#twisted romance

[vertigoartgore]

November 22, 2013 : actor Mads Mikkelsen celebrates his 48th anniversary on the set of Hannibal (with Hugh Dancy and the rest of the tv crew), during the filming of the (very) intense season 2 finale ("Mizumono", 2x13, May 23, 2014), which aired 10 years ago today.

[innocentsardonicpotatoes]

Cruel Prince

[ireadyabooks]

Love Stories That Make You Feel Like: 🖤💀😱🗝️ 🌹

Don’t get it twisted, YA romance isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. These romance stories can get quite dark before you even know what’s happening. But maybe that’s exactly what you’re looking for! A romance full of brooding love interests, morally corrupt characters, and maybe even a splash of hair-raising dark academia vibes. If you’re willing to take a chance on these hauntingly seductive reads, then check out a list of some of our favorite dark and twisted YA romances below!

Your Blood, My Bones by Kelly Andrew

A seductively twisted romance about loyalty, fate, the lengths we go to hide the darkest parts of ourselves . . . and the people who love those parts most of all.

Wyatt Westlock has one plan for the farmhouse she's just inherited -- to burn it to the ground. But during her final walkthrough of her childhood home, she makes a shocking discovery in the basement -- Peter, the boy she once considered her best friend, strung up in chains and left for dead.

Unbeknownst to Wyatt, Peter has suffered hundreds of ritualistic deaths on her family's property. Semi-immortal, Peter never remains dead for long, but he can't really live, either. Not while he's bound to the farm, locked in a cycle of grisly deaths and painful rebirths. There's only one way for him to break free. He needs to end the Westlock line.

He needs to kill Wyatt.

With Wyatt's parents gone, the spells protecting the property have begun to unravel, and dark, ancient forces gather in the nearby forest. The only way for Wyatt to repair the wards is to work with Peter -- the one person who knows how to harness her volatile magic. But how can she trust a boy who's sworn an oath to destroy her? When the past turns up to haunt them in the most unexpected way, they are forced to rely on one another to survive, or else tear each other apart.

Start reading Your Blood, My Bones now!

A Darker Mischief by Derek Milman

The Honeys meets The Secret History in a work of dark academia like no other -- a boarding school thriller about a queer teen from Mississippi who finds himself swept into a world of old money, privilege, and the secret society at the heart of it all.

When Cal Ware wins a scholarship to an elite New England boarding school, he's thrilled to leave his past behind. Back home in Mississippi, he was the poor, queer kid who never fit in. But at Essex Academy, he'll be able to reinvent himself. Or so he hopes...

But at Essex, Cal's classmates only see his cheap clothes and old iPhone. They mock his accent, and can't believe he's never left the country, or heard of The Hamptons. Cal, at his breaking point, is about to give up and return to Mississippi when he learns about a secret society on campus -- the key to becoming Essex royalty.

Cal knows he's not exactly secret society material, but to his surprise, he finds an unlikely champion in the handsome, charismatic, and slightly dangerous Luke Kim. As they get swept up in the mystery and glamour of the Rush process, Cal finds himself falling in love for the first time.

But as the initiation rituals grow riskier -- and increasingly nefarious -- Cal must decide how far he's willing to go, and how much of himself he's willing to sacrifice, to save everything and everyone he cherishes most. Because nothing at Essex -- not even Cal's first love -- is quite what it seems.

Start reading A Darker Mischief now!

Sixteen Souls by Rosie Talbot

The spooky, swoony YA debut by BookTok star Rosie Talbot (@Merrowchild) -- the "TikTok Made Me Buy It" sensation dubbed Heartstopper with ghosts! Perfect for fans of V. E. Schwab and Aiden Thomas.

Sixteen-year-old Charlie Frith has problems. His crush is dating someone else, his sisters have glitter-bombed his prosthesis (again), and he's a seer-of-spirits in York, the most haunted city in England, and all his friends are ghosts.

To make matters worse, it seems that famous spirits are mysteriously vanishing from York's haunted streets and alleys. Charlie is determined to stay out of it, but Sam, the irritating new seer in town, expects him to track down who -- or what -- is responsible and uncover the dark purpose behind these disappearances.

