#Pride forced to surrender | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yikimiki · 6 months

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>> bones and ashes

⚔️ sukuna x fem!reader | warnings for: violence, mentions of death, possessiveness (sukuna is as evil as they come so basically every red flag under the sun), non-con that turns into dub-con (Stockholm syndrome), mentions of virginity loss, anatomically impossible size difference (if u know what I mean), blood play, etc | around 5-6k words | also important to note that I absolutely assassinated the canon lore in some points but bare with me

Sukuna doesn’t really have the ability to love. But he thinks he gets close enough when it comes to you. Of course, in his own twisted, macabre way.

Sukuna isn’t familiar to the concept of fondness, let alone anything more profound or meaningful than that. He knows want, desire, possession, curiosity even. But none of those feelings have ever tilted towards the side of affection, nor does he want them to. They’re all narcissistic pulses that keep pushing him forward — towards more power, more control, more of what he can become. He’s not even fond of his own abilities. Arrogant? Perhaps, but not fond. He can’t be fond of something he knows is not at its peak yet, that would just be weakness.

And Sukuna is everything but weak.

He sees you in a cold winter morning and he does what he knows best: he takes. Takes your pride, your virginity, your blood. Takes you like he took the lives of the rest of your village, paints your skin red and watches as the tears wash it away. Sukuna takes and takes until you have nothing left to give, just like he has done countless times before and yet… this time, something switches.

This time, he decides to let you live. Trapped in a dark cell, of course, but alive regardless.

The days move slowly, and you learn to mark their passing by the loud, clanking sound of a metal dish being thrown through a cracked door. The food is mostly raw meet and, after a few days of disgust, you cave in and eat a little of it. Not enough to be satisfied, not even close, but enough to keep you alive for at least a few hours longer.

Sukuna comes by in irregular intervals, and you soon give up on trying to find a pattern in his visits. You know it’s him from the way the door creaks open even further to accommodate his size, and you watch as his large shadow observes your movements for a moment before he kicks the disgusting plate towards you. Most of time time he’s there, you force yourself to eat, afraid of what should come if you turn down his unspoken commands. Once he seems satisfied, he exits without a word.

There is one single advantage in being in a windowless, isolated cell: you can’t hear what goes on up there. You’ve heard enough the day that Sukuna came to your village — the shattering screams, the pleads for mercy, the babies crying, the sound of wood and bone breaking almost too similar to differentiate. You saw creatures beyond your realm and heard awful whispers and threats; held you family as they died and gave up as the snow beneath your hands became as red as the burning sky above. And you know enough about Sukuna’s legend to be aware that it wasn’t an isolated incident.

When evil incarnate arrives, there’s not much you can do but surrender.

Though, when it comes to the legends, you thought that his palace was more of a manner of speak than an actual location. Once again, though, you’ve heard enough legends to know when to stop inquiring about the details.

Sukuna comes in after a week with a plan and a cloud of amusement over his head — frankly, given the state you were in, he thought you would be dead by now. Your stubborn hold on life is as impressive as it is pathetic.

“You looked so small when I first saw you,” his thunderous voice breaks the silence. There’s no food in his hands this time, only the fire cracking behind his form. You’re sitting down on the cold floor, back against the wall, and you don’t even bother looking up at him. “You look even smaller now.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t know what to say. Of course you’re smaller — you’re weak, starving, lacking movement and sunlight. Every muscle in your body aches and the aftertaste of dried blood never leaves your mouth. Smaller is a compliment; you wish you were just bones and ashes by now.

Sukuna takes a heavy step inside the dark chamber. “I killed everyone you’ve ever loved that day,” he says, bluntly. There’s no amusement nor sorrow in his tone — it’s a neutral statement. He lowers himself to your level and, on the corner of your eyes, you see his four arms. He is so wrong, even in a physical sense. Like the scar of something that shouldn’t even exist. “And yet… you live. Do you want to know why?”

You sneer. “I wish you’d just let me die.”

He chuckles, and one hand meets the side of your head. His fingers dig into the dirty, messy strings and pulls on the roots. There are tears on the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let him see them. “That’s exactly why you’re alive,” he says. “I knew you were ready to die when I saw you — all bloodied up, on your knees in the snow. It was quite a sight.” Sukuna’s voice is a malicious whisper as he comes even closer to you — he smells rotten. The tongue that licks up your cheek makes you want to puke. He tastes you the same way as he did on the first day, and you have no idea what he’s searching for. “Tell me, why were you so ready to give yourself to me? Most try to plead at least.”

“Plead for what? Your mercy?” The sarcasm is clear through your tone. The words you mean to say are knotted in the base of your throat and the odor Sukuna reeks is making you dizzy; making you remember everything that came before this. “I— I didn’t have anything else to live for,” you stutter. “You killed… you killed my mother, my father, my baby brother… why would I want to live without them? Why would I humiliate myself asking for mercy from a creature that clearly doesn’t have any to spare?”

Through anger, you look up at him. His eyes are flames bursting through the darkness, and they shine as your words settle on his skin. “Do you only live for love, my little dove?” He asks. “What a purposeless life you have.”

“Do you only live for hate?” You ask back before you can hold your tongue. Somewhere in your mind, you know that he’s capable of unimaginable evil, but you are beyond the point of caution. “What a purposeless legacy you’re leaving behind.”

This angers him. The corners of his mouth twists as he speaks. “You people fear me. Even the strongest of sorcerers doesn’t dare to go against me.”

“I pity you and your ridiculous need for destroying what isn’t yours,” you spit. “And I hate you for keeping me alive. I hate you for everything you’ve done to me and to the people I love. And I hate that you even dare to come here and talk to me like I’m the smaller person for daring to care about something.”

The hands on your hair tighten and he pulls your face against his. Sukuna’s forehead is a furnace against yours, his eyes burn into your soul. “You little insect, I could kill you with a snap of my fingers if I wanted to.”

Your voice shakes but you say it regardless: “Do it, then, what are you waiting for?”

“No,” his answer is more cruel than death could ever be. And he knows that. “And you know why?”

“If you are keeping me alive to have your way with me, so be it, have it,” you say. The tears are obvious now. You wonder if he can smell how fearful you really are. “Violate me like you did before, I don’t care anymore, but just don’t keep me alive just to waste me away.”

His lips are touching yours now, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. Sukuna’s chest is heaving like he’s in the middle of a battle, his voice like a roar in your ears. “Then ask. For. My Mercy.”

“I w-would n-never…”

“Ask!” It’s a loud command that crashes against you like a wave. You sink like there is no adrenaline in your body to keep you afloat; the anger that moved you before is no longer within your reach.

The truth is clear: you’re human. He’s a curse — the king of curses, older than you could ever imagine; probably even more powerful than the legends you’ve heard. His eyes say that there are fates worse than death and you believe them. And maybe, just maybe, if you play by his rules, he’ll grow tired of you and let you wither away.

“P-Please,” you are sobbing now, tears falling down like a cascade. Sukuna licks them and hums in satisfaction, watching as you break apart into a mountain of hiccups and trembling limbs. “Please just… have mercy on me. I’ll do whatever you want just — please, stop torturing me like this.”

“Aw,” he coos. “Was that so hard?”

You want to say that yes, somehow, that took everything still left in you. You want to say that if he wanted to break your spirit, congratulations, he’s done it. But you don’t get the chance.

Sukuna kisses you with the same ferocity you expected, sharp teeth crashing against yours and tongue exploring your mouth with no prior warning. He groans as he tastes you — you, the blood in your food, the salt of your tears — and suddenly it’s all that he will ever crave again. You whimper against his lips as his two lower arms crawl up your thighs and hold onto your hips, pushing you against him as he stands up and presses you against the wall. You feel more caged now than you have felt these past few days.

“Silly little human,” he raps against your lips, then licks your cheek for more of your precious tears. He realizes how much he likes to make you cry. You wince and give out a little sob, which only makes him smile. Finally, his grip on your hair loosens. “What is my name?”

You blink, dumbfounded by the sudden question. “S-Sukuna…?”

He pouts. “Say it like you mean it or I won’t be so nice.”

“Sukuna,” you say more firmly this time.

“There we go, that’s a good girl,” he says. “See how things just work better when you don’t misbehave? Hm?”

You nod. He doesn’t like it. “Y-Yes, I see, I’m sorry.”

“Very good.” The hand that was on your hair moves to hold your face, and it’s so huge that you feel like it would crush your skull with one single movement. As the other two arms hold onto your thighs, the fourth limb squeezes your breast. “Now, this is what’s going to happen, my pretty little human,” Sukuna starts, “I will have my servants take you to my chambers. You will be washed, clothed, and taken care of. They will feed you proper human food this time, whichever it is that your heart desires. How does that sound?”

Sounds like a trap. “And, in return, what do I have to do for you?”

“What do I have to do for you…?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Sukuna,” you complete.

“There’s my perfect little girl,” he says. You hate that something inside you likes the praise. “You will have to wait for me there. Do whatever you prefer, but don’t leave my room. Any attempt at escaping or killing yourself will be futile, and I’ve already warned every single curse that your death will result in a much more dire future for them. So you will be brought back to me. And I promise I won’t be so nice.”

“I understand… Sukuna,” you correct yourself quickly. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

The hand on your breast squeezes tighter, and you bite your lip so you don’t complain. “I knew I was right when I brought you here, something made me spare you. Yet, I don’t know what it is just yet.”

Sukuna is a looming threat above you, his limbs trapping you, and his deep voice is like thunder about to break. You know why so many fear him — you fear him too. And the sooner you act like it, the sooner he’ll grow tired of you. Sooner he’ll realize he was wrong in bringing you into his fortress.

He smirks. “But I believe I’ll discover soon enough.”

- ⚔️ -

Sukuna’s chambers are as spacious and monstrous as himself — corners switching and adjusting like breathing flesh; furniture morphing into different shapes; the weird odor of something old; the feeling for something lurking. The large windows show a world between worlds; a reality that doesn’t seem right no matter how long you stare at it. His palace is in a dimension you can’t reach, and you give up on trying to understand it. If anything, the more you wonder about it, the more you shake under the weight of the sheer power it must take to keep it all existing like solid matter.

Your passage of time is morphed and unreliable, but you would guess that a couple weeks have passed by the time that you come to terms that, perhaps, Sukuna isn’t as easy to bore as you first expected. The fire in his eyes doesn’t seem to diminish as he sees you — if anything, his eagerness to have you all to himself only seems to expand — and the way he takes care of you makes you realize that he isn’t planning on letting you die anytime soon.

Life in his chambers is far more comfortable, you admit, but it’s a prison nonetheless. Still, you can’t say that you are mistreated. In his chambers, you are bathed and clothed, well-fed and pampered. You soon come back to your normal weight and the fatigue leaves your body; there is more space to move, more things to do. The curses that come to check on you seem to be strangely kind and human-like, though you know it’s out of fear and not out of worry, and they keep your mind occupied with several stories and legends as the days move on.

Sukuna is more absent than you would have imagined, conquering and killing as often as he can. When he finally comes to you he is clean, recently bathed, but you can still see he is fresh from a battle, some mindless corruption beyond the horizon that you would rather hear nothing about. There are shallow scars and deep cuts that heal unreasonably quickly; dried blood that hasn’t quite washed away and ashes beneath his fingernails.

You ask whose village he has attacked this time, but he says it doesn’t matter, because there are no survivors.

“I never leave any survivors,” he completes, kissing your forehead, “besides you, my little human.”

You don’t push beyond that information, but the feeling of being special, chosen, starts to blossom like a dangerous rose inside your chest. It stings and stings, but grows regardless, and you see yourself less able to fight against his possessive claims. You start to enjoy them. You start to wonder if life beyond those walls is worth fighting for when you seem to have everything you would ever wish for right here.

You can always tell when Sukuna is about to arrive in this world because the atmosphere switches into something darker, heavier. The air seems thicker and the clouds beyond your windows start to bleed into a deep shade of red. Sukuna returns with the apocalypse on his back, and, when he does, he uses your body as he pleases.

Like the room around you, there is constant change. Sometimes it hurts like hell; sometimes it’s pleasurable. Sometimes you wish it would just end and you end up crying in despair; sometimes you look at him like you might get used to feeling him inside of you. Some days, Sukuna is kinder, more patient, taking time to adjust you to his enormous size and even makes sure that you enjoy it before reaching his end; fucking you full of his cum until you can’t think of one single thing besides him. Other days, you know he is angry just by the way he walks through the door — and, in those days, you are left bleeding and bruised as he uses your body in every single way until he’s close enough to satisfied. That, on itself, can take a long, long time.

You realize that, during those violent days, he could use one of his curses to please himself, but he prefers to use you — because you bleed, you cry, and you suffer. As long as your pain exists, his interest is unwavering.

However, like everything else, you adapt, get used to it. Routine becomes familiar and you learn the tell-tale signs of his rancid mood; learn how to make it a little better and what things to avoid. You stop thinking about getting away — you don’t even have anywhere else to go — and start longing for his presence as he takes more time to come back home. Sukuna is warm, safe; next to him you know you are shielded from any harm. When he appears, no one dares to look or touch you, no one speaks until they are spoken to. Just by being in his gravitational pull, you are protected and no harm will ever come your way again.

Even if it hurts, you start hoping that he won’t get tired of you.

Sukuna, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how he feels about it all.

It’s not love — he has gone over that one a few hundred times already, has marked off every possible scenario and imagined every possible feeling, and he is sure it isn’t love. To be frank, he doesn’t even think he’s capable of it even if he wanted to, he sold his soul too long ago to even remember how normal humans love. But if it’s not love, it’s something similar — a kind of tenderness, fondness. He has a soft spot for you, to put it bluntly. Though not in the typical sense.

Sukuna adores you like a painter adores his favorite canvas; like an exotic bird in a cage — he adores you with possession, obsession, with the knowledge that you can’t ever get away from his grip. He is fond of you in a way that he would murder anyone who would even dare to touch what is his; but would never set you free. He can hurt you, he can tear you into pieces and build you to his liking. Sukuna can kiss you or bite you; hug or break you, but it’s because you’re his little pet and no one else’s.

He is fond of the way you bend for him; the way you look at him with sheer adoration in your eyes even after he has taken everything from you. He is fond of the way that only he could kill you; that your small life is in his hands and you thank him for it. Sukuna is fond of the way your tight little cunt stretches so wide to take his fat cock; lives for the little whimpers you give out and the tears that stain his satin sheets when he finally allows you to cum for him. If he could crawl inside your soul, he would. If he could take it and eat it and have you forever, he would.

He doesn’t know why he craves you so much, but he knows that nothing else gives him the same high anymore.

So he keeps you.

It’s a heavy stormy night when he comes back the next time, and his room is only illuminated by a few candles and the lightening from outside. You’re in his large bed, looking as small as that day in the snow, and there is a touch of worry in your eyes that he doesn’t miss. But he ignores it.

“Undress,” he commands.

You rush to do as he says, throwing the faint fabric over your head. It falls to the ground as Sukuna walks towards the bed, his massive weight making it dip under his knee as he leans closer to you.

“My pretty little doll,” Sukuna muses. “Missed me?”

He always asks that. And your answer is always the same.

“So much, Sukuna.”

It’s more honest every time.

He hums, satisfied, and smirks as he pushes your hair away from your face. “I have something to tell you, and I think you will like it,” Sukuna says. You look at him with wide eyes as he settles over you, his four arms caging your body as you lay down. The mouth on his stomach open and closes, a large tongue coming out before it vanishes again — it always does it when he’s particularly excited. “Would you like to know what it is?”

You know he will tell you regardless. Like all the tales of his battles, he lives for the glimpse of horror in the back of your eyes. “Yes, Sukuna.”

“Seems like you are famous now,” he starts. You furrow your eyebrows. “Sorcerers are trying to save you. The poor little human girl that Sukuna took as a prisoner months ago.” He kisses your neck, then licks the skin. You shiver — months, it has been months then. “Two of them tried to enter my domain today, stupid little insects,” he continues. Another hand lands on your exposed breast, playing with your nipple. “You have no idea how enraged that made me, my little human. To have someone try to take you away from me; to try and to enter my domain and take you from me.”

His voice turns into a growl by the end of the sentence, and you feel the familiar pulse of terror running through your veins. He’s in a bad mood, that’s obvious, but there’s something hiding beneath that as well.

“What did you do to them?” You ask. “Did they get in?”

Sukuna chuckles darkly, and the hand that was on your breast now settles on your clit, massaging it softly. “I took care of them, my sweet thing, of course,” he says. Your breath hitches at the slow pleasure of his movements, and your eyes flutter shut. “No one will ever take you from me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” you say without a thought. In your heart, you feel it’s wrong. But without him, you have nothing. “I’m yours forever, Sukuna.”

“I know you are,” he answers.

Sukuna holds you by the throat as he kisses you — not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you a little dizzy. Your eyes cross mindlessly as his tongue invades your mouth; a deep groan coming from his chest as he tastes your lips. He always kisses you violently, possessively, like he wishes to suck your soul out of your chest. Beneath his size you can only shrink and hold onto his large biceps, the wetness between your legs growing as he takes what is his.

He pulls back, ignoring the string of saliva that connects you two. “Pretty little thing,” he muses, shoving his middle finger inside your mouth. “Suck for me.”

You do as he says and he smirks at the feeling of your pretty lips around his large finger. Soon enough, the same digit is invading your pussy, curling up so quickly that you see starts at your peripheral vision.

“Relax or it’ll hurt again,” he says — not like he cares about it. “I want you to remember tonight.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I’ll make sure that you’ll be mine forever,” he says, a devilish smile on the corners of his lips. “So no one can take you from me. No one would even try.”

Your breath is getting heavier, and you don’t even register what he’s telling you — he could do a billion things to you and you’d still let him. The time spent only in his company made your resolution vanish, and you became exactly what he wanted you to: another possession for him to do as he pleases. Because of him, you have nothing else. Besides him, you have nothing.

“You’re not cumming around my finger tonight,” he says and quickly removes his hand from your cunt. You whine at the sudden emptiness, walls spasming around nothing, but you know better than to protest. “It’s going to be around my cock, you got it?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you say.

“Good girl,” he muses. His lower arms move to undo his pants as his mouth attacks yours once again. His sharp teeth drain blood from your lips and he groans at the metallic taste; drinks the little sob of pain you let out. “You’re all fucking mine. Forever,” he growls, “I’ll make you live forever with me.”

Months ago, that would be torture. But now, “It sounds like heaven, Sukuna,” you say. “I love you.”

Your vision falls to where his hands are working. His cock is massive, bigger than your forearm, balls swinging out of his shorts and falling heavy under his shaft. Your entire body tingles in anticipation as he strokes himself, aligning his cockhead with your opening. “Tiny fucking cunt,” he curses, rubbing it against your soaked folds. “I’ll train you to take my cock even better than now, kitten.” Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in and it hurts — no matter how many times you’ve taken him, it always burns. “Way too fucking tight for my fat cock, you know that?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll do better-“

He chuckles. “I fucking love it.”

In one strong motion, he shoves himself as deep as he can, pressing against your cervix as you whine at his size. It isn’t fair — it’s so thick you can’t even breathe, you can feel him in your stomach, pressing and pulsing until you can’t think of anything but the sheer size of his massive cock inside your poor little hole. Your walls hurt to accommodate his girth, stretching as far as they can, but it never seems like it’s enough.

“It’s t-too big, Sukuna,” you whine. And it is. You know he must be doing something to your body so you can even be alive right now, because it’s not humanly possible to take such a big cock. “I c-can’t…”

His hand lands on your head and pulls at the roots. “You are my special little human, my obedient little girl,” he reminds you. His cock throbs inside you and you whimper, the small movement alone makes you drool. “You will do anything I tell you to do.”

You nod. “Y-Yes.”

“So when I tell you to take it….” He rolls his hips even deeper and you call his name so loud that you’re sure the entire world will hear it. “You’ll fucking take it.”

You don’t even have the ability to answer as he starts to pound deep inside your soaked cunt, hard and violent, as he is. Your vision is blurry with tears as you look down to see his massive cock bullying itself again and again inside your cunt, taking everything you have to give.

“Look at me when I claim you,” Sukuna warns and you do it instantly. Your legs wrap around his hips and he squeezes your ass so hard it will bruise. There’s a malicious glint in his red eyes that never quite goes away, no matter how much he tries, and now it’s deadset on you. “My precious little girl,” he calls, voice strained with pleasure. You can tell from the way his cock throbs that he is close, but it doesn’t matter. He just keeps going. “You told me you love me. Do you only live for love, kitten?”

“I live f-for loving you, S-Sukuna,” you respond automatically. “I live for you.”

Sukuna groans like an animal — he adores what a stupid little fuckdoll he has turned you into. He can never get tired of this; he can never let it get away. “You’ll die for me, kitten?”

You nod so quickly you get dizzy. “Yes, a-anything… I’m yours f-forever.”

He calls your name like he has never done before, a little insane, a little sweet. If the sheer size of Sukuna’s genitals aren’t anything to go by, he cums a lot — it oozes out of your cunt before he’s even halfway through, cock throbbing and leaking again and again until you’re filled to the brim. His huge balls smack against your ass as he continues to bully himself inside you, a little more desperate now, intoxicated by his own pleasure.

There’s no rest, there never is. He only takes and takes.

“I’ll make you mine,” he groans.

“I’m yours, Sukuna, I’m yours…” you repeat like a broken record, half-aware of your own voice through the loud moans and hiccups. You watch in ecstasy as he uses one of his sharp nails to cut the palm of his hand, blood oozing out of it and dropping on your breasts. It’s like you know what he will say even before he says it. “You want me t-to-“

“Drink it.”

Perhaps you should be scared, but you’re not. Your mouth opens without a second thought and he presses his large palm on your lips, muffling your moans and allowing the hot dark liquid to invade your tongue. Sukuna’s blood is thick and it tastes like poison, but you do as he says, liking his flesh and drinking it until he seems satisfied and takes his hand away.

It strikes your body like an arrow, straight through your chest and expanding like deep roots. You feel as his blood burns your insides, changing something in your very existence. It’s hard to think through the sensations — the pleasure building up, the venom running through your veins, the mixture of devotion and fear that dances inside your mind. Your vision is double, black around the edges, and you think you might be cumming but you’re not sure you can even feel your body anymore. Sukuna’s voice echoes muffled in the background, and you can see his mouth moving in slow motion, but you don’t understand his words. You think you are crying. You think you can’t breathe. You think you are dying and being born at the same time and you don’t know why you feel so grateful for it all.

