have a panic attack, and the black cloud surrounds her, the beginning of turning into a blasphemy. In her panic, Hali runs away from Aymeric and heads towards the airship landing, trying to stay away from anyone who might get hurt after she turns.

Hali thinks that she is going to die, but before the transformation happens, she feels Aymeric’s arms around her, holding her tightly against him. He tells Hali to breathe, to stay in the present moment, and to focus on his voice. Once the black cloud dissipates, Hali looks up to see Aymeric smiling brightly with tears in his eyes, elated that Hali is alright. Overcome with emotion, Aymeric leans in and kisses Hali, to which Hali returns his affection once she realizes what’s happening. Aymeric tells Hali that he loves her too. After sharing a moment, Aymeric insists on bringing Hali back to his manor so they can talk without being out in the cold, and Hali agrees.

Back at Borel Manor, the two explain why they kept their feelings hidden for so long, but in the moment, they both feel so foolish for not telling each other sooner. In between passionate kisses and touches, Hali promises that she will save the star, and that she will return to Aymeric safe and sound, which Aymeric responds with his full confidence that she will do just that.

The next morning, Hali goes back to Sharlayan, with Aymeric accompanying her, so she can leave for Ultima Thule. Aymeric meets Hali’s family before he watches as the Ragnarok leaves the star, and he prays with all his heart that Hali will return safely. Hali has found a renewed sense of hope, knowing that the man she loves is praying for their victory and is waiting for her back home.

After the battle, Hali returns to the star, and Aymeric is waiting for her as he said he would, with her family right there next to him. Hali can’t help herself as she jumps down from the Ragnarok, right in the water, runs to Aymeric, and leaps into his arms. With a kiss, Aymeric welcomes Hali home, and everyone celebrates the Scions’ victory.

Post-EW

Immediately following the Scions’ victory, Hali moves in with Aymeric, who gifts her with her own suite in Borel Manor. Hali and Aymeric sleeping in separate bedrooms doesn’t last long, but Hali has many of her belongings in her suite regardless.

A few months later, the couple officially announce their courtship and make their debut as a couple at an Ishgardian Ball to celebrate the Scions’ victory over the Endsinger. Hali and Aymeric dance and drink the night away, and when they go back to Borel Manor, they make love for the first time; they lose their virginity to each other that night as well.

Currently, Hali and Aymeric are just spending as much time together as they can, with Hali recently taking Aymeric on a much needed vacation to Thavnair, and they are having fun on their private island whenever possible. Not only their friends and family, but also the people at large are already referring to Hali as “Lady Borel”, even though they are not yet officially engaged, let alone married.

That’s all I have for now! If you’ve gotten this far, thank you so much, especially if you actually read all of this. I hope you enjoyed this, and please look forward to the full fic series, which I hope to actually someday finish. Until then, this will exist. 💙

[galraluver]

Zarkon x Red Paladin Fem, part 4?

I didn't think that this was going to be so popular, so here's another part 🖤

_________________________________________

Almost a deca-phoeb passed since Zarkon captured (Y/n) and she'd come to terms that she wasn't ever going to see her friends again nor was she going to regain true freedom. Living in galra central command wasn't exactly the worst thing in the universe, although she kind of had to be careful around Zarkon because he had some rather obvious anger issues; in a way, she felt like Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Zarkon granted her free roam of central command and status in the empire, at some point she began to fall in love with him a little bit despite knowing she might have had a little Stockholm syndrome. There were times when hints of his previous self showed up in his behavior and that's when (Y/n) devised a plan to help Zarkon return to his previous self instead of continuing to be a quintessence hungry zombie. She was between a rock and a hard place by that point in time, conflicted about whether she should attempt to escape or stay put.

Zarkon wasn't too conflicted about how he felt about (Y/n); she could be a powerful ally, all he had to do was turn her against the paladins if he ran out of plans to get a hold of Voltron, otherwise he wouldn't do it because he needed her to trust him. There were times when he felt somewhat in love with her, he just wasn't good at showing it except for the times when his personality shifted to what it used to be before the incident ten thousand years prior. He didn't mind comforting her when she needed it and he certainly found her attractive, and as time went by she'd managed to earn his trust. One day in particular when Zarkon didn't have anything better to do he decided to visit (Y/n) in her habsuite where he knew she would be, she still preferred the comforts of her new little home because she still missed her freedom. He personally made a snack for (Y/n) using some of the food from his own personal kitchen, but first he made sure everything was edible for humans; he gently knocked on the door when he made it to her habsuite, patiently waiting for her to reply.

“It's unlocked.” (Y/n) called out when she heard a knock on her front door, already knowing who it was; and, as expected, Zarkon walked into her habsuite after the door slid open.

“I've brought you something to eat.” Zarkon spoke with a gentle tone as he walked over to the couch, sitting down and offering the plate to her.

“Thank you.” (Y/n) replied shyly before she took the plate from him, still feeling a little anxious.

Zarkon felt his heart flutter in his chest when (Y/n) accepted the food he gave her, it was a sensation that he hadn't felt in a very long time. He was ancient, he'd been alive for longer than Earth's existence, and yet the young human woman he'd captured made him feel slightly flustered in a good way. One of his main reasons for visiting (Y/n) was because he wanted to take her out shopping at some point, he figured that a day away from central command would do her some good. (Y/n) sat there and quietly ate, feeling a little better after she tasted how good the food was; Zarkon never starved her, she simply hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was almost lunch time. She glanced up at him for a second and saw that he was deep in thought, she couldn't help but wonder what he had on his mind.

“I would like to take you out in a few days to what used to be the largest Unilu swap moon.” Zarkon told her after a few minutes, gazing down at her with a slight smile.

“The old- You mean the space mall?” (Y/n) inquired before she put two and two together, her expression brightening up when she realized that he actually meant the mall; she loved the mall back when she went with some of the paladins, she never thought she would ever get to see it again.

“Yes, I intend to take you to the ‘space mall’ as you put it.” Zarkon answered, his tone a little more chipper than usual.

(Y/n) put the plate down so she could surge forward and hug Zarkon, thanking him for offering to take her to the space mall again. A lot of possibilities rushed through her mind about what she might find at the mall; she would obviously want to go to the Earth store to see what was in stock, she really hoped there would be some books or other things she liked in stock. She hoped that she could find her favorite snack there, the martian usually kept snacks from Earth in stock for anyone who liked them. Zarkon was a little surprised when (Y/n) hugged him out of the blue, he'd never seen her act in such a way and he liked it for some odd reason. For a moment part of his old personality showed itself for a few seconds until they stopped hugging each other.