But when one of Charlie's ghostly friends vanishes, he has no choice but to face the shadows -- and his growing feelings for Sam. The boys must be willing to risk it all to save York’s spirits, because this adversary will stop at nothing to complete their devastating plan. Afterlives are at stake, and Charlie is running out of time . . .

Start reading Sixteen Souls today!

Beastly Beauty by Jennifer Donnelly

From New York Times bestselling, award-winning author Jennifer Donnelly comes a revolutionary, gender-swapped retelling of Beauty and the Beast that will forever change how you think about beauty, power, and what it really means to follow your heart.

What makes a girl "beastly?" Is it having too much ambition? Being too proud? Taking up too much space? Or is it just wanting something, anything, too badly?

That's the problem Arabella faces when she makes her debut in society. Her parents want her to be sweet and compliant so she can marry well, but try as she might, Arabella can't extinguish the fire burning inside her -- the source of her deepest wishes, her wildest dreams.

When an attempt to suppress her emotions tragically backfires, a mysterious figure punishes Arabella with a curse, dooming her and everyone she cares about, trapping them in the castle. As the years pass, Arabella abandons hope. The curse is her fault -- after all, there's nothing more "beastly" than a girl who expresses her anger -- and the only way to break it is to find a boy who loves her for her true self: a cruel task for a girl who's been told she's impossible to love.

When a handsome thief named Beau makes his way into the castle, the captive servants are thrilled, convinced he is the one to break the curse. But Beau -- spooked by the castle's strange and forbidding ladies-in-waiting, and by the malevolent presence that stalks its corridors at night -- only wants to escape. He learned long ago that love is only an illusion. If Beau and Arabella have any hope of breaking the curse, they must learn to trust their wounded hearts, and realize that the cruelest prisons of all are the ones we build for ourselves.

Start reading Beastly Beauty now!

The Good Neighbors by Holly Black 

From the amazing imagination of bestselling author Holly Black and acclaimed illustrator Ted Naifeh, comes  an astonishing graphic trilogy set in a faerie world, full of mystery, intrigue, and romance.

Rue Silver's mother has disappeared... and her father has been arrested, suspected of killing her. But it's not as straightforward as that. Because Rue is a faerie, like her mother was. And her father didn't kill her mother -- instead, he broke a promise to Rue's faerie king grandfather, which caused Rue's mother to be flung back to the faerie world. Now Rue must go to save her -- and defeat a dark faerie that threatens our very mortal world.

Start reading The Good Neighbors now!

[the-blind-geisha]

Amnesia: A Dreamer's Requiem

Lilyodin was a mere farmer, sold to the demon ruling over the land for a high price. Upon arriving at his castle, the demon Demiurge seems understanding, charismatic and more than willing to assist her in growing to become far better than what she was born to be.

However, something feels off about how servants seem to come and go without so much as a word, and the gaps in her memory start to plague her as to what’s truly going on in the castle walls right under her nose...

The redo of the cover piece for Amnesia. I woulda have put a title lettering on it, but went against it because of space, but also, thieves. I need my watermark there more than a text title. lol

The background I actually had done forever ago, but I didn't like it ultimately in the end and never used it. But it was meant to be a reading nook in Demiurge's castle. It'll probably go up for others to use on my Patreon (whenever I have the nerve to open it lol) and or Ko-fi.

Same for a XXX piece I did of these two months back but didn't post anywhere but in a discord server I'm in.

[enchantingepics]

Story Prompt 57

A figure lurked in the dim light, its silhouette shrouded in mystery. This figure was no hero; rather, it embraced the darkness, reveling in the power it wielded over those who dared to cross its path.

One fateful evening, as the moon cast its soft glow upon the landscape, the figure found itself drawn to a reflective surface—a mirror. Peering into its depths, the figure beheld a visage so captivating, it was as if time itself had stopped to admire its beauty.

"You are magnificent," the figure murmured, tracing the contours of its reflection with delicate fingers.

The figure became enamored with its own image, spending hours lost in the depths of the mirror, entranced by the allure of its own gaze.