Your lungs are on fire and your throat is dry. You try to speak, but can’t. You have the vague flashback of the time your uncle made you drink alcohol, it burns just the same, but this time, no one is laughing. This time, you’re dying.

“… at me.”

This time, Sukuna’s voice rings sharp and clear. You stare at him, confused, as the flames inside your chest slowly subside.

“Keep looking at me,” he repeats, commanding.

You try to nod, but your head doesn’t move. You can’t see the room around you anymore. “H-Hurts,” you manage to get out.

“I know,” he says, and there’s a touch of softness in his voice you don’t ignore. “Focus on me. I’ll make it feel better.”

And that’s what you try to do, even if your soul seems to be floating miles above your body. You look down at where he is still moving in and out of you, at the white-coated mess that drips from your hole and soaks your inner thighs. It doesn’t seem to hurt as badly now, like your body is changing to accommodate him even better — in fact, it feels like heaven.

You look up at him, dumbfounded. “I t-think I’m going to cum, Sukuna,” the words come easier now, and you feel like you can move again. Though, it still feels like a dream. “It’s so g-good.”

“Cum on my fat cock, then, make me proud,” he coos. You close your eyes and nod, trying to focus on the paradise that blooms between your legs. You feel every ridge and vein of his massive cock; hear the lewd squelching sounds of his cum leaking out of you. It comes to you faster than you would have imagined, washing through your body like a wave as you cry and shake miserably. “That’s my girl, fuck, there we go, that’s my perfect little girl.”

The spasming of your walls manages to milk more cum out of him and he groans loudly as he releases inside you once more. Sukuna cums so much it makes you breathless, filling you again and again until he’s satisfied and the sheets beneath you have no salvation left.

“There we go, take everything,” he says in a strained groan, “every fucking drop inside this tight fucking cunt.”

Sukuna looks absolutely insane above you — fucking his cock so hard into you that it seems like he will never have the chance again; eyes blown wide and his teeth clenched. You cum again, this time a little softer, as you feel his thick cock shoot a specially large amount of cum inside your pussy, and wait until he’s done using your body.

Eventually, he settles, pressing his forehead against yours and looking deep inside your eyes. The redness in them is shining like flames, watching every movement of your face.

“Feels weird,” you say. “I feel dizzy.”

He chuckles and removes himself from you. Another white-hot wave gushes out of your cunt, and he sits back to watch it drip. “There we go, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You swallow, your tongue is still numb inside your mouth. “It was horrible, Sukuna. I felt like I was going to die.”

Sukuna smiles and uses two fingers to push some of his cum back inside you. “I can promise you it was better than when I did,” he says, and you’re confused for a moment. “But now we don’t have anything to worry about anymore, my sweet thing. Those pathetic little sorcerers won’t want you.”

“H-How are you so sure?” You ask.

“Aw, my sweet, stupid little girl.” He pouts, condescending as always. “No one will want to save a curse now.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you…?”

“I told you.” Sukuna licks his own blood at the corner of your mouth. “You are mine forever.”

#sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jujutsu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #ryomen sukuna #smut #jjk smut

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frantic-fiction · 5 months

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I'll Find My Way Back to You

(Can't find source of pic if it's yours let me know)

Astarion x GN!Reader

Prompt: A century after Tav passes Astarion comes across an artist who is oddly familiar and paints moments that seemed to be pulled straight from Astarion's life.

Thank you to @justporo for letting me use their idea. Go show them some love.

Warnings: Tav's death, brief mention of s*icide, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 4.6k (Oops kinda went overboard)

Masterlist

“There’s no world I wish to live in without you,”

“My dear Astarion, we will find our way back to each other. This is not the end.”

Over a century has passed—a long, lonely century without Tav by his side. Astarion doesn’t understand how he��s endured, not with the void in his chest that appeared the moment he laid them to rest. The absence of his person, his love, his Tav, has left Astarion once again alone.

For nearly a decade, he found himself trapped in a state of near-catatonia, a prisoner of time within their empty home. He wasted away, the days blending into one another, each marked by a silent ache in his chest—the void left by Tav’s departure. Tears soaked into the earth of the carefully tended grave, adorned with vibrant flowers from Tav’s garden. He often contemplated surrendering to the sun’s embrace, letting its rays turn his existence to ash for a semblance of peace.

He yearned to end the pain, yet he refrained. He made a promise whispered with heavy hearts and painful sobs—a promise that forced them to confront the harsh reality that Tav would always leave first. Instead of embracing the end, Astarion wasted away, a ghost of his former self, yearning for the return of his love. Change arrived when Tav visited him in a dream; the details were blurry, but Tav’s beautiful smile was etched in memory. The sweet words in that dream eluded him, yet upon waking, a faint lightness settled within him. Astarion graced the night with a flicker of energy for the first time since Tav’s passing.

Tav would have wished for him to move on. They would have wanted him to live. The stagnant life he clung to wasn’t what Tav would want for him. So that day, Astarion gathered his essentials into a bag and set forth as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. Only momentarily stopping to bid his love a final, tearful farewell. Since that moment, he hasn’t stopped moving.

Astarion believed Tav would take pride in the life he’s built—the good he’s accomplished over the many years. He traversed all over Faerun, from Waterdeep to Skull Crag, never lingering in one place for too long. He wasn’t the hero Tav was, but he aided towns against monsters, dispatched goblins, and took odd jobs to help however he could. Throughout his travels, he dedicated most of his time to sharing stories of Tav, ensuring their memory lived on. When he first heard the bards’ songs recounting the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, he knew he had succeeded. Now, you can’t sit in a tavern without hearing tales and melodies about Tav.

Every day, he longed for Tav to be by his side. He yearned to feel their soft skin, experience their tender kisses, and sense their warm arms encircling his waist—the echo of their laughter dancing in his ears. He missed every aspect of Tav and would do anything to see them again. Yet, the world ran out of miracles for him. Instead, he learned with time to cope, to come to terms with their absence, and keep them close to his heart.

***

Astarion traverses the dusty cobblestone of Wyrm’s Crossing and finds himself back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate—a city he’s consciously avoided for most of the century. It’s a place drenched in memories from his past life with Cazador, but mostly, the streets seem to be haunted by the presence of Tav.

His return to Baldur’s Gate remains shrouded in mystery. All he can discern is that he awoke one day in Daggerford, gripped by an inexplicable yearning to revisit the city. A compelling force tugging him down the Sword Coast, Astarion initially dismissed it as mere homesickness, scoffing at the notion. Yet, the persistent thought lingered, infesting his mind until he could no longer ignore the instinct to return.

The city remains strikingly unaltered despite the passage of time and the trials it endured. The same piss-stained cobblestone, alleyways cluttered with remnants of urban life, and a diverse array of inhabitants navigating the night. It’s an unsettling constant, especially juxtaposed against the transformation of Astarion’s existence.

Wandering through the back alleys and side streets, Astarion meanders aimlessly. Occasionally, a sight triggers memories, evoking a lump in his throat. The Elfsong Tavern, once familiar, now bears a different name and identity, a formal establishment concealing the echoes of nights spent in Tav’s comforting embrace. Bloomride Park, the graveyard, and the docks—all weave together, painting a vivid tapestry of Tav’s omnipresence.

Amidst the tumult of emotions, Astarion grapples with why he subjected himself to this emotional turmoil. The urge to retreat, to flee Baldur’s Gate before the dawn breaks, lingers within him. Yet, the itch persists, buried deep within his bones, propelling him forward. He silently promises himself the night to wander the city, and by this time tomorrow, he will be on his way to another town for another adventure.

Venturing into a dim, isolated street, Astarion observes a solitary lamplight spilling its soft glow from a store window. Peering through, he discovers a small art studio. Within, a graceful elf seems to dance with a paintbrush, each stroke deliberate yet flowing. Like a harpie song, Astarion is mesmerized and utterly captivated. He watches on silently, observing the elves happily consumed with their work. It gives him a wave of nostalgia, moments of watching Tav as they painted, unaware he was watching from the door. Astarion could almost hear the sweet hums that filled the room between brush strokes.

Then he freezes, gaze snapping to the paintings that adorn the studio, scattered reflections of his life. Images of Karlach, Shadowheart, and all the others grace the space. However, it’s the depictions of himself that seize his breath. Compelled by an unseen force, Astarion walks right into the studio. In a far corner, he sees an intimate portrayal—an embrace that resonates with familiarity.

The bell rings, and you break from your artistic trance. Startled, you look up, and there stands the pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves. Startled, you look up, and there stands a pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves.

The dreams began as mere fragments—white curls, sharp teeth, delicate hands. Gradually, they evolved into more vivid scenes—muffled conversations by a campfire, laughter and gentle shoves, and stolen kisses between bed sheets—private moments of a stranger, a byproduct of an active imagination intertwined with an elven crush. Or at least that was what your mother would say. Now, the subject of those dreams stands before you.

Astarion, surrounded by the art that mirrors his life, fixates on a miniature portrait. The details are hazy, yet he recalls the campfire, the desperation in his gaze, and a significant confession followed by an embrace.

You pick up a fallen brush with a trembling hand, placing it in a water cup. Asterion was just as breathtakingly beautiful as your dream portrayed, but to see him in person has your heart hammering in your chest and your breath quickening with nerves. Wiping paint-covered hands on your smock, you took a deep breath and gathered the courage to approach Astarion.

Staring at the portrait, you utter quietly, “This one’s my favorite. Though I wish I could have captured the others’ images better.”

“Tav.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The person you painted. My partner Tav, they used to paint too,” Astarion’s voice carries the weight of unspoken emotions.

“Oh, yes. They were the leader of your group, if I remember correctly. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Astarion remains silent, the canvas now a source of unbearable memories. He moves through the studio, examining the art up close. It’s weird to have your muse perusing around your gallery. It’s embarrassing to have Astarion see just how many pieces have been dedicated to him. What do you do at this point? Should you follow him, tell him about each piece and the dreams behind them? No, that seems pretentious, so you retreat to the canvas you’ve been working on for the better part of the week.

This piece was different—a symbol rather than a person or scene. Rings of unknown runes fan out in jagged edges, evoking a sense of beauty tinged with profound sadness. It disturbed you to your core, but you needed to paint it. It’s how it always goes. Once a dream pops into your head, whether it’s a scene, a person, or a symbol, it refuses to leave until you’ve laid it on a canvas. Picking up the brush, you dip it back into the red paint and continue to bolden the lines.

“Who are you?” Astarion’s voice is right behind you; you jump, knocking a pot of paint over. Cursing softly, you quickly right the pot, attempting to salvage the spilled paint. Paint isn’t cheap, and in your non-upper-class circumstances, every drop is precious.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I have been very rude,” you offer your name. “I, of course, already know you, Astarion. It’s hard not to come across the tales of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, but I guess—” Your rambling trails off pathetically as something changes in Astarion. There’s tension in his shoulders, a coldness in his eyes. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously play with a loose thread on the smock.

Astarion scrutinizes you with a piercing gaze, his eyes lingering on your face as if searching for hidden truths. The air becomes taut, charged with an almost palpable intensity. Then, as if propelled by an unseen force, he reacts like a tightly wound rubber band snapping. Reaching out, he harshly pulls you to him, bearing his teeth at you. Your stomach drops, shocked by the aggression.

“Have you been following me? Stalking me?” His voice carries a storm of anger, his grip on your shoulders unyielding, the coldness of his touch akin to ice piercing through the fabric of your being. “Don’t lie to me because I’ve shown one person that fucking scar, and I buried them.”

Your heart races, fear coursing through your veins as you whimper a response, tears welling up in your eyes. “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t lie!”

“Please, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know; I have dreams; I don’t know why, b-but I dream of you,” your voice falters, and your vulnerability is laid bare. “I dream of you, your friends, and places I’ve never been. I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I promise.”

As abruptly as his hands seized you, they vanished, leaving you stumbling to your knees, unable to contain the torrent of tears streaming down your face. Curling in on yourself, you can’t stop the cries of apologies and promises of never picking up a brush again, of burning every last piece in the room.

Astarion looks down at you, his expression shifting from anger to a complex amalgamation of horror and something else—perhaps realization. Stepping away, he leaves you rooted to the spot. Your gaze fixed blankly out the window. Odd and conflicting emotions swirl within you—fear, confusion, longing?—all clashing fiercely. Amidst the tumult, one thought emerges with undeniable clarity—this won’t be the last time you see Astarion.

Astarion’s breaths come in ragged gasps as he runs through the barren streets, escaping the grasp of the haunting memories that threaten to consume him. His thoughts are a raging storm, and he pays no heed to the bewildered faces of those he rudely pushes past. The town of Rivington is a blur as he sprints through it, a desperate escape, picking a direction and refusing to stop until his body aches, halting only when the sun begins its ascent above the horizon.

In his frantic need to run, there was no consideration for shelter from the sun’s relentless rays. Mercifully, he stumbles upon an abandoned cave. Dry, dusty, and shrouded in darkness, it becomes his refuge. In a corner, he sinks slowly against the cool, rough wall to the ground, seeking solace in the obscurity.

Astarion pulls his knee to his chest, pressing his forehead against his crossed arms. Shaking and shivering, a stark contrast to the bitter summer heat enveloping the cave, he clings to his vulnerability. Eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, fingernails dig deep into his arms as if attempting to anchor himself in the reality that threatens to crumble around him.

Desperation claws at him, and he yearns for Tav. The desire to feel Tav’s warm embrace, hands crossing over his chest, pulling him close, torments him. He longs for the soft whispers of love and the gentle press of lips. Astarion can’t navigate this without Tav. He’s a mess, barely holding on, living each agonizing day, acutely aware that the best part of him is gone, and he can do nothing to reclaim it.

The cruelty of encountering such intimate moments from his past life with Tav wounds him deeply. These were moments meant for him and Tav alone. Realizing that a stranger could capture those cherished memories intended for one person alone turns his stomach.

Anger becomes a conduit for his overwhelming emotions, and the terrified look on the artist’s face is etched in his mind, an indelible scar on his conscience. Shame burns within him, a searing reminder of the boundaries he violated. Physically assaulting someone in their own space—what would Tav think of him now?

The artist adds another layer to Astarion’s confusion. The familiarity is uncanny—the excited calf raises, the almost-stumbles afterward, the nervous lip biting, puffed cheeks during deep concentration, and the mindless dancing when no one is watching. Every little thing the artist did mirrored Tav, and with all his memories physically displayed, Asterion finds himself lost in a sea of confusion. Why does this stranger resemble his love so deeply?

The bards’ tales of soulmates and reincarnation, once dismissed as mere children’s stories and fiction, now claw at the edges of Astarion’s consciousness. What if? What if Tav found their way back to him? Weirder things have happened in his long life, and the possibility plants a seed of hope within him.

Yet, he forcefully suppresses that hope. It won’t serve him, not now. Instead, he resolves to learn more. By nightfall, he returns to the city, catching the first boat to Waterdeep. After a day and some change, he stands outside the Wizards’ tower, resentment simmering as he contemplates turning to Gale, his best chance at answers.

A groan escapes Astarion as he hangs his head, and a series of knocks echo on the thick wooden door. “This better be worth it…”

The door swings open on its own into a dimly lit foyer. Astarion follows a familiar path, the cool air and faint scent of ancient tomes embracing him. He ascends the staircase with nostalgia and reluctance, each step echoing the countless times Tav and himself sought knowledge and assistance within these walls.

As he pushes open the study door, a scene unfolds before him. Gale is hunched over a worn scroll, graying hair ruffled, and a small pair of reading glasses set on the tip of his nose. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, creating an intimate ambiance. Notes adorn the margins, evidence of Gale’s ceaseless quest for understanding.

Gale looks up, a broad, warm smile gracing his features, and Astarion is momentarily transported back to the times when this sage was only a joke he poked fun at across camp. Removing his reading glasses, Gale pushes up from his desk, an air of welcoming familiarity enveloping the room.

“Well, look who the tressym dragged in. How are you, Astarion?”

Astarion stiffens as he is pulled into a spontaneous hug by Gale. The embrace is both unexpected and oddly comforting, a physical manifestation of the genuine camaraderie they’ve shared through the years. Astarion, unaccustomed to such displays of affection, awkwardly pats Gale’s back before gently pulling away.

“I’m afraid I’ve been better.”

Gale’s eyes convey concern and understanding as he gestures for Astarion to sit. The worn chair creaks under the weight of memories and the weightier burden of Astarion’s troubled soul.

“Then sit down, my friend, and tell me how I can help.”

***

Days of tireless research and a network of favors exchanged between magical acquaintances have led them to a glimmer of hope. Though not expansive, the discovery hints at the possibility that souls entwined so tightly may have a magnetic pull toward each other. A pull is so strong that souls can find each other in different lifetimes. Tales have described soulmates experiencing memories from previous lifetimes together, but they were vague at best. The specific remains elusive, shrouded in mystery, yet it’s enough to kindle a spark of hope within Astarion’s lonely heart.

Gale, ever the bore, offers a gentle reminder, “Now, just remember, if you try to force feelings before—”

“I would never!” Astarion’s retort carries a venomous edge, an unspoken warning to watch his following words carefully. Gale raises his hands in defense.

“My point is the brain is a prickly thing. It’s best not to rush anything it’s not ready for.”

“Yes, yes, you have said this five times already. Would you please activate the portal? I have an apology to make.”

Anticipation hums in the air, a palpable energy that courses through Astarion. A fleeting smile graces his lips, and for a moment, the weight of his grief is replaced by a glimmer of life.

Looking at Astarion with a fondness born of shared trials, Gale responds, “Of course, Astarion.”

With a confident shake of his wrist, he activates the magical circle, and the room is bathed in a radiant glow of bright runes, their purple luminescence dancing in the semi-darkness.

Astarion steps toward the portal, his heart pulsating with trepidation and newfound hope. However, before crossing the threshold, he turns around to face Gale, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Gale. I will not forget this.”

“It was my pleasure. Now, I expect to meet this lovely artist sooner rather than later.” Gale’s parting words hang in the air, infused with the hope of rekindling a connection beyond the realms of understanding.

Back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion swiftly navigated the bustling streets, an air of anticipation accompanying him. His purpose was clear—to reach your studio and beg for your forgiveness. A brief pause along the way allowed him to acquire a small bundle of daisies, a spontaneous choice fueled by the memory of Tav’s fondness for these delicate blooms.

As Astarion approached the studio, a surge of uncertainty clawed at him. Hesitation gripped his every step, the shadow of fear etched across his features. The fear in your eyes during the last encounter was seared into his memory. Had his previous outburst irreparably damaged any chance of reconciliation? The conflicting forces of his desire to see you again and the instinct to flee wrestled within him. Yet, he pressed forward, forcing himself down the street, and there you stood.

The scene that greeted him was a chaotic masterpiece of colors. Paint adorned your cheeks and arms, a testament to the artistic fervor that consumed you. Your hair, a cascade of untamed strands, framed a face that mirrored both exhaustion and creative passion. Astarion had a sudden urge to brush the strands away and press a soft kiss to your cheek, something he often did with Tav.

Your weariness was palpable—shoulders slumped, eyes half-lidded. Perhaps, he pondered, he should postpone this encounter, allowing you the reprieve of rest. The realization that he might be the last person you wanted to see compelled Astarion to take a step back, an unspoken retreat.

But just as he moved to leave, your eyes jumped up to meet his, you froze mid-stroke, and Astarion couldn’t read your expression. He should go. Why did he think this was a good idea? He’s just about to run when you nod for him to come in. Obliging, Astarion found himself standing awkwardly within the studio; you went back to painting. Your brush danced across the canvas, applying a vibrant shade of blue in deliberate strokes. Astarion’s attempts to break the silence faltered, his words dissolving into the room’s stillness.

“What are you doing here, Astarion?” The steadiness in your voice pierced the calm. You tried to hold on to your anger for the man all week. But upon seeing him standing so lost on the street had your resolve crumbling. You can’t deny the mild excitement that fluttered through your veins upon seeing him again.

His voice, momentarily lost, found its way back. “I-I came here to apologize for last week. My behavior was deplorable, and I wish to make things right.”

A wry amusement flickered in your eyes as you evaluated the bouquet, now slightly worse for wear under his tight grip. “And you believe a bundle of broken daisies would win you my forgiveness?”

Astarion, caught off guard, looked down at the bruised bouquet. “Um…well, I was hoping for roses, but they were fresh out.”

A snort escaped you as you put down your paintbrush and approached him. A tentative touch on his forearm transferred the flowers from his grasp to yours, eliciting a shiver down his spine. The longing to reach out is strong, but Astarion holds still as you retreat.

Intently studying the daisies, you began to divide the bundle into two piles. Astarion watched silently, recognizing echoes of Tav’s essence reflected in your actions. While understanding that you were not Tav, the profound sorrow gripping his heart seemed to ease in your presence.

“Half,” you declared suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Half of the daisies survived.”

“And where does that leave us?”

With a theatrical flair, you pondered the question, pacing the room. “That, good sir, is the question. What is my forgiveness worth? I did luck out; daisies are my favorite, so you’re a step farther than roses would have gotten you.”

Astarion, grasping the playful undertone, decided to play along. With a hand on his hips and a wicked smirk, he responded, “Well, I am a pretty lucky man. Now, please, I beg, what more can I do to gain your forgiveness?”

You hummed softly, tapping your chin. You keep Astarion in suspense for a moment before you suddenly turn to the man. “How about…I get dressed, you take me out to dinner, and we’ll go from there?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” The agreement hung in the air, a hope for something more lingering.

***

The dinner evolved into an evening stroll, a seamless transition from pleasant chatter to playful banter. It was an unexpected evening, but the time spent with Astarion was so easy, so familiar you didn’t want it to end. Reading about the saviors of Baldur’s Gate was intriguing, and dreaming of a vampiric elf held its allure, but nothing compared to the tangible presence of the real Astarion.

Astarion embodied the epitome of perfection – handsome, intelligent, and endowed with a wit that had you giggling all night. He was the quintessential gentleman, the embodiment of every mother’s hopeful wish for their child.

What started as a single date quickly snowballed into a series of enchanting encounters – one date led to two, then five, until you found yourself drawn into his orbit every week. The pace was exhilarating, and being around Astarion felt like being charged with an electric current. It was not just addictive; it was a whirlwind of happiness, and you couldn’t help but revel in it.

If one indulged in whimsical tales, the idea that Astarion might be your soulmate would have crossed your mind. His ability to read you so intimately sometimes felt like he delved into the depths of your mind.

The dreams persisted, evolving into a kaleidoscope of memories that intertwined your moments with Astarion and a phantom era where someone else shared his company. Astarion, at times, would cast glances at you as you transferred another dream to canvas, an anticipation lingering in his eyes. Despite his attempts, he couldn’t veil the disappointment when the visions resulted in nothing more than another painting adorning the wall.

