#those 3 questions are from book of shadows

[kosmicprlz]

who are you, melinoe?

[prosypepper]

growing old with kento nanami

word count: 2.8k

warnings: post-shibuya arc, descriptions of: surgery, recovery processes, depression, insomnia, trauma, therapy, coping mechanisms; pregnancy, marriage, crying. (18+ mdni!)

notes: this WILL have a part 2 and maybe 3! it will be very long so i'm splitting it up. even though the warnings seem kind of sad i promise it's a happy story :)

part 2 | masterlist

“marry me.”

proposing to you was nanami’s first conscious thought after being in a coma for 5 days after shibuya. you were reading a book, peacefully keeping him company in his hospital room, not even noticing he was awake. your eyes fluttered up from your book, back down, and then up again.

“marry me, please,” he repeated. you stayed silent for a moment, eyes widening and mouth dropping. he wasn’t supposed to wake up.

“kento, oh my god,” you yelped, dropping your book and rushing to the hospital bed to look at him. his eyes were open, only slightly, and the weakest smile he could bear rested on his lips. you gently settled your hands on each side of his face, barely hovering over the charred skin. he looked so tired, and yet, he was asking you to marry him.

kento groaned when you hugged him, but you couldn’t stop yourself, you squeezed him gently and with care. a weak hand rested on your back, in between your shoulder blades. he was too weak to repeat his question again. but the only thing on his mind was if you would be his wife.

“yes, yes, i’ll marry you,” you cried into his chest, wetting the fabric of the hospital clothing.

neither you nor nanami himself understood why he proposed to you in that moment. after waking up, his journey to recovery began with slow but steady progress. it took several months of intense rehabilitation and support from both sorcerers and doctors for him to regain his mobility. with their help, he was able to walk and move with a surprising degree of agility, nearly returning to how he was before shibuya. he also had a few cosmetic surgeries, in an attempt to minimize the scarring from all he had been through. within a few months, he was able to see his skin smooth out and hair grow from the side of his head. he wouldn’t look the same, ever; but you didn’t care. you loved kento, as he did you, the fact you were able to celebrate his recovery made you feel like the luckiest woman on the earth.

the loss of his previous strength and abilities weighed heavily on him, casting a shadow over his spirits. yet, amidst the struggles, he found solace in small victories and the support of those around him, your support meaning the most to him. although kento was deeply troubled by the realization that he could no longer pursue his life as a sorcerer, he came to accept it as the best possible outcome given the circumstances. this acceptance marked a pivotal shift in his perspective, allowing him to focus on rebuilding his life in new ways. before he turned in his resignation, he had made sure to recommend ino for a promotion. it was his last wish as a sorcerer.

after the almost year-long recovery process, kento surprised you with a beautiful ring, one of the ones you had talked about before he went on his trip. he proposed again, in the place you first met, this time without weak hands and barely audible words. he was able to find a job, one not nearly as draining as his job from before he returned to jujutsu – and began making plans for your wedding. the planning process didn’t take long, he wanted the wedding to make you happy.

your and kento’s wedding was outright beautiful. it was a stunning venue on a beach, hundreds of guests attended, friends and family alike. kento shed a few tears when he saw you walking down the aisle, clad in the most gorgeous attire he’d ever seen you wear, as his bride. his voice shook as he said his vows – vows that he wrote, almost a good 1,000 words – and he made you a million promises. promises he wouldn’t dare to break, promises to grow old together and live the life you both deserve.

at the reception, you told kento you had a surprise for him, and ran off to go get something from one of your bridesmaids. he was confused at first, because he didn’t need any more surprises, he was the happiest he’d ever been. a newlywed, married to you. but when you came back to the table, two small pieces of paper in your hands, he didn’t think it would be possible to be more joyous.

“we’re going to malaysia, for our honeymoon, kento,” you excitedly told him, showing off the two plane tickets scheduled in a week.

nanami was speechless, a huge smile with teeth plastered across his face, and he gave you the tightest hug he’d ever given anyone.

when the two of you traveled to malaysia, kento was at peace. he had never seen a place so charming and breathtaking, he remained entranced by the culture and landscapes. the two of you spent your time hiking in nature, watching waterfalls and having lovely picnics wherever felt right. kento was so ecstatic, a smile constant on his face as he watched his surroundings with never-ending wonder. he thanked you a million times over.

you had never seen him be so alive. he promised you that one day, he was going to build a house, right on the beach, just for the two of you.

once you were back at your shared apartment, the reality of the past year and a half hit kento like a train. so much time had been spent recovering, constantly in and out of the hospital, planning for your wedding and improving both of your lives, he never had a chance to reflect on the genuine trauma he went through.

you didn’t notice for a while, but kento grew depressed, and restless at the same time. he began to spend his nights awake, insomnia brewing like piping hot tea, staying conscious until the early hours of the morning, doing any exercise or meditation to calm himself down and go to sleep. yet the visuals replayed over, and over, and over. the blood, the curses, the flames, the death. it hadn’t bothered him before, he thought, but he just never gave himself the time to soak it all in. and the depression – the depression was an all-new low for him. when kento wasn’t working, he was at his house, in the bed, while you were working or off running errands. you only noticed his new behavior when you woke up in an empty bed at 4 a.m. one night, 3 months after your honeymoon.

“mm…kento?” you called, footsteps heavily plopping down the hallway towards the bright lights of your kitchen. when you entered the room, you saw kento sprawled out on the floor, knees bent, with sweat rolling down his forehead. stepping over towards him, you kneeled down to look at him, and his head rolled to the side to look at you, too.

kento’s eyes looked so tired, the eyebags you hadn’t seen in years were full-fledged, his eyelids were droopy and exhausted. just by the emotion his eyes conveyed, you could see he was silently suffering, and he had been that way for a while.

“kento, what’s wrong?” you asked, bringing a hand to the side of his face to rub a thumb over his sweat-glistened cheek.

“i don’t…know,” he replied, defeat in his voice, “i can’t sleep. i haven’t slept. i don’t know.”

your husband always had a plan. he always knew everything; he always took care of the unknown and intimidating parts of life. for kento nanami to say “i don’t know” meant something was wrong, seriously wrong.

“sit up,” you softly demanded, gently pulling his shoulders off the floor. you sat on the ground, crossing your legs, and kento mirrored your actions, slumping when he finally sat up. “kento, honey,” you began, taking his hand in yours and resting it on his knee, “what’s going on?”

he was never one to talk about feelings, to talk about emotions felt deep down, because he wasn’t sure how to convey anything that would make him vulnerable. but as he sat in front of you, chest slightly heaving, such a burnt-out expression on his face, you knew there was something he wasn’t saying, but that something needed to be said.

“i can’t…” kento muttered, stopping himself for a second, “i can’t stop thinking.” he finally admitted, causing you to furrow your eyebrows with concern.

“about what, honey?” you sweetly asked, thumb caressing the back of his hand, tenderly rubbing back and forth.

“everything.” he stated, eyes flashing away from you to look at the floor next to him. you knew what he meant, though, but you had never seen him so pained from his work, especially from something that happened so long ago.

“tell me, baby,” you soothed him. you grabbed his other hand, causing him to look back at you pitifully. kento stayed silent for numerous moments, unsure as to what you could handle. but you were his wife, someone he was supposed to be able to confide in.

“so many people…died…” he mumbled, “i almost died. i saw what it looked like, i faced death.” his words began to come out quicker, “i���ve never seen that many people die, not even in shinjuku, and there was so much blood, and gojo almost, he almost-,” kento’s voice began to get shaky and uneven, a crack in his words as tears stung his eyes. “gojo almost died, too, and…i almost died, i saw it,” he repeated, “and yuuji – looked so upset, and takuma got hurt,” he clenched his eyes shut, words still coming out as a single string.

you moved closer, shifting onto your knees and wrapping kento in a comforting embrace. he clung to you immediately, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as if trying to anchor himself in reality. his body shook with the intensity of his sobs, each breath coming in ragged gasps. the rawness of his anguish was palpable; his cries were filled with a pain that seemed almost too immense to bear. the image of the carnage replayed in his mind, a relentless cycle that he couldn’t escape. kento’s tears soaked through your shirt, repeating with his incoherent murmurs of horror. his face, once so composed, now twisted in an expression of deep, unrelenting despair.

kento wailed into your chest for hours that night, unable to stop his shuttering and repetition of the same phrases. he only calmed down when the sun began to rise, slowly illuminating the insides of your home. once kento parted his head from your chest, he looked you in the eyes, asking for help without saying a word. you wiped away his tears and grabbed the sides of his face, promising him you will get him anything he needs. kento fell asleep around 7 a.m. that morning, with the help of you running your fingers through his hair, shushing him and telling him it will all be okay.

he believed you. kento nanami put all his faith in you, his wife, to help him fix his problem he hadn’t an idea on how to mend. and so, you did everything in your power to help him. you spent countless hours on research, finding therapists that specialized in helping people like him, and you came across different mechanisms to help him cope. most of all, you continued your duties as a supportive wife, constantly telling him to get up and go to the supermarket, or out to the library. little by little, these smaller things combined together to work out, and kento began to get better. it was a breath of fresh air, as well as a weight lifted off both your and his shoulders, when he began to smile again, and shifted his view of life to a more positive outlook. he was alive, he began to feel alive again.

kento nanami was finally beginning to live the life he desired and deserved, all with you by his side.

a couple of weeks after kento’s 30th birthday, you came rushing into his office, tears of joy — and anxiety — pricked in your eyes. soon as his eyes landed on your seemingly upset expression, he was concerned.

“what’s wrong, dear?” he asked, pushing his chair away from the desk to stand up. you quickly closed the door behind you, leaning against it, and you dug around in your purse to pull out a small plastic baggie. when you tossed them to kento, it only took him a few seconds to realize what you were there to tell him.

“…you’re pregnant?” kento beamed, rushing over to you to wrap his arms around your waist. he quickly lifted you up in the air, grip so tight as if he never wanted to let go, your feet kicked happily.

kento always wanted to have kids, but being a sorcerer, he always thought it was too dangerous. you had some conversations about it after shibuya, and the both of you agreed that if it happened, it happened. and your children would have the best life possible, of course; but the glimmer of hope you had for having kids slowly burnt out over time with both of you increasing in age. in that moment, though, kento had so much hope and pure happiness, just at the thought of growing a little family with you.

the first few months of your pregnancy were hectic. between doctor’s appointments, mixed with morning sickness and fatigue, you thought it would never end. although you were happy to start a family, negative emotions easily overcame you, and kento noticed. he tried his best to be there for you, but his work schedule conflicted with your lives, and he soon realized he needed a change in his life. he needed to change your life and his, because he would be damned if he was going to return to the same boring life as he had before.

using his savings and bonus money from his job, he bought you a house. a real house, with acres of land and space for your family to grow, so much bigger than the previous apartment you shared with him. a house that he owned, a house that would contain all the joy for your future. he made sure it was grand, with a huge kitchen, and multiple bedrooms – not caring if only two of them were filled, or if all of them housed someone. before kento showed you the house, he set up a nursery.

“where are we going?” you inquired for about the 50th time that day. you had been in the car for hours, and all kento would say in return is, “you’ll find out.” nonetheless, you were excited, kento had always given you the best surprises, but you had never driven so far with him.

“we’re here.” kento stated, pulling into an empty concrete driveway big enough to fit 6 cars.

“where are we? did satoru move?” you asked, the huge display of a home proving to be a bit intimidating for you. kento didn’t reply this time, he only scurried out of the car to come and open your door, helping you get out with a kind hand.

you didn’t even understand what was going on until you walked up the front steps, and a few keys jingled in kento’s hands until he found the right one to unlock the door. the door to your new home.

“wait...wait. kento,” you said, standing still as your husband strode inside, “what is this?” the familiar tears of joy rushed to your eyes, and you just stood there with a shocked expression plastered on your face.