As days turned into weeks, the figure's obsession grew, consuming its every waking moment. It spoke to its reflection as though it were a lover, whispering sweet nothings and professing undying devotion.

"You are the embodiment of perfection," the figure declared, its voice tinged with longing.

But as the figure's love for itself blossomed, so too did a darkness within. It became possessive, unable to bear the thought of sharing its beloved reflection with anyone else.

[untilyouremember]

Nanase-san's Crazy Love Obsession

Available digitally (included in Mangamo subscription)

[aplaceformyshortstories]

Story #1

Title:Tangled Strings

Genre:Psychological Horror

TW:Abusive Relationship, mindfuck, emotional abuse, physical abuse,implied self-harm, isolation, twisted memories, toxic codependency, character death

Why is the world so dark? Why is it so cold? And why does everything hurt?

How long have I been here? Why am I chained up? What did I do wrong?

Am I alone? Have I been forgotten? Can someone please, please, HELP ME?

-

Every night, it’s the same nightmare. I’ve been locked away, chained up in some dark, dark room. I never know how long I’ve been there, or what led to my situation in the first place. All I know is what I feel. Trapped. Alone. Hurt.

It haunts me, even after I’ve woken up. My breathing is still heavy, and if I press my face into my pillow, it’s sure to be damp. I’ve been crying. Maybe I still am? I can’t tell if the wetness on my face is from tears already spilled, for if they’ve never stopped in the first place.

And then you’re here. You’ve always been here, but until this point, I’d been too busy drowning in my pain to realize it. But you’re here. My restless sleep must have woken you up.

“It’s alright,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around me and pulling me into your side, “You’re safe.”

Of course I am. It was just a nightmare, after all, and I had you now. To hold me, love me, and make me feel safe. And though, if push, I would’ve sworn I’d stay up the rest of the night, the comforting feeling of your arms around me was eventually enough to lull me back into sleep.

-

You’re here. Why are you here? DON’T TOUCH ME!

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re right. I deserve this. I don’t get to yell.

Please don’t go. I don’t want to be alone anymore. Please.

-

When I wake up this time, I’m alone. Bright sunlight is streaming through the window, and when I roll over, I can still feel a slight warmth on your side of the bed. I don’t have time to sulk. To process my dream.

Someone was there. That had never happened before. I’d been unable to see them, but I had felt them. Along with a new, stronger emotion. hat nightmare, beyond the fear that normally accompanied it, had an overarching feeling of guilt.

Maybe I would talk to you about it. I should talk to you about it. Holding onto these things myself would only hurt me in the long and run. And, that nightmare, and waking up with you gone, had left me feeling incredibly alone.

I didn’t like it. It hurt.

I needed to find you.

My first thought was the kitchen, obviously. Maybe you were just making breakfast. But once I’d walked downstairs from our room and to the kitchen, it had been empty. The same result had been achieved by checking in the living room, your office, and even when I went into the backyard.

When I looked out the front window, both of our cars wereI still in the driveway. That meant you had to be home somewhere. I called your name a few times, but received no answer.

Was this just another nightmare? Had my mind given up on torturing me in that cold, dark, lonely room, and had instead decided to make me believe you were gone? Could it be that I was simply still sleeping?

My mind seemed more clear than any dream I’d remembered having before. But the fear from the constant nightmares had caused me to question my situation.

Where were you?

I’m always safe, when I have you with me.

I needed you.

I don’t want to be alone.

I decided to head back up to our room. If this really was a nightmare, there seemed no clue that it would end soon. And if this was real, then maybe taking a moment to regroup might allow me to calm down. You were probably fine. I just need to calm down.

-

As I walk into the room, the floor underneath me seems to change. It’s stone-cold, and with my first step, a shock of icy fear erupts through me, and I freeze. Wasn’t our floor carpet? Even if it wasn’t, there was no way it was made of stone.

And why was it so dark in here? Hadn’t you left the curtains open? Hadn’t I woken up to sunlight pouring in?

Maybe I am really still dreaming.