“Why now? Why are you offering to take me out to the mall all of a sudden?” (Y/n) questioned with a nervous tone, hoping that she wasn't overstepping any boundaries.

“Can I not treat you to a day out whenever I please? I'm not expecting anything in return, if that's what you're concerned about.” Zarkon inquired, feeling slightly awkward all of a sudden, and yet he hid it well.

“I- W-well, yes, you can. I just wasn't sure why, that's all.” (Y/n) answered in embarrassment, feeling stupid for questioning him in the first place.

Zarkon assured her that it was alright; he wasn't offended by (Y/n) asking him why he was taking her out to the mall, in fact he kind of expected it. He watched as she began eating again, not missing the blush that suddenly appeared on her face. He hadn't personally been to the space mall since his time as the black paladin, he wondered exactly how much it had changed since then. Zarkon rarely left central command at all; the only times he did go somewhere was when he had to check in with certain planets, he otherwise never saw the need to go anywhere else. He genuinely felt kind of excited to go out with the former red paladin, although he would have to give her a disguise in order to prevent anyone from recognizing her, but until then he would just go on with life until the day of their trip came.

[blackfeatherdragon]

Zexal characters in 5D's info: Kaito Tenjo

(Info under cut)

-18 years old

-He's the oldest son of Dr. Faker, who is the current head of New Domino City. (Kaito's mother died in Zero Reverse.)

-Is a Signer, bears the mark of the Dragon's Tail

-Uses a Synchrofied version of his Photon deck, with Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon as his ace.

-Has the best working knowledge of what the goal for the Signers is, but tends to be a loner. (He especially tends to think he can get shit done better than his squabbling teammates.)

-However, he does not know that Faker caused Zero Reverse. He only finds out in the middle of the big confrontation against the Dark Signers at Satellite, when Thomas tells him. (And Thomas only found out because Dark Signer!Michael told him before their duel.)

-Was nudged into the Riding Duel circuit by his father in an effort to prove for certain if Kaito was a Signer. Kaito mainly just does it since Haruto loves watching him duel. (His D-Wheel is known as the Photon Racer.)

-Kaito has a secret though; much like Mizael, he has the double whammy of seeing Duel Spirits and being a psychic duelist. He does his damn best to hide it, knowing the reputation psychic duelists have, so only his family knows.

-The two spirits who appear to Kaito are Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon and Galaxy Cloudragon.

-However, Kaito almost blew his secret during the Fortune Cup finals; while facing off against Thomas in the finals, he almost unleashed his powers when the surprise appearance of the Crimson Dragon made his tight control slip. He managed to regain control and avoid nuking Thomas off the track, but it was a close call.

-As a result, Mizael figured it out from the televised broadcasts and reruns and now specifically wants to square off against Kaito to prove who the better psychic duelist is. (At least Mizael chose not to tell his fellow Dark Signers just why he wants to duel Kaito so much-)

-Thomas is suspicious too. It's a little hard to miss when his opponent abruptly yells at his ace monster to 'hold back' in the middle of a match despite the monsters supposedly all being holograms, after all.

-And as an extra worry for Kaito: Haruto is also showing early signs of being a psychic duelist, but with significantly less control...

[softhued]

Unspoken Desire

warnings: nsfw, fwb, possessive sex, light spanking & choking, dirty talk, feelings, pining

word count: 4k

11:37 pm.

You sat awake, debating whether you should message him or not, and nearly pulled your hair out over something that should have been so minuscule. “Ugh”, you groaned, frustration consuming you as an internal battle raged inside and ripped you in two. One side begged you to swallow your pride and send a quick message, which seemed simple enough, but the other side cringed at just the thought, grimacing at being perceived as desperate, needy, or dependent.

But the longer you stalled, the more your needs steadily climbed until they were impossible to ignore and left a void ache.

You wanted to fuck him so so bad, the urge growing with each passing second as you wished for his presence, but the idea of messaging first held you back. In turn, you fell down the rabbit hole of overanalyzing his actions and jumping to conclusions. Even so, you knew you were being a bit dramatic, but your assumptions seemed too plausible to your overactive mind.

Why didn't he message you, was he simply busy, or did he grow tired of you?

The latter being what you feared most.

He was always the one to initiate sex, sending you a message or video to show how badly he wanted you, which lit a fire within you. So, making the first move wasn’t appealing. It was too out of the norm of what you were accustomed to.

11:58 pm.

The time continued to tick by, and you still hadn’t worked up the courage. You took a deep breath, slowly inhaling and exhaling as you motivated yourself to bite the bullet before it was too late. Begrudgingly, you reached for your phone in a show of defeat as you let your yearning overpower your logic before you could change your mind.

Heyy.

Then you waited restlessly.

What if Shigaraki didn’t reply? What if he was already asleep?

You cursed aloud at the possibility, beating yourself up. You should’ve messaged earlier, instead, you wasted so much time because you let your nerves get the best of you, and now you weren't even sure if he was going to reply.

Bzzz.

The vibration from your phone had your heart slamming against your ribcage, and you snatched your phone up quicker than you’d like to acknowledge, but you were dying for his attention and anticipating his response.

What's up?

You stared at his reply blankly.

That’s what he gave you to work with, you complained as if you did any better. An exasperated sigh slipped from your lips as you concluded that you had to take matters into your own hands.

Nothing... just wanted to see what you were up to.

Once you hit send you started to overthink your reply. Playing coy wasn’t getting you anywhere, but you hoped he would pick up on the tiny signals you were giving. You were irritated at your inability to say what you wanted, and the constant beating around the bush made this so much harder than need be.

If you want to fuck, just say that.

He supplied, which was the push that you so desperately needed.

Despite not being in his vicinity, you knew there was a smirk plastered onto his face at being able to see through you. After spending a fair amount of time together, he became well-versed in your tell-tales, which infuriated you. He knew you a bit too well for your liking, making it nearly impossible to hide your true feelings, but for him to put you on the spot in such a crass manner made you want to prove him wrong.

That's not why I was messaging you, but I'm not against it.

You retorted, in an attempt to regain the upper hand while also hinting that you were interested, which was a severe understatement, but you couldn’t let him know just how badly you ached for him.

He laughed at your message. You were unbelievable, but he was fine with letting you keep up your little charade since you both knew the truth, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

On my way.

Your mouth gaped in surprise. It actually worked.