Then, it occurred on a serene spring day, three years since Astarion first entered your studio. The sun had yet to set, and you found solace curled up with Astarion. Limbs tangled, chests pressed together, hands intertwined – a tableau of intimate connection. His cold nose nestled against the crook of your neck, his white curls playfully tickling your nose.

Behind your closed eyelids, soft images of a forest clearing unfolded – Astarion shirtless, beckoning you towards him. Something clicked, and suddenly, the foreign memories that greeted you each night became a mosaic of your own experiences. The floodgates opened, overwhelming you with a lifetime of moments – kisses beneath the stars, laughter resonating around a campfire, and heart-stopping close calls with death.

Astarion often spoke of Tav, a robust and kind soul who played a pivotal role in shaping him. He wouldn’t be who he is today without them. You now knew a bit better; yes, you had nudged him along the way, but his growth was his own, and you couldn’t be more proud. To think of the years he spent without you, the grief he must have had to push through. If the roles were reversed, you don’t believe you would have been strong enough to keep going.

Startled from his slumber, Astarion found your body descending upon his, your hand meeting his chest with firm slaps. “Stop you, little gremlin.” Groggily, he attempted to restrain you in a tender embrace. He was met with your swift departure from his lap. He heard the patter of your feet retreating from the bed.

“You are a bastard, Astarion!”

Fully alert and by your side instantly, “What did I do, my sweet?”

Worry etched into every crease of his face as he cupped your jaw, looking frantically into your eyes. You intertwined your fingers with his, your other hand reaching out to caress the skin of his hip. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Astarion scrutinized your face, his eyes delving deep into yours. The faintest furrow of his brows betrayed his thoughts. As if following an unspoken script, he pulled you in by the waist, foreheads gently meeting.

Glistening with unshed tears, Astarion whispered, “You remember?” His voice trembled.

“Yes… maybe it’s all still tangled. But yes, I remember Tav – well, I remember us.”

Astarion’s smile widened, his fangs peeking out, and his lips met yours in a heated kiss spinning the two of you around the room. It was a slow dance of lips as if Astarion had all the time in the cosmos to savor this moment. While you could quickly lose yourself in the embrace, you were privy to all his subtle tricks. You turned your face when he attempted to draw you back into the kiss.

“Gods, Astarion, for three years, you knew and never said anything. I’ve painted you for almost as long as I could wield a brush, and for three years, you knew why!” Another slap graced his chest, and tears trickled down your cheeks, eagerly wiped away by his thumbs.

“I wanted to, my love. The moment I realized I wanted to. But this couldn’t be rushed; you can’t rush the mind.”

“Star, I’m so sorry I took so long,”

“No, stop; you took as long as you needed to return to me.” His forehead rests against yours once more, and the room stands still for a moment. “What matters is you’re here, in my arms, and I’m not letting go anytime soon.”

A choked sob mingled with a chuckle, and you nuzzled closer into Astarion, hiding your face into his neck. “Gods, I love you, Astarion.”

“And I love you.”

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Okay loves, let me know what you think. I've been working on this for over a week and still find some sections I'm not all that happy with, but I want to move on to other pieces. Any and every interaction makes my day.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #reader insert #astarion imagine #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #fanfic #writing #soulmates #soulmate au #reincarnation #frantic fiction

999 notes · View notes

uzurakis · 13 hours

Note

could you maybe write when reader throws an engagement / promise ring at jjk characters (please include gojo) during an argument? i love your work btw😩🙏

PROMISE? BROKEN!

featuring: gojo satoru. nanami kento. fushiguro megumi. choso kamo.

n. thankchu for liking my works, it means a ton to me nonnie XD u ask and i shall deliver !

the tension in the room was thick and neither of you seemed willing to back down. voices raised, accusations flew, and frustration mounted. finally, in a fit of anger and hurt, you yanked off your engagement ring and threw it across the room. it landed with a small clink on the floor, the sound echoing in the sudden silence that followed.

GOJO SATORU. gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he was speechless. then, in the midst of that, one irritatingly smug lips played on his face as he tried to lighten the mood. "wow, you’ve got quite the arm," he joked, he literally. just. joked.

his tone playful despite the situation. "maybe you should try out for the baseball team." you glared at him, intensely, still fuming. "this isn’t a joke, satoru!"

still joking around, held up his hands in mock surrender, stepping closer to you. "hey, i get it. you’re mad. but throwing jewelry? that's a new one, baby.” he teased, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

you crossed your arms, trying to maintain your anger. "i’m serious, satoru. this isn’t something you can just laugh off."

he sighed, his expression softening as he reached out to gently take your hands in his. "i know, i know," he said, his voice more serious now as he picked up your ring from the floor. "but you know me. i joke when i’m nervous. and right now, seeing you this upset makes me really nervous. i might piss my pants already, really..”

hesitating, you slowly took the ring from him, the anger starting to melt away. "you really know how to defuse a situation, don’t you?"

the guy grinned, that familiar, mischievous spark returning to him. "it’s one of my many talents. besides, i can’t let my very beautiful fiancée stay mad at me forever, can i?"

NANAMI KENTO. although nanami's body moved briefly, his expression stayed calm and composed. he took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his emotions in check. “alright,” he said, steady as ever. “let’s pick up the ring and sit down to talk.”

“kento, this isn’t something we can just sit down and talk about like it’s a business meeting.” you weren’t dealing with his cool demeanor.

nanami exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “i know you’re upset, sweetheart. i beg you to not throw our ring again. let’s approach this rationally.”

“you always want to be so practical about everything. sometimes, i need more than just rationality…” you complained.

the guy walked over to where the ring had fallen, bending down to pick it up. he held it out to you, expression sincere. “sweetheart, i understand that and i need you to calm down. but we can’t resolve this if we’re not willing to communicate properly.”

“i just… i feel like you’re not listening to me.” reluctantly, you took the ring from his hand, your pent up starting to wane.

he nodded, eyes meeting yours with genuine concern. “i’m listening. i promise. let’s sit down and talk about this. i want to understand what you’re feeling.”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. “really?” he said, voice low and simmering with resentment. his sharp, green eyes were narrowed and those dark eyebrows were furrowed in frustration, casting a slight shadow over his eyes, which were usually so composed. “you’re just going to throw away the ring?”

you glared at him, your chest heaving with the force of your emotions. “you’re not listening to me, fushiguro megumi! you never listen!”

“oh, i’m listening, alright. you think this is helping? throwing our engagement ring?” he scoffed, jaw clenching, muscles tight as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

you felt a wave of regret wash over you, but your pride wouldn’t let you back down. “maybe it’s the only way to get through to you.”

megumi clenched his jaw for the nth time, maybe holding back other words to keep them from lashing out. taking a deep breath as he tried to rein in his anger. “you know what? fine. if that’s how you feel, maybe we both need to cool off.”

he turned away, clearly struggling to keep his composure. the silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. after a few minutes, he took another deep breath and turned back to face you, his expression softer but still strained. “look, i don’t want to fight like this. throwing the ring… it hurt, alright? but let’s not make things worse.”

you looked down, feeling the sting of guilt. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that.”

the man sighed, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “yeah, well, it’s not exactly something you can just take back. but i get it. you’re frustrated. so am i.”

CHOSO KAMO. “no, baby, please,” he pleaded, voice breaking as his heart sank deeper. it felt like time slowed down, the metal glinting in the light before it hit the floor with a dull thud. he moved towards the ring, expression a jumble of desperation and panic. “don’t do this, please.”

you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, at that moment you knew you did such a wrong thing. choso reached the ring and picked it up, clutching it tightly in his hand as if it were a lifeline. “i’m sorry,” he said, turning back to you whilst trembling. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean for it to get this bad. please, let’s talk about this.”

the sight of your fiancée, normally so strong and positive, looking so vulnerable tugged at your heart. “choso, i…”

he took a step closer, holding out the ring to you. “i love you,” he said, being earnest. “i don’t want to lose you over this. can we just sit down and talk? please?”

his genuine remorse washed over you, crawling under your skin. “okay,” you agreed softly, your anger beginning to melt away. “let’s talk.”

choso let out a breath of relief and carefully slipped the ring back onto your finger, “thank you.”

@uzurakis

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teamatsumu · 7 months

Text

kinktober 2023 -> day 29

brat taming - kita shinsuke x reader

word count: 681

warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing, slight degradation, domination, kita being hella assertive

kinktober masterlist

Kita Shinsuke had a code.

He lived his life a certain way. A strict routine, repetition, a schedule he adhered to. There was a reason he was so meticulous in everything he did. He held himself to a high standard, and he expected that his actions would reflect said standard.

He also held you to a standard, and when you decided that you wanted to be a brat, he was more than willing to put you in your place and remind you how things need to be.

“Help me understand,” he murmured, voice almost inaudible due to your loud pants and whimpers. “What was going on in your head? What were you planning to achieve?”

You struggled in his grip again, though it was in vain considering the iron hold Kita’s arm had around your waist. His body served as your wall, steady and unwavering, holding you against him, your poor legs flailing on either side of his waist, trying and failing to squirm away from the rough fingers plunging in and out of you. Tears ran down your cheeks, the stimulation bordering on painful, yet Kita didn’t relent.

Everything about this was deliberate, as expected from someone like Kita. All the lights were on, a cool breeze was blowing in from the open window, covering your naked body with goosebumps. Kita was fully clothed, of course on purpose, making sure you felt that slight twinge of humiliation, a payback for how he had felt in front of his friends because you had been teasing him all night, leaving him with a very noticeable boner.

“And ya still won’t apologize.” He continued talking. “I’m surprised. See, I was sure ya knew better, sweetheart. Was sure I had taught ya better. I don’t tolerate bad behavior.”

You only continued to twitch and jerk, focused solely on the thick, calloused fingers moving inside you, burying knuckle-deep only to pull out, scraping your walls as he did, digging back in and hitting your g-spot until you cried out. It repeated, over and over, and you knew it wouldn’t stop. Not until you surrendered to him, until you apologized and admitted you were wrong. Kita had no problem continuing this constant torture, balancing you on the very edge but not letting you go over. And you didn’t know how long you could hold on to your stubborn refusal to give in to him.

“S-Shin…” You choked out, head lolling on his shoulder, hands fisting in his no longer well-ironed button up shirt.

“Hm?”

But you bit your tongue, feeling your useless pride stop you from apologizing. Kita sighed.

“Brat.”

He pulled his fingers out, drawing his hand back only to bring it forward with full force until it landed on your pussy with a resounding smack. You yelped, whole body jerking but once again unable to move away. Two more spanks followed until you were screaming, and then Kita buried his fingers in you once more.

“Now,” he began. “Wanna try that again?”

You weeped into his shoulder, a wet spot forming on the cloth there. It didn’t matter though, since his pants were already embarrassingly soaked by your juices.

“I’m sorry.” You gave in, wanting so badly to cum that you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Say it again.”

“I’m sorry.” You spoke louder this time.

“Again.”

And you kept going, even as Kita’s fingers sped up and even as he pushed you to orgasm, your mouth blabbering over and over how sorry you were as you shook and released all over his hand, as you rubbed your naked chest against his and rode your high. Broken sobs of the word were still spilling from your lips as Kita laid you down, finally shedding his own clothes and nudging the tip of his cock against your wet, abused hole.

“What don’t I tolerate, sweetheart?” His lips brushed your ear, cock entering you inch by slow inch.

“B-bad behavior.” You managed to choke out, jaw dropping at the stretch his dick brought, despite being fingered into oblivion mere seconds ago. Kita hummed in approval.

“Good girl.”

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

#kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x y/n #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke smut #kita smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyu smut #hq fanfic #kita x reader #kinktober

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sycamoregirlsworld · 4 months

Text

I Can See You- L. Castellan

“what would you do if i went to touch you now?” -Taylor Swift

Luke x Fem! reader

slightly mature? idk

Early morning training wasn’t something many campers enjoyed doing.

Most of the kids at camp would much prefer staying in their cabins until the very last minute. Wrapped in their covers until they just had to go to training.

Luke and (Y/n) we’re not those people. Well— it was more like they couldn’t be those people.

Their sparring sometimes got a bit… competitive. Too many campers had complained about it, so the pair decided that they would start to spar early in the morning.

It’s not like they were complaining. Being alone provided a better environment for them.

“Gods, Luke.” (Y/n) breathed out as she was forced onto defense, blocking his jabs with her twin swords.

Sweat glistened on their foreheads as they clashed blades, the metallic echoes filling the air. Luke's brown eyes never left (Y/n)’s form, enamored with the way she fought.

While his fighting style was quick and agressive, she fought gracefully and her moves were calculated.

“C’mon sweetheart, is this all you’ve got?” Luke teased as he attempted to strike her arm.

“Fuck off, Luke.” She grunted and parried his strike.

She had always been a bit too competitive, and it got even worse when it came to Luke.

He winked before swinging his sword towards her, the steel side of backbiter unknowingly facing her.

Catching the silver gleam of the steel, (Y/n) quickly dropped and rolled under his legs.

“Steel side is out, stupid.” She huffed and kicked the back of his knees.

Luke grunted as he stumbled forward. He caught his balance and whipped around to glare at her.

“That was a cheap move, babe.” He breathed out.

Before she could blink, Luke had thrusted his sword out (this time making sure the steel was not facing her) effectively catching her off guard.

(Y/N) stumbled backward, her swords falling out of her hands. Her heart pounding, and not just from the shock of the move but also from the Luke way look was looking at her.

She found herself on the ground, the force the the disarm sending her sprawling. Luke crouched next to her, his eyes now a mix of pride and something deeper.

Unable to break eye contact, Luke lifted (Y/N)'s chin with the tip of his sword, their faces inches apart. (Y/N) bit her lip as she looked up at him, her eyes wide and her breathing unsteady.

The cold metal of his sword should’ve made her scared, if he moved it a bit it could’ve pierced her skin, but instead all (Y/N) could think about was the fact that if she moved her face just a bit her lips would’ve been on his…

The tension hung thick in the air, their faces were both flushed from their sweat and close proximity.

"I could have defeated you," (Y/N) teased, her voice a mix of challenge and vulnerability.

Luke's lips curved into a half-smile, "Maybe, but where's the fun in that?"

His hand reached up and grabbed a fistful of her hair, tugging her head back slightly.

“You look hot like this.” He mumbled, his sword still under her chin.

(Y/n) averted her gaze from him, her face burning brighter.

“You’re such a perv.” She chewed at her bottom lip.

Luke nudged her chin with his sword softly. “Look at me, pretty girl.” He pouted playfully.

Luke discarded his sword with a clatter, his urgency evident as he pulled (Y/n) onto his lap, their lips colliding in a fervent, heated kiss.

With one hand tangled in her hair and the other gripping her waist possessively, he drew her closer, igniting an ache within her. (Y/n) gasped softly, before surrendering to the kiss.

She threaded her fingers through his tousled brown locks and tugged softly, eliciting a soft moan from him.

Luke's kiss was rough, and the lingering scent of his sweat heightened her desire.

With a yearning for more, she instinctively began to move against him, seeking the friction she so desperately craved— until a sudden realization pulled her back to reality.

"Luke—" Her voice faltered as their eyes met, his pretty, brown eyes were half-lidded and intoxicated with desire. His tousled hair and flushed cheeks, saliva-slicked lips only fueled her longing. "We can't... we're still on the training grounds..." She hesitated, torn between restraint and the burning need coursing through her veins.

"So what?" Luke's husky voice sent shivers down her spine as his hands began to explore beneath her shirt, his touch setting her ablaze with desire. “It’s still early.”

Glancing around, she considered their surroundings. It was early, and the ache between her legs had gone unattended for weeks…

"Fuck it," she muttered, her resolve crumbling as she pushed Luke down, surrendering to the intoxicating allure of their forbidden passion.

This was why they trained early.

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo series #pjo tv show #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #aesthetic

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tr34sure · 4 months

Text

Do it for me || Jeong Yunho

Pairing: Bigdick!Yunho x small fem!reader

Warnings: Big dick Yunho, the nicknames (pretty girl, Tiny), dirty talk, Dacryphilia, praise.

@wooyoungmybelovedhusband @yourfatherlucifer

At first it hurt your pride when Yunho told his friends that you couldn't take him. You had to admit that he was right, although he never made you feel bad about it. He understood that you were pretty small and couldn't handle his size. He even took your feelings into consideration when he told his friends, being respectful of your boundaries and desires.

However, after the conversation you decided to challenge him needlessly, just to prove that you could take him. You were aware that you lacked experience but were determined to push yourself to the maximum and surprise him.

He was quite impressed with your boldness and determination in challenging him, in which he ended up accepting your proposal.

Yet when the day came, you were quite nervous. The anticipation was growing higher and higher and you felt like this was either the best or worst idea you've ever had. You tried your best to block out your worry and fear and focus on the present moment.

“You ready, pretty girl?” He asks with a sly smile on his face. You can only nod in response.

He positioned himself at your entrance, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of impatience and fear. His cock, already hard and thick, pressed against your opening, teasing you with its size.

You bit your lip nervously as he began to push slowly inside you. The feeling of his cockhead pushing against your tight hole was both painful and exhilarating. You let out a loud moan as he breached your barrier, feeling him stretching out your tiny hole. continuing to push slowly, inch by agonizing inch, filling you up with his thick length.

The pain of your hole stretching out still trying to accommodate him is already enough to make you want to tap out.

“Fuck- Tiny feel so good.” Yunho throws his head back with a deep moan, his mouth slightly open as his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Soon enough with the initial discomfort gradually fading you squeeze his arm to signal him that can begin moving.

As he begins his slow thrusts inside of you, the pain is intense. You feel your insides being stretched and torn by his enormous cock. You grit your teeth, determined to endure this just for the sake of the challenge.

“Doing so well for me, pretty girl.”

you grip the sheets tightly. trying your best to desperately hold back the cries that want to escape only for it to miserably fail in the end.

You gasp for air as the intensity of his movements increases. Your body feels like it’s on the verge of shattering.

“Yuyu I can’t handle it.” The tears are now flowing freely down your cheeks, and you’re sobbing uncontrollably at the pain and the slight pleasure.

“I know Tiny, I know, but take it for me I thought you said you could show me you can.”

The bed creaked under the force of your bodies clashing and the air was thick with desire. Your screams of pain slowly turned into screams pleasure as you couldn't help but feel every inch of him filling you up. The sensation was overwhelming and mind-numbing, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You wrapped your legs around him urging him to go harder, faster.

Your nails dug into his back leaving tiny red marks as a testament to the intensity of your desire. He growled low in his throat matching your rhythm as he took you with a force that left no doubt about his possession of you.

“M’feel so good.” Your screams echoed through the room as you cried out in pure bliss from the pleasure. Yunho quickly covered your mouth with his hand, muffling the sounds. His face buried deep in your neck as he continued to thrust into you, his breathing heavy and labored. The feeling of being silenced only seemed to heighten the intensity of the experience for you.

Your body was completely surrendered to his every movement, every thrust. It felt like an unending wave of ecstasy washing over you. Your eyes were rolled back in your head, and your lips were parted as you let out a series of high-pitched moans and cries that filled the his hand.

“So fucking pretty when you cry like this Tiny.” You felt his warm breath against your skin as he whispered.

feeling the intense pleasure building up inside you, you gasped and warned him, "Yuyu... I'm going to cum!.”

“Come on Tiny, cum for me.”

Pushing yourself to the limit, feeling Yunho's cock pulsing inside you, you knew you were both getting close to your climax. Your body shuddered as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You felt your insides clenching around him, signalling your impending orgasm.

Yunho's thrusts grew harder and faster, his voice deep and guttural as he too neared his release. With one final thrust, Yunho's hips jerked forward, his seed filling you up as he cried out his release.

#kpop blog #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kpop story #ateez smut #jeong yunho #ateez

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dark-and-kawaii · 6 months

Note

Did you see Rolan and his bruised face because of that prick of a wizard 😡 I would give him all the loving so he knows how much he’s loved after

༺ 𝒜𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 ༻

Rolan

Note: I didn’t see it my first playthrough because he got clapped °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ;)՞° oopsy!!! However I did see it my next run and it was so heartbreaking to witness ˙◠˙

Summary: Once Lorrokan is dead you decide to show Rolan just how much he’s appreciated.

NSFW - Comfort - Rolan Deserves All The Love

Rolan's eyes went wide as you gave him a push, "What're-" Who knew that pushing Rolan down onto the scattered pillows in Ramazith's tower would be so satisfying? "I already told you it's nothing for you to worry about! I'm quite fine!" As he sank into the plushness of the pillows, Rolan attempted to push himself up from the floor, but you weren't going to let that happen. Oh no, not after discovering the pain he endured under Lorroakan. His bruised cheek served as a painful reminder, and you refused to let this man, your tiefling, go unappreciated.

Straddling his lap, you pressed down on his chest, causing his back to hit the pillows again. "Just relax, my sweet Rolan," you whispered in a sensual voice, grinding your hips into him. Leaning down, you pressed your lips against his battered cheek, tracing it with your tongue. A groan escaping your lips as you felt his hips shift.

Rolan grabbed your arms, attempting to sit up, but you used all your strength to keep him pinned beneath you. "Rolan, please... Let me take care of you." You bit his neck, grinding into his clothed groin, your pace quickening.

Rolan's stuttering voice was so beautiful, you just loved how flustered he got so easily, "Th-this isn't the time nor place!" Looking over, his eyes catch sight of his deceased abuser, still fresh. It felt so wrong for him to be laying beneath you while there was still fresh blood on the carpet just a few feet from him... But with your lips on his neck, your hips rocking against his, damns he hated how feeble you made him, "This is wrong".

You felt a sense of pride as you gradually got him to relax. Beneath you, Rolan's face flushed, one hand trying to cover his face but you could see his breath coming from his lips. He looked so gorgeous, a mess beneath you.

Driving back onto his cock, you felt it swell within you, knowing Rolan was on the edge of orgasm.

"R-Rolan!" Your moans grew louder with each forceful thrust. It wasn't just the girth, but the length of his cock that made you moan. You could feel it hitting your cervix with every thrust or when you slammed back down onto him.

"Hng-!" Rolan's voice was barely audible, sweet noises escaping him as he struggled to hold back his orgasm, his hand loosely covering his face still, an attempt to hide what he considers his indecent expressions, "N-not- ah- not inside you!"

Your face flushed a deep red, your nails trailing down his chest. "P-please, I'll do an-anything! C-cum inside me, Rolan! Please!" Your belly starts to tighten, you can feel yourself ever so close to that sweet release. Each bounce causing a gush of slick to escape your cunt while your toes curl.