I force myself to move, trying to get back out of the room. But I stumble, at least, I think I stumble. Maybe I was pushed? But no, no one else is here. Just me.

I feel myself hit the ground and-

-

You pushed me. I’m bleeding. Why do you hate me so much?

You keep telling me I deserve this. This is my fault. I make you do this.

But you don’t have to. You could let me go. You could kill me.

I don’t want to be alone, but when you’re here, everything always hurts worse.

-

“Come back to me.”

I hear the demand, feel your arms around me. When did you get here? Why are you holding me? I raised my hand to my forehead as it bloomed with unknown pain. I feel blood.

Did I fall?

“You tripped,” you say, “I found you passed out on the floor and bleeding.”

For some reason, I can’t speak, I can’t respond to you. But the fear I hear in your voice is so real. Even as I can feel the blood dripping down from my head, all I want to do is comfort you. “It was just a fall,” I want to say, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”

Your presence makes me feel safe. It is unacceptable that my pain would cause you distress. You don’t deserve this. You’re so good. You are safety, and love, and home.

I know I deserve this pain. You should know it too, then maybe you wouldn’t worry.

I deserve it.

In a second, with that thought, the world seems to shift again. I can barely keep my eyes open through the pain. But, when I manage to look up at you, I can’t see your face.

My heart begins to race as I notice I can’t feel your touch, either.

Are you even here?

Did you wake me up?

Why can’t feel you?

Come back.

Please, come back. I don’t want to be alone.

-

Alone. Alone. Alone.

It’s so dark. So cold. You’ve forgotten me again.

I know I don’t deserve you. I’ve hurt you so much. This is only fair.

How did I hurt you? I don’t remember.

It doesn’t matter. All that matters is what you’ve taught me, and the pain I feel.

You taught me that I deserve this.

-

It’s movie night. You’d picked some comedy you’d seen a million times, and I hadn’t argued, of course. We had a system, and it was your turn. Besides, I had the biggest headache, and would most likely fall asleep soon after the movie started.

The migraine had come out of nowhere. I could barely even look at the TV, the bright light making me feel like someone was driving a stake through my head.

Luckily, you didn’t take too long to return. You carried a big red bowl of popcorn, and I smiled at the knowledge that there would be M&Ms scattered throughout the movie snack. It was one of your favorites, something I’d never tried until I met you. I’d loved it, of course, and it had become a staple of our movie nights.

I cuddled up next to you and reached into the bowl to grab my own handful. Popping it into my mouth and chewing just louder than normal, trying to playfully annoy you. Sadly, you didn’t rise to the bait. Just rolled your eyes. I grinned, and ate a little more of the popcorn.

You’d cooked it just a little too long. The flavor was ever-so-slightly burned. I didn’t mind though, I was just grateful for the effort you’d put in. It wasn’t at all inedible, and I wasn’t about to complain. We only had stove top popcorn, and I’d almost burned down the house on multiple occasions. I didn’t exactly have the right to comment on your efforts.

“You weren’t going to say anything?” you asked, after having your own first bite. I looked at you, confused. Why would I have said anything? That would have been incredibly rude. And why did you sound so..angry?

It was just popcorn, after all.

“What, did you think I didn’t care enough to fix my mistakes?”

-

Am I asleep, or am I awake?

I don’t know anymore. This feels real.

These chains are real. The dried blood on my head is real.

But everything else feels real, too.

The love, the safety, the popcorn. You holding me.

When was the last time I was held?

-

“Why do you stay with me?” you ask, your head in my lap, looking up at me.

We’re outside, in the garden. For once, the weather is enjoyable enough for us to enjoy being outside. We’d had a picnic, the leftovers still scattered around us. We were too comfortable to take them back inside yet.

Ants would probably come soon, but right now, neither of us could find the energy to care. Why ruin such a good moment?

I think about your questions. There’s so many ways I could answer it, of course. And I recognize the tone in your voice. However you might try to hide the fact, after knowing you for as long as I have, I know you deeply care about how I answer it.