“this is our new home, honey,” kento chimed, reaching a hand out again to welcome you inside. you took his hand, albeit a little hesitantly, and stepped inside your house.

“oh, kento,” you blubbered, throwing your arms around his neck, tears beginning to trickle down your face.

you and kento explored the house for hours, marveling at all the space and beauty he bought for you. you thanked him a million times over, crying at each new space you discovered in the house, you felt sheer gratefulness for your husband and all he did for you. and kento, well, he did all of it to thank you, to thank you for never losing hope in him, and to thank you for the joy you’d made him experience. he was so undeniably in love with you, just as he had always been, and he promised himself he was going to do everything in his power to live the life he deserved with you. he was going to live up to every word he made in his vows, every promise he made with you, each and every word he had spoken to you was going to show in your lives.

even from the moment he met you, he knew he was going to spend his life with you.

taglist: @kundere20000000 @missakward123 @cherriee-ee @starlightanyaaa @lagataprrr @hazzelle-kento

let me know if you'd like to be added!

[berrryparfait]

‎honey sugar you ! ♡‧₊˚

‪‪♥︎‬ featuring: head chef! sylus x pâtissier! fem!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: a record of the highs and lows of your time as a fresh-faced pâtissier under the renowned chef sylus—two unforgettable years marked by burnt sugar, stolen glances, and the kind of lessons that shape both your craft and your heart.

❝ i can name three things that are sweet: honey, sugar, and you! ❞

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: restaurant au, fluff and mild angst, sylus is kind of a prick at first, kitchen is a battlefield, enemies-to-lovers, airport trope

— ༉‧₊ᐟ word count: 1.4k

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: 好きな人がいること – jy

✧ a/n: inspired by my all-time favorite j-drama, a girl and three sweethearts (suki na hito ga iru koto), which ignited my love for bossy, sulky, tsundere men <3

HEAD CHEF! SYLUS did not welcome you warmly. He scowled at your “incompetence” despite not having tried your signature dessert—a lemon meringue tart with a cinnamon-powdered twist—and deemed you unworthy of his mentorship right off the bat. He’s the most powerful person in the kitchen and is set on making sure everyone remembers it, rarely pausing to say “please” and “thank you” and glaring daggers at anyone who makes so much as a minor mistake. It’s stressful, working under a man like him—as if a bomb defusal is in progress and one wrong snip could be life-threatening.

HEAD CHEF! SYLUS is a bossy, domineering man. His arrogance truly knows no bounds. All the best ingredients, all the best plate arrangements—everything is “his territory”. He’s got the most experience, after all. Why question him? Besides, he’s physically intimidating, too, towering over you at 6’ 2” and watching your every move with those piercing, ruby eyes. He makes you sweat, that’s for sure. “Coffee bavarois,” he stated plainly when asked about this week’s dessert, no room for debate. You tried to tell him it clashes with the main dish, but he refused to give you the time of day. “You’re new here,” he warned, a sinister edge to his deep voice. “So you do as I say.”

HEAD CHEF! SYLUS is always the last person to leave the restaurant. He stays behind to experiment with new flavors and figure out creative ways to improve the menu, sketching and making notes like his life depends on it. One night, just as you’re about to call it a day, you catch him standing by the counter, a quizzical expression on his face. You hide around the corner and watch him in silence as he frowns at the serving of coffee bavarois before him, doubt—for the very first time since you’ve known him—passing like a shadow over his sharp features. He pulls out a slice of your lemon meringue tart from the fridge (your coworkers ask you to bake one every week), and, gingerly, takes a small bite. His face lights up in sweet surprise, but he quickly schools his expression, as if wary of watchful eyes. “God damn it…” he curses under his breath before scribbling something in his book.

HEAD CHEF! SYLUS isn’t used to admitting he was in the wrong. He struggles to hold your gaze as he “suggests” a change in the dessert menu, his perfervid desire for culinary perfection winning out over his pride. You, on the other hand, are trying your hardest to suppress a smug grin of utter satisfaction, the glorious tides of victory flooding your veins. “Yes, chef,” you reply, beaming. Your coworkers watch on nervously as he squints at your tone, the spark of a challenge passing unspoken between the two of you. Just when you think he’s about to lash out, he simply says, brusque as always, “Preheat the oven. Doors are almost open.”

HEAD CHEF! SYLUS has finally begun to acknowledge your level of skill, begrudgingly taking your lead at times and heeding your advice. He rarely questions your decisions anymore; at least when it comes to the dessert menu. Once in a while, though exceedingly rare, you even catch the occasional muttered compliment falling from his lips, and it makes you happier than it should. Part of you wonders if he’s begun to seek your approval just as much as you seek his. Petty competition aside, work has felt a lot lighter, lately. For what might be the first time in an eternity, working in the kitchen feels like working as a team. “That was…not a bad idea,” he says lowly, masking his words with nonchalance. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you— ” you tease, incredibly pleased with yourself.

HEAD CHEF! SYLUS gets surprisingly twitchy when met with skin-to-skin contact. He’d been watching you prepare a tray of macarons the other day when you asked if he wanted to try piping the vanilla buttercream filling. Unexpectedly, he turned out to be a novice—fumbling with the bag and making a small mess on the baking tray. You sighed at his meagre attempts and reached out to guide him, your soft palm gentle yet firm on his knuckles as you filled the remaining macarons together. It worked well at first—both of you focused and in sync—but his grip eventually faltered. After a pause, he quietly shook your hand loose and returned to his own preparations, seemingly a little…flustered?

HEAD CHEF! SYLUS celebrates in silence. You’ve just won your first ever major haute cuisine competition as a chef-pâtissier duo, and rather than celebrating with the rest of the restaurant staff, he grabs a beer from the fridge and retreats to the balcony. You join him after a while, believing he deserves to feel proud too. The cool night air hits your face as you walk up to him—he’s hunched over the railing with a pensive, far-off look on his face. “Not having fun?” he asks sardonically. You rally the question back to him, to which he simply says he prefers celebrating in private. Yet…he doesn’t reject your company. In fact, he seems to find a sort of delicate solace in it. He opens up to you for the first time that night, telling you about the pressure he’s dealt with his entire life to live up to his legendary father's legacy. You tell him he’s enough and place your hand on his. Bright color warms his cheeks.

HEAD CHEF! SYLUS is patient with you; supportive of you. He’s still as broody and reserved as always, yet you find the other chefs smiling more. They laugh freely during work hours and, as a result, customers seem more satisfied, too. You’ve found a home here, and you’re happy. Imagine everyone’s surprise when you’re notified of a French celebrity chef’s interest in your dessert-making—his offer highly generous. He isn’t exactly more renowned than Sylus, but it would still be an excellent opportunity for you to progress in the culinary scene. It’s not something you can simply…pass up.

HEAD CHEF! SYLUS has been distant lately. His mood is easily soured, and he’s regained some of that signature bite when speaking to you. You know he’s just scared. Scared you’ll leave him, scared you’ll forget all about him when you move to Paris, your time together in the kitchen miles away. But he hasn’t discouraged you from going. “Award-winning pâtissiers would kill for an opportunity like this. Take it and go.” he says bluntly, and you’d be lying if you disagreed. So why does the thought of leaving this place behind hurt you so? And why is he acting like this if you’re already on borrowed time?

HEAD CHEF! SYLUS doesn’t bother seeing you off at the airport. You take in a shaky breath as you pull your luggage towards the immigration kiosks, devastated and confused. Did the past two years really mean nothing to him? Just as you step in line, heavy footsteps echo through the departure hall. You turn to see a very breathless, very desperate Sylus—still in his once-pristine chef’s uniform—staring right at you. He ran all the way here to stop you. To get something off his chest… “I’m not here to keep you from leaving,” he breathes, nothing but sincerity in those intense, crimson eyes. “That’d be selfish of me. I’m here to say goodbye. And…” Your heart squeezes as he cups the side of your face and leans in, planting a tender kiss on your lips. Hot tears threaten to spill down your cheeks as you tell him you love him, that you’ll never forget him, and that you’ll be back after chasing your dreams.

HEAD CHEF! SYLUS visits you every month, his warm embrace and playful kisses a welcome remedy for the cold, Parisian weather. You’ve barely been in France a year, and you already wish you could go back. Maybe next year, once you’ve finished perfecting this year’s dessert menu. You’ve always believed in expanding your horizons and chasing your dreams, but though they’re always evolving, always growing, in many ways…you already have. Because sometimes, a dream isn’t some far-off future—it’s the life you’re living. And for you, Sylus waits at the end of every chapter.

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[dissociativewriter]

Unnatural Affinity- Part 11

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 2.3k

cw: angst, questioning of worth, feeling empty, fluff, maybe comfort?

Synopsis: Returning to Linkon for a brief visit, you get help from Nero and talk with Xavier about recent developments. Back in Skyhaven, Em and Caleb are grappling with your absence.

author’s note: writing xavier for this was kinda tough because im not super familiar with him and i know he’s really nuanced but omg i think im in love with him now >_< anyways y’all its two am right now so im gonna go to sleep now and hate myself in the morning <3 im really proud of this part though so its alright (this isn’t proofread btw so if there’s typos no there isn’t)

taglist: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @auraficial @plzdonutpercieveme @dolledbunnytail @junebuggz @mangooes @anatherone @skulzooka @yuhuahuaaa @nm4565natty @feikyuu @lunia-likes-pomegranet @xfangirl-trashx @glitterykingdomangel @eialovescats @mimiu3usoft @alyssac9 @000rpheus @novaisbebita @coffeedragonhobbyist @udejoenrlddo @lanxianschoenheit @paper--angel @xyzbeloved @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @myheartfollower @nightmarewasteland @feralwolfkat @junni-berry @chiikasevennn @lethalasylum @loudpiratepirate @sweetnightowl @rafaissance @white-wolves-and-golden-sunrises @iunse @asilaydead

Series Masterlist

The black leather and tinted windows of Sylus’s car drew shadows and visions out from the corner of your eye. You shifted to the middle, leaning forward so you were between the driver and passenger’s seats, where Luke and Kieran argued over the best route to take.

“You guys really don’t have to do this,” you interrupted. “I could get back to Linkon myself.”

“Actually, we do have to do this, Little Boss,” Kieran said sheepishly. “Boss-man’s orders.”

“Seriously?” you groaned, falling back against the seat with a soft thud.

“Yep,” Luke confirmed. “Boss said we had to take you to Linkon safely, then watch in the car from a safe distance so that his ‘little dove’ wouldn’t notice and get mad.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why do you have to watch me in the first place?”

“Boss-man said it’s to make sure the hunter doesn’t get any ideas.” He shrugged.

“It’s a left here, right?” Kieran asked, quickly glancing towards Luke.

Luke turned around, looking back towards the road. “I thought you kept going straight… I don’t know, I don’t even remember what the Hunter’s Association looks like anymore!”

You pulled your hand down your face. “I’m going to die in this car,” you muttered.

The Hunter’s Association was sterile. Clean. Efficient. Hunters rushing to respond to alerts, researchers rushing to make their lunch break.

You eyed the Hunters’ desks as you pushed forward into the research department. Em’s desks was just as she’d left it that night you both prepared for this mission. Plushies still in place, old reports forgotten and discarded.

The research department contrasted the rest of the Association, just like the researchers contrasted the hunters. There were those that stayed comfortably behind the scenes, and those that claimed all the glory.

Simple. That was the best word to describe it. Simple, but not barren. Simple, in the way the chicken noodle soup was when your mother made for you that day you were a sick little six year old. Simple, in the way that life used to be.

Simple, in the way you wished it still was.

The soft lighting caressed you, unlike the harsh, bright lights in the training grounds. The smell of tea permeated the air, creating a warmth that settled deep in your chest. Stacks of papers, rows of books, all dotted around the department, created such an atmosphere. Always something to do, never terrible pressure to do it. It was calm, comforting, to be surrounded by so much knowledge and feel that you had all the time in the world to pursue it.