The need for release consumed you both. Rolan's resistance wavered as his resolve weakened, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his veins. His breathing ragged as he surrendered to the intoxicating sensations. With a low growl and a flick of his tail, Rolan finally gave in to his urges. His body tensing, and you could feel him pulsating within you, his hot seed spilling deep into your waiting depths.

A mix of moans and cries filled the room as sweet release washed over you both. Waves of pleasure crashed through your bodies, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear, but you enjoyed every second of it, your bodies locked in a passionate embrace.

As the euphoria subsided, you collapsed onto the pillows beside Rolan, your bodies entwined and covered in a sheen of sweat. The room was filled with the heady scent of sex and the blood from before the moment.

Breathing heavily, you turned to look at Rolan, his face still a deeper red than his own skin, there was a small pool of drool in the corner of hip lips, his eyes shut while he sucks air into his lungs. In that moment, you knew that you had given him the release he so desperately needed, knew that you made him feel like the only man in the world, and you were grateful to have been able to provide him with such pleasure.

#bg3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan baldur's gate 3 #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #bg3 smut

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vivalabunbun · 1 year

Text

Overdue Books and Ghost Stories

Summary: If the scholars at the Akademiya are so smart, why can’t they remember a few due dates?

Word Count: 6.4K

Tags: Alhaithamx GN! Reader, Shy! Reader (you hate eye contact), Librarian! Reader, Fluff, SFW, attempts at humor, pure fluff, written before 3.6 so Alhaitham is still acting grand sage, slowish burn?, Akademiya setting, slight mutual pining, Sumeru boys drive the librarian insane, especially a certain gray-haired bookworm.

Authors note: I just wanted something light-hearted and fun to write as a reward for getting stuff done. Shy people who force themselves to be responsible and hate eye contact unite! Enjoy!

He’s being followed.

Alhaitham can feel the fleeting presence lingering just a few seconds behind him.

The warm late afternoon breeze caressing through his grey locks, his cape trailing behind, and belt clattering with each fluid step. Teal-orange eyes faced forward towards the hectic stall-lined streets, but his attention was focused on the ghost that trails him from behind.

Every merge into the crowded pathways lined with vendors, every sharp turn down hidden allies, every street he circles back on, the traces linger like a dream fleeting from the memories of deep sleep.

He can’t allow a ghost to accompany him home, lest it decides to haunt the house.

Alhaitham had wasted enough time walking in aimless circles, if he can’t throw off the ghost, he concludes he must exorcise it.

Long legs pivot into an alley confined by stone walls and empty of shouting merchants and haggling shoppers. One, two, three slow strides towards the pale dead end that faced him.

“I know you’re there. Might as well stop with the games.”

Ghosts don’t exist outside tales told to innocent children to keep them tucked tightly under the covers. However, the iniquitous villains that terrorize the plot do, and they’re known as humans.

Were they going to fight or flee?

The presence behind Alhaitham finally materialized into something more than a fleeting dream. He glanced over his shoulder, hand ready to summon his sword. Behind him stood an unassuming figure, with no sensible ill intentions, their hands up as a sign of surrender.

Eyes adverted elsewhere like a child caught trying to sneak one more piece of candied Ajilenakh Nut.

The viridescent robe that enveloped your figure paired with the matching barrette, there’s no mistaking your identity. Another scholar from the Akademiya, great.

With power comes prestige, two notions Alhaitham couldn’t care less for. He was more than satisfied as a simple Scribe filing away applications in the archives away from searching eyes.

Those days were a luxury stolen from him by the title of “Acting Grand Sage”.

Now it wasn’t an uncommon sight for some researcher to come floundering through the crowded halls of the institution towards the ashen-haired man. From time to time there would be the bold student, agglutinating to his side with their wasted attempts at a conversation.

With great power comes great inconveniences.

Inconveniences that unabashedly believed their polite smiles could divert his teal gaze away from the insincerity. That offering a cup of coffee along with a rehearsed elevator pitch could sow the seeds of a superficial bridge.

One where they’d walk across with forms awaiting a signature along dotted lines or a towards a potential high seat at the Akademiya.

Their desire for this absent bridge coerced them to shallow down their pride, spurring this fruitless endeavor despite the Acting Grand Sage’s indifference and unreturned interest in small talk.

First, he was pressured into taking a position he didn’t want, then he became the target of people’s irrelevant aspirations, and most damning of it all even his privacy’s being invaded. To put it frankly, Alhaitham’s tired of it all.

Surely, it couldn’t take this long for the great institution of wisdom to select another leader, when can he finally stop this sham act?

“I’m off the clock, come find me on the next working day.” He’d prefer it if you didn’t.

The frigidness of his words with their thinly veiled politeness didn’t cause a single muscle of yours to budge.

“The Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium has been overdue for 6 weeks now, please return it to the House of Daena immediately.” A hand extended out in front of you, open and expecting.

No introduction, no chivalrous greeting, no frivolous small talk. Alhaitham certainly wasn’t expecting this from the strange ghost that stalked him.

Oh, so that’s where your eyes were. Honing in solely on the book currently clutched by his hip. One of the many books he signed out of the House Daena on a whim, simple academic works to stimulate his mind during the respite between busybodies and paperwork.

One he then promptly cast to the side by the beckoning of a journal from the restricted access collection. Only after a pile of files was removed from his desk that his eyes rediscovered the title.

“I understand, I shall promptly return it by the end of the next work day.”

“No, a student has requested this title for a week now, after they’re done with it, you may sign it out again.” Voice firm and steady as you gestured for the book to be returned to your hand.

No. An unfamiliar word spoken in a tone now foreign to the towering man.

His keen eyes observed your homogeneous uniform of standard greens and gold, you must be a regular librarian employed by the Akademiya. The Akademiya currently under his jurisdiction.

How bold of you, or has this job already drained you of all sense of self-preservation?

Regardless, your statement wasn’t without merit. The Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium doesn’t belong to him, and who was he to inconvenience a standard employee this Wednesday afternoon?

It wouldn’t serve him any benefit to be in the ire of a librarian, Alhaitham concludes it would be wise to just surrender the book. So he relinquished it.

From your pocket, your other hand produced a slip of parchment.

“Here is the late fee, please address the payment to the House of Daena by next Wednesday.”

Instead of offering the Acting Grand Sage a cup of coffee, you offered him a fine in exchange for confiscating his book.

With a slight bow, the ghost was exorcised, ambling back into the busy streets of Sumeru City until your back disappears from his teal eyes.

Alhaitham was left with no introduction, no coffee, and no book to spend the evening with. Even still, his mind has found something else to ponder about to pass the time.

Alhaitham slowly rejoins the buzzing city streets, the chattering voices carried by the cool breeze that rustled his cape and made his ash locks brush his cheeks.

‘How refreshing,’ he thought.

When the current Acting Grand Sage of the Akademiya was announced most people never heard his name before. Have they ever shared a class together? Were they ever in a group research project together? How could someone so brilliant escape the eyes of eager upstarts?

They could’ve had a prominent headstart in their careers if they’d built those bridges all those years back.

To be fair, you would’ve fallen into the clueless demographic as well. Were the two of you in the same graduating class? If your job didn’t require you to check the library ledgers every day, his name would’ve eluded you.

Even with a brisk thumbing through of the ledgers, it’s hard to miss the repetition printed on the pages.

Alhaitham was a regular name to be found in the library ledgers, you’d even argue he’s the biggest patron of the House of Daena.

However, it wasn’t the only pattern that would jump out to even the blindest man in Teyvat. What would be printed next to each book signed out by Alhaitham? Overdue.

Yes, you would think a man brilliant enough to plan the greatest insurrection in Sumeru’s history could remember a few due dates. But the ledgers refute that impression.

Before, the Scribe turned Grand Sage would simply return the books 1 or 2 weeks overdue and pay the fee at the same time.

Was it due to the increased responsibilities that now befell him or the increased financial freedom granted by a bigger paycheck that caused this pattern of extended tardiness?

Regardless, The Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium has returned back to the House of Daena, much to the delight of a hysterical student who pushed off a paper for a bit too long.

That Wednesday afternoon was the first time you spoke to the mysterious man of infamy, in an alleyway tucked away from prying eyes. He gave you the book without much of a fight and accepted the punishment without complaint.

If only it was always this easy.

First impression overall? The whispers in the halls were an inaccurate depiction of Alhaitham. To you at least, he was a rather tolerable man with a good sense of regulations, handsome hands too.

Was your first impression bad? Impudent even? Script rushed by the pounding metronome of your heart, skipping over a few key sentences, like an introduction.

Oh, you also forgot to call him Grand Sage… Surely he won’t hold such a petty grudge over that, he seems sensible.

You flipped through the library ledgers one last time before your duties ended for the day, stopping on a page as you pursed your lip at the familiar name next to The Critique of Pure Reason boldly stamped overdue.

If only the Grand Sage would fix this sloppy habit of his.

Alhaitham is very much aware of the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon, the frequency illusion. The tendency to notice something more often after noticing it for the first time. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint the exact inception of this phenomenon he was experiencing, a certain meeting in an alleyway.

–

“General Mahamatra,” A distinct cadence enticed the Ashen-haired man’s focus away from the matra delivering his daily report.

There’s a hush that befell the halls of the Akademiya today, no reason to speculate, it’d obvious to even the dimmest of fools. Cyno, the General Mahamatra, returned today from the sandy wastelands.

In fact, Alhaitham had just concluded his brief discussion with the electro wielder a few moments prior. The General left the paperwork delivery to the woefully ignored matra currently in front of the dendro wielder.

The faint reverberation of the dreaded title paralyzed the few scholars and researchers that dared roam the in presence of the General. Intense scarlet eyes centered on the viridescent clad librarian that called, your eyes seemed occupied with the object encased by tan fingers.

“Law and Order of the Pursuit of Wisdom is overdue.” A steady cadence incited the General.

“By how long?” Spoke an authoritarian tone.

“8 weeks, General.” There wasn’t the slightest pause from you.

The dense tension within the enclosed space was palpable, many pairs of eyes fixed on the scene happening under these fluorescent lights.

The seconds counting down to the decisive moment, what will become of the incautious librarian after this show-down?

…

“My apologies, I should’ve returned the book before I embarked, may I pay the fee now?” The treacherous edge was absent from the general’s voice.

With a swift nod, you turned on your heel, leading the General Mahamatra toward the judgment awaiting him in the House of Daena. A sight so flipped on its head, the witnesses of this event couldn’t seem to decide which direction was up anymore.

–

“Mr. Kaveh.”

A librarian intercepted a certain famed architect’s search for a certain Grand Sage evading the responsibilities piling up on a polished desk.

A spectacle was certainly about to happen in the House of Daena, Alhaitham gathers from his position just covered by a towering bookshelf.

“Oh, yes?” The furrow between blond eyebrows dissipates in an instant, his fury distracted for now by the polite use of his name.

“Were you the one to sign out The Death and Life of Great Design, Mr. Kaveh?” You held out the title in question, holy text for every architecture, your impassive eyes trained on the cover.

“That’s correct, I’m certain I returned it in time, has anything arisen?” The light of Kshahrewar raised a brow at the sudden inquiry.

“Would you mind explaining this, Mr. Kaveh?”

The book was pried open, revealing to the world the chaotic collage of jumbled words and sketches haphazardly scribbled among the print with the faintest whiff of wine.

Even from this distance, the bold vandalism was observable to his teal eyes. So was the slackened jaw of the architect with his now saucer-sized eyes.

The closest equivalent Alhaitham could compare your current expression with was a parent’s gaze toward the discovery of a crayon mural on a wall. Three pairs of eyes observing the blatant defacement of literature.

“The replacement cost of this book is 141,471 mora, it was an antique print.” Your hands gingerly shut the covers, hiding the book’s shame away.

“H-how much??”

“I’ve written the amount down on this form, please address the payment to the House of Daena by the end of this month, Mr. Kaveh.” From your pocket, you presented the blonde with a fine that exacerbated his dreadful finances.

With this, your performance concluded, a mannered bow before swiveling back to your post at the library’s front desk. Leaving the famed Kaveh silent and color absent from his face, the slip of parchment pathetically pinched between ailing fingers.

Stepping back into the shadow of the shelves, Alhaitham reaches a hand up to enable the feature of his earphones that preserves his sanity. He already had a premonition of what was to greet him, might as well enjoy the fleeting moments of silence while it lasted.

–

The sky over Sumeru was a brilliant blue, tufts of fluffy clouds cushioned the earth from the harshest rays of the sun, but not enough to embargo the comforting warmth. It’d be a shame to throw away such beautiful weather in the confines of an office.

Enough justification for Alhaitham to enjoy a quiet reading session under a hidden pavilion, just to the side of a neglected pathway at the Akademiya.

Just because a place is neglected, it doesn’t mean it’s completely abandoned. The scurrying of two sets of steps made their presence known along the uneven path.

“Please return Handbook of Qualitative Research to the House of Daena,” your stony voice perked his ears.

Those words weren’t directed towards the unseen Acting Grand Sage, no, they were addressed towards the researcher whom you were just a few seconds behind. Impassive gaze concentrated on the overdue book in his arms.

The exasperated man huffed out a breath, bringing a hand up to rub at his dry eyes drooping under the weight of the discolored skin hanging under them. Alhaitham hypothesizes that this must have gone on for a while.

“Listen, I know it’s overdue, I promise to return it once this report is finished.” The researcher tries to quicken his strides.

“No, it’s late 4 weeks now, please hand over the book.” That signature gesture made its appearance, palms open and expecting, your pace never once faltering.

“Could you please make an exception, just this once?” Tired exasperation morphing into a sharper edge.

“There are three other patrons queuing for this book, I’ll add you to the list and notify you once the title is available again.” Indifferent eyes never once left the imprisoned book.

Ah, your words became the straw that broke the Sumpter Beast’s back.

“Three? THREE??! I don’t have the time! If they’re students they can wait, this project has dragged out for months, months! It’s only now drawing to a close, oh for the love of Lesser Lord Kusanali, just let me-”

Fatigue overboiled into raw frustration, the researcher now lively as ever, moved senselessly close to your face.

One boot-clad step makes its appearance from behind a pillar. It’d be best to de-escalate the situation now before the potential for a physical alteration manifests into reality.

Especially for a librarian that’s too focused on a book to recognize the looming threat. As Acting Grand Sage, maintaining order was the priority.

Instantaneously, a lone finger shot out towards the azure sky, with it followed the wearied eyes of a man mid-manifesto. The hypnotically soothing hue of the vast space momentarily ceased the researcher’s grievance, reminding him of the bigger picture, of the bigger world.

Bringing him comfort with the realization that these sleepless nights won’t be permanent, that this too shall pass.

Was that the goal of your diversion? Probably not. Regardless, the hostage has been rescued into your secure arms, back where the book belonged.

The view of the sky must’ve reminded the researcher’s body of its limit, as his movements faltered back sluggishly. Bloodshot eyes blinking at his now empty hands.

“Please address the payment to the House of Daena by next week.” A slip of parchment produced from your pocket fills that void for him.

Without another word, the librarian trekked back up the beaten path, leaving behind two very silent men. With only the researcher’s figure left in sight, Alhaitham’s mind quickly lost interest.

Withdrawing back behind the cover of the marble pillar, he couldn’t help but recount the details.

‘The General Librarian’, ‘The Punisher of Fines’, ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’. All names coined by the sleep-deprived minds of slouching students and destitute scholars awaiting the saving grace that was their paycheck.

Perhaps it’s that inorganic cadence of your voice. Or how one of your hands reaches out to demand the return of printed works while the other indited the transgressors with a note worth months of coffee.

Maybe it’s the focus of your catatonic gaze solely upon the books in question, denying wrongdoers a chance of mercy formed by eye contact.

An itch tickled the back of Alhaitham’s throat, the same sensation that tugged the corner of his lips upwards towards the brilliant sky.

How did such a fascinating individual slip away from under his nose for so long?

Almost there, just a little longer, the doors to the House of Daena came into view, you’re so close to reprieve. One hand still clutching the freshly recused book against your chest, you pried the door to the staff room open. Empty.

Thank the Archons.

Ducking into the sanctuary devoid of library patrons and chattering coworkers, sealing the solid wood behind your back, you could finally breathe.

Lungs burning for the taste of oxygen again, the pounding in your chest subsiding with each greedy gulp. Drained figure finding solstice against the sturdy door.

You achieved your goal, so why were you so defeated?

His eyes got close, dangerously close. In your peripheral, the puffiness of his eye bags were in full detail. Your lids shut firmly as if shutting out the intrusive thoughts that threatened to infiltrate your mind.

It’s fine, everything is fine, your eyes never met. There’s no arrow in the back of your heel, the script has not gone off course.

What a childish Achilles heel, eye contact, the most basic requirement for a conversation between peers and people. One you can’t fulfill. Even the briefest moment of connection will crumble the mask you dawn, exposing the puny coward to the world.

One look and you’ll be thrown off script, your career’s saving grace.

Book overdue?: “Please return [Title] and address the late fee payment to the House of Danea by next week.”

Damages?: “Please compensate the House of Daena for the damages done to [Title] by next month.”

Need a book that isn’t available?: “I’ll add your name to the waitlist for [Title] and inform you when it’s returned.”

Lines rehearsed time and time again, now ingrained into your tongue, spoken by instinct. It’s not a conversation, it’s merely a stage play, performed by a coward shielded by a crafted blanket of indifference.

‘The General Librarian’, ‘The Punisher of Fines’, ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’.

Better that they interpret your aversion to eye contact as malice instead of cowardice. After all, the world is not kind, especially not towards the meek. Papers and delegated responsibilities suddenly thrust upon those too shy to voice their dismay.

What could the meek do? Nothing. So they’ll silently grit their teeth and bare it all as a doormat trampled by those whose voices don’t stumble and shutter.

A scheme you’ve fell victim to time and time again within the walls of this hallow institute of knowledge. An experience under oath by oneself to never repeat again.

The intermission is over, the performer must return back to their positions. You unlatched the door, stepping back into the fluorescent lights of the House of Daena.

Alhaitham is aware of the frequency illusion, however, he’d argue that it’s no longer an illusion. The ghost has come back to haunt him. For what reason? Alhaitham’s not sure. Surely his books aren’t that overdue, and if they were then why hasn’t your hand appeared in front of him?

Instead, you left traces, whispers of your presence in the form of handkerchiefs and pressed flowers on slips of paper.

The evidence found beside the Acting Grande Sage’s lunches and piles of applications, his teal eyes always just catching the briefest viridescent wisp fleeing the scene of the crime.

The ashen-haired man finds great delight in abstruse books, the rare feeling of reading a line more than once to grasp the concepts formed on the page.

He enjoys the sporadic occurrences that challenge his sharp mind, it’s good to feel fresh thoughts run through.

Has Alhaitham found an archaic journal tucked away in some dusty corner? Perhaps he found a handwritten copy of a book, one with fewer than ten in existence. Was it a long-forgotten text that challenged contemporary beliefs?

Surely, to baffle the man known as Alhaitham, the scripts must have something reality-shattering. Like something saying that the azure sky, with its moon and sun, were nothing but mere imitations.

No. It wasn’t any print signed out from the restricted collection in the House of Daena that had Alhaitham’s mind pondering the slightest nuances. It was the librarian, currently penning his name down in the ledgers, that perplexed the towering man.

Humans are flawed in the sense that they’re uncomfortable with the concept of ‘unconditionality’. Everything has a fair price and equivalent exchange. One back was scratched in return for the same. So, what did you want?

Were you trying to form a bridge? One crafted from slips of paper and thin decorative fabric? If so, then why has your introduction yet to reach his ears?

The eyes are the window to the soul. Windows that offer indispensable insight into the other person’s agenda and convictions. For the Acting Grand Sage, it’s easier for him to gain access to the restricted vaults in the House of Daena than the librarian’s eyes.

Is it unprofessional to think that the Grand Sage, the figurehead of the Akademiya, is a menace? If you kept these thoughts to yourself then it shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Could it be the nagging of Kshahrewar students, whining over the unavailability of their holy text, that made you hypersensitive to the treatment of printed works?

The students should direct their grievances towards the ‘light’ of their Darshan, the one that defaced their holy text. You’re a librarian, not a magician you can’t make books appear from the abyss.

It was a coincidence to witness the Grand Sage, Alhaitham, enjoying a shawarma wrap under the shade of a stained-glass pavilion. There’s nothing wrong with a man just having his lunch. However, there was something very wrong with how his other hand held a book.

Paper becomes discolored in the stained area and transparent as molecules of oil fill the spaces between cellulose fibers. Over time, the parchment will become brown and brittle, the ink lifted by the fatty acids.

But what can you do? Interrupt the Grand Sage’s lunch? Lecture a superior on proper book care procedures?

You’re not dense.

Still, you could take some preventative measures. Done in the form of a handkerchief carefully folded just behind his right shoulder. He seemed too engrossed in the text to perceive your proximity to him. It was just for a few seconds anyways. You retreated.

The next incident happened within the wall of the House of Daena, where food and drinks were strictly forbidden. It was a slow day, with nothing much to do besides returning a few books back to their proper homes along the hundreds of shelves.

During one of the many trips pushing the cart back and forth along the path, a certain head of ashen hair with teal streaks fell into your peripheral. It must be a slow day for him too. The Grand Sage certainly made himself comfortable, desk piled with stacks of books strewn about.

The purse on your lips returns as one side of your cheek is sucked in. A few of the books were opened and placed paper-side down on the smooth table. You witnessed him losing interest in his current text, letting it join the spread bodies of its fellow brethren.

Laying a book face-down breaks the binding and weakens the hinges, where the covers attach to the pages. Some of those titles have existed for more than double your combined ages, think of their poor spines.

Out of pity for the aged scripts and for your own patience, while passing his table from a pocket you slipped out a clumsily made bookmark.

Fashioned from scrap paper, craft supplies, and one of the many Sumeru Roses that dotted the paths in this nation. A new hobby of yours that’s proven itself useful.

With your duty fulfilled you returned back among the towering shelves.

–

The job of a Grand Sage is demanding, much more demand than the job description of a librarian, you understood that. However, surely there are enough hours in the day for him to have lunch and read separately.

The position of Grand Sage means he often has to determine the best policies and actions. So why can’t he read one book at a time, close it properly, then pick up the next?

Being the Grand Sage must be time-consuming and hectic, but he could at least send someone to return his books before the due date.