Those three small words held so much power, immediately changing your mood at the thought of getting what you craved most. Him. You smiled, now giddy, as you went to freshen up. To your benefit, you didn’t have to wait long before he notified you that he was here.

“Hey,” you greeted while nonchalantly opening the door for him like you weren’t excitedly awaiting his arrival.

Once you locked the door behind him, you were being pushed against it as he leaned over you, enclosing you within his arms, leaving only a small space between you. Your body tingled at his proximity, causing your mind to spiral and flood you with visions of endless possibilities of what he could do to you.

You could feel his warmth seeping through his clothes, and it took everything in you not to rub against him and reveal just how clingy you were. So, you schooled your expression, hiding away all signs that showed his effect on you as you cast your eyes up to meet his hungry ones, reveling in his presence as you looked at him temptingly.

He was so attractive.

Every aspect of him had your body thrumming in anticipation. From the way he looked at you, slowly raking his eyes over your figure with barely concealed lust. How he towered over you and easily made you susceptible to his wishes. You wanted him to take you right against the door, allowing his primal urges to take over and display how he couldn’t restrain himself when it came to you. That he craved you so badly that all rational thinking flew out the window whenever you were near. That he needed you just as badly as he needed to breathe.

You could feel his cool breath on your lips, making your eyes lower before you returned his gaze. The urge to kiss him was nearly impossible to stamp down, it was overwhelmingly suffocating, making you dizzy due to the lack of oxygen flowing to your brain. You were flipped inside out when he was near. The facade that you maintained slowly crumbled away bit by bit in his vicinity, and your true feelings and desires became more noticeable to his critical eye.

He was only a few inches away, making it incredibly easy to press your lips against his to show him how deeply you ached for him and to finally silence those overpowering thoughts. The ones that were afraid of baring yourself to him only to be hurt in return, and you’d have no one to blame but yourself.

You knew not to get close, that this was only a temporary fix that you silently hoped to become permanent. Despite yourself, you let the sweet nothings and whispered promises in the throes of passion get to you.

With your remaining dignity, you brushed those thoughts aside and waited for him to make the next move.

Silence and tension filled the space between you, thickening the air, as he made no move other than placing his hands on your hips. He slowly caressed your exposed skin with his thumbs, leaving a path of goosebumps after each graze, making you hold back a shiver underneath his addicting touch. You needed so much more to sate your steadily growing thirst.

The more your arousal increased, the quicker your patience wore thin. His soft touches only made you needier, imagining what it would take for his grip to turn harsh. You moved forward, putting your lips closer to his and subtly green lighting his advances, but he didn’t react.

“What are you waiting for?” you nearly whined, weaponizing the best pout you could muster.

“For you to tell the truth about why you messaged me,” his fingers moved to graze your cheek. “We both know why.”

That was a loaded request.

Did you only message him for physicality or something more?

“Do we?” you questioned while sliding your hands along the planes of his stomach, feeling his lean torso beneath your fingertips. You silently hoped that an indirect answer would suffice as your yearning grew exponentially with each passing second. And you couldn’t bear dealing with the emotional turmoil that was going to eat you alive if you opened that door.

He moved in closer, slotting his thigh between your legs, and applied pressure to your core, stopping all thoughts. You whimpered at the feeling of his thigh against your wet cunt, and your hips canted against him, pushing against his leg for the right amount of friction as his dark eyes readily tracked the motion. Every slow drag of your hips wordlessly begged him for more as your shorts dampened further.

His hands returned to your hips, ceasing your movements. “You don’t get what you want until you tell the truth," he responded, moving away from you and ending all contact.

You attempted to gather your bearings as he left you high and wet dry. You were speechless. Did he really come over just to play games? Why did it matter whether you directly admitted your wants or not? You were offering yourself to him on a platter, which said enough, parading around in the hope of tempting him, but he was unwavering.

He headed to your bedroom, where he’s been multiple times, leaving you behind.

Stunned, you followed behind him like a lost puppy in need of attention. Watching him remove his hoodie before he settled into your bed, resting against the headboard as if lounging in your home was the ultimate reason for his visit.

You crossed your arms over your chest at the sight of him, “are you serious right now?” you couldn’t hide your irritation even if you tried. If your voice didn’t give you away, your expression and body language worked together to expose you.

You wanted to scream. You were so pent up, ready to explode, and the one person you needed to alleviate your tension was being stubborn. The both of you were too much alike, which you often found amusing, but now it was infuriating.

He simply smirked at you in response, crossing his arms behind his head for support. You stood there dumbly, staring at him as if that would change his mind.

After a moment of stillness and heated glares, you walked over to him, crawling onto the bed before you settled onto his lap.

“How long are you gonna keep this up?” you asked, looking down at him. From your position, you could feel his hard cock beneath you. You lifted an eyebrow at his body’s response. He was worked up just like you, but he was willing to hold himself back to prove a useless point. You were right there within his grasp, ready to take everything he was willing to give, but other than his dick, he was unresponsive.

“As long as it takes,” he challenged.

At his reply, you ground your pussy against his crotch, relishing in the friction that he abruptly took away from you earlier. “Oh really,” you retorted, leaning over his relaxed form.

He couldn’t resist you forever.

He chose to ignore you as you moved your hips against his. If he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted, you could apply enough pressure until he cracked. You brought your face to his neck, breathing in his scent before pressing your lips to his skin. You applied more pressure, marking his skin with your wet mouth, and intentionally targeted the most sensitive spots on his neck.

Your tongue lapped at his neck sensually before you slowly sucked on his sweet spot. Watching as your mark bloomed on his neck once you pulled off with a dramatic smack of your lips. You smiled down at your work of art before moving to decorate an unmarked part of your canvas.

Shigaraki attempted to remain unfazed, but you could hear his breath hitch after you nipped his flushed skin. Seeing him turned on beneath you sent a thrill through your veins, and you were that much closer to reaching your goal. Before you could get ahead of yourself, he stopped you once again by gripping your hips a bit too tight.

“What’s wrong?” you feigned innocently.

His stare penetrated you, “I know what you’re trying to do,” he deadpanned, regaining his control.

“And what is that exactly?” you asked, maintaining your front. “I just want to make you feel good. Don’t you want that too?” you attempted to grind your hips down, but his hold restrained you and kept you glued in place.

“Once again, if you want to fuck me, you can just say that,” he chided.

He wanted nothing more than to hear you beg for him, to let him know how badly you longed for him to be inside of you, to fill you once and for all. Once you finally confessed, he would take care of you, but until then, you weren’t getting anything from him. No matter how much it pained him to wait.