You found Nero at his desk, scribbling something down with a steaming cup of tea next to him. He didn’t look up as you approached, continuing to wield his pen as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. He started when you cleared your throat, nearly knocking his tea off the desk.

“Oh, hey! It’s you.” Nero breathed a sigh of relief before furrowing his brows. “You’re back early. Did something happen?” His eyes immediately dropped to your bandaged hands, fighting the urge to pry so you could tell him on your own terms.

Following his gaze, you raised a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. Really. Just a… a stupid mistake.”

“If you say so,” Nero said hesitantly. “Have you already seen the medic? I can call them, if you want.” You stopped his hand already reaching for the phone. His gaze snapped to yours.

“I’m fine, Nero. It’s just a couple scratches.” He nodded, lowering his hand onto the table, yours still resting on top. “Could you do me a favor?” you asked.

“Of course! What do you need? I’ll help any way I can,” he replied immediately.

“Well, first things first, Em is probably going to come around asking about me,” you began. “When she does, I want you to tell her you haven’t seen me, alright?”

Nero nodded slowly. “Sure, but why? Did you two have a falling out?”

“Something like that,” you sighed. “This next thing might be a bit complicated.” You leaned in a bit closer. “Is that alright?”

Nero nodded again, vigorously this time. “That’s alright! I just want to help you as best I can.” He leaned in, too, his voice lowering as a flush painted his cheeks. “To be honest, you’re probably my only real friend here. I get the feeling the other guys don’t really listen. So, I want to help you as much as you helped me.”

Feeling your chest swell with his quiet confession, you pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek, watching with soft laughter as the red across it darkened with blush. “Thanks, Nero,” you whispered.

“Um, any— anytime,” he stuttered. “What did you need me to do?”

In the quiet of the research department, you carefully explained your request.

Caleb’s apartment hadn’t been filled with a calm quiet in days.

There was quiet, sure. But none peaceful.

There was the quiet of plotting, the quiet of sulking, the quiet of anger, the quiet of regret, no matter how briefly lived.

It echoed in Caleb’s apartment, reaching the farthest corners and leaving neither one of its occupants untouched. Caleb had succumbed to the quiet days ago. An acceptance that this was how it was going to be from now on. Things would never be the same.

He was foolish to think they would be.

Em seemed to deny the quiet. She wanted to act like it hadn’t consumed her, even as it chipped away at her halved soul. The quiet invaded her eyes, replacing the complete emptiness, the desolation, with an acknowledged lacking. The awareness that something was missing, even if there was no certainty as to what that was.

Caleb watched as she crumbled, watched her increasing defiance towards the decay. He could recount just when the fall began, down to the minute.

The apartment was quiet when they’d returned. The kind of quiet that leaves a sickness pooling in the pit of your stomach, a feeling that tells you something was wrong.

But nothing was out of place. Caleb made sure of it. He moved from the kitchen to the bedrooms, checking every nook and cranny for anything that was even slightly off.

Nothing.

He halted in front of your bedroom. Should he knock, did he have the right to? You had so little peace left, he knew, so who was he to disturb that?

He walked past with a deep sigh.

Em practically fell into the living room, uniform disheveled and hair a mess. She collapsed onto the couch, pulling an apple pillow into her arms. “Caleb, do you ever feel... less than whole?”

Caleb looked up, eyeing her from the opposite side of the room. He closed the distance in a few quick strides, stopping just an arm’s reach away from her. “Are you feelin’ that way, pip-squeak?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, it just—” a sharp exhale “—just something I read somewhere.” She stood abruptly, dropping the pillow as she move with purpose. “I’m going to check…” she trailed off.

The walk down the hallway felt too long, allowing Em’s thoughts to consume her as she approached your door. Would you still be mad, she wondered? Would you yell? Would you be crying? Or would you be accepting, finally seeing her point of view?

She gave a soft knock on the door. A warning. She opened it quietly, wary of your possible reactions. When met with silence, she pushed further in.

Abandoned. That’s what it was. Empty. No sign of you. No lingering warmth, no comforting scent of shampoo, no gentle caress of breath.

Just cold.

Em’s legs moved before her mind fully comprehended it. She searched frantically, watched with a quiet detachment as her hands pulled apart curtains and blankets, hoping, wishing, that you were just hiding.

That you weren’t really gone.

“Caleb!” she called, voice mixing into something foreign. It broke slightly as she called again, the grief cracking through.

Caleb came running, like he always did. He slowed as he walked in, taking in the strewn pillows and blankets, the curtains torn from their rods, the woman standing in the middle of the chaos looking so small, like that kid in the lab that didn’t quite understand what was going on, why this was happening to them.

“Gone,” she whispered. “I don’t know—” Her voice caught. “How? When?”

Caleb’s arms surrounded her, snaking around her in a firm grip, ensuring she couldn’t slip away, away into her mind or away into the world. “I don’t know, pips,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t now how it could have happened.”

“Someone helped,” she said, voice hardening. “Someone had to. And I think I have an idea as to who would.”

Em pulled herself away from Caleb’s grip, leaving him empty, reaching for something that wouldn’t stay. He watched as the fire returned to her eyes, briefly, the flame quickly igniting before the downpour of grief snuffed it out.

Something was missing now. Something she now needed.

Caleb realized with that quiet horror that she truly wanted it, needed it back.

That quiet horror consumed, it seemed, melding and mixing with every barely changing mood.

The quiet persevered.

The training grounds were loud, almost overwhelmingly so. Despite the twilight and approaching dusk, hunters still dueled and trained as if chasing the sun’s departure.

“Xavier!” you called out.

The hunter paused, his light blade freezing mid-strike as he met your gaze. He dropped it to his side, letting it fade away in a soft, slow burst of light.

You raised a hand, motioning for him to come closer. He came forward, face hiding any doubts he had though confusion was littered in the sea of his eyes. He raised a hand to wipe the sheen of sweat from his forehead, taking the brief moment of pause to observe you.

“Did you need something?” he asked hesitantly.

“I actually have something important to tell you,” you said sheepishly. “Is it alright if we talk someplace private?”

Stiffening slightly, Xavier only offered a nod. You lightly took his hand, leading him away from the training grounds and through the Association. The setting sun cast an orange glow through the spacious windows, painting an otherworldly glow on Xavier’s figure.

You finally stopped in an empty courtyard outside the Association. Flower arrangements, trees, and topiaries dotted the space, along with the occasional wooden picnic table. Leading Xavier to one in the far corner, you sat down on the table top, resting your feet on the bench. You patted the space next to you.

Xavier took it without hesitation, situating himself so he could face you. He tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”

You let a few beats of silence fill the space between you.

“I don’t know how to tell you this…” You took a deep breath. “I’m not from here. From this world, universe, whatever.” You shook your head as if to shake away the confusion.

Saccharine blue eyes bore into yours, the depths of the galaxy and all its secrets hidden within them.

“I think you might understand it,” you explained slowly, “because you’re similar. You’re not from this time.”

Xavier’s body went rigid. Something changed in his eyes. They were hard. Protective. Powerful.

“How do you know that?” The softness seemed to melt away from his voice, giving way to something that demanded respect.

“The way I know that goes in hand with what I have to tell you,” you said quickly. “In my world, there was an… awareness of this one. But, it wasn’t really another world. It was— sort of a—”

“Stop beating around the bush and tell me.” You nearly flinched from the coldness in his tone, the way the trust lingering between you had seemingly disappeared. His shoulders slumped as he watched you draw back. “Continue, please,” he said quietly.

With a shaky breath, you obliged. “Where I’m from, this world was all a game.”

“A game?” Xavier’s gaze snapped to yours, brow furrowing slightly.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “It was a romance game. There was this Main Character that the player could sort of self insert into, and five Love Interests.”

Xavier nodded along with you. “This was all a game… and you know about me from this game?”

You carefully explained everything you could to Xavier. The plots, the Love Interests, all the past loves fated to be doomed. You were cautious when explaining the existence of the other men, but Xavier handled it better than you’d expected after glimpsing his jealousy.

“I sort of knew she had others, but,” he gave you a soft smile, “even if it was a game, that means that somehow, someplace, I succeeded. We were able to be together. That’s enough for me, I think.”

You swallowed, blinking back tears you felt forming. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” you whispered. “To find out it was all a game, I don’t think I’d handle it as well as you are.”

Xavier took your hand in his, soft and firm. “There’s not much for me to do about it, I’ve realized. You can only live with what you are given, and what you find. If this is what I’m given, I’ll take it. My love with her may have been made for a story, but it’s real to me.” He leaned back, angling his head up towards the sky. “If it’s all fake, then it’s a beautiful fantasy to live in. The stars alone are enough.”

Getting up front the table, you and Xavier fell back against the grass, hand in hand. The earth cradled your bodies as the soft blades of grass caressed your bare skin. Stars painted the night sky, swirls of blues and purples highlighting the soft glow of distant plants and constellations.

“If you’re the only real thing I’ve known,” Xavier said slowly, reverently, “I think I can accept that. Knowing the real you is honor enough, even in a world that’s only a facade. Your presence is the only reality I need.”

You laughed softly, and he closed his eyes, seeming to bask in the sound. “I’m honored to know you, Xavier. Knowing you, really knowing you, is better than I imagined.” You sighed wistfully. “You’re so certain, so quietly confident. I feel so lost, but it seems you always know your way.”

“The best way to find direction is by the North Star,” he whispered. “Sometimes, you can find that in another person. I think I’ve found my North Star in you.”

comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3

masterlist

[santaasi]

moonstruck

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: who could have known that jj maybank would steal your first kiss beneath the stars, all to evade the pursuing police?

warnings: fluff, first kiss, no use of y/n, english isn't my first language

word count: 2.6k

a/n: a little fic to celebrate the release of obx4. after s3 idk if I'll watch s4, but you can give me your opinion about 5 new eps in the comments. have a nice time reading this work! love u <3

ᯓ★ now playing...

enhypen - moonstruck

THE NIGHT AIR WAS WARM, infused with the salty tang of the sea and the soothing rhythm of waves crashing against the shore. The gentle breeze rustled the palm fronds, creating a soft, whispering melody that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. This tranquil evening was the only redeeming quality of your job at the cluttered antique store. After two long years, you still wondered how your boss managed to keep the place afloat, especially when half the customers left without buying anything. Those who did purchase something often bombarded you with endless questions that drained your patience, just like today.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders as your shift finally came to an end. All you wanted was to retreat to the solace of your home and hide beneath a warm blanket. It had been one of those days—when customers were rude, the air conditioning was a distant memory, your legs ached from standing, and you smelled like a dust-covered relic.

After struggling to lock the front door—an ancient key refusing to cooperate, as if it had been stuck since the Great Depression—you slung your bag over your shoulder and stepped out into the quiet streets of the Cut. The fresh sea air caressed your skin, invigorating your senses. You knew this town like the back of your hand, every crack in the pavement a familiar companion. The streetlights flickered overhead, bulbs long overdue for replacement, casting a dim glow that made the shadows dance around you. Though it wasn’t the safest place, it was home—a place where trouble always seemed to find you.

And one of them even had a name: JJ Maybank.

Like everyone in the Cut, you had heard countless stories about him and his adventures with the crew who proudly called themselves the Pogues. From the time you were kids, his reputation as a wild spirit with a devil-may-care attitude had preceded him. You remembered the laughter that echoed through the neighborhood as he and his friends roamed the sandy streets, always planning their next adventure—sneaking onto rooftops, racing bikes down the winding roads, and daring each other to dive into the ocean at dawn. JJ was the embodiment of carefree youth, with a reckless smile that could charm anyone and a spark in his eyes that promised trouble.

Despite sharing the same neighborhood, your worlds felt galaxies apart. While he thrived in the thrill of spontaneous adventures, you found comfort in the quiet corners of your life. You spent lazy afternoons lost in books, dreaming of places far beyond the horizon. As children, you’d played side by side in the warm sand, yet your paths seemed to diverge with the years. JJ was the star of wild tales and whispered legends, while you remained a quiet observer, forever intrigued yet hesitant to step into his whirlwind of chaos.