How many handkerchiefs did you purchase in the last month alone? How many yards of decorative string? Is it possible to make the Sumeru Rose endangered? Would it be appropriate for you to itemize your purchases for reimbursement by the Akademiya?

For a person that enjoys reading printed works, it seems that he’s only concerned with the contents of the book and not its physical well-being. A menace to literature.

You were the unlucky sheep tasked with delivering the new budget proposal for the House of Daena. Stepping into the grand office after an unnecessarily long elevator ride, you wondered what violations will greet you this time, or if the elusive man was even here.

Ambling towards his desk, eyes focused on the budget in front of you, only switching position once the polished wood came into view.

Ah, he had another book face-down on the desk with one of your bookmarks just off to the side. He almost had it. Glancing up, your world momentarily stilled.

The Grand Sage was in his office after all. Chest gently rose and fell, face supported by the back of his knuckle, long lashes closed. Thank Archons, he’s asleep. Your heart restarts its tempo.

Your eyes quickly snapped back to the cover of the book, The Symposium, you recognized that title from this morning’s flip through the ledgers. It’s overdue.

There’s not even a point in sighing, you expected this. Flipping over the philosophical work you gingerly placed the bookmark in properly, then shut the covers closed.

Curious eyes wandered back to the sleeping figure in the board seat. His ashen hair looked soft as it fell across his face, lips slightly parted as quiet breaths exhaled.

From his lips, your greedy eyes began to trail down his covered arms, all the way down to the bare break that exposed his robust arm-

You stopped yourself, he’s asleep. You must be reading too many books from a certain island nation.

Is it unprofessional to think that the Grand Sage, the figurehead of the Akademiya, is attractive? If you kept these thoughts to yourself then it shouldn’t be a problem, right?

You left two pieces of parchment on his desk.

‘I’ll give a one-week extension, please return this title to the House of Daena before then.’

Alhaitham certainly didn’t expect to find this from ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’ when waking from a nap, he wondered if it was conquered by the remnants of sleep.

Or perhaps it was their parting gift, one last lingering trace before the ghost that haunted him for these past few months retreated back into their world. No more handkerchiefs left by his lunches. No more pressed flowers to decorate his desk. His teal eyes were unable to catch a very specific hue of viridescences.

Did the ghost slip out from under his nose again?

–

There isn’t much of a reason for Alhaitham to be at the Pardis Dhyai, after all, he’s not a Amurta scholar. Just a chore from this temporary position. His boot-clad steps made their way up the stone path blooming with lush vegetation, the view was almost enough to make up for the troublesome journey.

Keen eyes honed in on familiar ebony ears from the doorway to the greenhouse. Oh, Tighnari is here? What a rare sight.

“Please pay the late fee by the end of the week.” A certain cadence seized his attention.

“Yes, yes, I get it,” Tighnari sighed, moving to place his closed pen where he left off in the book.

“Chief Forest Ranger, please use this instead.” From your pocket emerged an all too familiar violet.

“Oh? Did you make this yourself? Mm, a Sumeru Rose, on my way here I noticed that these plants don’t seem as plentiful recently.” The forest ranger observed the bookmark in his gloved hands.

“I wouldn’t know, sir.”

Oh, so you gave those bookmarks out to anyone indiscriminately. It made sense, you’re a librarian, employed to help the patrons of the House of Daena with their literary needs.

It didn’t mean much just to hand out a few slips of paper. Something annoying and greener than the foliage scratched at Alhaitham’s neck.

–

At the Pardis Dhyai, you had a duty to fulfill, as did he. Not an appropriate time to initiate a conversation.

Thus, the ashen-haired man can only mull over the situation in the stillness of his own home. A blond architect sent out to fetch groceries to account for a certain damages fee.

A lone finger taps rhythmically on solid oak while the opposite hand supports his pondering head. As quickly as you came, you left just as suddenly. As capricious as the wind, slipping through the gaps of his fingers just as easily.

How does one catch a ghost?

Beryl gaze travels the length of the workspace, over the scattered sheets and abandoned quills, landing upon negligently stacked covers. A scheme conquers itself into existence.

Throughout history, many methods and rituals have been used to summon beings from the great beyond. As a scholar, who was he not to test those hypotheses?

The Norton Anthology of World Literature; Overdue 5 weeks

Academic Charisma and the Origins of the Research; Overdue 5 weeks

Cases on Academic Rights and Justice; Overdue 5 weeks

The Symposium; Overdue 8 weeks

Patron: Alhaitham

Ah, you can’t let this continue. It’s time for ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’ to collect their dues. Even if you wanted to bash your head into the ledgers.

–

Just beyond the threshold of a pavilion offering shelter from the sun's rays stood a familiar caped frame. Unabashedly reading The Symposium, back resting against the pillar.

Plugging the title into your script your lungs muster up a deep inhale, it’s time for the coward to dance on stage.

“Grand Sage.” You stopped a few paces away.

There was the gentle clatter of his belt and cape, the weight of his gaze now resting upon your shoulders, but your eyes were honed in on the cover in his clutches. You got his title this time.

Alhaitham feels he should give bygone scholars and minds more merit, a ghost can be summoned, an incentive is needed for the ritual.

“Please return The Symposium immediately, and address the payment to the House of Daena by the end of the week.” Like rehearsed, your hand reached out, palms awaiting the smooth back of the book.

His half-gloved hand shut the pages together, rotating the book horizontally, it slowly travels the distance to your hands. Your eyes chaperoned every movement, legs eager to return backstage to the House of Daena.

Just as the smooth cover brushed against the clammy skin of your palms before your fingers could fully enclose around it, the title suddenly took a detour. With it followed your attentive eyes.

It’s a childish scheme really, like a schoolyard bully using his vertical advantage to hold the object of desire just out of reach. As the saying goes, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Such elementary actions hold some merit… because they worked.

Attentive eyes clashed with teal, stunned irises that dilated faster than the thump of your heart. You got to witness the Grand Sage’s features in all their glory for the first time, so his beryl eyes also held some citrine in them.

Instantly, your neck snapped to the side. But it’s already too late, the coward dropped their mask, shattering at their feet. Revealing to the world the scarlet face of the wimp whose sheet was stripped off their heads, there was never a ghost, only a performer.

You were standing in the shade, yet it felt as if you stumbled into the desert.

Alhaitham’s indebted to the fact you don’t look people in the eyes, such an event would prove disastrous for this institution of wisdom and rationality. Such a sight should have limited access he deems.

A sweet breeze blows through the pavilion, cooling his cheeks and yours the same, however, the ears hidden under his earphones still burned.

Throughout the House of Daena, the soft fluttering of pages turning and quills scribbling down notes could be heard. At the front, a librarian glances at the clock slowly ticking down to the hour of freedom.

“I would like to return these,” spoke a husky voice.

Your eyes traveled up from the freshly stacked books up toned forearms, reaching their final destination on a pair of impartial teal irises.

Opening up the ledger, you swiftly flipped to a familiar name. Scanning the titles you noted each one down.

The Uses of Literacy; due in 2 weeks

The Great Conversation; due in 2 weeks

Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity; due in 2 weeks

Patron: Alhaitham

“Thank you for returning the books before due, have a great evening.” You bowed a little at the Grand Sage. Gathering up the books into your hand and placing them in the return cart.

It’s past 5:30 pm, the Acting Grand Sage is now off the clock. Thus, he didn’t let one second go to waste. Long legs taking swift strides out of the grand doors of the Akademiya, skillfully dodging the searching eyes of ambitious scholars.

Ambling down the stone pathways to the bustling city center.

Entering the favored tavern of any famished local, Alhaitham places his order. Watching the clock as Lambad packed his two to-go bags.

Dropping the mora off on the counter, Alhaitham seized the freshly made dinners into his hands, exiting the tavern. Merging back into the crowded pathways until he reached his front door. Shifting the bags into one hand, he turns the silver key to his abode.

Placing the takeout bags onto the polished kitchen table, his teal eyes once again wander towards a clock, 6:10 pm.

He prepares two glasses and a bottle of wine from a secured cabinet. It’s the weekend now, there’s no risk in enjoying a few glasses tonight. Just as the ashen-haired man finished setting the table, the unlocked door lightly creaks ajar.

Your frame soon comes into view, arms stretched above your head to loosen the tension that comes with a desk job. A breathy yawn followed the release of tight muscles along your back, walking into the kitchen where Alhaitham stood.

“You’ve worked hard today.”

You hummed in agreement, hand gently rubbing the fatigue from your eyes as the delicious scent of tandoori roast chicken beckoned your nose.

Food and drinks were strictly forbidden in the House of Daena, and you’re quite ravenous. Advancing toward the paper bag located on your side of the table with an eager bounce in your step.

Only to be blocked by a toned arm.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, my librarian?” Inquired a low voice.

You glanced up at the hurdle that dare separate you from a delicious meal, lip pursed out just the slightest bit.

“I returned my books before due, desired behavior requires positive reinforcement.” There’s a glint in his beryl eyes.

You huffed, you should’ve known he was feeling a bit cheeky today from the moment he stepped foot into the library. Still, he’s right, good behavior deserves a reward.

Tenderly your hands clasped around his soft cheeks, guiding his face downwards as you straighten your back. His ashen locks tickled you as you awarded the towering man his prizes.

Your lips gingerly press themselves against his features, the warmth of your burning cheeks felt soothing to him, and you could feel the upward pull of his lips.

Once on the forehead, once under his eye, once on the nose, and… one final time against his soft lips.

Quickly pulling away, the slow blink followed by a slightly quirked eyebrow tells you enough about his thoughts.

“The last one was a thanks for the food.” You turned your flaming cheeks away, settling down and releasing your meal from the confines of the bag.

Your lover hums in understanding, a cheeky smirk ever so clear on his usually stoic face. Regardless, he moves to his side of the table and unpacks his dinner, filling two glasses with fragrant wine.

A clink signified the start of your dinner ritual, performed away from prying eyes.

Somewhere during the comfortably quiet dinner, Alhaitham’s hand by habit inched towards the book placed just off to the side, violet bookmark recording his last endeavor among the text.

Just as quickly as it started, his hand stopped. Like a stern swat, your eyes pierced into the back of his hand. A silent warning. He withdrew his hand back to his side, deciding to practice proper dining manners, for you of course.

Satisfied, your attention returns back to the seasoned meat and sauces on your plate, fork and knife quickly getting to work.

Alhaitham’s perfectly spiced food took a backseat in his mind, eyes more interested in observing the endearing fullness of your cheeks as you chewed.

Inquisitive irises returned his stare, he sees the teal that reflected off. How could the corners of his mouth not lift at the sight in front of him?

Please keep your eyes on him, so that he may continue to watch you for now and for the far future. His librarian.

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

#alhaitham x reader #al-haitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x yn #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x you #genshin x reader #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham fanfic #alhaitham fluff #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #vivalabunbunfics #al haitham x reader #alhaitham scenarios #alhaitham imagines

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flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (17)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, swearing, violence ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Although she feared that her father and mother would hate her, although she suffered at the thought of losing her unborn sister, the day after they returned to King's Landing was the most beautiful day of her life.

After their nightly honest and painful conversation, at last they both shook off the burdens they had carried on their shoulders for so many years, confessing their regrets and thoughts to each other.

After this, there was some kind of change in her husband, as if he had expected this conversation to destroy everything once and for all, to turn them away from each other, when in fact the complete opposite had happened.

It helped.

When he took her on the table that afternoon, when she felt his thirsty, tender touch on her body, she thought that at last things were as they should be.

And then he smiled, lightly and sincerely for the first time since she had seen him years later.

Although they waited in dread for an answer from Dragonstone, this period was also a time of hope for them; the prospect of a peaceful resolution despite the approach of his grandfather and mother filled them with a reasonable calm that allowed them to take a breath.

They did everything they could.

No matter what she thought of her usurper uncle, he, unlike their grandfather, had imposed fair conditions on her mother, ones that she could in fact agree to.

The next day, like every morning, her husband was training in the courtyard with Criston Cole. Although she had been reluctant to poke her nose out of her chamber for the past few days, she now felt better and, encouraged by the beautiful cloudless sky lit by the sun, decided to go outside.

At this hour, as usual, the Red Keep seemed unusually quiet and peaceful to her, with only the guards and servants walking hurriedly past her, trying to keep up with their duties without even noticing her.

She smiled involuntarily when she heard the loud clang of steel and spotted them in the distance walking under the cloisters, just as she had then, as a child, watched her uncle duel. She thought with some kind of pride, watching the sure, swift slashes of his sword, that only Daemon could now match him in hand-to-hand combat.

She felt a pleasant satisfaction at the sight of her uncle pushing against Ser Criston, leaving no one under any illusion as to who was dominating the duel.

Cole knew that her husband had taken it out on him for what he had done to her and forced him to give in every time.

She lifted her chin higher, sighing contentedly as the blade of his sword pressed against his neck, Cole raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Her uncle turned the hilt of his sword in his hand and lowered it, a dangerous grin full of mockery and satisfaction on his lips; he stopped in mid-motion, his eye spotting her in the distance, seeming not to recognise her at first. He blinked, watching her from afar.

Encouraged by his attention, she walked down the stone steps into the courtyard, squinting, blinded from the sun; her husband stabbed his sword into the ground, coming towards her with a lazy step.

"What is it?" He asked uncertainly, his face expressing concern and surprise, his eye wide open, as if he could not believe she had left her chamber of her own accord.

"I have always enjoyed watching you duel. Does my husband deny me that pleasure?" She asked softly; she saw his Adam's apple wave as he swallowed hard, his lips parted slightly.

"Tis not my desire." He hummed, and she felt a pleasant shiver run along her spine at his words.

She felt as if they were children again.

There was something wonderful about it, something joyful, something that made her feel a renewed desire to live.

She trembled when he tentatively raised his hand, when his fingers touched her cheek, when his thumb ran over her jawline, his eye watching her thoughtfully.

When he leaned in, when he pressed his warm lips to hers in a soft, wet kiss she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen, her heart sang with pleasure, her fingers touched his wrist.

He pulled away from her, looking at her with misty gaze; she could smell his sweat, hear his quiet murmur of contentment as she stroked his cheek with her palm, when her lips placed a soft, butterfly kiss on the tip of his nose.

She knew that Criston Cole, the guards, the servants could see this and it delighted her most.

Though distrustful at first, she agreed after her husband's persuasion to accept an invitation from her uncle to dine with him and Helaena in his chamber.

She felt that in doing so, Aegon was creating a faction inside the faction, showing his mother and grandfather that the fate of what was about to happen no longer lay in their hands.

Although she believed that Alicent did in fact want to protect her children, she did not trust their grandfather and knew that Aegon had no love for him either.

As it turned out, his invitation had a double bottom.

"Furious Borros Baratheon is on his way to King's Landing with his daughter, whom he expects and agrees you should marry. I fear he will regard your secret marriage as invalid and demand that you fulfil your vows." Said her uncle, putting himself a bit of roast from the tray, handing it to his sister-wife, who looked at her uncertainly.

She felt her heart begin to pound like mad, terrified, and looked out of the corner of her eye at her husband, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"It's out of the question." He said coolly, and she felt instant relief at the thought that he hadn't changed his mind.

That he wouldn't betray her.

"I am aware of that, however, the matter is delicate and complicated. I have decided, on the advice of my wife, to simplify it. Today you will marry in the presence of the Septon."

She and her husband looked at each other in shock; the loud conversations of servants and guards could be heard from behind the open window. Aegon took a deep sip of wine from his cup, putting it down on the table with a loud clink of steel.

"The King and Queen will witness your wedding. The Septon will write a proper marriage act, which he will sign under threat of losing his head. This will officially settle the matter and enrage Borros Baratheon, but it will also surprise him. I will then offer him a seat on the Small Council for his son and financial compensation, which you, my brother, will cover from your annual income."

Said her uncle; she heard her husband turn in his chair beside her with a loud creak of wood and nod, swallowing hard, playing with his cup in his hand.

She glanced up at Aegon and frowned as she saw their eyes meet; she lowered her gaze immediately, thinking with disapproval that although part of her abhorred him, it was only because of him that there was any hope for her and his brother.

"Do you love him?" She heard his impassive, calm voice, saw Helaena and her husband move uneasily in their seats.

"− Aegon −"

"I am not speaking to you." He replied coldly to his brother, looking at her, stretched out comfortably in his chair.

She looked at him in disbelief and swallowed loudly, feeling her lower lip begin to tremble, tears of pain gathering in the corners of her eyes at his question.

Gods.

"I stayed here for him. I gave myself to him." She muttered regretfully; Helaena quickly grabbed her hand lying on the table, squeezing it in her own.

"My brother has been calling you a little whore all these years. He used to say: she surely fucks with her guards like her pathetic mother." He said softly, cocking his head, curious about her reaction. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that her husband had covered his face with his hand, devastated, his sister cast him a quick, sharp look full of regret.

She involuntarily chuckled at his words, feeling the pleasant evening breeze flowing in through the open windows envelop her heated cheeks.

"I am aware of it. He shared those very thoughts with me the very first evening when we spoke to each other years later." She sneered; Aegon burst out laughing loudly, placing a hand on his stomach, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Indeed, it sounds like something my younger brother would do."

After her uncle shared the details of his plan and informed them of the location of their clandestine meeting, they returned to their chambers to prepare. Her husband escorted her to the door, tense; she could feel that what had been said filled him with anxiety.

"Do you still wish to do this?" He asked in a hoarse voice, as if he thought what he had thought of her over the years and what she had learned might have influenced her decision.

"And has anything changed, uncle?" She answered question for question; she saw that he threw her an impatient look in which relief lurked at the same time.

"No."

"Then you have your answer."

As promised, Helaena brought her one of her rich gowns; being a prisoner in King's Landing, she only had a few of her garments, as the rest of them were left in Dragonstone. Her aunt helped her comb her hair, forming a bun from some of the curls at the nape of her head, surrounded by braids, letting the rest flow freely down her back.

The gown she'd brought her was gold, with open, exposed shoulders and wide sleeves slit at elbow height, its cut perfectly emphasising her pleasing figure. Looking at herself in the mirror, watching as she put pins with gold pearls into her hair, she thought that this was not how she had imagined her wedding day, but she felt happiness nevertheless.

She knew that this time it would look the way it should.

Her aunt had put a plain grey cloak over her shoulders and placed a hood over her head, hiding her attire that might arouse suspicion. Looking straight into her eyes, she thought with warmth in her heart, squeezing her hand in her own, that during this time she had been watching over her, being there for her during the hardest moments of her life.

"I am grateful to you for everything you have done for me. I wish your husband would give you what you deserve." She muttered, stroking her skin with her thumb, wanting to show her in any way that she also wanted her happiness. Helaena stroked her shoulders, turning her head, her gaze dreamy and calm, her lips curved in a gentle smile.

"He is the father of my children." She said softly, folding her hands on her womb, looking somewhere far away thoughtfully. "And it is only the fate of our children that matters."

They left her chamber together, not speaking to each other, heading ahead along the corridor; just as they suspected, they came across guards who wanted to know where the princess was taking the prisoner.

"To the King, as ordered by him."

"Queen Alicent has commanded that she not leave her chamber after dark."

"I am the Queen, Ser."

The guard swallowed loudly, looking at his companion, and then nodded, letting them pass.

Helaena grasped her hand, turning suddenly, leading her down a steep staircase into an underground lit only by barely smouldering torches.

It was rare for anyone to go down there, judging by the smell she concluded it was a former larder. She shuddered as she heard a rat run past her feet and swallowed loudly, wondering how Aegon had found this place and what he was doing here.

After a moment they emerged from the dark corridor into one of the chambers where she spotted three figures − a man of similar age to their grandfather dressed in modest grey robes tied at the waist with a cord, next to him stood Aegon and her husband. She swallowed loudly seeing his attire.

He wore a dark red tunic with gold ornaments in the shape of writhing dragon heads, she had never seen him in such colours before.

Neither Green nor Black, just like her.

Their marriage was supposed to be beyond division, a symbol of reconciliation.

For some reason she felt distress and anxiety, as if this was indeed her first wedding; her hands trembled as she untied the knots of the cloak she had pulled off with the help of her aunt, her golden gown shining in the firelight. She saw her uncle-husband's pupil narrow at this sight; he swallowed hard, trailing his gaze across her entire figure, tense.

She looked uncertainly at Helaena, and she nodded, so she gathered her courage and moved ahead, this time of her own accord, fully aware of what this entailed by going to marry the man she thought she had lost forever.

She involuntarily breathed through her mouth as she stepped in front of him, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous gesture, looking straight into his eyes.

The expression on his face a mystery to her, his gaze seeming to almost burn her, piercing and dark.

She felt the Septon cast an uncertain glance in Aegon's direction; he nodded, ordering him to begin. The man grunted quietly and turned to her husband.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."

She saw her uncle swallow heavily, turning towards his elder brother, who handed him a golden cloak embroidered in shiny red thread with their family crest. With a sweeping gesture, her uncle placed the cloak over her shoulders; she was unable to look away from his face, hearing in her mind his words spoken in rage to her father.

She is my wife.

Who her father was no longer matters, for she belongs now to my family, for our children will bear my name.

She heard him swallow hard, clearly filled with extreme emotion as much as she was – she sighed as he took her hand in his, lifting it up.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."

Said the Septon tying their entwined hands with a ribbon, thus symbolically uniting them for eternity.

She could not believe that this was really happening.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words." Said the Septon lowly, and they looked at each other, breathing loudly, clutching their fingers tightly.

"Father,

Smith,

Warrior,

Mother,

Maiden,

Crone,

Stranger

I am hers | I am his

and she is mine | and he is mine

from this day, until the end of my days."

They both fell silent, hearing the echo of the words they had spoken spread around them, looking at each other in disbelief.

She could see that his lower lip was trembling, his nostrils twitching in accelerated breath, his eye wide open, red with emotion.

He should say that he was sealing the marriage with his kiss, but it seemed to her that he was unable to get anything out.

He was moved.

This thought, the thought that he really craved this, that he had really waited for her for so many years, hating and desiring her at the same time made warm tears one after another flow down her cheeks; she pressed her lips into a thin line feeling her breasts rise and fall in quick, ragged breaths.

And then he did something she hadn't expected, which was sweeter and more tender to her than any kiss.

He drew her to him, locking her in a desperate, strong embrace of his arms; his fingers dug into her skin hidden beneath the thin material of her gown, cuddling his face into the hollow of her neck.

They were husband and wife.