“Who said I wanted to fuck you?” you countered, despite your position and previous actions heavily contradicting your words. Your entire body invited him in, your legs open and sprawled over his as you sat directly on what you wanted from him. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel your clit throbbing against him through your layers of clothing.

Shigaraki nodded at your response, digesting your retort. “I'll keep my hands to myself since I misread you.”

You were that much further away from your goal. In a short amount of time, you took one step forward and three back. You didn’t know how much more you could take. Constantly, going back and forth with him seemed to only dig you a deeper hole, and if you waited any longer it might be impossible to crawl out.

Desperately, you tried to swallow your pride, but there was a blockage in your throat that prevented you from speaking.

If you were going to get anywhere with him, you had to say what he wanted to hear. He already knew your intentions, so verbalizing them shouldn’t be too hard. It’s not like you were telling him your deepest darkest secrets. But something was holding you back.

The vulnerability that came with admitting that you craved him.

Your admission would let him know just how weak you were for him. A light would be shone on your silent wishes as you opened yourself up to him.

But he constantly showed how much he longed for you, so why couldn’t you do the same?

“I want you to fuck me,” you rushed out under your breath, avoiding eye contact with him. You spitting those words out was like pulling teeth.

“Huh. What was that?” he asked, despite hearing you clearly, but he needed you to say it louder if you really wanted to prove yourself.

You sighed dramatically, “you heard me.”

But, he was unmoving. He wasn’t going to let you off that easily.

“I. Want. You. To. Fuck. Me.” you stated clearer, enunciating each word.

“Now was that so hard,” he teased, pulling at your clothes. Since you satisfied his wish, he was ready to grant yours.

You rolled your eyes but helped him remove your clothing, desperately wanting to feel his body pressed against yours. He already made you wait longer than expected, so you didn’t want to waste any more time. He flipped your positions, hovering over you as he rid himself of his last bits of clothing.

“I can’t wait to be inside you,” he mumbled against your lips, flaming the fire within you. You pulled him down even closer as you took the next step to connect your lips. Your lips uniting was like a breath of fresh air replenishing your lungs.

Shigaraki groaned at the contact, pressing his lips harder into your plush ones. His fingers crept between your bodies, moving between your legs as you spread them further, allowing him to do as he pleased.

His fingers caressed your slit before parting your lips and circling your hole. He was greeted with the feeling of your slick juices coating his fingers.

“You’re already wet,” he pointed out as he slowly pushed a digit into your welcoming body.

He faced no resistance as your warm wet walls accommodated him, sucking him in and coaxing him to stay. Another finger was pressed inside as he searched for your sweet spot, locating it quickly.

He rubbed against it, making you moan in response as a dangerous gleam filled his eyes as he intentionally brushed that tender spot. Your back arched, pressing your chest closer to his, and he watched how your hips moved closer to his enthusiastic hand, taking the reigns over your pleasure. His fingers maintained a slow pace, making your hole leak pathetically around his knowledgeable fingers.

You panted, shifting your hips against his hand for more, hoping for him to apply more pressure. In response, he held your hip down with his free hand as he continued to peak your excitement.

“What do we say when we want something?” he asked as if he was scolding a child that had forgotten their manners.

You were taken aback, but your lips were moving before you could process anything else. “Please. I need more,” you begged while letting your head fall back in ecstasy.

Satisfied with how quickly you listened, he placed a kiss on your forehead before praising you, “good girl.” Due to your obedience, he rewarded you with the addition of another finger and quickened his pace.

If you were about to cum that would’ve been enough to push you over the edge.

Your hole quivered at his praise. This side of him was unfamiliar, sex was never like this, but you were enjoying every second of his commanding presence, appreciating the way he effortlessly controlled you without lifting as much as a finger. It was attractive, and his air of confidence was doing something to you, fogging up your mind to where your only thoughts were to please and satisfy him.

You wanted to make him feel good too. To show him just how deep your desire ran. You reached for his dick, pressed between your bodies, but you stopped once you heard him suck his teeth at you.

There was that commanding presence once again, stopping you in your tracks. You pulled your hand back slightly while his hand continued to probe inside you, scrambling your thoughts and making it hard to speak.

“Can I t-touch you?” you stuttered out as your eyes fluttered.

When you received the go-ahead, you reached your hand down and wrapped it around his heated flesh, reveling in the feel of him in your palm. Your thumb swiped against his tip, smearing his precum along his length to aid your movements, making him groan. You looked down, taking in the pace of his fingers inside you, and copied his rhythm as you maintained the slick drag of your hand. His dick hardened even further in your grip as you stroked and lightly teased him. Shigaraki leaned down to claim your mouth again, and you enthusiastically responded, passionately moving your lips against his as you kept fondling him.

Your tongue tangled with his as you worked each other up, tasting each other more and more as the kiss deepened, and sensual gratification controlled both of your movements. Your actions were eager and hungry, making your stimulation much more enjoyable.

The palm of his hand rubbed against your swollen clit as he reached deeper within you, triggering a stuttered breath, “I'm close,” you alerted.

“I can tell. I feel you squeezing around me,” he responded, matter-of-factly. Your body temperature rose at his arrogance. He knew your body in and out, making it his job to give you the most earthshaking pleasure, and he was proud of how well he was able to bring you to your knees.

“I need you in me,” you begged, your grip on his dick faltering as your pleasure forced its way to the forefront of your mind. You could only focus on the sensations running rampant within you, which consumed your entire being. Your brain wasn't working as he quickened his pace, fucking his fingers into you faster. The heat in your lower half continued to flourish as your chest heaved.

Your belly clenched as the string you were clinging to snapped, and your body trembled against his frame as you mindlessly begged for him, needing to be filled more than ever as your hole clamped around his digits. His fingers continued to fuck you through your release, leaving you a whining and blubbering mess.

Once you came down, he removed his fingers, placing them in his mouth to taste your release as he eyed you spent beneath him.

He spread your legs further, wrapping them around his waist, and leaned over you while aligning his painfully hard cock with your cunt. His head nudged against your sensitive hole before he pushed into you, wasting no time to connect you physically. Your hands briefly gripped his shoulders as he impaled you on his length before he secured them above your head, immobilizing you.

You tugged against his hold to no avail, wanting something to hold onto as he continued to spread you open. Your hole stretched in response, gripping along his length tightly.

You leaned your head back while his hips repeatedly pushed into yours. This was so much better than you were expecting. Unadulterated passion surrounded you both as he solely focused on the feeling of you wrapped around him. One hand kept you restrained as his other hand went to play with your overstimulated and throbbing clit.