You never expected that your paths would cross, at least not like this — bound together by a single, reckless moment that would change everything.

As you stood there, savoring the rhythmic crash of waves against the sandy shore, the tranquil scene was suddenly pierced by the sound of heavy footsteps behind you — fast and uneven, as if someone were running. The street was mostly quiet, just a few couples strolling hand in hand, lost in the warmth of a summer evening. The sudden urgency in the air pulled your attention, stirring a sense of curiosity.

Before you could turn to see who it was, a hand grasped your wrist, spinning you around with a swift motion. Your heart leaped into your throat, eyes widening in shock. You instinctively clutched the worn fabric of a white T-shirt, struggling to steady yourself. Frowning in confusion, you looked up and met the cheeky blue eyes of the last person you expected to see.

It was him — JJ Maybank himself, breathless and frantic, the unmistakable spark of mischief dancing in his gaze. Even amid his panic, his blue eyes glinted with a familiar wildness, hinting at the reckless adventure he always seemed to be chasing. In that moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you standing on the edge of the beach, the waves whispering secrets to the shore.

“Hey there, my pretty little neighbor! It’s a perfect evening for a walk, don’t you think?” JJ chatted, his smile strained as he kept glancing back over his shoulder.

“JJ? What are you doing—?” You barely had time to finish your question before he cut you off. His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. His blue eyes scanned your face, searching for something.

“I need your help,” he said quickly, lowering his voice as the distant wail of sirens began to fill the air.

Your thoughts raced, but they tangled together in confusion. “What?” you whispered, still too stunned to process what was happening.

“The cops are coming,” he said urgently, glancing around as if the shadows themselves might betray him. “I just… I need you to help me not get caught. Please.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your head around the situation. The sirens grew louder, and flashing lights danced around the corner, cutting through the evening calm. Panic swelled in your chest. What could you possibly do? You were not the type to get involved in this kind of chaos, especially not with someone like JJ, who always seemed to flirt with trouble.

You bit your lip, staring at him, your mind racing. You had no clue what JJ had done this time, but with all the rumors swirling about him, it could be serious. If the cops saw you with him, they might think you were involved, and the last thing you wanted was to be dragged into a police station to answer questions. All you wanted was to go home, wrap yourself in a cozy blanket, binge-watch your favorite show, and sip hot tea until sleep finally took you.

But time was running out. You needed a plan — and fast.

Then, a ridiculous idea flashed through your mind, inspired by that Marvel movie you had watched a few weeks ago. People tended to look away when they saw couples getting too… intimate. It was as if tenderness made them uncomfortable, a reminder of something personal they weren’t meant to witness. Kisses, soft touches, the kind of closeness that drew attention away from everything else.

Oh, no. You swallowed hard, heart pounding. It was a risky move, but you didn’t have the luxury of time to second-guess yourself.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed JJ by the collar and pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his.

It wasn’t just any kiss; it was your first kiss, and you had no clue what you were doing. The warmth of his lips against yours sent a jolt through you, a thrilling rush that left you dizzy. His breath mingled with yours, soft and sweet, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded away. You thought about pulling back, a wave of embarrassment washing over you, but then you felt his hand cradling the back of your head, steadying you, keeping you from breaking the moment.

“Whoa,” you whispered, your heart racing. But before you could say anything else, JJ deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours with a playful insistence. You gasped, a surprised sound escaping your lips as your mind spun with confusion and exhilaration. You were lost in a whirlwind of sensations — your heart pounded wildly, and your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tugging gently at the tips.

Suddenly, your back hit something cold and hard. JJ pulled back slightly, both of you panting, gulping for air. His gaze swept over your face, a mixture of surprise and something unnameable flickering in his eyes. You opened your mouth, desperate to say something — anything — to justify your impulsive action, to apologize for crossing a line. The silence felt thick and awkward, stretching out between you like a taut string.

“Uh, I didn’t—” you began, but before you could finish, JJ’s hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. He pulled you in again, kissing you once more, more fiercely this time.

Your cheeks burned, but it felt like your entire body was ablaze. Thoughts of right and wrong melted away, leaving only the intoxicating pleasure of his lips against yours. You couldn’t help but think that everyone who claimed JJ Maybank’s kisses were magical had it all wrong. They weren’t magical; they were raw and real, yet they lifted you high above the chaos of the world. Each kiss felt like a leap into the unknown, an escape where your soul soared and your heart raced.

Just as you lost yourself in the heat of it all, the wail of sirens pierced the air, cutting through the intimacy of the moment. Police cars rushed past, barely glancing in your direction, but the sudden noise jolted your heart back to reality.

The kiss lingered for a heartbeat longer before you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, struggling to process what had just happened. JJ blinked, his lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something, but the words failed to materialize, hanging in the air between you like unspoken secrets.

As reality settled back in, you dropped your hands, suddenly aware of just how close you had been. The warmth of the moment began to fade, replaced by a rush of embarrassment that flooded your cheeks. You cleared your throat, adjusting the bag that had slipped off your shoulder, the awkwardness of the situation weighing heavily on you.

“I... uh, saw it in the movies,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled out in a rush. “People don’t like public affection, so…”

JJ stared at you, a mixture of surprise and amusement flickering in his blue eyes. Then, to your shock, a slow grin spread across his face, playful and teasing. “Damn it,” he said, still trying to catch his breath, his voice light with laughter. “Remind me to ask you to save my ass more often, Bambi.”

You felt your cheeks ignite like they were on fire, and instinctively, you took a step back, craving a little more space. What had you just gotten yourself into? Your mind raced, blinking like a deer caught in headlights, unsure whether to crack a joke, tease him back, or just stand there in stunned silence.

JJ chuckled hoarsely, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe the turn of events. “You’re something else, you know that?”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, the tension hanging between you slowly beginning to ease, but the flutter in your stomach remained, leaving you wondering what this moment meant for both of you.

“Don’t look at me like that with those beautiful big eyes of yours, or I might just fall for you right here and now,” he teased, flashing a wink that sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a shy smile crept onto your lips. “Seriously, JJ? Is this your idea of flirting? Because it’s kind of cheesy.”

“I know, right?” he laughed, the sound light and carefree. “But it works, doesn’t it? I mean, look at you! I’d be an idiot not to try.”

His voice dropped, a playful seriousness creeping in as he leaned closer. “I think I owe you now,” he whispered, almost conspiratorially, his breath tickling your ear. His hand slid gently over your shoulder, and before you could react, he casually lifted your bag, throwing it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

“Hey! That’s my bag!” you protested, half-heartedly, your heart fluttering at his boldness.

“I know, but I don’t like being beholden to beautiful girls like you,” he said, grinning like he’d just won a prize. “So, as a thank you, I’m walking you home. Wouldn’t want anyone to steal you away.”

He winked again, laughter dancing in his blue eyes as he started to walk ahead, your bag bouncing lightly against his back. You stood frozen for a moment, still processing what just happened. His hair was tousled, the way it always was, and you wondered if your heart had raced like this before. Did you really make him flustered? Oh my God, was this really happening?

“Are you coming?” he called over his shoulder, pausing to give you that cheeky grin that made your stomach flip.

“Uh, yeah, I’m coming!” you managed to say, shaking yourself out of your daze. You hurried to catch up with him, your heart beating wildly, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief bubbling inside you. As you walked side by side, the sound of the waves crashing behind you and the warm breeze wrapping around you felt like a secret the universe was sharing.

The night air was alive with laughter and playful banter, the gentle rhythm of the waves providing a perfect soundtrack to your conversation. JJ animatedly recounted his latest adventures with the Pogues — like the time they snuck into the lighthouse for a midnight swim and ended up launching a misguided rescue mission for a beach ball. You hung on every word, entranced by his charisma, the warmth of his presence beside you igniting something within you.

“Seriously, though,” he said, glancing sideways, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, “thanks for helping me back there. Who knew a cute girl could be such a hero?”

You laughed, the sound bright in the night air. “I didn’t have much of a choice. You practically swept me off my feet with that spin…”

He chuckled, that familiar mischief dancing in his gaze. “What can I say? I’ve always been drawn to trouble. And now, I guess I’m just moonstruck by you.”

With each step, the distance between you shrank, a connection sparking amid the chaos of the night. When you finally reached your porch, he paused, turning to face you, the glow of the moon illuminating his features in a way that made your heart race.

“I had an awesome time tonight,” he said, a hint of sincerity in his tone. “Maybe we should hang out again. You know, when I’m not dodging cops or getting into trouble. How about a pizza or something?”

You chuckled, the sound light and bright. “Didn’t know you treated all your life saviors to dinner. What’s next, a moonlit pizza date?”

JJ smirked, leaning in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Only the cute ones. Just imagine it—a night under the stars, with me serenading you about my crazy adventures. Sounds perfect, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling your heart race at the thought. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for your karaoke skills yet.”

He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that made your heart flutter. “Oh, I’ll win you over. You’ll be begging for an encore.”

With a final grin, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment that felt electric. “Cool. I’ll see you around then.”

As you watched him walk away, the night felt charged with promise, the moonlight casting a silvery glow that made everything seem magical. You stood on your porch, a soft whisper of excitement filling your heart, knowing that this was just the beginning of something wonderfully beautiful—something that had you feeling both moonstruck and hopeful for what lay ahead.

thankx for reading <3

you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

[call-sign-shark]

Echo of Shadows || Masterlist

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!OCreader || Alina Starkov x Heartrender!OCreader || Malyen Oretsevx HeartRender!OCreader

Summary: "They called her the White Plague, a saint or a monster—but she was neither, only destruction wrapped in a pretty bow."

In Ravka's frosty heart, the legend of the White Plague spreads—a woman with snow-white hair, frozen-fire eyes, and powers that rival those of Jurda Parem. Once a slave in the Menagerie, the one who calls herself Heaven is now a myth, either leaving towns in ruins or former disease-ridden people crying with gratitude. A Sankta.

General Kirigan's interest soon turns dark and his desire obsessive. Never had he been so captivated and haunted by someone. Someone he could finally share his eternal life with. Caught in a cruel game of power and love, she's torn between Kirigan’s corrupting passion and Alina Starkov’s promise of freedom.

Amidst the chaos, one question arises: will she become a savior, a monster, or something far more dangerous?

TW: Explicit sexual content, slow burn, borderline consent, heavy pinning, toxic relationship [manipulation, obsession, extreme jealousy, controlling behavior], graphic sexual description, graphic depiction of murder and torture, blood!kink, size!kink, radioactive couple, codependency, reference to past SA and child SA, dark romance & mad romance trope, ambiguous relationship with Alina. This story is brutal, bloody and rated +18.

ACT I: A BURNING LIMERENCE

1. Keep Moving, Little Girl

2. Their Frozen Shackles

3. The Court of Shadows

4. The Fear Within

5. Beneath his Watchful Eyes 🔞

6. Until Nothing is Left

7. Dangerous

8. Blood and Honey

9. Gazed Into the Abyss, It Gazed Back Into Me 🔞

10. Raw

11 Burn Your Village 🔞

13. Light of my Life.

14. My Night and Stars. 🔞

ACT II. RAPTURE OF THE DEEP

Queen of Spades

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Light

Like a Feeling of Déjà Vue

Blinding Light

I was Made for Loving You, Baby 🔞

It's in Our Veins

Your Darkness Flayed 🔞

After the Storm, the Sun

Safe in the Dark 🔞

Paint Me Black 🔞

Golden Cage for a Pretty Bird

Your Heart, My Chains

Good Ending? You Haven't Been Paying Attention

ACT III. THE CALL OF THE VOID

The Assasymphony

Never You

Barbwire Kiss🔞

It Has Always Been You 🔞

I'm Not Ruined. I'm Ruination.