This is a test. I understand. You’ve been hurt by so many people. I’m supposed to be the one that was finally safe for you. I was supposed to be the one who saw all of your hurt, and stayed with you anyway. Sometimes you just needed the reminder that I really did love you. You couldn’t always believe it. I understood, and had learned to recognize those times.

“I’m broken,” you said, before I could answer, and there was that familiar self-degrading tone, “You deserve better,maybe you should just leave me. “

You did this too, a lot. I’d need both hands to count how many times you’d tried to tell me that I would be better off if we weren’t together. And then I’d convince you that wasn’t the case. How could I be better off without you? You were my person, my home. I needed you.

-

You’re taking the chains off.

This is new. What’re you going to do to me now?

What new punishment?

Yes, my hands are bleeding.Why do you care?

I deserve this, right?

I’m a monster.

You’ve done much worse than this to teach me that.

I’d think you’d be happy I was learning my lesson.

-

Why are we on the floor? Hadn’t we just been in the garden? Or..hadn’t I been in that nightmare dark?

My head was still bleeding.

“I think you have a concussion,” You say, and through blurry vision I can just barely make out your face, “You keep passing out. I need you to stay awake.”

You help pull me to my feet, and I sway, unsteady on my feet.

I need to stay awake. You need me to stay awake.

But I’m so tired. When did I get so tired? You wrap an arm around my waist to support me, and I lean into you. My head doing its best to lay on your shoulder, and my eyes keep trying to close.

I’m so tired. Everything hurts. I could just..sleep.

But then you’re shaking me. Yelling at me to stay awake. That it was too dangerous to fall asleep

I don’t think you’ve ever yelled at me before.

I want to give you what you want, I want to stay awake.

But I’m just so tired.

-

You’re shaking me. Why are you shaking me?

Everything hurts. Just leave me alone.

I can’t take any more pain.

I think-I think I’m dying.

You’re sorry? Why are you sorry?

I deserve this.

It was always going to end like this,wasn’t it?

I hurt you too much.

You had to hurt me, too.

It’s okay. I understand.

You made me understand.

But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be here.

I’m so cold.

You took the chains off, but everything still hurts so much,

Even free, I can barely move.

Maybe I was right. Maybe this is just a nightmare.

Maybe I’ll wake up, and we’ll be together.

And I won’t be a monster.

Maybe I won’t ruin it.

I won’t hurt you.

We could be safe.

We would feel loved.

We would be each other’s home.

-

“You’re going to be the death of me,” you said, with a laugh that reminded me of the sun. So warm, so lovely. It was one of my favorite things about you, that laugh. Your tone was playful, but it pulled at some string in my heart. Something about it was…wrong. But I didn’t want to say anything. We’d just started dating after all. I didn’t want to seem overly critical about something that was obviously just a joke.

You threw an arm around my shoulder, and I leaned in. You kissed the side of my head and I blushed.

“You’re adorable,” you said, “It’s too much to handle!” you were laughing again, and like it was contagious, I started laughing too. I didn’t get the joke, and I was embarrassed from having so easily been turned into a blushing mess. But if you were laughing, I couldn’t help myself. I laughed too.

It had always been like, even before we’d dated. If you were happy, I would be happy,too. When you were sad, or hurting, I would be too. That’s how we worked.

We’d already decided we were each other’s match. We were going to last, no matter what anyone else might have said.

Maybe you’re right. Maybe I would be the death of you, and you the death of me.

We’d always been so tangled together, it just made sense.

Hah.

It really was funny, wasn’t it?

[a-complex-joke]

Unraveling Secrets of Friendship and Corruption

MASTERLIST

Chapter 3

the next day she said nothing to me or the day after that or even the after that, she was the same as before, that's when you would see her most of the time she was either skipping or running around so fast you could barely tell it was her, save for the scent of mint and smoke she left.

And here I was still in disbelief over it all. What could have happened to make her so?

So…

A knock broke me from my thoughts.

I waited for someone else to open the door of my house, yet the knock continued to echo.

I stepped out of my bedroom, looking around the house was empty.

“Open the fucking door” a voice shouted across the metal plank.

“El, What are you doing here” Eleanor stood there, arms crossed, foot tapping, she had on thick sunglasses and her hair was down.