“Shigaraki,” you moaned out, unable to form coherent thoughts, only capable of calling out his name as you trembled beneath him.

Having you fall apart due to him provided a great sense of gratification. He was going to make sure he ruined you for anyone else, molding your body just for him. You wouldn’t be able to even think about fucking anyone but him.

Only him.

Your mind was clouded over with lust. At that moment, he could get you to do anything he wanted if it meant he would keep going. You would bare yourself to him completely, telling him your deepest darkest desires, leaving no part hidden. You didn’t want this feeling to escape you, craving nothing more than to feel tingly and full for eternity.

You fought against his hold, desperately needing something to cling onto as your hands balled into fists. But his grip tightened in response, adamant on not letting your hands free.

Not being able to keep yourself grounded made you feel as if you were floating. You were so far away, and the constant pleasure worsened your state.

“Please. I want to touch you,” you begged desperately, nearly in tears at the all-consuming pleasure you felt in every inch of your body.

Your begging was such a stark contrast to your stubborn position earlier. A testament to him fucking all the sense out of you, making you a puddle of shamelessness. You couldn’t care less about how needy you sounded or what you looked like begging as long as he stayed inside you. You just needed him.

He ignored your plea, opting to quicken his pace, which made you forget what you were whining about. Your eyes shut, and your hands squeezed tighter, as you tried to level your breathing. Whimpers were pushed from your throat with each deep thrust. You were deliciously full, completely stuffed to your limits, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Watching you unravel in front of his eyes, only caused Shigaraki’s jealousy to rear its ugly head. He saw the looks you were too oblivious to see, the way people undressed you with their eyes. The number of people vying for your attention, but he was the one between your legs, making you lose your mind.

No one else could have you like this, not if he had a say. He was the only one who should be granted the sight of you bare and vulnerable beneath him.

While continuing to restrain you, one of his hands wrapped around your throat, giving you a light squeeze.

Your pussy fluttered in response as you watched him with half-lidded eyes. The sound of him drilling your cunt was loud to your ears, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel ashamed. Not when he was making you feel so good.

“Who do you belong to?” he demanded, tightening his grip even further as he hit unknown spots deep inside you.

All you could do was moan and whine in response, words failing you, only harsh pants escaping your mouth. Your eyes rolled back as your high inched closer and closer. Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him in closer and deeper, not wanting him to escape you.

You felt Shigaraki squeeze your throat again as his gaze darkened.

“I asked you a question,” he commanded.

Your mind was whirling, and you felt like you were being consumed entirely.

“You,” you panted out. “Only you.”

You mustered up all your strength and brain power just to say those three words. His pace, his commands, and his grip worked in tandem to short-circuit your brain. All you could focus on was the feeling of him around you, inside you, everywhere. No one ever made you feel as good as he did, so you were a lost cause when it came to him.

You missed how his eyes dramatically darkened as he claimed ownership over you and the seriousness of his tone.

“Exactly. I'm the only one who can have you like this. No one but me. You understand?”

He released your wrists to hike your legs up to your chest, allowing him a better angle. He watched as your breasts and stomach jiggled due to each thrust and as you matched his demanding pace.

You couldn’t get enough of him. Each time you came back, he left you wanting more.

You were insatiable.

You nodded your head frantically.

You were his.

His position allowed him to batter your insides in a deliciously painful way. He was so deep, making your stomach clench with each thrust. Your hand moved to play with your clit, rubbing yourself frantically as you neared your climax.

His pelvis slapped against yours, echoing a clapping sound within your apartment while a cacophony of moans fell from your lips. Your free hand gripped his shoulder, painting his back with scratches from your nails as you captured his mouth in a messy kiss, tasting every bit of him.

Dewy white coated his dick as he fucked you through your high, making your eyes roll back and your body loosen. You let him take complete control as he pulled out and rolled you onto your stomach.

Your hips were hiked up while your head remained planted on the sheets before he pressed back into your warm, sopping hole.

“Shiggy, oh my god,” you whined.

He smirked at your reaction, looking down at the way your cunt struggled between clenching and stretching around his dick, and the only thing on his mind was to successfully ruin you for anyone else. He wouldn't give you up easily.

He pulled back, forcefully pressing inside again.

“How does it feel?” he questioned, knowing that you were delirious with lust and couldn't think straight. Your hands frantically grasped at the sheets near your head. “Hm? You like how deep I am?

His hands went to your waist, pulling you towards him with each thrust, entering you deeper than before. Your mouth parted in a silent scream as you struggled to stay coherent, and your breath caught in your throat while your poor overstimulated cunt took a beating.

A loud smack reverberated in the room, and the sting from your ass alerted you of what happened.

The smack snapped you back to your senses, and you opened your mouth before he could lift his hand again at your unwillingness to answer.

“I love it… love it so much,” you groaned, stroking his ego, a stark contrast to what you were so against earlier.

“I'm bout to cum” you warned, getting ready to tap out.

Your legs trembled due to each drag against your painfully sensitive walls. You were so weak, only laying there as Shigaraki took what he desired, helping himself to your responsive body.

“Good. Cum on my dick.”

That was all you needed to hear as you released onto his length, slick drenching his dick as he continued to move within you.

Your hands tightened on the sheets while you shoved your face into the mattress to muffle yourself.

“I’m almost there,” Shigaraki informed, increasing his pace to reach his peak.

Your body twitched, but you remained open for him, allowing him to use you. His dick twitched, and his thrusts lost their rhythm as his dick spurted inside you, making a mess between your legs. Your body slumped against the mattress as soon as Shigaraki pulled out.

His hands went to caress your skin, “was I too rough?” he asked, worry seeping through his voice.

You looked at him with tired eyes, a smile pulling at your lips, “no, it was perfect,” you conceded, not caring about how much your compliment would inflate his ego.

Based on the fucked out look on your face before you started to doze off, Shigaraki knew you weren’t going anywhere.

[a-hell-of-a-time-archive]

Muses

((Copypasting from my blog page for Android users since the tumblr app hates android for some reason.))

Canon:

Name: Octavia

Nicknames: Via, Starfire, Princess, My Owlette, Sweetie

Age: 17

Birthday: August 20th

Orientation: Lesbian Asexual

Likes: Astrology, taxidermy, depressing punk music, reading, spending time with her dad, learning magic

Dislikes: Her parents fighting, her dad’s affair with Blitzo, her parents being overprotective, rip offs, fearing she’ll be abandoned/left alone by her dad

Occupation: Princess of the Goetia family, precautionary heir

Bio: Can be found HERE.