Here Comes the Wolves

Your Love is an Open Wound 🔞

The Starless Saint of Broken Hearts

The Mask of the Red Death

Candy-Coated Suicide

Symphony of Our Ruins

Epilogue: Eternal Eclipse

ONE SHOTS

Much Ado About Jam Toasts- fun & fluff

A Dangerous White Tigress - action, Hurt/Comfort

Away From the Deep Shadow

Damaged

MODERN AU*

Mental Health Is Sexy Masterlist

*Amos is Aleksander's modern identity.

GAME OF THRONES AU

Damaged Masterlist

*Amos is Aleksander.

VISUALS

Light in the Dark

"Call me Aleksander" - trailer by the beloved @elizabethblood9

My Night and Stars

ASK

Modern!Aleksander x Heaven for Christmas

Notes:

☾ I haven't read the books so this work is based on the TV show even though I know it's fairly different from the original Grisha verse. If you're an adorable lore psycho, you might not want to read that! :(

☾ Taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art, @lightinbug, @kmc1989, @thepassionatereader @mystic-mara @m-riaa @kallista-diune @meadows5 @kasagia @watersquirtpewpewboomm @the-sweet-psycho @sarahsobsession @elizabethblood9 @ritzzzzz @sophialeiros @noortsshift @sassyvilliantrope @sherwoodforesttales @a-smidges-stuff

[mononijikayu]

if the world was ending, i’d wanna be next to you — itadori yuji and ryomen sukuna.

“You’re scared, little one.” Sukuna observes, voice low and taunting. “Quite a face I’ve never seen in a long time.” Your heart pounds, every instinct screaming at you to run, to get away from him. But something roots you in place, the inexplicable connection between the face you loved and the one you now feared, pulling you in two directions at once. “How low you’ve come, little one.” he continues, his voice dripping with amusement. “Really? A green boy like him?” He leans in closer, his presence suffocating. “An insult to your standards, little one.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: spoilers for jjk chapter 271, not safe for work, angst, fluff, one sided romance, eventual romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, reincarnation, happy ending, hurt, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, afterlife, internal conflict, future, letting go, depiction of moving forward, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of rebirth, depiction of internal conflict, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of character death, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, depiction of happy end, true form! sukuna, itadori yuji, reincarnated concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 11k words

NOTE: this was highly requested, that concubine reader from the other woman has some closure and freedom and happiness in her next life. well, this is it. i feel like after having read chapter 271 completely, i feel like this was also a good sort of closure on sukuna's character. as ive said, i wasn't satisfied much, but i decided to write a path of my own here. and i hope you like it!!! i love you all <3

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the other woman masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

kayu's playlist, side 1500;

THE PAST WAS SOMETHING THAT INTRIGUED YOU. You used to wonder if you had a life before this one. The thought lingered like a shadow on quiet nights, gnawing at the edges of your consciousness. You were always curious: Was it a good life? Did you laugh often? Were you loved? And in the end, did you grow old surrounded by warmth, or did your story close abruptly, lost to the currents of time? These questions, though unspoken, echoed through your mind like the turning pages of an unfinished book.

Yet, it’s in moments like this—simple, undemanding, and unexpectedly tender—that those questions fall away. You realize that the answer doesn’t matter as much as you once thought. You and Itadori Yuji, sitting side by side, the air filled with the sound of his laughter, his energy contagious and effortless. It's not always what you do together, but how he has a way of making everything feel lighter, even when life is at its heaviest.

In these instances, where time seems to slow down and the weight of the past dissolves, you’re reminded that perhaps the life before—if it existed at all—was not as important as the one unfolding now. This is where the heart finds its peace. Being with Yuji, you feel that indescribable warmth. It’s the warmth of being cared for, the joy of connection, the quiet happiness of simply being. Moments like this feel like the reward of a life well-lived, even if the past is a mystery.

Maybe in another life, you were loved. Maybe you weren’t. But in this one, as you sit here with Yuji, you feel blessed in a way that transcends time, as if this companionship, this simplicity, is enough to fill whatever came before.

You glance over at Yuji, who’s still laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkled in that way that makes him look so carefree, so utterly at peace. It’s moments like this that make you forget about the world outside.

“You know, Yuji,” you say, leaning back a bit, “sometimes I wonder if I had a life before all of this. Like, did I have a good life? Was I happy? Did I do anything important?” Your voice trails off, unsure if you’re even making sense. It’s one of those thoughts that sounds bigger in your head, harder to explain aloud.

Yuji pauses, the smile still lingering on his lips but his eyes now softening as he looks at you. “I dunno about a past life,” he says, shrugging in that easy, nonchalant way of his, “but I think it doesn’t really matter, right? I mean, what’s important is now, right here. And… if you’re happy now, then that’s enough, isn’t it?”

You look at him, surprised by the simplicity of his words. Yuji always has a way of cutting through complicated feelings with such earnestness, and it hits you every time.

“Yeah, but what if I didn’t get that? What if I didn’t get the chance to be happy then?” you say, not sure why you're pushing the point. Maybe you want to hear more of his optimism, that unwavering belief in the present.

Yuji thinks for a second, rubbing the back of his neck. “Then… maybe that’s why you’re here now. To have those moments. To feel that happiness.” He grins suddenly, almost sheepish. “And hey, if that’s true, then I guess it’s my job to make sure you’re having a good time in this life.”

You smile, something warm settling in your chest. "You think so? That’s your job now?"

“Yep!” Yuji says with a bright nod. “And honestly? I think I’m doing pretty good at it, don’t you?” He nudges you playfully, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling lighter. “Yeah, you’re doing a pretty good job.”

Yuji leans back, satisfied. “See? No need to worry about the past. We’re making good memories right now. And who knows, maybe in the next life, we’ll be laughing about this one.”

You chuckle at the thought, realizing he’s right in a way. The present, with all its little joys, is more than enough. And with Yuji by your side, it feels like it always will be.

Itadori Yuji was your opposite—he was vibrant, bursting with energy, like the sun at its highest peak. Where you were quiet, thoughtful, perhaps a little reserved, Yuji was a whirlwind of light, so bright it was impossible not to be pulled into his orbit. He was the type of person who loved easily, fiercely, without hesitation. In the short time you had known him, it felt like he had illuminated parts of you that you didn’t even realize had been in shadow.

Six months. That’s how long he had been in your life, and in that brief window, Yuji became your biggest friend. He was the kind of friend who made you forget your worries, who could turn a mundane moment into something extraordinary just by being there. 

You weren’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, your feelings for him deepened into something more. You didn’t just care for him, you were falling for him. His smile, his laugh, the way he’d look at you with such unguarded sincerity—it all crept into your heart before you had a chance to stop it.

But then, as suddenly as he had entered your life, he was gone.

You mourned him in the rawest sense, the grief hitting you like a wave, unrelenting and suffocating. You had barely begun to process what he meant to you, and now you were left with nothing but memories. Memories that once brought joy now twisted into something painful, aching. The world felt dimmer without him, like someone had extinguished the light you had grown so accustomed to.

You grieved the moments you never had, the confessions that were never spoken. You grieved the time you lost and the love you never got to fully express. And in the quiet, lonely nights, you found yourself missing even the smallest things—his goofy grin, the way he’d always try to cheer you up, the warmth he carried with him wherever he went.

Itadori Yuji had changed your world in just six months, and now, with him gone, you didn’t know how to go back to how things were before him. Maybe you never would.

And now, you stand face to face with someone else. Someone you didn’t know—someone that terrified you. Ryomen Sukuna. The King of Curses, wearing Yuji’s face but twisted into something cold and malevolent. His presence was overwhelming, a suffocating aura that made your skin crawl, your heart race in dread. The Yuji you had known, the boy you had fallen for, was nowhere to be found in the dark, calculating red eyes that now gazed at you.

But as you meet Sukuna’s gaze, there’s something strange—something unsettling in its familiarity. Amidst the malice, the sadistic smirk, and the chilling sense of power, there’s a flicker of something that shouldn’t be there. Something… almost tender. A subtle glint of fondness that feels utterly out of place in someone like him.

Your breath catches in your throat. It doesn’t make sense. Sukuna should have no reason to look at you this way, no reason to show anything other than contempt or amusement. And yet, there it is—just beneath the surface, a strange warmth, a recognition.

He steps closer, and you instinctively take a step back, fear surging through you like ice in your veins. This wasn’t Yuji. This wasn’t the boy who made you feel safe, who filled your days with laughter and light. This was a monster. A curse. But the way Sukuna’s eyes linger on you, the way his lips curve in a slow, deliberate smirk—there’s something disturbingly familiar in it. A haunting echo of the person you lost.

“You’re scared, little one.” Sukuna observes, voice low and taunting. “Quite a face I’ve never seen in a long time.”

Your heart pounds, every instinct screaming at you to run, to get away from him. But something roots you in place, the inexplicable connection between the face you loved and the one you now feared, pulling you in two directions at once.

“How low you’ve come, little one.” he continues, his voice dripping with amusement. “Really? A green boy like him?” He leans in closer, his presence suffocating. “An insult to your standards, little one.”

You swallow, throat dry, unable to tear your eyes away from his. “You’re not Yuji.” you whisper, the words feeling like a betrayal, even though you know they’re true.

“No.” Sukuna agrees, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. “I’m not. I’d rather not be. But…” His eyes narrow, that strange fondness flashing again, almost as if he’s toying with something deeper. “It’s far better that it is I in front of you.”

Your chest tightens at his words, the weight of them sinking in. It’s impossible, and yet… something in Sukuna’s gaze—something about the way he looks at you—makes you feel like, in some twisted way, you’re still staring into the remnants of Yuji. Or perhaps the remnants of what could have been.

“Stay back!”

“How cruel, little one. When I was your life.” Sukuna says, almost thoughtfully. “You grieved for him. A brat. And yet, here I am, standing right in front of you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His words feel like a cruel mockery, slicing through your defenses with the precision of a knife. Yet, amid the taunts and the darkness that envelops him, there’s an undercurrent of truth that stings—a painful reminder of everything you’ve lost. You find yourself grappling with an unsettling confusion, a whirlwind of emotions that makes your head spin.

This is a monster, you remind yourself. A malevolent being born of curses and chaos. You do not know him, no matter how he tries to push, no matter how his eyes—those dark, swirling eyes that resemble Yuji’s—seem to reach deep into your soul, searching for something buried within. You’re scared. Scared of the implications, scared of the truth that threatens to unravel everything you thought you understood.

You had wanted Yuji back—longed for him, missed him so much that it hurt. The ache in your heart was a constant companion, an echo of laughter and warmth that once filled your days. You had spent countless nights wishing for a miracle, hoping to see that familiar, infectious smile again. But now, faced with the twisted reality of what stood before you, you weren’t sure if you could handle the price of that wish.

Could this—this—be the cost? A piece of Yuji entangled in a form so horrifying, so devoid of the light he once radiated? The very thought makes you recoil. You want to reject it, to deny that any part of Yuji could reside within Sukuna. But the familiarity in Sukuna’s gaze, the hints of fondness mixed with malice, make it impossible to ignore.

You take a shaky breath, grounding yourself as you try to separate the remnants of your grief from the reality before you. “You’re not him, stop. Stop talking!” you say again, more forcefully this time, but it feels like a hollow declaration. Deep down, you know it’s not enough. The monster in front of you wears Yuji’s face, and it shakes you to your core.

Sukuna steps closer, his presence a dark shadow looming over you, and you can’t help but feel trapped in this moment. You wonder if you should flee, escape the suffocating tension that surrounds you, but something keeps you rooted. It’s as if a part of you is drawn to this interaction, compelled to understand, to confront the tangled web of loss and longing that you’ve been avoiding.

“Tell me, little one.” Sukuna murmurs, his voice low and almost teasing. “What is it you miss about him? The laughter? The heroism? Or is it simply the idea of what he represented—hope?”