“First of all stop calling me that, only my close friends call me that and you're not even in the nearest realm to that, second we are gonna talk inside, I can’t have anyone seeing me, it was enough of a risk to even come here in the first place,” she said pushing past me.

“Umm ok… would you like something to drink?”

“No this isn’t a hang-out situation. listen as much as it sickens me to say this, I need your help.”  she sat down on the couch crossing her legs and slipping her sunglasses off.

“I've suspected that possible has been up to some shady shit even before what we saw the other day. And as much as I want to investigate this on my own, I can’t.”

“Wait are you seriously suggesting a conspiracy against the principle and asking my help? I have so many questions.

 what do you think she is up to?

Why me?

“How did you even get my address?”

I paced back and forth in the small section between the coffee table and the TV stand.

“To answer all your questions.

Embezzlement, and maybe a little identity theft.

You already saw the sketchy shit, and id rather not get my friends involved with this.

And to answer your final question, I have my resources and that's all you need to know”

“Why should I? The principal never even saw us to begin with, why don’t we just leave it alone?”

“Cause you owe it to me for ruining my life, call this my last big project before I graduate, sure that's a year away but procrastinating never gets people anywhere” She quickly stood to her feet.

Even though she was a good half-foot shorter than me she was still scary.

“R-ruined your life… ho-”

“It may have been an inconsequential event to you, but to me, it was the spark of it all. If you would have just fucking listened for once and come to the performance, I wouldn’t have been embarrassed like that, do you know how emotionally taxing it is to watch the video your family took of you. To have them zoom in on you trying so hard to not cry. I got stage fright, which made it to where I never got to or will try out for the plays with my friends.”

He glared up at me flaring her nostrils.

“Why did you even go up then you could have just stayed bad and no one would have known”

“Are you really trying to blame me, I was eight and didn’t want to get in trouble, it wasn’t even just that, I was dragged down by you and your creepy ass crush on me, I was second to most hated in that school, all because you wouldn’t chill the fuck out. You know I was the one teachers would go to, to deal with you, oh El will you watch Gabe on this field trip? will you be Gabe's partner for this?

I was so glad when you got home-schooled, but then you just had to come back a screw up my life again.”

So there it was, all out on the table of why he hated me so, all cause of some stupid schoolyard grudge

 She finally took in a breath after chewing me out.

“So maybe make yourself useful to ME at least once, here’s my contact info, but don’t get your thong in a knot it’s just the number for a burner phone” She walked out leaving me to process everything.

[crypticpawpoems]

Clutching at Embers

There was a girl who didn’t care for human life

She found humanity fickle and ignorant of the reality of the world

She felt no empathy

Even when she tried to, she fell short of the expected reaction

She could stand in the face of death and not be mortified

In fact, she enjoyed it

The graveyards brought her peace and a sense of serenity

It was the only place she felt she truly belonged

She could live in rotted history and feel her friends only six feet away

Sometimes, she pretended she was one of them, rising from the tomb

Yet, she did not wish to die

She was the only one of her kind

And she had been persecuted for it

Tortured

Chastised

Forced to hide, to play along

And renewed by its vigor time and time again

She would walk against the wind, hair whipping in the gale

And hope someone would notice the warrior in her resolve

Everyone she had let close failed her, but she kept seeking

She took comfort in Death as her companion

One night, she saw a stranger on the sidewalk

What looked like a boy stood still in the middle of the walk

Others walked around him, blind to his passive retaliation

He was staring at her, of that she was certain

Curiosity led her to trail him through a passage of alleys

He was never too far out of sight, knowing full well of her pursuit

She came to an opening of cobblestone, buildings of brick on all sides

The boy had disappeared

Her spine snapped as she swiveled around and around

Maybe I missed something?