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missglaskin · 2 years

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Yandere Aemond Targaryen with Wife!Darling would include:

Note: NSFW themes, implied forced marriage/relationship, some spoilers

It has often been argued that Aemond is a mirror of Daemon. Like his uncle, he’s arrogant, untamed, and reckless. He doesn’t flinch at the sight of violence and does not waiver in his pursuits. Still, there are good qualities found in Aemond; his loyalty. It’s seen in his interactions with his family, in how he supported his brother's claim, and in his eagerness to defend their honor.

His tendencies didn’t develop at the first meeting. You obviously caught his attention, and he gave you more glances than he should have. Nonetheless, his tendencies developed over time, and the more they did, the stronger his feelings became. In no time at all, you grew uneasy, as an intense eye watched your every move, and when you turned to the source, Aemond wouldn't even try to look away, simply staring back at you.

Aemond doesn’t bother hiding his interest, quite the contrary. In the course of any event, he would find an opportunity to converse with you, as he was coincidentally seated next to you. He inches so close to you so he can hear you 'clearly'. And you have to calm yourself when feeling his knees and shoulders touching yours.

The prince has intimated many of your potential suitors. Still, your family found a way. You'll never forget how Aemond knocked your fiance to the ground during the jousting. In your prayers, you hoped your fiance wouldn't be prideful and just surrender, but he continued to fight, holding his sword and, as expected, your fiance lost. As Aemond plunged a sword into his throat; his eye found yours. Adding insult to injury, Aemond then gifted you with a crown of winter roses, naming you as the queen of love and beauty.

Alicent expresses to Aemond her disapproval of the entire situation. It doesn't help that she thinks you've been encouraging her son's advances, as marrying Aemond will give your house a huge advantage. Alicent's reasoning, however, only enters one ear and exits the other. It’s not until she threatens to send you away that she finally gets a reaction from Aemond. For the first time, Alicent realizes how terrifying her son can be.

The dragon's blood is pulsing through Aemond. He is a man with a strong sense of possessiveness, so one can imagine how intense his jealousy can manifest. He makes it clear to everyone that you belong to him. To his mother, to your family, and to all the lords in the court. And most of all to you. But the irony of it all is how Aemond denies his jealousy. In admitting so, he’s admitting his insecurities. More so, jealousy means that he doesn’t have you.

His wild and untamed nature is reflected in his sexual appetite. You elicit his most strenuous and darkest emotions that Aemond has suppressed deep inside. Like any man, he lusted for pretty ladies, but the lust you bring him is potent. Regardless of what others think, he has tamed himself more times than he can count. If he were to have it his way, you’d have already been fucked with a bastard child along the way.

Despite the objections of his family, the prince will undoubtedly get his way, and soon enough, you are married to Aemond Targaryen. The prince's smile throughout the entire ceremony caught the court off guard. The reputation bestowed upon him was not reflected in his actions that day. But Aemond still showed his possessiveness to the court by refusing to let anyone else dance with you. His mother had to give him many warning glances as he couldn't keep his hands off of you and was getting a little risque.

As a married couple, it gives Aemond the opportunity to be as touchy without having to concern himself with the criticisms of others. His affection fuels the gossip around the court. He lets his desire be known in how your kisses are never brief and how his hand seems to be on your lower back all the time.

Aemond has no shame in how he gives into his urges. Your servants are expected to knock on your door regardless of the time of day because, as Aemond demonstrated, his hunger knows no bounds. Aemond was repeatedly discovered on his knees with his face between her legs. The two of you are just as loud. Even the most hardened walls aren't strong enough to block out all the noise. Aegon quips that you'd have to give birth to an army if his brother continues to give in to his urges.

As violent and possessive as he’s; Aemond isn’t as bad as other yanderes uhm his brother. He longs for you to cherish him and share his intense feelings. He desires your trust and wants you to see the best in him. And most of all, he wants you to understand his actions. Aemond won't have the wherewithal to harm you, no matter how angry you make him or how harshly you betray him.

Now and then, Aemond feels the urge to inquire of Alys about her visions for the future regarding the two of you. He has doubts when he considers the potential repercussions of asking her to look into the fire. Aemond understands everyone dies; it is a natural part of life, but he has trouble picturing yours. He is incapable of envisioning a set of circumstances in which you must live without him. Who will look out for you and keep you safe?

You'll have to say goodbye to your family with Aemond, sadly, because as your husband reminds you constantly, you are now a Targaryen. Alicent may not be too fond of you, but she’ll still address you as her ‘daughter’ and occasionally have you for a cup of tea. Helaena is more hospitable; in fact, she comes off as overjoyed and eager. You are also welcomed into the family by Aegon and Daeron, though they are a little more formal and aloof, more so, because they don’t want to trigger Aemond’s jealousy.

#aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #asoiaf x reader #yandere asoiaf #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #x reader #reader insert #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #asoiaf #yandere #headcanons

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saiidahyunie · 3 months

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your fear, is my poison and masterpiece

vampire!myoui mina x doctorstrange!reader (pt. 3 / finale!!!) || fluff, smut

synopsis: doctor strange is willing to save a life, but it's you who has to face mina’s love, regrets, and pains.

warnings: blood ; violence ; use of guns ; unhinged reader, unhinged mina ; major character death ; past stories being shared ; little angst ; biting ; choking ; blood play?overstimulation ; little degrading ; slight bondage ; praise ; not proofread ; smut!!!!!

a/n: to @nr1chaedickrider @namojoon and @miinatozakiii, ty for waiting and for being my biggest supporters of this series!!

pt.1 pt.2

mina’s brain is flowing in and out of consciousness, she can’t force herself to wake up no matter how hard she tries.

the dream in her head switches to a singular mirror in the middle of the pitch blackness clouding her mind. she looks down to notice that she’s wearing white clothes before walking up to see her reflection, putting a hand against the glass feeling the coolness on her fingertips.

mina steps in front of the glass, turning in every angle possible to examine the contours of her face, her expression stoic—behind every face there’s a mind that’s twisted by turmoil, and it’s no different with how she’s been in all of this.

she looks down again at her hands and outfit to see the flashes of blood splattered all over before returning to normal, looking up again to see her reflection again now wearing the opposite color of black much like the clothes she wore when she came to see you. instead of it being simple and clean from the mirror, the rags were tattered and torn and her hair was all disheveled with scruffy dirt marks across her face.

in a scare, mina steps back from the mirror, while her reflection is left unmoved, standing menacingly with her head at an angle. a sinister snicker is heard throughout the space as mina looks around the enclosed space before returning her look to the front. the reflection now gives her a smirk that makes mina question about this being in front of her.

“you’re not real, you’re not real!” mina says to her reflection, psyching herself out of this supposed bad trick her mind is playing her.

“on the contrary,” her reflection says with pride in her voice, “i’m afraid that it’s all too true for you to believe is it?” the sniding remark and tone is a lot more bashful as the mirror starts to warble in small waves.

mina takes a step back, not letting the fright get to her once the mirror phases her reflection through like passing in water, standing her ground once face to face with her evil persona.

having vampire powers was one thing, but having something taking possession of mina’s mind and body was something that scared her immensely. she has to fight. she has to, or else—

“i wonder why you’re thinking about your loved ones so much.” her other persona stops her train of thought, “did you forget what you did or do you want me to remind you of what you’ve become?”

“stop, you know that you’re the one who took control that night,” mina tries to retaliate, “all those people killed–i can’t even go back to my family anymore! you ruined my life!”

her other persona laughs, evilly.

“you poor thing, such a shame to not embrace the gift that was given to you.” her other persona starts, “don’t you see the potential in your power if you just let me guide you on the right path?!”

“i never wanted this to begin with! just let me fix this myself, please.” mina pleads, clutching on her villainous version, breaking down as soft sobs are heard echoing off in the chamber of her mind.

“then you know what you need to do. what we have to do…” mina looks up at herself, surrendering to the notion that’s being said. “i wonder what look you would have if we also killed y/n along with—”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“so do as i say, and maybe i’ll consider sparing her alongside you, once i have what i want.”

the evil persona then rises above, rightfully taking her position while all that mina could do was helplessly look up before her evil persona then snaps her fingers flashing mina’s consciousness completely blank.

soft sounds of voices are heard, and mina is able to open her eyes just slightly. she couldn’t see much but two silhouettes of people looking over her, the hint of orange light surrounding her also hindering any more clarity for her to see who was who.

a doze here and there, but mina’s ears picked up everything.

“you’re talking about performing a spell that can lobotomize someone without even knowing if they’ll be alive by the end of it?”

“better than resorting to an exorcism ritual to get an ancient vampire spirit out of a human being. i’m considering all of our options here.”

mina remembers the sound of your voice. it was faint and on edge, but the fact that you were doing everything that you can to help her was all but reassuring as she shifts under the covers. you and wong look over to see the last second of movement before longing your look at mina’s slumber state.

“this is a bad idea y/n, and the last thing we want is for your girlfriend to be tangled up in the worst case scenario.” wong says while flashing a look at you, closing the floating book in front of your head with both of his hands.

“she’s not my girlfriend for god’s sake! just keep searching and let me know when you find anything.” you retort to a grunting wong who’s stomping away muttering out curses before the door to your room shuts behind him, leaving you and mina alone since that night she came to visit you.

you scan the spellbook that you were holding off to the side, skimming through the outdated texts and sketches that showed the channeling of power in order to cast. closing the book right after and shaking your head finding nothing to help point the solution in the right direction, you look at the orange bubble that mina was under in your bed that you set as a precaution. in case you were able to fully determine if mina was in control or the evil entity.

circling around the spacious queen size bed, you’re at mina’s bedside watching her peacefully sleeping. a solemn look is struck in your face, the heartstrings within you tugging at the thought of not being able to help—especially the person that has literally turned your world upside down so fast.

with a wave of your hand, the orange bubble around mina’s sleeping body dissolves for you to get a closer look. watching over her like a protective guardian as a sudden thought pops in your head that makes you turn away at the sudden sound of a faint voice, like you were calling out for help.

a vision flashed in your head of you being pinned on the ground by mina on top moaning in your ear, the heat growing between you two as she locked her gaze on you with half-lidded eyes. you shake your head at the thought but can’t help but think about it for a quick second before listening to mina’s labored breaths while sleeping.

you then knelt at mina’s side of your bed, holding her hand and examining every line on her face with so much careful observation, you’re also trying to fight the urge within you to place a kiss while you stroke her head, tears welling up but not falling from your eyes as she shifts slightly from your touch.

“i’ll keep trying.” you mutter, “i will do anything and everything that i can to make sure we get through this, together.”

when mina wakes up again, she feels a little out of it but at the same time refreshed, like she hasn’t had that kind of beauty sleep in weeks.

her eyes flutter open to a different setting, from the very regal, majestic bed with an overhanging frame in your room from the sanctum sanctorum to a hospital bed (your hospital actually) all snuggled up properly with her head and one arm the only thing sticking out from the covers.

she looks around the unfamiliar sight of the room with the only sound coming from the low hum of the humidifier at the table next to her as she shifts to sit up a little. looking at her right hand to see a clip attached to her pointer finger that was connected to the monitor keeping track of her heartbeat on her left side of the bed before rubbing her eyes to get rid of the sleepiness.

“you’re finally up.”

mina turns to see you off in the corner of the room sitting on a chair with your butt almost hanging off the seat, letting the lanky legs almost be parallel to the floor with your head tilted off to the side. you’re giving her this soft look, a loving gaze with the warmest smile that makes mina’s eyes widen at how you currently looked.

a cropped puffer jacket with both hands in the pockets sits really well along with your long dress pants that really elongate your legs as you cross them over, still not moving your upper body whatsoever as you inhale with your head falling back. mina is left in awe with how your homey style when she came to see you switch up so fast with how dashing you were with casual wear, clear to say that you could’ve been a model for fendi or any high fashion brand, but that wasn’t in your department up until recently.

you seem relaxed and well rested (or it could be the foundation you put on to hide your eyebags -which there were none-) and it seems like you were just trying to live normally as best as you could without all of the business of being a neurosurgeon or sorcerer supreme. superheroes need their breaks every now and then right?

mina can’t help but stare blatantly, and she’s trying to figure out how long it’s been since she came to see you. she felt bad about bringing her problem to you in the first place and wants to set things right, all she ever wanted really was to be set free from the clutches of her family and be her own person, the aspirations she had for her life that she wanted to live, but at every turn of attempts, there was always someone to stop her and she hated that.

you stretched out the lasting bits of tension from your aching body, legs rising off the ground before crossing them over again while you rub your knuckles through the pockets of your jacket. “is there something on my outfit or are you just gonna stare into my soul?”

mina looks away coyly from your question, hiding the blush that’s hinted on her cheeks. you can’t help but chuckle at the wave of her hair falling onto one side hiding her face.

“how long was i out?” she asks while turning back to you.

“about three days.”

mina furrows her brows at the amount of time that has passed since that night, but can’t help to ask more questions. “what did i do to get here?”

you lean forward with your butt on the seat now, pulling your arms up and out over your knees to a more serious manner. “i brought you here. don’t worry, it was under wraps.” you answer. “we actually keep this level for more severe patients but you’re in one of the spare rooms that weren’t occupied.”

“god, this is all a mess.”

“believe me, i’ve dealt with worse.” you huff out, the tired tone in your voice clearly breaking through as a knock was heard on the door. cristina flashes her head in through the crack before coming in quietly with a tray full of today’s breakfast that was being served to the patients below.

“nobody has noticed right?” you ask cristina, taking the two trays of food from her as she peeps through blinds to check if she was followed. “i’m actually surprised that no one asked about where you were going.”

“they just assumed that i’m taking extra food trays up for some of the peeps that are in the icu rooms, but yeah no one has said anything yet.”

“do you think it’s okay for a few friends to visit up here?”

“y/n, if word gets out that you’re keeping a potential criminal—”

you hush cristina, nicking your head off to the side at mina who has a blank expression on her face when her name was mentioned, biting your inner cheek defending your crush with everything that you can. mina is not a criminal, and you were going to do any means necessary to help her clear her name.

“sorry.” cristina mutters, “i know she means a lot to you, but you’d be coming under fire for this also when you’re supposed to be on temporary leave.”

“i can deal with all of that later, they need my work and mind anyway so they can’t get rid of me that easily.”

comforting cristina with your hands on her shoulders, you guide her out the door into the less bustling hallway, giving a word to be on the lookout in trade for letting in a few select guests courtesy of you, but it would only be a matter of time for the police and news outlets to swarm the front foyer of the hospital if someone speaks.

“say ahhhh….”

you say with your parted mouth while feeding mina a spoonful of scrambled egg that leaves her giving you a gummy smile with how you look like you’re babying a child.

mina can’t help herself with how cute you’re looking while taking care of her, so she opens her mouth for the spoon, humming at the taste once you pull back to get yourself a bite, wiping your mouth with a nearby napkin.

“i can eat just fine y/n, you don’t have to do all this.” mina says, covering her mouth while chewing.

“but i want to, so eat.”

mina listens, swallowing the food down while you’re getting another scoop of egg from the bottom of the container, hovering the spoon over to mina again with a hand under it to prevent it from falling. “don’t make me say here comes the airplane—”

“stop,” mina replies, opening her mouth for the spoon as you fed her again, putting the utensil on the tray with the breakfast meal now completely eaten. “thank you, it’s nice that you’re taking the time to help and take care of me.” she says, sighing while running her fingers against each other on her lap, looking down in a slight embarrassment.

you hum, “you came to me, so i’m not resting until i can find a solid solution to your problem mina.”

“but you should.”

“and i won’t.”

mina lets out a chuckle, “were you always the stubborn type? that’s not really your style to go by when impressing someone.”

“it’s working on you, and it still is.” you beam, “after all, who saved you from that one man who tried to get up all in your bubble at the gala?”

“okay, okay.” mina surrenders, “you do have a point with that one.” she says, holding her hands up in defeat, setting them down after. you smile at the slight bit of playfulness on her face and in her tone, reaching over to clasp her hand lightly, prompting a sense of comfort that makes mina blush a bit from the touch of your hand.

you run your finger over the ridges of her knuckles, before pulling away with your hand going back into your puffer pocket, leaning back into the seat to relax considering that you’ve been keeping a close eye on mina for the entirety of the three days and nights (which meant that your sleep schedule was extremely fucked up) graveyard shifts were always normal when working, but this was the first instance in a while where your own mind was tormenting under the stress and constant disarray of questions that was pounding around in your head keeping you awake.

there’s still a lot to uncover here; the supposed curse set on mina, the whole mystery with the myoui family as a whole, what did mina’s dad have a role to play in, how were you going to clear mina’s name to the chief and jihyo, and not even forgetting about the small urge that’s tempting you from within whenever you set your eyes on mina—it’s not that noticeable for you to catch, but it feels like there’s a second thought, much like a voice telling you something otherwise.

you were one of the strongest beings of the universe, the guardian of the magic arts, the one who left everything behind in order to save your own mind and body from destroying itself. this isn’t any different, but this is mina you’re trying to protect and save here, and you can’t help but think about the possible failures that could happen-

“y/n…”

it’s still fresh in your mind, the look on your sister’s face in the car as it tumbled down the hill on the way to the special hearing event that night, the last moments before everything went blank as you hit the water—

“y/n.”

the pain was too much to bear, every fiber in your bone and muscle aching when you dragged the lifeless corpse out of the car—hands destroyed and riddled with blood and metal shrapnels s you cried your heart out waiting for the light of the helicopter to shine down on you, feet away from the wreckage. flashes of the lifeless body in your sister, the same thought happened with mina in your arms from that one dream or vision. you couldn’t save your sister, would the same outcome of fate happen with mina if you failed again—

“y/n!”

snapped out in a trance, you’re staring at mina again, her eyes piercing through yours. like the smart girl that she is, your look gave it away that something was wrong. you inhale sharply, stretching out the limbs in your body like before when mina first came about from her slumber. you sit up, running a hand through your face to wipe off the tired look before you feel mina’s hand on your arm.

“are you okay?” she asks, “you blanked out for a few seconds, and you were almost crying?!”

“was i?” you say, nodding to answer her question before scratching the back of your neck to keep your body moving. “sorry…i just have.. .a lot on my mind…that’s all.”

mina tilts her head out of sympathy, pressing her lips inward at you looking distressed, anxious. she’s never seen you this on edge before, let alone like you’ve lost a bit of color on your face or the light dimming in your eyes.

“y/n.” mina says for the fourth time in a short span. you turn your attention to her. she sat a little bit higher due to the elevated hospital bed, making you slightly look up, but with those golden retriever eyes of yours, she lets out a needed smile at how soft you’ve become for her, and it’s the reassuring part about you that she really likes. “i wanted to ask you a question again.”

“what’s on your mind?” you say, leaning forward, elbows on the edge of the bed and fist holding up your head, gazing at mina’s bare face and the pretty details around it. “you can always tell me without asking.”

“why do you save lives?” she asks, and again the flashbacks are flooding in.

blinking, lost and entranced, you’re snapped back with a rough exhale before scooting your chair closer to mina, lowering your head which prompted her to place her hand on the back of it to ease your troubles while you placed your flat palm on top of your shoulder where her hand was, giving a look of reassurance that you were okay to some extent.

“well, i—”

“let me rephrase,” she interrupts, “why are you the person you are today?”

the question is internalized from your ears, your hands are between your legs clasped, you’re looking out the window that’s nothing but gray setting the dull mood throughout the room/

“i became who i am…” you begin, “because it was the only way out for me.”

mina stares with the silence beating in, you’re looking downward at the sheets where mina’s legs are at, clutching your wrist at the pain you’ve been keeping to yourself for so long—

“i used to be like you; hard working, got everything that i ever wanted and more.” you answer, looking at her with a wistful gaze in your eyes. “all of that changed in a flash because of a silly mistake that cost everything.”

“what happened?”

clenching teeth, the memory just feels like yesterday post-op—the aftereffects of the concussion, the countless rods nailed into the bones of your hands suspended above your body like a zombie, and the daunting notion that you were the sole survivor, and all five stages of grief was the only resolve in your mind.

“i was invited to an event. brought my sister as a plus one who wanted to attend these special gatherings. we were on the way there when there was a crash.” you say, staring out the window with the sounds from the car that night faintly going through your head. “we got blindsided by some other driver on the opposite end, sending our car tumbling down the hill to the ocean below.”

mina is appalled by this, and you have only told a few people outside of the hospital circle about your accident, it still traumatized you to this day. you kept your heart and terrific mind, but your hands and not to mention—

“i fought everything that my body was forcing on me, getting out of a flooded car with completely destroyed hands, dragging my sister’s body to the shore. i couldn’t save her in the end.” you add on, dipping your head at the thought before mina’s hand finds your shoulder again. you look at her with tears welling, you’ve never shown this side of you to anybody since the accident, but mina understood—and her comfort was definitely all the more reassuring.

“i may not have had the same luxury like you, but—”

“y/n, that doesn’t matter, keep going.” she orders.

“right,” you mutter, fixing yourself up in your chair. “after the accident, i pooled everything that i could into fixing my hands, and it burned bridges with some of the closest people that turned their backs on me because of my greedy arrogance, to fix something, make me feel better again.”

it’s a shock to mina. this revelation. you were the same as her (to some extent), but she can relate to your life story the more you shared.

“i did everything i could, but it brought me to the doors of a temple, a new world and…it saved my life.”

“y/n.” mina says. “i didn’t know—”

“it’s okay.” you answer. “if it weren’t for that one way ticket in a last ditch effort, i wouldn’t be where i am today.” you bring your hands up to show her. they looked better with time, but the fading scars were still present as well as the lingering shaking, but you’ve healed; moved on further from that phase of your life, and here you are.

“i used to think that my life was the only thing that mattered.” you say to mina, clasping her hand at the side of her leg, looking at her with a soft smile. “but people like you have shown me so much more, and maybe some lives are worth saving than my own.”

“sorry, i shouldn’t have—”

mina tries to say, but your lips were suddenly pressed against hers. the initial contact is gentle enough to knock the wind out of the both of you under normal circumstances. time seems to slow down even more when you cup her face with your hands, and mina’s hand grabbing onto your wrist. the feeling and taste of her lips against your own that was the only thing on your mind right now.

she’s the one to pull away first, grasping your hand lightly to stop as your eyes flutter open while retreating.

“sorry.” now you’re the one apologizing. “too much?”

mina giggles gently, her head in between your hands still, thumbs grazing her cheek lightly before lowering them. “didn’t know the magic doctor would have a soft spot for someone like me. it’s kinda cute.”

you try to rebut, but mina’s lips swoop in for a quick peck before pulling away to have a better look at your surprise expression. she stares at you for a second, appreciating the hint of red spreading from the top part of your cheeks just under your eyes, tapping the beauty mark that’s alongside your jawline before wiping a wisp of lint that got stuck on your eyebrows with her thumb.