His words pierce through the fog of confusion, and you find yourself grappling with the truth of them. What did you miss about Yuji? Was it just the memories of the boy who filled your life with laughter, or was it something deeper—a feeling of safety, a light in the darkness that made everything feel manageable? The longing you felt was so raw, so visceral, but now it felt tainted, complicated by the monstrous form before you.

“I don’t know…..I….” you admit, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “I just know that I wanted him back. I wanted him to stay.” The admission slips out before you can stop it, a soft confession echoing in the heavy silence.

Sukuna watches you closely, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “And yet here I am, standing in his place.” he says, his tone laced with dark amusement. “Perhaps you should reconsider what it is you truly prefer, little one.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with implications you’re not ready to confront. The dread creeps back in, entwined with that lingering curiosity. You realize, with a shiver, that this moment is a threshold—a chance to either run away from the painful truth or face it head-on. You don’t know what it means for you or what it might cost, but deep down, you understand that avoiding Sukuna will not bring Yuji back.

Caught in this whirlwind of emotions, you stand there, heart pounding, feeling the walls close in around you. The weight of grief and longing collides with fear, and you can’t shake the feeling that in this moment, every choice you make could lead to something irrevocable. The haunting question lingers: What if you truly do remember? And what would that mean for both Yuji and the monster that now embodies him?

Sukuna smiles, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips, and somehow, even through the fear, you feel it—the remnants of Yuji still flickering in the dark recesses of this cursed form. And it breaks your heart all over again.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you look into Sukuna’s eyes, those dark, unsettling orbs that seem to mock everything you once knew. But you force the words out anyway, your voice trembling but determined. “I don’t remember you.”

Sukuna snickers, his laughter low and taunting. It sends a chill down your spine, as if he’s amused by some private joke you’re not in on. He leans in slightly, tilting his head, his smirk widening into something more dangerous, more possessive. “Is that what you tell me after all this time, little one?”

The way he says it—so familiar, so intimate—makes your breath catch. It’s like he’s speaking of something only the two of you should know, something hidden beneath the surface of your shared history. But how? You’ve never met Sukuna before. And yet… something in his voice, in the way he calls you little one, stirs something deep inside you. A flicker of something you can’t quite place, something buried.

You take a step back, shaking your head, trying to keep your composure. “I don’t know you. You’re not Yuji, you’re not….” you say again, though this time it sounds more like a plea. A desperate attempt to hold onto the truth, to make sense of the chaos swirling around you.

Sukuna’s grin only deepens. He watches you with a look that’s far too knowing, as if he can see right through your confusion, right through your walls. “Oh, but you do, little one.” he purrs, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “Perhaps you just don’t want to remember.”

Your pulse quickens as his words settle over you, heavy with implications. His gaze feels like it’s piercing through you, dredging up memories you aren’t even sure exist. Could there be something you’re missing? Something you’ve forgotten, or worse—something you’ve buried?

“Look at you, little one. More fragile than what you had been.” Sukuna continues, his voice lowering to something almost dangerous. “Pretending you don’t know. But your eyes betray you. You know me. Maybe not in this life… but somewhere, deep down.” He lifts a hand, lazily gesturing to himself. “You’ve always known me.”

Your chest tightens at the weight of his words, at the way they seem to pull you into something far more complex than you can grasp. You feel torn, the familiar pull of Yuji clashing with the terrifying presence of Sukuna. There’s a part of you that wants to run, to escape whatever this is. But another part of you—the part that feels that flicker of recognition when he speaks, when he looks at you—keeps you frozen in place.

“I don’t…” you start, your voice faltering. “I don’t understand.”

Sukuna laughs again, that low, predatory sound that makes your stomach churn. “Of course you don’t. But you will, in time.” His eyes gleam with something dark and possessive. “I’m not going anywhere, little one. So you’ll have all the time in the world to remember.”

Your hands tremble at your sides, the fear still coursing through you, but now there’s something else. Something far more dangerous than fear—a curiosity, a pull you can’t explain. Even though you know you shouldn’t, you’re drawn to him, to the way his words tug at something deep inside you, something lost.

Sukuna takes another step closer, his presence overwhelming, his gaze never leaving yours. “And when you do remember,” he whispers, his voice dropping into something almost tender, “you’ll realize that it’s not this brat you mourn, little one.”

Your heart skips a beat, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. You want to deny it, to push him away, to convince yourself that the darkness in Sukuna’s eyes holds no truth. But you can’t shake the unsettling feeling that maybe, just maybe, there’s a twisted truth in what he’s saying—something buried so deep inside you that it makes your skin prickle. And that terrifies you more than anything else at this moment.

“You have better memory than that.” His voice is smooth, a honeyed drawl that curls around you, laced with a sinister undertone. He steps closer, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, a heat that’s both inviting and suffocating. His breath brushes against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself caught in his gaze—those scarlet eyes gleaming with an intensity that both captivates and horrifies you.

“Try to remember me.” he continues, the words dripping with a twisted sense of familiarity, a beckoning that both draws you in and repels you. There’s an almost playful cruelty in his tone, as if he knows the power he holds over you in this moment—knows that your heart is already torn, straddling the line between longing and fear.

You swallow hard, your throat dry as you grapple with the conflicting emotions swirling within you. The essence of Yuji—the boy who brought light and laughter into your life—now feels irreversibly entwined with the dark curse standing before you. 

The memory of his warmth, his laughter, and his unwavering kindness feels like a distant dream, overshadowed by the reality of Sukuna’s presence. And yet, the way Sukuna looks at you, the way he carries himself, evokes echoes of the boy you loved. It’s confusing, maddening, and all-consuming.

“Don’t you want to know what’s buried inside you?” he taunts softly, leaning in even closer, as if sharing a secret only you can hear. “What really lies behind that grief? The truth of your feelings? Your past?”

You shudder at his words, feeling as though he’s reaching into the deepest corners of your mind, teasing out thoughts you’re not ready to confront. The idea of facing whatever remnants of Yuji’s essence are hidden within this creature, this manifestation of all your fears and sorrows, makes you want to flee. But the truth is, you’re caught in a web of curiosity and dread, tethered to the boy who once filled your heart.

“Stop it.” you whisper, your voice shaking. “You’re not him. You’re not Yuji.”

Sukuna chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that reverberates in the stillness around you. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I wear this brat’s face, little one. And I am here —whether you want to accept it or not.” His scarlet eyes bore into yours, a challenge lingering in the air. “And whether you like it or not, he’s a part of me too.”

The weight of his words settles heavily in your chest, a visceral truth that makes you want to scream. How could he say that? How could he twist the memory of Yuji into something so dark and cruel? But as you stand there, heart racing, you realize that he’s right in a way you’re terrified to explore. The grief you feel is a testament to the love you once shared, and now that love has taken on a new, twisted form.

As Sukuna’s presence looms over you, you feel the tension of this moment wrapping around you like a shroud. The air is thick with uncertainty, and you’re caught in a battle between wanting to retreat into safety and an insatiable desire to confront the truth lurking just beyond your grasp.

“Good night, little one.” he repeats, the command soothing and commanding all at once. “And when you wake, perhaps you’ll see things more clearly. I promise you, it will be… enlightening.”

With those final words, he steps back, allowing you to breathe again, but the weight of his gaze lingers. As he fades into the shadows, you’re left standing there, your heart pounding in your chest. The fear that grips you is palpable, but beneath it lies a flicker of curiosity—a yearning to understand what lies hidden within, to uncover the truths that connect you to both Yuji and Sukuna.

You know you should feel safe in your denial, but as you process everything, you realize that the only way forward is to confront this new reality. Whatever it takes, you have to know what Sukuna means, what truth lies within you, and what it might reveal about the love you lost and the monster that now stands in his place.

A THOUSAND YEARS HAD PASSED AND YET, HE THINKS A LOT ABOUT THAT LAST WISH. It was Ryomen Sukuna’s hope that you would not be reborn like this. After the years of misery he had put upon you, such loneliness and bitterness — this is not what you deserve. In the depths of his cursed heart, he had wished for you to have a better life—a life filled with warmth and love, a life free from the shadows that clung to him. 

He had imagined a future where you would thrive, where your laughter would echo in the halls of a home filled with joy and not tied to the darkness he embodied. He wanted for your hope to come true, for you to carve out your own path, one that didn’t intertwine with his own cursed existence. So that you may be free from the cage of him, and fly away.

Yet, here you were, standing in the remnants of a life he had never wished for you. A life as a sorcerer, a role steeped in danger and darkness, where you faced the very curses he had once commanded. And most of all, you found yourself in adoration of his vessel, Itadori Yuji—the very embodiment of what Sukuna had wanted to keep separate from you.

Every day was a constant reminder of that bittersweet reality. You had grown to love the brat, the boy whose spirit shone brighter than anyone else’s, whose laughter brought light to the darkest corners of your heart. He had an infectious enthusiasm that made the world seem a little less heavy, a little less daunting. And now that he was alive, Ryomen Sukuna could only watch as you found the joy that he could not give you.

“Hey! Are you coming or what?” Yuji called out, his voice cutting through your thoughts. He stood a few paces ahead, hands on his hips, a bright smile lighting up his face. “I thought we were going to train today!”

You couldn’t help but smile back at him, your heart swelling at the sight of his excitement. “Yeah, I’m coming!” You jogged to catch up with him, the momentary rush of adrenaline distracting you from the weight of your thoughts.

As you fell into step beside him, you felt the warmth of his presence, the way he made the air around you feel lighter. “You really are too slow sometimes, you know?” he teased, nudging you playfully. “I mean, I know I’m faster, but you’ve gotta at least try to keep up!”

“Please!” you laughed, shaking your head. “You’ve been training longer than I have. I’m just trying not to trip over my own feet!” The banter flowed easily between you, but even in this moment of lightness, you couldn’t shake the nagging sense of Sukuna’s presence lurking just beneath the surface, a shadow that never quite left you.

“Speaking of tripping, you’re not going to freak out again when I show you that new move, are you?” Yuji’s expression turned mock-serious, eyebrows raised. “Because last time, I swear I thought you were going to lose your lunch!”

“Okay, that was one time! I told you I wasn’t ready for a backflip!” you protested, recalling the embarrassment of that training session where you’d ended up flat on your back. “Besides, you can’t just expect me to be a natural like you!”

Yuji laughed, the sound bubbling up from his chest and enveloping you like a warm embrace. “Hey, you’ve got potential! I mean, you did get back up after I knocked you down. That counts for something, right?”

His encouragement filled you with a warmth that momentarily pushed aside the darkness threatening to creep in. He was everything Sukuna had hoped you would find—kind, brave, and full of life. Itadori Yuji’s laughter echoed in your mind, a stark contrast to the chilling presence of the curse that loomed behind you, hidden yet always felt, a constant reminder of the complexities entangled in your heart.

Yet, in the depths of Sukuna’s being, a flicker of something unexpected stirred—a faint, bitter jealousy. He had often wondered if he had ever truly felt envy regarding the affection you held for that brat, as he so often referred to Yuji in his darker moments. A part of him questioned whether he was conscious of the pain he had caused you, the heartache that clung to your spirit like a shadow.

“Do you even understand what you’ve done to her?” he mused silently, as if you could hear him echoing in your mind.

There was an awareness in him, a recognition that you had somehow managed to love all of him, even the twisted, cursed side of his existence. Perhaps that was what stung the most—knowing that you had opened your heart to him and, in doing so, had become entwined in a relationship that was more chaotic than he had ever intended.

But even amid that jealousy, he had no regrets about his feelings for you. His love for Hiromi—the one who had filled his heart with warmth before darkness overtook him—remained unwavering.

That love had been pure and innocent, a light that could never be dimmed by the shadows he had embraced. He could not deny it, nor would he wish to. Yet now, watching from the sidelines, he felt an ache in his chest, a realization that he could never be the one to bring you that same joy.