Some notes:

My Octavia is a minor, so no sexual nsfw or other things with her. She is also not open to shipping at this time.

While she loves Stolas deeply, Octavia holds some resentment and anger towards him, namely his affair with Blitzo and fears that her father will choose him over her. As such she tries to put some distance between herself and Stolas and comes off as hostile at times. It’ll require work and constant assurance to regain her trust and repair the bond that was damaged, both by the affair and by her parent’s rapidly deteriorating marriage.

Her human fc is Mitake Ran from Bandori/Bang Dream.

Depending on how the series goes/butchers things, Octavia may become canon divergent.

Verses:

Octavia Morningstar - She was adopted by Lucifer during her parent’s divorce and is no longer a Goetia.

Birds of a Feather - Octavia and Phel meeting while under Stolas’s (grimowled’s) care.

————————————————–

Name: Andrealphus

Nicknames: Andre, Andy, Arrogant Prick (Stolas probably, or anyone else having to put up with him)

Age: Early 40’s (Hell years/appearance wise)

Birthday: December 22nd

Human fc: Camus (Uta no Prince Sama)

Occupation: Marquis of Hell (One of them)

Likes: Obtaining power, authority, status, being rich, spending time with Stella, his niece, the cold, Caim (ex fiance, currently the only thing he has to a friend rn), being the center of attention because ofc he would, being pretty (probably)

Dislikes: Stolas, not having power/control/status, the poor/being poor, the heat

Orientation: Gay and polyamourous.

Personality: Pretty much your run of the mill haughty, arrogant, self absorbed rich person who is very pretty and very much punchable. Has an over inflated ego and sense of self because money, but is also very calculating, clever and cunning. While he adores Stella, Andrealphus does have limits and can only take so much of her behaviour before snapping.

He does have a softer, more caring side toward his niece and Caim, but he refuses to show it in public because he has an image to maintain.

More can be found HERE.

Abilities/powers:

Cryokinesis - Controls and manipulates ice Intellect Swordsmanship - Has a sword made of ice as his primary weapon

Small Bio (Canon to this blog only): A marquis of Hell, Andrealphus was born into the Goetia family and attained his mansion and legions from his father. When he was a child, he met and befriended Caim when she was training in Hell. The two became quite close, which led to their respective families to propose a marital union between the two. On her father’s end, this was an attempt to keep Caim in hell and move up her place in the Goetia hierarchy, which she refused after leaving Hell with her mother. For Andrealphus’s family, since he could not marry up, they wanted to marry him off so the title of marquis would stay with their family via any potential heirs.

Caim leaving hell, hurt Andrealphus, but he was not surprised nor held it against her; Caim was more in touch with the youkai side of her family than the Goetia’s, and he made no move to interfere. He still kept in touch, and during the early years of Stella’s marriage to Stolas, would make a trip or two to the human world to visit. The two remain close friends to this day.

Note: My Andrealphus will be canon divergent, despite whatever the show decides to do with him. I will not condone incest, or have him act in an incestuous way to his sister because that shit’s nasty.

Andrealphus Headcanon Masterpost

Relations:

Stella (Sister) -

Octavia (niece) - starsaught (default)

Stolas (Ex brother in law) -

Verses:

Fire and Ice (default) - Ship verse for Andrealphus and Vassago (checkingintohell-jc)

Frozen Court - Verse where Phel serves Andrealphus (keeperofquestions)

Andre/Beej - Ship verse for Andrealphus and Beetlejuice (micsmasmuses)

Fogged Lenses - Ship verse for Andrealphus and William (akumanomorii)

Arctic Archive - Ship verse for Andrealphus and Jillian (copaceticjillybean)

Permafrost - Ship verse for Andrealphus and Stolas (stolsas)

——————————–

OC’s:

Name: Caim

Alternative names/nicknames: Caimo

Human Face claim: Yor Forger (SpyxFamily)

Age: Early 40’s (Hell years); 400 (youkai)

Birthday: April 17th

Orientation: Lesbian

Relationship status: Married

Wife: Yui

Species: Part thrush bird demon, part crow (corvid) tengu youkai

Occupation: Great President of Hell (formerly in one verse); Working various odd jobs in the human world.

Likes: Her wife, swordsmanship, training, some members of the Goetia family (Andrealphus), her mother

Dislikes: Her father, dishonesty, disloyalty, pompous idiots (Andrealphus is the only exception but he’s on thin ice at times.)

Personality: Caim is generally a reserved, quiet, yet no nonsense woman with a stern demeanour. She values loyalty and will not tolerate anything underhanded, or anyone who engages in such methods. Due to being half youkai and struggling to fit into both her society and the nobility of hell, Caim suffers from low self esteem and often withdraws into herself. Fortunately her wife is able to bring Caim out of her shell and is a source of refuge and strength.

If you are someone she loves and holds dear, she will go to hell and back for you. However, if you were to ever cross her, you will be met with a swift, steel strike.

More TBA later.

History: Born to a lesser noble in the Ars Goetia and a tengu warrior, Caim was trained to be a soldier and commander from an early age. Her skills with the sword were evident from a young age and she was quickly deemed a prodigy. Her mother was a highly respected and revered warrior, though when she met Caim’s father, their union caused a stir among her compatriots. Youkai, who were powerful spirits of the Earth, did not take kindly to the beings inhabiting heaven or hell, and saw this union as a grave transgression of their way of life. As a result, most youkai began to shun Caim, along with her mother.

Despite this, Caim would end up travelling to hell on occasion to be trained under her father in the hopes of her attaining her father’s title and legions and a spot in the Goetia family hierarchy. To this point she was arranged to be wed to a member of said family (Andrealphus), but when she came of age, Caim abandoned both her duties to the Goetia family and her fiance to return home to be with her mother.

Since her return she grew close to one of her childhood friends, Yui, and eventually the two were wed. Caim and Yui now spend their days wandering and working among humans while taking the occasional trip to Hell. She also remains good friends with Andrealphus.

More TBA later.

Abilities:

Extreme Speed Has some magical ability (Limited to transformations and portals) Swordsmanship

————————————–

Name: Yui

Face claim: Yae Miko (Genshin); Yukime (The Eminence in Shadow) (When in Hell she takes on a more fox like demon appearance similar to Beelzebub.)