She became downtrodden and turned to leave

A force behind grabbed at her and pushed her against the wall with menace

She felt a cold steel at her throat, yet she did not flinch

There was no fear reflected in her eyes as she looked to what the gaslight illuminated

Here were the same eyes

Here was the same urge acted out that she had suppressed for as long as she could remember

Here, in the defined jaw and glistening irises of this boy, she found a recognition

She saw herself

The boy, in the slyness that lay in the corners of the lips and the sunken eyes of this girl, found a recognition he hadn’t thought possible

He saw himself

He could have killed her, but his grip on the blade loosened

She knew he could have killed her, but she did not resent him for it

Snow alighted from the black sheep’s wool above

And they both turned their gaze upward and released an icy breath

Two corpses walked the shadows that night

One to her mausoleum above the streets

The other, to watch her from his shallow grave below

The next day, they found the sunlight burned their skin

So, the boy reached for his knife and threw it into the sun

It ripped in two and withered into nothingness

The light hours were ever cloudy from then on

He watched her in the window all morning

Followed her all afternoon

And when night fell, they went to the graveyard

She got there second and heard whisperings from underground

Entering the vault above it, she silently went down the staircase within and found her roommate lying atop a stone coffin

She was still breathing, her mouth stitched shut with fishing wire

It was all I could find

The boy showed himself from the farthest corner

I know how much you wanted her to shut the fuck up

The girl smiled in gratitude and asked for pliers

I thought we might need them

She took pleasure in yanking every nail from its divot

I always hated the tap tap tapping

Then, the knife plunged into her heart, her thigh, her shoulder, her neck

All by the girl’s hand

I’ve loved the blood the most

The sigh of relief and exhilaration changed her, freed her

She was coated in her slick mess

The voyeur admired the beauty in every drop that landed on the alabaster skin

Run away with me

Two hours later, they were on a train to Nowhere, a cabin all to themselves

The blood hadn’t fully washed away and never would

He always found a drop now and then

The rickety rackety of the steam-power appealed to their better paranoia

They held each other the entire ride, cold and stiff cheeks pressing against the other

They could taste blood on their own tongues

On each other’s tongues

Metallic communion of the worthy

The window became foggy

I can’t tell if it’s from the heat of the train or the heat of the blood

The night grew into night, and then night again

They arrived in Nowhere, the greatest town the world has never seen

He took her by the hand and led her to the dust-ridden streets, the planked homes of old

They breathed in the dry, choking air and took pleasure in knowing that this tumbleweed road was as dead as they were

He took her to see a show

Feathers and corsets and frills and powdered faces dancing

Though none were as pale and fair as the girl

Do you want to see a real show now?

At the witching hour, they crept to the upper chambers

Creaking boards see them past a pounding bedframe

Not that one

Her cries of anguish and non-consent mark her for another

Ten doors down on the right just there

The face was sleeping, still in its powder

She had had no funds that night

The boy stood on the left, the girl on the right

Almost silently, he slit the strumpet’s throat

She woke only to open her eyes wide, then die as the font continued to flow

The door closed on its own in repulsion, to protect the world from the monsters

But as the divine crimson spewed forth from the slice

The boy and girl reveled in the world they had created

There was enough in the young harlot to fill up a sow ten times over

It seemed a never-ending fountain of life

Go ahead, touch

She reached her hand into the stream and was surrounded in a veil of boiling scarlet

I wish someday to cut you like that

She flushed, a thing that did not happen to her very often

Splattered with the sweet cerise, he drew near her in the waterfall

With utter assuredness and no doubt in his mind

He undid her once pristinely white bodice

Watching the red nectar drip down his face, she felt a draw of destiny

She let him take her to the blood-drenched sheets

[majunju]

"girlfriend" (more ab rielle here)

[author-a-holmes]

"I think he could make me worse" is a fantastic theme I really want to explore in a future project

"I could fix him" "I could make him worse" I think he could make me worse. Is this anything

[anneswritingnook]

Love the Way She Smiles...