In the quiet corners of his mind, he harbored a secret wish—a hope that he could have made you smile like this. So vibrantly, so free of grief. A happiness so clear that one could see it gleam in your eyes, untainted by the complexities of his existence. The laughter you shared with Yuji resonated in a way that he could only dream of, a melody of innocence that felt forever out of his reach.

“What would it take?” he pondered, the thought lingering like a ghost. Would he ever be able to evoke such joy? Or was he forever condemned to dwell in the shadows of what he could never be?

Sukuna’s thoughts spiraled, twisting through memories of moments shared with you—soft smiles, fleeting touches, and the warmth of your laughter that once danced around him like sunlight. The contrast was stark; he had only ever known how to wield darkness, to embrace fear and chaos, while Yuji seemed to thrive in the light. The way you looked at Yuji, filled with admiration and affection, was a dagger in his chest, a poignant reminder of the connection he could never replicate.

Yet, in that moment of reflection, a different feeling began to take root—a deep, abiding wish for your happiness. Perhaps the greatest act of love he could offer you now was to allow you to chase that joy, even if it meant stepping aside, relinquishing his hold on your heart. You deserve every ounce of happiness, unencumbered by his darkness.

As you stood there, laughing freely, the shadows that had haunted him felt a little less suffocating. He knew he could not change who he was, nor could he rewrite the past, but perhaps he could shift his focus from his own pain to the happiness that blossomed in front of him. He wanted to see you flourish, to break free from the chains of sorrow he had inadvertently wrapped around you.

“Thanks, Yuji. I really appreciate that.” you said, your voice softer, the sincerity in your tone catching his attention. Your face flustered and shy. It was a face Sukuna had never seen from you.

“Hey, you don’t have to thank me. We’re friends, right?” His eyes sparkled with genuine warmth, but beneath that, you could feel a hint of concern lurking. “You know, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. We’re a team.”

You paused for a moment, the gravity of his words settling over you. Sukuna knew that you wanted to share your fears—he could see it in the way your lips parted but never released a sound, in the slight tremble of your hands as they hovered between reaching out and retreating. It was written all over your face, the tension in your furrowed brow, the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. Sukuna knew you too well, after all the years you'd lived together. He understood every unspoken word, every hesitation, even when you couldn’t bring yourself to voice your thoughts.

But this time, things were different. You didn’t remember any of it—not the life he had spoken of, not the shared moments he swore existed. The memories he claimed you both cherished were nothing but a void to you, a distant fog where nothing came into focus. Sukuna knew that too. He wasn’t oblivious to the confusion in your expression whenever he spoke of the past you shared. You couldn’t recall the way your lives had intertwined so deeply, and that lack of recollection gnawed at you just as much as it pained him.

And yet, despite your lack of memory, despite the blank slate that your mind had become, Sukuna still knew you. He could sense the turmoil bubbling within you, the words that remained trapped in your throat.

They were right there, on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be released, but fear held you back. What if speaking those fears out loud made them real? What if your confusion, your lack of memories, created a rift between you that couldn’t be mended?

Sukuna’s gaze never wavered from you. His usual harshness softened, if only slightly, as if silently urging you to speak. He understood that what you were facing was beyond your control, but he wanted you to know that he was still there, that he would wait. No matter how long it took for you to find your voice, to trust him again—even if the memories never returned—Sukuna wasn’t going anywhere.

“I… I’m fine, Yu.” you finally replied, forcing a smile. “Just a lot on my mind, you know? Training always helps clear it up.”

“Alright, but I’ll be here if you need me,” he said, his tone earnest, making your heart ache at the kindness in his eyes. “We’ll figure it out together, I promise.”

As you walked alongside him, the weight of Sukuna’s presence felt more like a lingering shadow, a reminder of your complicated reality. That was very much obvious to him. The joy you found in the brat’s company was intoxicating, but it was intertwined with the fear of what Sukuna represented—a darkness that loomed over everything you cherished.

But in that moment, as the brat’s laughter filled the air, you resolved to focus on what you could control. You would embrace the light he brought into your life, even if it meant wrestling with the shadows of the past. For now, you would fight alongside him, a sorcerer in your own right, finding strength in your love for him and the hope that one day, the shadows would fade into something less consuming.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s go!” Yuji said, breaking you from your thoughts as he took off, racing ahead. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound spilling out of you, bright and free, as you chased after him, if only for a moment forgetting the weight of the curse that loomed over your life.

You had become a sorcerer not merely to fight curses, but to protect what you had come to cherish. It was a decision that had grown within you over time, shaped by your encounters and the people you had come to love. You weren’t driven by blind heroism or reckless ambition. 

No, it was about preserving the bonds that had become precious to you, about standing your ground in a world where curses threatened the very fabric of those connections. But this choice—this path—you had taken wasn’t what Sukuna had ever wanted for you.

Sukuna never believed in foolish ideals like heroism or self-sacrifice. To him, they were weaknesses, things that would only lead you into harm's way. And that was what unsettled him most. He hadn’t fought for you, protected you, only to see you willingly step into danger for others. In your past life, things were different. 

He had kept you safe, shielded you from the horrors that roamed the world. Under his watch, you didn't need to lift a finger. You were his to protect, a treasure he wouldn’t allow the world to tarnish.

But now, things had changed, and not in ways he could easily control. A part of him resented the world you had been pulled into—a world filled with curses, death, and peril. He especially resented the boy. Itadori Yuji. 

Ryomen Sukuna had watched it happen—watched as Itadori had unknowingly nudged you towards the life of a sorcerer. It wasn’t malicious on Yuji’s part. The boy had only meant to encourage you, to bring out a strength he saw in you. But to Sukuna, that encouragement was nothing more than an invitation to danger. Yuji had no idea what he'd set in motion. And Sukuna couldn’t forgive him for that.

In your past life, Sukuna had made sure you were safe. There had been no need for you to risk yourself in battle or face the horrors of the world head-on. He had taken care of everything. You didn’t need to be strong; you didn’t need to fight. That was his role—to crush anyone who threatened you, to be the shield that protected you from harm. It was his way of keeping you close, of ensuring you never had to suffer.

But now, standing in this new life, all he could do was wonder—how could this brat, this boy, possibly take care of you? How could he, with his limited power and naive ideals, protect you the way Sukuna once had? It infuriated Sukuna to think that Yuji believed he could guide you in this treacherous world, when in reality, he was the one who had exposed you to its dangers in the first place.

Ryomen Sukuna clenched his fists, his thoughts simmering with frustration. You had been safe before, with him. But now, he feared that this world of curses you had chosen—this world where you now stood alongside Yuji and the others—would one day rip you away from him. And Sukuna wasn't sure he could bear that.

Sukuna felt a twisted sense of validation in the aftermath of Shibuya. It had been him—not Yuji, not any of your so-called allies—who had saved your life when everything went to hell. The moment the curses descended, the city had become a chaotic battlefield, one where even the strongest sorcerers struggled to hold their ground. But not him. Not Sukuna.

He had watched it unfold, his sharp gaze tracking the danger closing in on you, and in that split second, everything he had warned against crystallized. The fragility of your humanity, the danger you had willingly embraced—it all came to a head.

You had faced curses far beyond what you should have been dealing with. It was the recklessness, the vulnerability, the need to prove yourself as a sorcerer that had led you to the brink of death. And for what? To protect others? To fight alongside those who weren’t worthy of your devotion?

In that critical moment, when you had been on the verge of being overwhelmed, it wasn’t Yuji or any of the other sorcerers who had come to your aid. It was Sukuna. His power had surged through the chaos, his strength unmatched, obliterating the curse that had dared to lay its hand on you.

He had kept you from being crushed, from the fate that would have surely claimed you had he not intervened. The irony wasn’t lost on him—that in the midst of this world you had chosen, it was still his power that protected you, not the one you had turned to.

Sukuna could almost laugh at how right he had been. Your decision to become a sorcerer, your reliance on others to protect you—it had all crumbled in the face of reality.

In your past life, you had never needed to face this kind of danger, because he had kept you safe. It had been him who ensured your safety, him who made sure the world’s darkness never touched you. And now, in this life, despite everything that had changed, the outcome was still the same: you needed him to survive.

He hated to admit it, but a part of him reveled in the fact that you couldn’t escape his grasp. The boy, Yuji, had tried—tried to pull you into a world where you could stand on your own, where you didn’t need to rely on Ryomen Sukuna’s power.

But Shibuya had proven otherwise. The truth was undeniable: there was no escaping the fact that Sukuna was, and always would be, the one who kept you alive.

His crimson eyes lingered on you as you lay unconscious, the aftermath of the battle leaving you battered and bruised. He crouched beside you, his expression unreadable. 

There was no warmth in his gaze, no affection—only a sense of possession. A sense of knowing that you were a part of him. Whether in this life or the last, it didn’t matter. The world could change, your memories could fade, but the fact remained: Sukuna had saved you, and he always would. No one else could protect you the way he could, and in the end, he was the only one who truly understood that.

"You see now, don’t you, little one?" he murmured, his voice low, almost to himself. "No matter how far you run, no matter what life you choose, you’ll always come back to this. To me."

There was a finality in his words, a certainty that rang through the empty streets of Shibuya. In his eyes, this moment only reinforced the bond between you, one forged not out of love, but out of necessity, out of survival. And though you may never remember the life you once shared, Sukuna knew that as long as you walked this path, you would always need him.

And then, in the stillness after the battle, Sukuna froze.

A pulse of cursed energy rippled through the air, faint but unmistakable. It was old, ancient even, yet familiar in a way that twisted something deep inside him. For the first time in a thousand years, Sukuna felt her presence. Hiromi.

Sukuna's mind recoiled from the realization, the pulse of cursed energy stirring something long-buried within him. The sensation clawed at him—ancient, familiar, undeniable.

Hiromi.

His heart, or what remained of it, twisted with an emotion he hadn't felt in centuries. He had thought it impossible.

But there it was, a presence like a faint echo that had finally resurfaced after a thousand years. His eyes narrowed, scanning the distance as if he could pinpoint the exact location of the cursed energy.

Without hesitation, his body moved on instinct, the need to chase after that familiar presence overwhelming him. He didn’t even spare a glance back at you. The urgency consumed him. You’ll be fine, he thought to himself. You were unconscious, battered but alive—safe, for now.

“Uraume.” His voice was cold and commanding, cutting through the still air. Almost immediately, Uraume appeared at his side, their faces calm and collected, as if they anticipated his order even before he had spoken it.

“Sukuna-sama.” Uraume bowed slightly, eyes flicking toward your limp form lying on the ground.

“Take care of them for me.” Sukuna instructed, his tone flat, devoid of emotion. It was an order, not a request. His eyes were already fixed on the horizon, his mind far from the present moment.

Uraume nodded without question. “Understood.”

With that, Sukuna turned his back on you, his form disappearing into the distance with terrifying speed. You were unconscious, vulnerable, but he left you without hesitation. Because even now, after everything, it wasn’t you that occupied his thoughts. Not fully. Not entirely.

As the wind whipped past him, his mind raced, trying to process the flood of emotions that came with sensing Hiromi’s energy after so long. It felt like an eternity since he had last known that presence—familiar yet distant, like a memory from another life. He clenched his fists, the anticipation mounting as he closed in on the source of the cursed energy.

But beneath the rush of adrenaline, Sukuna felt something else, something darker—guilt. It was fleeting, barely noticeable, but it was there, nagging at the edges of his mind. He knew he was a hypocrite.

He had kept you by his side, held you close, and claimed you as part of his world. You had become entangled in his existence, and yet, despite everything, despite the way he protected you, he could never love you. Not in the way you might have wanted. Not in the way that mattered.

Because love had always been reserved for someone else.

Hiromi.

The name echoed in his mind, sharp and clear. Hiromi had been everything to him in a way that transcended time. Even after a thousand years, Sukuna could feel it—that deep, consuming affection that had once tied him to Hiromi like a chain. He didn’t need to question it, didn’t need to doubt. Hiromi was the one he loved, the one he would always love. That had never changed.