Age: 500 (youkai/human years), looks to be about late 30’s/early 40’s

Birthday: May 29th

Orientation: Lesbian

Relationship status: Married

Wife: Caim

Species: Kitsune youkai (five tailed)

Occupation: Works various part time jobs

Likes: Her wife, mischief, pranks, having fun, parties, teasing Andrealphus

Dislikes: Hell nobility (Specifically the Goetia family), anything boring, too many customs/rules.

Personality: Yui is a very fun loving, playful, mischievous woman who likes to stir the pot whenever possible. She shows a more mature, serious side when working but still retains her playful nature. As a high ranking youkai in terms of spiritual power, she wields a certain amount of influence in youkai circles, more so than her wife. However, when she is in hell she is treated the same as a hell hound due to her fox-like appearance until they get a taste of her power. Yui enjoys teasing others, especially members of the Goetia nobility (namely Andrealphus because it is fun to get under his skin. She makes it a personal mission to fluster the hell out of him, much to Caim’s exasperation.)

Short Bio: Yui was born into a rather prestigious youkai clan, and most of her life involved the strict rules and mannerisms of the upper class society. This would often clash with her mischievous, fun personality and was a source of tension among her family. It also isolated her from a good chunk of her peers, though she would find a friend in Caim who was raised in a similar manner as herself. The two would quickly bond over their experiences, and as they grew older, this bond would deepen into something more.

Once Yui came of age, she fled from the confines of her clan and took on a human guise, fully intending to experience a more free life. Caim went with her after denouncing her position in hell, and after many years the pair married and now live together in a small house on the outskirts of Tokyo.

——————————

Name: Dawn

Age: Early 30’s in Hell Years

Birthday: July 21st

Species: Avian Demon (White tailed kite)

Orientation: Lesbian

Title: Princess

Group: Ars Goetia

Family: Paimon (father), many (half) siblings

Likes: Sweets, tea, soft music, fencing, tennis

Dislikes: Noise, disruption, chaos

Personality (WIP): Dove, at first meeting comes off as a rather quiet, shy, yet polite woman. Strictly raised in the royal ways, she takes the phrase ‘seen, but not heard’ to heart and strives to be the most perfect mannered princess she can possibly be.

However, those who are close to Dawn know that she can be rather chatty, bubbly, kindhearted and warm. She will do anything for those she loves, and she knows her way around a rapier if you really want to fuck around and find out.

Dawn is also a fan of sports, namely tennis and badminton and is quite good at both. She also moves quickly and with a precision not many would expect of someone like her.

History (WIP):

Dawn is one of Paimon’s many children, as well as one of the youngest. Like the rest of his children, Dawn never saw much of him growing up, nor was afforded any sort of special attention. She was not magically gifted like some of the other goetia, so Dawn was often looked over in favour of those who possessed some level of magical ability.

She spent most of her time with her mother, and still lives in her mother’s home to this day. She is yet to be wed or engaged, which has been a bone of contention between Dawn and her mother that continues to this day. Little does her mother know that she is not attracted to men in the slightest and does not desire an heir; this is a secret she keeps close to the point that not many outside her closest friends know.

This character is a WIP and more will be added as she’s fleshed out!

Verses:

Candied Apple - Ship verse for Dawn and Charlie (redemonarc)

-------------------

Name: Yukitaka (meaning Noble Snow)

Nicknames: Yuki, hellspawn,

Parents: Andrealphus (father), Caim (mother), Yui (mother)

Age: Infant - toddler (main verse); 15 going on 16 (I Got Teleported To the Past to Fulfill My Destiny in Hell)

The following is for the I Got Teleported To the Past to Fulfill My Destiny in Hell verse

Orientation: Gay

Likes: fighting, swordsmanship, hanging out with his friends, festivals, soccer, parkour, snowboarding, Chikao (his boyfriend, a nekomata), the cold

Dislikes: Ryuu (rival, dragon youkai), goetian politics, the heat,

Occupation: Precautionary heir (illegitimate), next great marquis

Personality: (Note: This is a heavy WIP since he’s a new OC that’s still being fleshed out)

Loud, brash, brazen (a quick tongue that has gotten him into plenty of trouble) and confident to the point of arrogance are just some of the adjectives used to describe Yuki. He is not afraid to call things as he sees it, nor afraid to speak up for himself should the situation warrant it. He is equal parts of both parents when it comes to his attitude and fearlessness, caring little for the intricacies of goetian decorum in favour of pursuing his own interests.

He can be rash at times, especially when faced with something that catches his interests. He is known for getting swept up easily in his emotions and the adrenaline rush of a good fight, or the height of a soccer game, or when participating in sports that Caim has considered reckless and which threaten to put her in an early grave.

When it comes to his combat skills, Yuki is quite proud and fearless; he won’t hesitate to challenge opponents stronger than him, and will meet any challenge head on. This has led to him often rushing in, sometimes without thinking, and ending up with more than his fair share of injuries.

Despite this, Yuki is highly intelligent, a good strategist and has a good heart that looks out for the people he cares for the most, such as his friends and family. He isn’t one for injustice and if someone has wronged him or his loved ones, he won’t hesitate to make things right or settle the score.

Tl;dr: This kid is a cocky little shit who is too smart for his own good and runs his mouth like nothing else. He’s also the kid that will help you in a pinch while also threatening to fight any enemies of yours. Or anyone in general if they’re strong enough. He may/may not value his own safety and is a bit too reckless.

He means well though.

History: Born to the Great Marquis, Andrealphus, and the former Great President of Hell, Caim, Yukitaka is a goetian with the blood of his tengu (youkai) ancestors running through his veins. His birth was shrouded in secrecy, and he spends most of his days living with his mothers just outside of Tokyo. He attends one of the local high schools and is the top student, as well as one of the stars of his school’s soccer team.

Approaching his 16th birthday, Yuki awakened his cryokinetic powers, prompting Caim to reveal his goetian heritage. She also explained how, once he turns eighteen, Yuki will have to choose between following in his father’s footsteps, or remaining in the human world.

To prepare for this future decision, Yuki started splitting his time between his father’s mansion in Hell, and his family home in the human world. While at his father’s he trains to master the demonic abilities inherited from his father, along with the ins and outs of goetian politics, all the while remaining hidden from the Ars Goetia at large. While in the human world, Yuki continues with his studies in the hopes of graduating high school with his friends.

Should he make the decision to follow in his father’s footsteps, he would be initiated into the Ars Goetia, and his identity revealed to the nobility at large. Should he stay in the human world, he would have to continue living among humans and taking on mundane jobs all the while hiding his identity and abilities.

More TBA.