Hello hello and welcome to this week’s Microfiction Monday, inspired by the prompt: to write a piece of micro fiction (300 words or less) from the POV of the stalker. This can be read alone or as a continuation of last week’s prompt. It also could be a romance, but reading between the lines, the cracks are starting to form… I wasn’t the kind of person to believe at first sight.  Infatuation,…

[thefailurecult]

[neyafromfrance95]

the fact that in trop canon, sauron is written with bearing in mind the fact that he LOVES galadriel??????? L O V E S HER???

imagine being galadriel knowing that the evil incarnate loves you? the abyss that she gazed into with hatred for so long gazed back into her with love!!!

and she is the only thing he is capable of loving? bc there is this cosmic connection between them that is just out of this world, metaphysical, entirely unique??? that they have their very beings bound to one another? that it's something much greater and of a higher essence than anything shallow and common? that they are the light and the dark fated to never unite but being eternally connected in a way that they are unable to with anyone else?

what are we even supposed to do with this information? how are we going to collectively ever be sane again???

THE love story of TV, i'm afraid.

[mellosdrawings]

Do you think in the N2 Squad, Jamil will just randomly get a burst of confidence and flirt with Leona and Vil, just for them to turn it around on him and he then gets so flustered he enters Caterpillar Mode™️ (pulls his hood over his face) for a solid hour?

I kept this one in my asks for a long time coz, while I thought it was a good ask and wanted to draw something for it, I am also plagued with the terrible curse of being both aromantic and autistic and struggling a lot with the very concept of ~*flirting*~

So first, gonna thank @aria-faye and @the-fab-fox for their insights and having the patience to explain to me the big strokes of flirting.

And now, I'm gonna quote aria-faye word for word cause he explained Jamil's flirting perfectly well in my opinion :

"I feel like Jamil is just... bad at flirting. He can tease and joke and all that, but when he's doing it with the intention of flirtation, i feel like he stumbles. His version of intentional flirting would probably be just... being overly straightforward. Saying what he's thinking for once."

"I feel like Jamil isn't very charismatic when it comes to flirting, so he isn't saying it [compliments] in any sort of way. Just pointing out a fact, which, to him, is flirting. Because it's not something he'd normally say aloud."

"Here's the thing: I think if they played the flirting game, and if Jamil said something intentionally over-the-top, teasing flirtatious, they [Leona and Vil] would match his energy and do it right back. BUT Jamil would be equipped to volley that back over and over. It's not flirtation that gets him. There's an element of disingenuous in flirting. It's all exaggerated, a bit untrue. It's an act - a mutually agreed-upon act that everyone in the group enjoys, but an act nonetheless. And Jamil is EXCELLENT at acts. He's no blushing flower when it comes to flirting. He would take that stuff all the way to bed if that's where it led him. But compliments? He has no idea how to take compliments. He has such a low opinion of himself for so long that he never learned. Compliments are what make him blush. Not flirting."

"Like, Leona could be like 'Damn Baby, what does that tongue do?' And Jamil would immediately respond by purring 'Come here and find out.' But Leona being like 'You look beautiful today' would have Jamil like "Oh, um. *blushes, pulls hood over his head* Thanks, I guess.'"

"I think something else that would get him flustered is physical affection. Like he gets all hyped up to shakily hold their hands, and they immediately respond by kissing his cheeks and being sweet to him. That would make him blushy too."

"Flirting is basically just manipulation. Jamil knows how to do that. He's really good at that. It might surprise him at first, but if he's the one initiating, he wouldn't do it unless he knew exactly what he was doing. Flirting for real is kind of fake. A teasing dance you do to get to a more intimate set of behaviors. And Jamil is great at this kind of thing. There are a thousand ways to make him blushy if he's not initiating. But if he's initiating, that implies a level of confidence, so the options for making him blushy circles right back around to honesty."

"Leona and Vil flirt by antagonising each other, so it might take them a second to realize that whenever Jamil drops an Honesty Bomb on them like this and speaks plainly, he's flirting. But once they know, Jamil will never know peace again, because they turn it right back on him and compliment him honestly until he's curled up and hiding in his hood and begging them to stop."

(Yes we had a very long discussion about it x))

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HOW DEEP IS YOUR DEVOTION? ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank you to @/teddybeartoji for having the biggest brain in the galaxy and infecting me with this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading you can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise an unimpressed brow. satoru steps back, inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when that makes you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“... fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily. his chest is heaving, lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire. ”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

“… do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing. enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)