“shouldn’t you be working technically?”

“well.” you respond. “i’m on leave actually, but i help advise some of the other specialists every now and then. you’re not trying to get rid of me are you?”

“no, i’m not.”

“don’t lie to me.”

“i’m not!”

“mhm.”

you kept a close eye on mina at the hospital every now and then. tasking cristina to also check up on her with food as well as any other essential needs that she might ask. most of the other workers, including the ones that you usually talk with, didn't really seem to bat an eye or even ask what you were still doing in the hospital when you’re supposed to be on temporary leave (should be permanent since you’re a freaking superhero and saving lives in a different way).

when you are not at your office finding solutions for mina, you’re spending most of your free time with her. watching movies, talking about magic spells and showing her, and even losing to her on mario kart since she requested to have a nintendo switch in her room (you couldn’t say no to that). it’d only been roughly about two to three weeks since the gala incident—maybe even longer since you were in a slight coma, but everything was against the clock now.

one day, you took a break from looking at some brain scans, knocking at the door to mina’s room when you hear her faint voice prompting you to come in. swinging the door slightly open popping your head with a dumb smile, mina’s face lightens up with yours while you walk in. “sorry to keep you waiting minari. still did some reading and a few other things.”

“i was wondering if you were gonna see me today.” she replies, “am i gonna be discharged anytime soon?”

“as much as i love to take you home with me, police activity is still prominent in searching for you.” you reply, “the sanctum would be the ideal place, but you gave wong a scare with…”

“right…”

“but that was one of the things i wanted to ask you about, you’re essentially helping me a bit with this actually.”

mina looks up as if her face says ‘me? you want help from me? the person with vampire powers helping the sorcerer supreme?’

“well, but how do expect me to—”

“just listen to what i have to say.”

“okay…”

mina’s attention is zeroed in on you sitting down like when she first woke up, hand on head with your elbow on the bed. “i’ve been looking at brain scans along with reading some psychiatric cases in between.”

“what about it?”

“well, there could be a number of factors that can explain why, but i was able to narrow it down to maybe one or two things.”

mina raises her hand up at you, signaling to stop, raising your eyebrow in curiosity at the sudden action while also shutting you up.

“i’ve been thinking about this also, but i don’t know if it makes real sense.”

“nothing is too crazy if you’re talking to me about supernatural stuff.”

mina laughs, dipping her head down while you shake your head smiling. “okay but maybe you can try to answer this.”

you look at her again, everything about mina was just ethereal about her. once again, you’re blushing slightly with the hints of flirting you’re casually dishing out.

“you know how we have a conscience right? or like a second voice?”

“yeah. or at least something to that degree.” you answer, leaning back in your chair.

“what if,” mina pauses with parted lips, “that second voice is real, like it's almost a different person.”

“that could be plausible, but—”

would that really explain what you might be assuming?

before mina could add on, a knock on the door is heard outside the room. the both of you look toward the sound interrupting your conversation, remembering that you asked to meet with this person to help you with finding the probable cause of solving mina’s case.

“i completely forgot,” you say, “i asked someone to meet up with me around this time, but you’re onto something mina.”

“really?”

“well if what you’re saying is true, then maybe.” you reply “let me see first, stay here for me will ya?”

“i’m not going anywhere.” she says, smiling.

“good.” you say, leaning to give mina a quick peck before leaving the room to the hallway. once you were on your way out, mina hears a faint whisper in her head, her smile dropped to a more serious expression, and her eyes flashed red again.

once the door closed from the outside, you notice that a woman was standing against the wall next to the window, wearing a layered dress shirt over a vest with an id clipped onto it.

“i was wondering if you were here or not.” the woman says to you, rubbing her eye for probably the nth time since she came to the hospital.

“so you did look at my text nayeon.” you reply, standing in front of her while you wiped your lips from the remnants of mina’s lip gloss with your finger. “and i thought that you’d never leave your lab for something like this.”

“well after i heard that jihyo gave you some insight with the case, i figured that you would also need my help with the files you pulled.”

“alright mrs. phd, impress me.”

nayeon laughs at the sly jab of banter you threw at her while she looks at her phone that showed photos of brain scans, you automatically assumed that dr. hirai also looked at these when assessing mr. myoui’s condition after the surgery.

“if you look at the different contrasts of how the brain is showed in this imaging.” she says while swiping the screen to show brainwaves that you knew that nayeon also did herself as testing. “notice how all the readings aren’t as consistent as they were before?”

“i get what you’re saying.”

“i also looked at the logs that jihyo provided from dr. hirai, and the transcripts of those said conversations.” nayeon added, “we could be seeing a different kind of problem here.”

“you’re not saying that the—“

“this issue has happened before, but we thought of it to be more of a psychological disorder.” she states, “the way he sounded and from the audios can only imply one thing only.”

maybe what mina was asking about to you is true after all.

“we’re looking at a split personality disorder then.”

“of something to that degree.” nayeon replies, “spiderwoman had a confrontation with the father after the whole gala thing and she said that he was like, unstable…erratic to better word it.”

everything starts to make sense. you’ve glossed at the case files, and the spellbook that you were looking at while mina was being tended to all started to add up. that red moon was the catalyst of unleashing something within mina. that, and the freak accident that happened to her while she was little while her dad was working at the lab in minatozaki industries. gears in your head started to work at overtime piling all of the information from the past couple of days or weeks. it all comes down to one thing.

“shit.” the realization hits you much harder than a truck.

“what’s wrong?” nayeon asks you.

“if what you’re saying is true, then we should ask mina about this.”

“are you sure?”

“anything is better to help her get out of this situation.” you say, “she already wanted to seek help from more people, so this is good.”

nayeon slots her phone back in her pocket, crossing her arms after while tilting her gaze back to you. “i hope you’re doing the right thing here, y/n. you’re lucky i have a study into the psychosocial aspect of someone’s mind.”

“should’ve been a neurologist.”

“bite me.”

“been there, done that.”

the both of you let out a chuckle together before a sudden thud is heard inside the room. your expression shifts over when you look to the side and back at nayeon, sprinting to the door and shoving it open.

your heart drops at the sight of the unoccupied bed, the tousled sheets and the cords of the monitors behind all flatlining in an erie tone. the window was open and a cool breeze was blowing through the open passageway.

a sigh of defeat leaves your lips, scratching your head while nayeon scans the room for any signs or traces. but the situation was all too present to revel in. mina was gone.

“i should’ve done something about this sooner.” you huff out irritably, placing a hand on the bed while the game on the tv showed the ‘you lose’ words all bold and red for you to see. you back at nayeon with a more stern appearance now, seething air into your teeth before rubbing your chin trying to think about the next move.

“did you always have sharp canines?” nayeon asks you suddenly, noticing the grit teeth from your mouth. “i know that you have the bite mark on your neck but—“

“it’s nothing.” you answer, “i’m fine, and yeah. it’s like baby fang teeth that i’ve had for a while.”

“hm, okay.” nayeon says coolly. “well i should go back to the lab, i have to fix up another damaged suit for spiderwoman, but let me know if you need additional lab details.”

“i’ll text you, thanks anyway nayeon.”

she hums and excuses herself from the room, leaving you all alone again. this corner was all too familiar to you, and the impending thought of losing after everything that has happened up until this point creeps back into your mind.

you’ve faced many things as doctor strange, but this is just you; no mystical powers, a person that has been grounded down to reality, their whole life changed in an instant, still hands reduced now lingering remnants of the accident, but a mind that still has years of knowledge inside. a broken being who’s burnt bridges and relationships who wanted to fix everything.

mina was the same, she’s the same as you to some degree. she didn’t ask for this to happen, but she’s been thrusted into this whole debacle because of ignorance. her resolve to bring justice for herself against the people that hurt her, and she would be the kind of person to see it through to the end.

you’ve seen the side of mina that can be loved, cared for, the one where you could leave everything behind just to be with her. you didn’t think you’d have feelings for her, but it’s too strong now to suppress. but there’s a side that you haven’t even uncovered yet, like a secret that only she wants to keep to herself.

all of these questions could be answered sooner, but the first one that’s the major part of the business while it somewhat scares you now was,

where could have mina possibly gone off to?

not that long, maybe some hours later, you’re floating in air along with some of the towering skyscrapers while the whole city is shrouded in a cloudy dusk.

you’re recounting the facts in your head: the myoui family history, the night at the gala, the other night when mina came to you for help, mina, sharing those brief intimate moments of comfort and care, but there was one aspect that was still a blank page for you in unfolding all of this.

what the heck was the big accident that you’ve been hearing and reading about?

you stay idle, ascending upwards slightly as your mind continues to tirelessly work, becoming flush with the clouds as the people below become smaller and smaller in your vision.

thoughts keep flowing in your brain, piecing the whole puzzle together. being suspended in the air was your safe place (frankly, you took inspiration from that one anime character that’s wearing a blindfold with white hair that wong has been watching as of recently) but there was something serene about the silence while being thousands of feet up from the ground.

pensive, but was nayeon’s study actual concrete evidence in addition to the files, recordings, and transcripts of conversations that pose mina’s dad as a threat behind all this? could mina really—no, there’s no possible way even that thought is real.

brother, saving the universe was more taxing compared to this.

wait.

brother?

a spark clicks in your brain.

you remember looking at the case file jihyo handed to you, the list of names checked off in your head one by one, but there was one outlier, and not to mention it was crossed off in scribbles repeatedly.

mina did mention something, or someone. she couldn’t bring herself to mention the name, nearly breaking down in tears that same night she came to see you.

you knew exactly where she is.

because it’s also the same place you swore you’d never bring yourself to.

so without a second thought, you teleport yourself in a quick flash to that location where’d you hoped it would be the same place that mina was, proving every assumption right.

mina lands awkwardly on a grassy area, her steps staggered as she tries to regain her balance from flying.

she hobbles over across a row of tombstones, stopping to kneel at one that was a little more adjacent to a nearby tree. wiping the twigs and other grassy parts off from the nearby stone before grazing it with her thumb, tracing the words etched into the rock that was tantamount to the pain she’s been holding in for so long.

here lies ray myoui, a bright star and beacon of light.

mina then stands up to back away a few feet from the tombstone, staring at the words while hanging her head in shame at the memory. sounds from her childhood come creeping back of that fateful night that changed everything.

“ray? mina? what are you doing here?! you have to get out, it's too dangerous!”

“i have to help!”

“ray! don’t go in there!”

“dad stop!”

“sir! we have to leave it’s gonna blo—“

she shakes her head from the flashback, clenching her fist and jaw. a cool breeze flows through the overhanging tree, blowing her hair while she sniffles a bit in a brief moment of sadness.

“i promise ray, i’ll make them pay…i’ll make all of them pay… for this.” mina says with grit teeth. “they can try to stop me, but your story will be told. i won’t be scared anymore.”

mina then fishes a wilted rose from her pocket, laying it on the tombstone before kissing her palm, planting it on top of the rose. even if her brother was no longer on this earth, she loved him more than her parents who neglected him, now they’re doing the same thing to her. it’s all because of her dad, it wouldn’t bring ray back but it’d be the best bit of justice to have.

she stays still with her palm flat on the stone, the breeze coming in more forcibly this time before zipping up her windbreaker that she stole.

“figured that you’d be here.”

a voice calls from behind that was too gentle to run away from.

mina turns and her expression shifts to a more shocked look at the sight of you floating down from above, the gracefulness behind it once your feet hit the ground, eyes fluttering open with a face full of sympathy, a hint of hurt lying underneath it.

a woolen turtleneck sits nicely on your figure, your hair is wavy like a post makeout session or fresh out of the shower kind of look. you seem relaxed, tired even, but mina can’t help but stare like before when she first woke up back at the hospital. you looked good, radiating cold all over (you were literally up with the empire state building but that’s enough to digress).

the distance is short between you and mina, like a standoff in one of those old school western movies. your shoulders are square with mina’s, and your hands are still in your pockets, not itching for a fight, a clash of minds some would say like in a game of chess.

one of you will lose this staring contest over who has the better face card. (spoiler alert: the wind is the winner.)

“how did you find me?” mina asks, slightly shaken, considering that she had left no traces back at the hospital. which got her thinking, but then again, you were the master of the mystic arts–so this was like child’s play of cat and mouse the way you looked unamused with a tugged smile at the corner of your mouth.

“i don’t usually like coming here,” you say, looking off to the distance filled with rows of tombstones filling the hills. “not my favorite spot of the city exactly.”

mina steps a bit forward, nearly inviting herself in your personal bubble, but freezes for a second when she sees your face was still unchanged. “i should’ve said something before when you asked me, i’m sor–”

“mina,” you say sternly, meeting her eyes because you didn’t need to have her tell you again. “i know.”

she closes her lips, looking down at her feet. of course you would know about mina’s past, but mina doesn’t know you left one detail out about your accident that shares a sort of commonality between the two of you.

“this was also the same place where i buried my sister.”

mina’s eyes on your face fall from wistful to crestfallen, remembering the story you told her a few days ago also humanizes her motives. your smile was gone, unmasking the hidden universe in your eyes that no one has been able to see, until now. “her grave is a little bit past this hill, but i’ve never actually been able to stand in front of it.”

“i see,” mina replies, looking down at her brother's tombstone, patting it to acknowledge his presence in front of you. “sorry again for not asking in the first place.”

“you shouldn’t go off running like that anyway,” you reply, voice slightly strained with worry. “you’re already in danger as it is.”

she winces at the words, knowing the state of her whole situation. she’ll only make things worse if she plays damsel in distress, so the only logical thing to do was to stay put and safe with you.

“you should’ve told me about your brother.” you say with your head tilted at an angle, “i know that there’s other things to worry but for me to find out while you’re roaming around the city wasn’t the right move.”

“i—i just couldn’t. you know how much i wanted to tell.” mina pleads, closing the distance between you and her more closely by just a few inches. “believe me y/n, this means too much to—“

“then why didn’t you say anything when you came to me that night?”

“because i was afraid of how you’d see me if i told you that i was responsible for my brother’s death?!”

you remain frozen, unmoved at the fact that mina blames herself over a freak accident from their youth. you’ve seen the case files from jihyo, mr. myoui’s transcripts and recordings with dr. hirai, it doesn’t change the fact that mina is innocent—and you’re gonna do everything to help clear her name.

“mina.” you say her name against the cool wind, and the way the syllables bounce off your tongue makes the hairs on the back of her neck shiver. “i know you’re scared, and you feel powerless. but i’ve told you this before already, i’m here for you. there’s no need to run away any longer, i can help you.”

mina bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head slightly trying to deny the situation. she wants to stand on her own ground, to defy against everything her family made her think and believe. she can do it, her resolve more firm and clear than anything in this godforsaken world can throw at her. standing up to her father was one of her biggest ever fears, and with her powers, she can do that unlike before.

“there’s better ways to handle this,” you say, “no one has to get hurt.”

“how could you possibly know that?!”

“because,” your voice becoming more gentle and easing, “i understand. all of it.”

“wha–”

“i know what it means to lose someone you care so much about.” you say, “i’m no different than you mina, we’re both the same.”

mina’s gaze softens, brows furrowing while you close your eyes walking forward, making your turn to shorten the gap between you and her. “don’t let your pain blindly drive you to madness wishing that things would be different.”

she looks down again, the top of her head hitting your collarbone slightly. you look off to the distance, spotting the area where your sister’s tomb was at. recalling the memory of the funeral service with all of your parents and the rest of your family members all gathered to see the coffin be lowered into the ground.

despite everything that has happened, you kept yourself at a distance, knowing that if you were with your family members, the pain would be too great to bear—so you saw her off from far away; distant and disconnected, but it was the right thing to do.

tears are stained into your turtleneck, the sounds of the sobs muffled against the fabric as you wrapped an arm around mina while she clutched your waist with her arms. you catch a quick whiff of the apricot scent that was in her hair from the hospital, placing a light kiss on the top of her head to comfort her while mina collects herself.

“you okay?” you ask mina, still buried into your sweater. a faint muffle of ‘yes’ can be heard while you pat her back. “at least i got to meet ray finally.”

mina lets out a light chuckle while she wipes her face from the stained tears on her cheek, you’re brushing a few strands of her hair before rubbing your thumb on her cheek, giving a loving look with your eyes, orbs piercing through hers as she lifts a soft smile. “let me say goodbye before we go.”

so you comply with her request, giving mina some space for a few more minutes, standing on the edge of the tree just before the leaves meet the cloudy sky. watching her kneel down to the tombstone, cleaning the last bits of sticks and twigs from the ground surrounding it before dipping her head down. she gives a few parting words before closing her eyes, whispering to herself before fluttering them open again, the hint of red fading away before standing up, turning to you looking off to the distance again.

she makes her way to you, a soft smile spread across your face. playing it cool while she hugs you again, your chin on the top of her head, letting yourself hug her before she rests her face on the right side of your chest. she looks up to meet your eyes, and you’re looking down slightly while her hand snakes up to the back of your neck.

“thank you.” mina says, closing the space between your lips with hers. the kiss in itself was intoxicating as your hands snake around her hips again, pulling her towards you while she cups your face with her other hand that wasn’t occupied. there was something alluring about mina this time compared to the other instances, but the relief that you found mina again was the only thing on your mind right now. nothing else mattered.

you pull away after a few moments, half-drunk from mina’s captivating lips while you catch your breath, her hand on your chest trying to calm down the rapidly beating heart inside. retracting your lips inward and knitting your brows together that makes mina’s eyes appear more glossy, wanting more.

“just do one thing for me this time,” you mutter, looking down in slight embarrassment, “stay with me for now, at my place.”

“did you have something else in mind?”

“and never leave me.”

once back at your place, it had already become nightfall. you don’t even bother turning the lights on around the house because what’s the point in doing so?

mina is in tow right behind you, and all of a sudden your mind feels a little woozy. propping back against the doorframe leading into your room, mina stops you in your tracks to see what was wrong. how typical you; letting your guard down for just a second, the irony of being a doctor and getting sick.

or maybe it was something else, and you never saw it coming.

“everything fine y/n?” mina asks you, standing opposite from you in the doorway, trying to shake off the sudden headache that was pounding in your head. “you don’t look good.”

“yeah, i’m fine.” what a tremendous lie that was for you to say. “i need to keep searching for answers from the spellbooks.”

“you shouldn’t,” mina objects, “you can barely stand up straight.”

“this is for you. i don’t care about myself.”

mina sighs out, like it was calculated or prompted from the exchange of words. “you should relax.”

you want to, but you know you can’t. not while there’s still questions left unanswered and theories to be tested.

“maybe this can ease your mind.”

mina pounces at the opportunity, locking lips with yours again, not letting up any chance for you to retaliate or move. a swipe of her tongue into your parted mouth catches you off guard, and you start to kiss her back.

your mind starts to become more hazier and hazier as the seconds pass. mina pushes more into your mouth exploring more, the space behind your back now becoming more open as you two shuffle towards the bed. you don’t even realize it at first because your lips are being cast under the spell of mina’s.

it’s enchanting, and dangerous. consuming all of you, and you’re powerless to go against it.

a whimper is let out when mina lightly bites the same spot she bit as a vampire from that night at the gala, and you stop her for a second, clutching her shoulders while she pulls the nipped skin of your scar.

“this isn’t right…” you try to say, words getting slurred against mina’s mouth as she repeatedly kisses you. turning away to stop her again before anything else happens.

this feeling is too unfamiliar, and every notion of morality is replaced by lust, or maybe it was all a ploy in mina’s game.

“mina…”

you attempt to stop her for one final time, but she’s quick to shut you up, pushing you on the bed, straddling you with one arm over while the other is pinned to the side. you’re too weak to move, inhibitions lowered with half lidded eyes and all of the nerves in your body feel numb.

“no,” she hushes you, finger against your lips while she trails down to your neck, grazing the two holes on the right side of your throat. “not mina.”

not mina? this feels like a dream gone bad, but when your eyes are met with hers again, glowing a hint of red underneath the brown—

“sharon.”

your mind was too far gone to process what was happening. under the alluring spell, the adrenaline suddenly rushes in your veins, snapping you out for a millisecond before sharon’s lips are crashed with yours, subduing you to her spell even more.

she forces your arms over your head again, head falling to your neck to bite you in the exact same spot like last time, causing you to yell out in pain, sharon pulling away with fangs now bearing along her teeth, small smears of your blood spread across her lips.

“i forgot how good you tasted.” sharon says, licking up your neck leaking a bit of blood while you squirmed under her, her grip tightening around your wrists and waist keeping you in place. “looks like my little imprinting experiment worked on you. just took a little bit of time for it to take effect.”

“fuck–y-you—”

“ah ah ah,” sharon giggles out, “try to resist it with your natural powers, and the spell will only make it worse, hurting you from the inside.”

your mind is clouded by mina’s–no– sharon’s spell casted from her mouth, causing you to be under her influence. she’s licking her lips at the sight of your face being flushed, and you’re staring off to the side in hopes that all will come to pass, but her hand is quick around your neck, halting your breathing for just a second.

“is there something that you want from me, hmm?” sharon asks, “because i can fulfill your desires more than mina ever will.”

shivering under her touch, her fingers find their way under your turtleneck, the electric sensation of her fingertips grazing over your breast while she roughly kisses you again, eyes glowing underneath while you moan into her mouth. the heat is building in between your thighs, rubbing them together with her leg just beneath the space. the natural fight or flight response kicks in from your brain that isn’t taken over by her lust driven powers. when you push her off, making a break for the door before she grabs your shoulders, throwing you onto the frame of the bed, making you grunt at the sudden pain in your back.

sharon is quick to mount on your hips again, both of her hands wrapped around your neck again, gripping her wrists to try to get them off. she’s hissing at how much you’re resisting, and her nails are dug into your skin, wincing at how sharper they became. “try to be a bad girl for me again, and the next thing you’ll feel is the cold hard ground when i drop you.”

there’s no point in fighting, her lips are on yours again, the spell a lot more powerful this time around, marking up your neck again that makes you clutch the back of her head to prolong the contact. she rips off the sweater from your chest, dipping down to kiss your breasts still being held captive by your bra.

she stops for a second, growling at the sudden stoppage of her assault on you. “are you gonna be good for me? i can sense your thoughts before you even make a move.”

“y-yes.” you say weakly.

“so desperate,” sharon says, tracing her finger across your cheek. “how pathetic of you to be like this for me.”

“i–i—”

sharon tilts her head, snickering at how you were whimpering to say something, clutching your face forcing you to look up at her. “so now you want something?”

you shouldn’t, how could you let this happen?