Powers/Abilities:

Cryokinesis: Can manipulate ice and snow for a wide variety of uses (offence - weapons; defence - shields; weather manipulation (can cause blizzards, drop the temperature to sub zero, etc.)

Extreme Speed: Can move as fast as any tengu, appearing as a blur to the untrained eye.

Swordsmanship

High endurance

Weapon of choice: Katana

Verses:

Normal Verse: Yuki is born and Andrealphus struggles to be a dad while hiding the child’s existence from Paimon. Shenanigans ensue.

I Got Teleported To the Past to Fulfill My Destiny in Hell: Gusion (keeperofanswers) showed Andrealphus many books, each covering alternative lives based on choices made, and not. One of the books was triggered by magic, and Yuki manifested from its pages as if it were a portal. He is now living with his father in Hell while trying to figure out a way to get back to his own time.

[docpiplup]

14th part of the bookscans of Al Andalus. Historical Figures, here's the previous part

Abu Ali al-Sarrach: the andalusian missionary

In the border regions between Christian and Muslim Spain, inhabited especially by berbers, we find that at the end of the 9th century, a series of enlightened and mystical ones arise, who spread their doctrines trying to gain followers among the gullible and ignorant masses. This characters are not like the ascetic Ibn Masarra, of whom we will speak very soon, but rather, are often subjects more interested in the material than in the spiritual. There will be few adventurers who carry religious thought as flag, try to create an opposition party to the official regime, which will persecute and will not allow them to alter the order that governs Muslim Spain. But if somewhere these subversives of the Maliki Islamic beliefs, it is in the central mountainous areas where they live relegated a large number of Berbers.

One of these characters was Abu Ali al-Sarrach, who a few years before the death of the emir Abd Allah, he dedicated himself to preaching holy war. This Andalusian "missionary" toured the fields dressed as an ancient prophet:

esparto sandals, a rough woolen dress and a donkey as the only ride. All who hear his speech take him for a religious reformer, but it seems that his functions extended somewhat further, since at that time he was dedicated, also, to try to seal an alliance between the powerful Aragonese family of the Banu Qasi and the Bobastro rebel, Ibn Hafsun. However, despite their sleepless nights, it seems that this alliance did not come to fruition.

Three years later, al-Sarrach met and convinced a man from Córdoba, direct descendant from the emir Hisham I, so that he would put himself at the head of the political-religious movement that the Andalusian missionary had been developing alone. This aristocrat from Cordoba, his nickname was Ibn al-Qitt, and he was reputed to be an expert astrologer. We know that astrology and astrologers were revered among the Muslims, which added a point in favor of al-Sarrach's new friend. This movement was really a movement against the reigning Umayyad and his message resonated deeply among the Berbers of the Pedroches district and those of the Almadén mountain range. Everywhere they were welcomed with authentic fervor, they won followers of their cause, and encouraged by these initial successes, they went further heading to the lands occupied by the Nazfa, other Berbers who lived in the High Guadiana, above the city of Mérida.

And there they decide to do the rest: Ibn al-Qitt is presented by al-Sarrach as the Madhi, the messenger of God, who arrives so that Islam regains all its strength and purity. Throughout history many “madhí” will appear, but as in the Hebrew religion, it seems that neither of them have yet received a visit from their respective "messiahs."

The fact is that the new Madhi preaches and exalts holy war among his most faithful devotees, the Berbers of the border areas, and this speech is very well received because, among other messages, it launches that of the conquest of Zamora, now in the hands of Christians. Alfonso III, in the year 893, had fortified it and provided it with a strong garrison. From this city frequent raids were made on Muslim lands and these raids caused great damage to the Berbers. Thus, between religious messages and practical applications, these two characters left making a name and earning the admiration and respect of his loyal followers.

Day by day, al-Sarrach and Ibn al-Qitt see their ranks swell, with columns of volunteers for faith, who respond to the call of holy war, creating an army composed of more than 60,000 troops. With these men, who follow him with blind faith, the Madhi crosses the Tagus River and heads towards the Duero, while along the way they are joined by Muslims arriving from Toledo, Guadalajara, Talavera and the Portuguese city of Santaver

Everyone wants to see, touch and contemplate, first-hand, the “miracles” the Madhí performs, who thanks to his skills as a magician, or rather, as a conjurer, dazzles to those simple people, who no longer doubt that they are in the presence of the sent from God. One of these "miracles" consists of taking several dry twigs, squeeze them with your hand as hard as possible, and the twigs release water. It seems that for al-Qitt's troops his miraculous power were accredited. And if this were not enough, he announces that upon his arrival the premises of the protective wall

of Zamora, will fall before his presence, as if it were a new Joshua.

Al-Sarrach had prudently retreated into the background. Maybe he something big was coming to him, perhaps his protégé had become the protagonist of the action, or maybe he didn't like the direction the events were taking events, because, in all of these, al-Qitt had reached a day of the Christian stronghold of Zamora. From there he sent a defiant letter to Alfonso III, in which he and his people were invited to convert to Islam, since otherwise they would all be exterminated. Alfonso III was outraged by the audacity and the pretensions of that subject, who had ended up believing that, truly, he was the messenger of God. Without further ado and without even answering to the offensive letter, Alfonso III immediately went out to combat him on the shore right of the Duero.

It didn't take long for Muslims and Christians to meet and the conflict was unleashed, battle that, initially, favored the Madhi troops. The Christians were forced to flee to the north, and the Muslims laid siege to Zamora. But despite the victory, desertions began in the Muslim camp, first it was the Nazfa and then other contingents abandoned the Madhi. Envy, jealousy, fear of the Umayyad reaction, perhaps they realized that it was a crazy business, or did they finally understand that this Madhí was not the expected Madhi? It is not known. All these abandonments were known by Alfonso III who considered that, with the troops depleted, the Madhi would be easier to defeat.

Again on the battlefield, the Alfonsine and Madhi hosts faced each other. Ibn Qitt, abandoned almost by all his followers, which did not prevent him from bravely throw himself into combat. It was practically a suicide, because after three days of inconclusive skirmishes, on July 10, 901, he fell struggling. His head was hung over one of the doors of Zamora and there it remained. long time, until it was only a shapeless wreckage, warning of the fate that was waiting for those who were going to discuss the royal Christian authority over the stronghold.

Abu Ali al-Sarrach, the initiator of this whole story, the humble prophet who for the roads he preached holy war and opposition to the Umayyads, he had the ability to disappear in time, while “his envoy”, convinced of his function, died for what he had preached.