“i want you…”

the mind is too racked with how sharon has handled you, like a drugged being hopelessly in love.

“to mark me…”

you mindlessly rip off your bra, the stars sharon is seeing in your eyes while her red orbs are laser focused on your face and the newly exposed area beneath.

“as yours.”

you’ve been poisoned.

the toxicity of this moment has engulfed you, and the craving sensation is humbling—embarrassing to say the least.

this atmosphere in your small space between you and sharon is hot, her eyes gleaming—hypnotizing you under her rule. you can’t resist, you’re mindlessly letting your hands wander up and down her body, and she’s giggling at you. why is she like this? did i mean to say that? i can’t resist this feeling—

i need her, all of her.

“i’m intrigued, y/n.” sharon says, “i saw everything within you, your thoughts and feelings—the way you dream about her. don’t squander away from the truth. mina could never seize an opportunity like this if it weren’t for me.”

your throat is dry, unable to speak no matter how much you wanted to. in this space where everything seems to fade out from reality, the room grows darker than it already has. sharon leans down, kissing all over your chest before her nails lightly claw over your breasts. you could feel the sharp fang nearly drawing blood to your skin, clutching to her back once her tongue makes contact with the erected bud of your nipple, causing you to bite your lip at the sensation.

“take my fucking pants off.” you spat, wretched from the way that sharon has been nearly teasing you for quite some time now. “rip it from my body, i’m begging—.”

“do you think i should listen after putting me in chains when i came to you?”

her gaze burns through your face, the pit in your stomach deepens. the words that are coming out of your mouth shouldn’t be even said at all. you’ve fantasized about a night with mina—just slightly—-but you envisioned it to be soft and tender.

this version of mina was completely out of left field, despite how feral she was with her disheveled hair, fangs on the upper row of her teeth, the way she effortlessly tossed you on the bed after resisting, how her kisses were more aggressive, rougher.

to admit it would only ensure your defeat.

“i…” you try to speak, “just—“

the words are slow to bounce off the tongue and teeth, hands grilling the bedsheets under you while sharon’s mouth hovers over your ear. her breath flowing down the canal that makes you move your head from the feeling, and her head follows your movements.

sharon’s hands are quick around your waist, the cold palms in combination with her mouth marking up any territory that wasn’t touched on your skin, trailing down to your waist that makes your back fucking arch.

“le—let me,” the stuttering words falling out while sharon continues to bite lightly across the plane of your stomach.

“you taste delicious, that and your blood. i wonder if what you have down there is more mouth-watering to fulfill my cravings.”

“fucking hell, mina—“

“how the mighty have fallen so high.” sharon sighs out, cleaning up your bloodied neck more with her mouth. casually speaking, most people would bleed out at this point but your endurance was well worked for you to still be alive—only to be overpowered by pleasure. “you’ve dreamed about me doing this, haven’t you?”

“not exactly,” you reply, playing along with this game, but you’re not even sure if you’re the one answering or if her spell is answering for you.

“what if i said that mina is able to do this without my help?” her voice husked out with every bite to it.

sharon is leading this naturally, and all you’re instructed to do is follow and surrender. you don’t even realize the pants coming off of your legs because her eyes are keeping you entranced, teasing you by hovering her lips over yours—inciting a string of mewls and whines that makes her laugh at your appearance.

you don’t answer her question, resulting in more blood being sucked out of you, sharon humming at the seeping life drained away from your being.

“please,” you groan out, sharon’s chin grinding along the digits of your abs, spreading you apart, sharp fangs hitting your inner thighs, yelling a quick ‘ah!’. head leaned all the way back from the quick teasing that is nothing but torture.

sharon waves her hand, whispering out a cantation that materializes chains, clutching your wrists—keeping them apart and spread away from your body. you don’t resist from it, the spell you were under now nullifying all rational thoughts; you were under sharon’s full control.

“to think the sorcerer supreme would be like this for me, this should be a big achievement.”

she kisses you again, this time more sensually in contrast to her hungry, assertive kisses. her hands cupping your face as she prolongs the feeling of your lips on hers.

there’s a brief three second period of open air, a relief before you’re caught off guard when her mouth is on your pussy, the flat of her tongue swiping up and in—your feet point forward as her hands are quick to keep your hips in place.

nails digging into your flesh, the sheets below are rumpled up as your hands are clenched into fists against the restraints. your cunt being well worked in addition to your clit being shuffled into the mix.

“god, you’re fucking ravishing. it’s unbelievable.” sharon mumbles as she dives back for more, hips bucking while she claws your breast, the overstimulation from her mouth has you clenching your teeth, hips off from the bed as her tongue is deep in you, so deep.

a pendulum swings in your stomach, the familiar feeling that you’ve been deprived up for so long, from the licking and sucking and hissing and groaning that’s happening at your core, every nick and bone in your body tenses up for the release. it’s only a matter of time until—

“fucking—c-cumming, god mi—“ you say, gritting your teeth together. sharon looks up from your pussy to see the peak of your chin aimed at the ceiling, picturing your face with eyes rolled back against the lids, mouth hanging open and voice straining as if you fight back the moans (you don’t).

sharon helps you ride out your orgasm, lapping up the leaking slit with every part of her tongue, the sharp fangs of her teeth pinching a little around your swollen cunt, pulling away while she cleans her lips with her tongue, admiring the work she has done over you.

“you look so adoring.” she coos, fingers skating up and down your hips, thumb swiping your clit that makes you twitch from the contact of her fingertip. “but you want more don’t you?”

you’re mumbling out this sound from your lips, something like yes, always. it shouldn’t feel this good, but it does. it does. it does. it does, it does—

she soothes the wound on your neck, the bleeding stopped from the two slightly gaping holes on your throat, appearing like a colon. light kisses with a small hiss leaving her lips, she makes her way back up to you, trapping her face with yours for a few moments.

“so amusing,” she says, expectant and landing kisses on your cheek. you’re left breathless as she murmurs this into your skin, “i’m surprised that you haven’t bled out completely yet.”

(well—i mean—you were the master of the mystic arts, jack of all trades some would say, but that’s irrelevant.)

before you could even answer, her lips are on yours again for however it’s been since you two got back in your apartment. she’s gnawing at your bruised lips, never letting up in savoring the taste of her blood smeared lips, the hints of iron on your taste buds. she pulls away after, your lidded eyes are crossed slightly while fixed on her face, licking your lips for more.

“since you’re so good, i guess i could be a little nicer.” she says, a snap of her fingers that makes the chains on your wrists vanish into thin air. sharon then takes off the shirt, discarding it somewhere off in the room. your eyes widen at the clad chest hanging over you, salivating while she sighs with her hands bracing the headboard.

“you can touch me now.” she says lowly, prompting you to let your hands finally have fun for a bit, rubbing up and around sharon’s midsection to your heart’s content. sharon sighs at the contact of your hands, biting her lip at the appearance of your dried blood smeared all over your neck and chest, the hickeys also present before you got ahead of yourself when she feels your lips nipping at her collarbone, causing her to push you back onto the bed forcefully.

“i don’t like that.” she says, indulging another bite into your neck–your weak spot at this point before she plants her lips with yours to keep the spell in effect, this time leaving you completely incapacitated. “you’ve lost your touching privileges, now i’m going to absolutely ruin you.”

your mind tries to respond, but a part of you already understands. predator to prey, this was how it is now.

her lone hand trails down as you feel the nails skate over your sensitive skin. face flushed hot pink just like yours that was more crimson than hers, but the sensation grows down under when sharon parts your folds, causing your hips to shift off to the side the more she continues her up and down motion.

“f-fuck–more…plea–se, fuck mi–shit–” you’re slurring your words at this point while sharon teased you yet again, holding off everything in your thoughts to move while she’s whispering something into your ear again, the tone and eroticness just enough to make your head explode.

“what am i to you?”

“y-yours…”

“say it again.”

trying to shake off her head on the side of you, it doesn’t work. defying wasn’t the answer—it’s even worse when she slips a finger inside your cunt, feeling how slick it has become while she soothed you again with a soft kiss on your jaw. a whine being the only pathetic utterance coming out of your mouth.

“don’t make me ask again.” sharon snarls, fangs grazing your face while she clutches the roots of your hair. “if you want more, say it.”

“i’m yours sharon…” you say and the fog swallows you whole in your mind.

“lovely, you’ve earned it.”

another digit is inserted inside you, causing you to moan more loudly than before. the litany of curses that leaves your mouth is nothing more than a classical arrangement. sharon's long and slender fingers slide in and out effortlessly, and she’s just enjoying the moment hearing these sounds out of you.

the pace continues on for more, and you’re gritting your teeth–trying to fight the inevitable. she senses this, feeling it. you’re stifling a moan with your hand over your mouth, but sharon swipes it away, holding it down on the pillow before she bites into your shoulder to make you feel the mix of pain and pleasure.

“you can keep calling me mina or sharon, darling. either way, she can hear these lovely sounds coming out of you. let me hear it all.”

“s-stop–” you whine, the senseless fucking in a consistent rhythm still present all over your body. sharon can only keep smirking while you’re about to become unraveled again.

“scream for me, i can feel you arching.”

the moment comes in a flash, your body is simply past its limits—limits that you didn’t even think were possible in a time like this, and you yell out and fall slack, twitching while sharon keeps the contact in your pussy with her fingers, pulling out soon after with her fingers covered with your juices. you were thoroughly fucked.

she towers over your body, the marks, hickeys, flushed face, puffy pussy and lips, tousled hair, the bruised wrists from the chains. the glowing red eyes fade away for a slight millisecond, back to mina, and she doesn’t say a word before sharon returns. she then showers a few light kisses, before biting into the other side of your neck—marking her territory again while sucking away another few pints of blood before retreating completely.

your eyes try to stay open as much as possible, you’re too sterile to really move or do anything, so you just lay barren, exposed and wrecked, just how she wanted you to be.

“you belong to me, my beautiful masterpiece…” she whispers out to you, the airy breath leaving her lips while your mind slips into the darkness of unconsciousness.

the following day after that night was an unwelcome one.

you’re taking inventory, and recounting damage around the room, sitting at your dining table alone (wearing regular clothes instead of being naked) with a depressing glass of water.

mina left you again, and this time it feels like it would be for real.

no traces, no note, no lead of where she might have gone–it was simply back to square one, just like before back at the hospital. this was a losing battle, and it was only a matter of time before the chief and detective park put themselves into the mix of finally capturing mina. the clock was dwindling, and you still haven’t found a viable solution to save her.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

a snap of your fingers brings five spellbooks this time, each one of the opening to a page that had a multitude of spells and tricks that you can use to combat against mina sharon. you’ve been played, got karma for putting a vampire in chains. not to mention, you’ve had a throbbing headache since you woke up after—

you slam the table out in anger, the sound of a small hiss leaving your lips. pissed off and frustrated (mentally and sexually) you storm out to the window overlooking the city while your mind is tirelessly thinking about how to end this once and for all. there was one more ace in your deck of cards, the last resort that you didn’t think you’d have to use—but there’s no other choice.

behind your tv was a safe that kept a very old crusty spellbook that wasn’t meant to leave outside kamar taj, but you kept it as a souvenir after your bout with dormammu. turning to a specific page, you recall suggesting the exorcism spell that wong was very much against, resulting at the cost of one’s life, something that you were willing to do if it meant to save the city once more.

you’re staring at the hand signs to commence the spell, determined to use this if needed when your phone vibrates on the coffee table, seeing the message on your lockscreen that speeds up the whole process of everything that’s happened.

nay:

the lab’s been raided

mr. myoui was panicking around the courtyard

then he went missing

y/n:

where is he now?

nay:

the abandoned cathedral

this might be for real

put on your best suit.

from that last text, you stare at the ripped page that carried the exorcism spell. this was it, now or never—a final confrontation between the father and daughter, the ninth symphony. you’re jumping out of the window with your cloak of levitation following right behind you.

you eventually make it to the old abandoned cathedral, sneaking up to the bell tower that fed into the upper atrium towards the back. quietly sneaking through a walkway on the side, listening to the growing exchange of voices below once you got closer.

“mina, i know you’re angry, but you have to understand–”

“you could never understand! what you put us through, the false picture you’ve painted us as, the way you’re not taking responsibility!”

“this won’t bring your brother back.”

“this was never about him!”

you get to a vantage point that views the altar below. mr. myoui on the steps while mina is right in front of him, inching closer and closer to him. the cue to intervene was about to happen, but you’re waiting for the right time to step in.

mr. myoui tries to get up but mina forces him back down with a gust of wind. “i did what was best for you, i swear! it was for the sake of your own well being!”

“i didn’t ask for these powers in the first place!” mina exclaimed, “you and your stupid obsession to live longer has grown far too old, it’s a dumb fantasy.”

“and yet look at you, a reincarnation of our family vision for so many years. you’re the perfect rendition of so many attempts!”

mina’s eyes glow red again, but this time it appears she got it under control.

“for irene, dahyun, miyeon, all of them throughout our history, and i’m the last one?”

mr. myoui laughed, like this was everything that went against what you initially thought of the man. “you want to get rid of your powers? it’s impossible, the machine that caused the whole accident has been destroyed a long time ago.”

“then i’ll just have to kill you then.” mina says in a monotone voice, lunging forward that makes mr. myoui cover up in fear.

that’s your cue.

in a swift motion, you make your entrance from above, landing right in the middle of mr. myoui and mina, putting your arms out to ease the tension of the situation between the two of them, not wanting to end this in a fight.

“y/n?” mina asks, bewildered.

“this isn’t the way to do things, i’ve said this before multiple times.” you say, keeping your gaze locked on mina before switching over to mr. myoui, acknowledging him with a simple nod. in perfect timing, wong enters the cathedral from above, just right behind mina with his hands bearing orange protective circles.

“sure took your time to get here wong.”

“i know you took the forbidden book, but we can save that for later.” he barks, making you smirk at the small exchange.

things eventually escalated to worse, when the police started to barge in from all four corners of the cathedral, closing in to the center of the church, guns primed and ready, men and women clamoring the four of you to get down on the ground mixed with hands in the air. (it’s never one because of the other, god the police force is confusing sometimes)

you’re yelling at the top of your lungs, trying to get your message across to the police, did they really think it would be a good idea to shoot at a literal superhero who saved the universe? wong is also doing the same thing, stepping closer behind mina who has her hands up like mr. myoui. too many things happening in this chaotic, better yet—who the hell tipped off the police?!

“alright everyone, settle down!” you hear the voice of the chief coming in on the loudspeaker, jihyo’s gun is also trained to you four. “we don’t have to get all antsy with this, we just want to talk.” he says, “mr. myoui, are you willing to comply with the police if you turn yourself in?”

“you’re batshit crazy if i’m going to do that!” he yells, forcing you to look at him as he did. you feel a small sense–a tingle of sorts–formulating in the back of your mind. sound deafens out from your eardrums, and your vision starts to get cloudy, but you’re brought back when mr. myoui is calling out to you to reason with the chief. “tell them y/n! i’m the innocent one here!”

“i think we can all solve this without anyone getting hurt.” you say, reassuring the crowd with your hands, spinning around to see that you had no intention to harm or retaliate. “nobody has to die tonight.”

as soon as you say that, the dimmed lights flicker on then off, making you and everyone look up at the sudden change, but the sense comes back again, this time it’s more stronger–like you’re being controlled.

“well,” mina’s voice catches your ears, turning towards her as she stands idly, arms lowering, “just one person though, if that’s okay with you…”

her eyes glowed red again, tilting her head as if she were commanding you while your eyes roll to the back of your head.

a flurry of black flashes flow in instant seconds.

one moment you were standing, the next moment you were kneeled over mr. myoui who was on the floor.

clutching his neck that was gnawed at, blood spewing out uncontrollably, gasping for air. you don’t register it for a second, but then you see the bite mark, and the small stains of blood across your palm, fangs in your teeth shown in the reflected pool surrounding him. you don’t remember doing that, at all.

mina made you do that.

while your natural instinct was to protect the person you once saved, your look then shifts over to mina who’s weaving around the policemen, bodies flying everywhere and bullets are in the space. wong is also chasing after mina, keeping the police force at bay while trying to get you back to your senses, yelling repeatedly amidst the chaos that reaches you.

“fuck,” you mutter out, darting to catch mina from her blind spot, she senses this and changes her direction last second, causing you to crash into two police men, slicing the barrels from their guns to stop them from shooting. mina then grabs you from behind, tossing you like she did on the bed, this time to a stone pillar, holding you by the shoulders as she growled out when you try to shake her off.

“mina, stop this!” you yell, pushing her face away before another policeman tries to fire at her, you’re dodging the bullets while moving your hands to make a spell, placing it on the ground that erupts tree roots that canvas the open area around the altar.

the room shakes again as you see mina float up for a few seconds, a blue amber surrounds her, before pounding into the ground that makes everyone catch some air. you’re not fazed by this as your cloak of levitation keeps you from touching the ground, and you form an orange whip that catches mina’s hand, pulling her up before landing a solid hit to her midsection that sends her crashing to the centerpiece table.

you’d worry about if you hurt her or not, but the cathedral starts to shake again, the fragile structure now crumbling around the group that shifts this final battle into save and survey. you see a number of policemen and women make a break to the outside exits, a hint of jihyo’s hair making a break for the exit as well, helping her comrades while the chief is scouring through the rubble for something, or someone.

“chief! it’s too dangerous here, you gotta get out!”

“i’m not leaving without akira!”

he wasn’t the priority, not now. you sprint to the broken table, seeing that mina was still down on the ground, shaking her up to wake, “mina, mina wake up!” she eventually comes to, and a small sense of relief leaves your lips.

mina’s head is still ringing from the fall, and her eyes eventually fixate on you. getting her up from the rubble, the place is still shaking, a part of the roof had already caved in towards the back, and it was going to be that way if you and her don’t leave now.

“can you move?” you ask her, to which she nods, she was back to her normal self. that was one thing off the checklist, now for—

a gunshot is sounded off behind you.

you look at mina, and then you look down to see a stain of blood underneath her shirt. she falls into your arms while you turn around to see that it was mr. myoui who fired the shot, clutching his neck while doing so before an overarching piece of the building falls on top of him, solidifying his permanent demise.

mina clutches your cheek, she’s gasping for air while you’re denying the sad expression that’s breaking through your face right now. “hey hey hey, stay with me, please.” you plead, pressing down on the wound in her stomach, making her wince at the sharp pain, forcing your hand off. “i gotta do this to stop the bleeding mina, you’re not dying on me.”

her breath becomes shallow, and more of the broken stones start to fall around you, leaving you trapped in the small area. wong is able to spot you, fireman carrying a wounded policeman, ducking his head from the tumbling structure. “l/n! we have to go now!” he yells at you, noticing you holding mina’s limp body.

“don’t worry about me! get out of here!” you instruct wong, as he nods, making a break for the last opening before it’s closed off by the collapsing pillar. mina’s hand clutches to the back of your neck, forcing your look on her again, but it’s not her that’s doing it but—

“when one life dies, the other lives.” sharon hisses out, the other persona rightfully taking control of the body while she laughs at your ‘losing’ face.

you simply close your eyes at the realization of what you have to do now.

mouthing the activation words for the exorcism spell, you lay your palm flat on her chest as it glowed purple–the indication for dark magic–as a circle forms beneath you two. sharon’s evil laugh is all you’re hearing as the warbling of the spell continues to get louder, overpowering her voice. the energy coursing through your veins while the circle gets bigger around you, the stones closing in.

a white light glows from your palm flat on sharon’s chest, before lifting both hands like an offering to the gods above, sharon feels a weird sensation in her body–like the life force was being sucked out of her body away from mina, and that’s the case really.

“no! no no no, what are you doing? stop this! stop this now!” she demands, the restraints you put on her while the main spell was working doing it’s work once again, nullifying her movement and while the warped sound gets louder and louder.

you let out a controlled breath before placing your hands on her chest again, eyes opening glowing stark white before you're shielding her from the falling debris over your head with your hand, the building caving in on top of you.

mina’s body jolts in her sleep, eyes fluttering open and focusing around the dim dark room. the regalness of the bed and the history around it indicating that it was your room in the sanctum sanctorum.

she shifts around the covers, noticing the empty space behind her, door ajar leading to the hallway. she tries to remember what had happened before she ended up here, but can’t. was it a bad dream? everything that’s happened up till this point even real? she can’t put a finger on it to recall, and her body feels sore still, almost gingerly.

laying on her side, she closes her eyes from looking at the draped curtains that cover the bright, cloudy morning of the city. her ears pick up the sound of soft footsteps coming from the hall and into the door. you’re walking in with a small tray of herbal teas that looked like they could be hundreds of years old from the scent to the appearance of the cups as you place it on the nightstand.

“mina.” you call out her name softly, and her eyes blink open to the sight of you standing on the edge of the bed, grumbling into the sheets while she shifts around to get her brain to stay awake now. you sit right next to her, hand on her slightly exposed shoulder peeking out before leaning down to leave a few kisses across her cheek.

mina then sits up slightly, elbows propped up on the pillow. she’s staring at your loosely fitted oversized shirt that shows the pucker-shaped bruises shadowing across your throat from the night prior. she attempts to move while you’re stopping her from doing any more actions, “not too much moving now.” you say, hand on her chest to keep at bay. “how are you feeling?”

“i don’t know,” she responds, “i can’t seem to remember much from what happened. it’s like the whole memory is gone to me.”

“well, the only thing that matters is that you’re fine now, and safe.” you say, slotting yourself under the sheets and tangling your limbs with mina before finally getting comfortable in the bed with your arms around her.

mina wants to protest, something doesn’t feel right about this. there’s no place she’d rather be than in your arms, doing exactly what you set out to do; save her. the freedom from her family is so liberating even if she’s slumbering off in your chest by the minute.

you’re moving a part of hair past her ear, looking down at mina while she subconsciously pouts her lips for you to kiss, the exchange of inhales and feeling of her hot mouth intoxicating you the more you two lazily fight for dominance, still tired from last night’s exploration of each other’s bodies.

she mumbles something against your mouth, pulling away while you’re grazing your thumb across her cheek and jaw, planting another kiss before backing off to take in the details of her sleeping face. her soft breathing and the subtle rise and fall of her chest flush with yours makes you drink in the sight a little more than usual compared to previous occasions.

hand propped on your head, your eyes lower down from her cheekbone to her jaw, then to her slender neck—where there was a noticeable bite mark highlighted for you to see.

you simply smile at the work you’ve done, eyes hinted with a glowing red beneath your irises before fading out back to your original eye color. feeling the fangs in your upper row with your tongue before they retract back to your normal set of teeth.

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