And yet, as he chased after the familiar energy, a dark, bitter thought rose in his mind. He had kept you close for so long, but not out of love. It had been care, yes, concern even—but not love. You were valuable to him, a piece of his life that he refused to let the world destroy. But love? No, that was something you would never receive from him. That part of his heart had been taken long ago.

He didn’t regret it. Not for a second.

As he raced toward the source of Hiromi’s energy, Sukuna's lips curled into a slight, dangerous smile.

“Hiromi…” he whispered under his breath, a mixture of longing and hunger in his voice. “After all these years, you still haunt me.”

The urgency in his steps betrayed his growing anticipation, but beneath that, another feeling simmered. A strange unease. Sukuna knew what this meant—what it would mean for him, for you, for everything. He was a hypocrite, and he knew it all too well. 

He had spent lifetimes keeping you close, ensuring your safety, binding you to him with his strength. He claimed you as his, possessed you in a way that transcended time and memory. He protected you, watched over you, but love? No, love had never been part of the equation.

Sukuna was no fool. He cared for you, yes. There was a connection, a bond that had grown stronger over time. But it wasn’t love, not in the way most would understand. He knew that. It had always been about control, about ensuring that you remained part of his world, tethered to him by the invisible threads of fate. 

You had chosen a path filled with danger, and he had allowed it, begrudgingly, because he didn’t want to lose you. But he did not love you. Not in the way that mattered. Not in the way that consumed him.

That kind of love was reserved for someone else. Hiromi.

The name reverberated in his mind like an old song, the memory of a time long past. Hiromi had been the one he loved, truly loved. The one who had held his heart, back when he had one. The connection between them was something deeper, something far more potent than what he had with you. It was raw and ancient, a passion that transcended lifetimes. 

Ryomen Hiromi had been his equal, the one who had understood him in ways no one else ever could. And now, after centuries, Hiromi’s cursed energy was stirring again, calling out to him across time.

Sukuna felt the sharp contrast between what he had with you and what he had once shared with Hiromi. You were his, yes—but in a way that was almost pragmatic, transactional. He cared for you, protected you because you were his responsibility, someone he would never let the world destroy. But it wasn’t the kind of love that set his soul ablaze. Not like Hiromi had.

And that truth didn’t bother him. He didn’t regret it. He didn’t regret holding you close while reserving his deepest, truest love for Hiromi. That was how it was meant to be. You and Hiromi occupied different places in his life, and that was something he had long accepted.

As he sped through the streets of Shibuya, his mind was a storm of thoughts. He knew he was leaving you behind, abandoning you without a second thought to chase the echo of someone he had lost long ago. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself. The pull was too strong, the memory of Hiromi too powerful to resist. You were safe. That’s all that mattered.

But Hiromi… Hiromi was everything.

Sukuna knew, with absolute certainty, that no matter what he had with you, it would never compare to what he had with Hiromi. And he didn’t need it to. He didn’t want it to. He had spent a thousand years in the shadow of that love, and now, with Hiromi’s cursed energy suddenly awakening, all he could think about was reclaiming what had been his—what had always been his.

As Sukuna moved through the city, his chest tightened with anticipation. He was a hypocrite, yes, but he had no regrets. He would protect you, care for you, but the fire that burned within him was for Hiromi alone. You were never meant to hold his heart—not the way Hiromi did. And for that, Sukuna was unapologetic.

This was who he was. This was who he had always been.

Meanwhile, Uraume knelt beside your unconscious form, their expression unreadable as they gently lifted you into their arms. They glanced in the direction Sukuna had disappeared, their lips tightening slightly.

"Always leaving." Uraume muttered quietly, more to themselves than to you. They knew better than anyone what Sukuna was chasing, and why he hadn’t hesitated to leave. "It’s never enough, is it?"

They looked down at you, a strange softness entering their gaze.

"You’re fortunate he cares for you as much as he does." Uraume added quietly, though the words felt hollow. Because they knew, just as you might someday come to realize—Sukuna’s heart belonged to someone else, someone from long ago.

And no one would ever replace that.

HE HAD NOT REMEMBERED WHAT HE THOUGHT THE FIRST TIME HE DIED. But this time around, he did. As Ryomen Sukuna lay on the ground, his once-imposing form crumbling, the weight of his own mortality pressing down on him for the first time in centuries, he felt something stir in the space around him. A soft, familiar presence, like a breeze carrying the scent of a life long forgotten. It was not a presence he had ever felt in a long time. 

He opened his eyes, and there you were. Your past self, standing before him as though summoned by the final moments of his life. You were just as he remembered, yet different—there was a lightness in your eyes, a peace he hadn’t seen in so long. And as you approached, there was no anger, no bitterness, no pain. You smiled at him. A gentle, almost wistful smile, as though all the years of cruelty, all the darkness that had passed between you, had never existed.

“Sukuna–sama.” you greeted softly, your voice carrying an odd tenderness, as though you were greeting an old friend.

He stared at you, confused, his chest tight with an unfamiliar emotion. The weight of his sins, the centuries of violence, grief, pain and manipulation—all of it should have driven you away. And yet here you were, standing before him, smiling as if nothing had ever been wrong. As if he had never hurt you. As if you hadn’t hated him for it.

“You’re really here….little one.” Sukuna rasped, his voice rough, but there was a vulnerability in it he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a thousand years. “After everything...you’re still here?”

You nodded, kneeling down beside him, your gaze soft but resolute. “I’m here, Sukuna–sama. But we both know this is the end, don’t we?”

He grunted, dark scarlet eyes flickering with both amusement and bitterness. “So it seems.” He paused, the weight of what was to come settling in. “And now what? What happens next? You’ve come to watch me die, little one?

You shook your head gently, your expression unchanged. “No. I came to say goodbye.”

A silence stretched between you both, heavy and profound. Ryomen Sukuna’s breath grew more labored, the energy draining from him faster now. His dark eyes never left yours, trying to read you, to understand what this moment meant. You were supposed to go wherever he was, you would follow. Words were wind and yet, your actions — they said other things. 

“Goodbye, huh?” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And what am I supposed to do with that? After everything…after all these years, little one?”

You hesitated, looking down at your hands before meeting his gaze once more. “I need you to let me go, Sukuna–sama.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened. “Let you go? I’ve kept you for a reason, little one. You’ve been mine for longer than either of us can remember.”

You exhaled softly, shaking your head. “Not anymore. Not this time.I can’t love you like this, Sukuna–sama. Not like I did before. That love—it’s gone.”

His jaw tightened, a spark of anger flashing in his eyes. “And why is that? Because of him? Because of that brat?”

He didn’t need to say the name. You both knew who he meant.

You didn’t flinch. “Yes. I love Yuji now. I had…I had been reborn now, Sukuna–sama. He’s who I’ve chosen. He’s who I am in this life. And I want to be happy, Sukuna–sama. Truly happy.”

Sukuna scoffed, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “Happy, huh? That’s what you want?”

You nodded, your voice soft but firm. “You always said you wanted that for me, didn’t you? You kept me close because you said you wanted me safe. But I don’t want to live like this anymore. I don’t want to be bound to something that doesn’t exist—something that’s only pain and emptiness.”

Sukuna was silent for a long moment, his breath shallow, his eyes narrowing as he stared up at the sky. “So that’s it then? After everything, you’re just going to walk away?” His voice was laced with bitterness, but beneath it, there was something else—a resignation, an understanding that this was inevitable.

You reached out, gently taking his hand. The gesture surprised him, and for the first time in a long time, Sukuna didn’t pull away.

“I want to let you go, Sukuna–sama.” you said softly. “But I need you to let me go too. So we can both be free.”

His eyes flickered with something unspoken, a quiet turmoil that even he didn’t fully understand. For so long, he had kept you tethered to him, not out of love but possession, out of the need to control, to keep you as part of his world. And now, here you were, asking him to release you from the very chains he had forged. Asking to be separated from you, forever.

“You think it’s that easy?” Sukuna whispered, his voice hoarse. “After everything we’ve been through, after all the years…”

“No, no.” you replied gently, a small ghostly smile on your face. “It's not easy. I know that much. But it’s what needs to happen. We’ve both held on for too long. You and I—we’re not meant to be like this anymore.”

Ryomen Sukuna’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, he saw something he had long since forgotten. The softness, the kindness in your gaze—the person you had once been before all of this. And he knew, deep down, that you were right.

He had kept you close out of fear. Fear of losing the one thing in his life that had ever mattered, the one of the very few people who had ever made him feel something beyond the void of his existence. But you were no longer his, and he was no longer yours. It was never meant to be. He knew that from the beginning.

With a deep, labored breath, Sukuna closed his eyes, his grip on your hand loosening. “Fine, little one.” he rasped. “Go. Be with him. Be happy. It’s what you want, right?”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you smiled at him, the sadness in your eyes mixed with a profound sense of peace. “Thank you, Sukuna–sama.”

For a moment, you both sat in silence, the weight of all those years of history between you. And then, quietly, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. He lets the warmth echo through his flesh. He didn’t want you to let go, he didn’t want you to leave him. And yet, he had to let you go. 

“Goodbye, Sukuna–sama.” you whispered. “Be free. Choose your path too.”

With that, you stood up, turning away from the man who had once held your heart, leaving him to the twilight of his life. You didn’t look back as you walked away, knowing that this was the end of one chapter, and the beginning of another. You will never find each other again.

Ryomen Sukuna watched you go, his vision fading, a strange mix of regret and relief flooding through him. He had let you go, and in doing so, perhaps, for the first time in his long, twisted life, he had let himself go too.

IT WAS ODD, THIS PLACE. And it was where all souls go. At least that’s what his father used to say to him. Sukuna had not believed it then. But here is the proof. Here is the truth. The path of souls stretched endlessly before him, an ethereal twilight where time held no meaning and silence enveloped the realm. 

Ryomen Sukuna’s hand held firmly to Uraume’s own, though Uraume’s presence beside him was faint, as if they too were fading into the beyond. Uraume, after all, was too young to understand it all yet.

And he didn’t want to distress them. His crimson eyes scanned the surreal landscape, not for the first time wondering what came next. Death had always been an abstract concept for someone like him—feared by others, but never himself. Yet here he was, on this path, somewhere between existence and oblivion.

He felt a pull, a presence just ahead, and as they walked, familiar figures began to emerge in the mist. Among them, Mahito lounges carelessly, his usual playful smile twisted with curiosity as he looks over at Sukuna.

“Well, well,” Mahito said with a chuckle, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Sukuna?”

Sukuna glanced at Mahito, but his eyes were drawn past him, pulled to a figure he hadn’t expected to see again in this realm. Hiromi.

Hiromi stood a few paces away, her form illuminated by the soft glow of the path. Her presence was calm, unwavering, as though the centuries of separation between them had not dulled the bond that once existed. She smiled at him—a small, knowing smile, one that held both understanding and a quiet challenge.

"It’s been a long time." you said, your voice cutting through the haze of memories that clouded his mind. You had appeared beside Mahito, your eyes softer now than when you last spoke to Sukuna.

It had been a lifetime ago—literally. But here, in the land between worlds, there was no more need for pretense. It had been so long since you both had been truly honest with one another.

Sukuna’s expression softened slightly, though his sharp edges remained. He wasn’t one for sentimentality, and yet, standing here, he felt something stir within him. He inclined his head to you, acknowledging your presence, but his gaze drifted back to Hiromi.

“Hiromi.” he said with a quiet intensity, his voice lower than usual, almost…reverent. Uraume, sensing the moment, quietly stepped back, releasing his hand.

Hiromi stepped forward, her dark eyes locked onto Sukuna’s. She looked just as she had the last time he had seen her, centuries ago. The weight of their shared past hung in the air between them, unspoken but ever-present.

“It’s been too long….Sukuna.” Hiromi said softly, her voice carrying a quiet warmth. She looked at him with that same measured calm, though there was something in her eyes, something that had been left unsaid for far too long.

Sukuna remained silent for a moment, taking in the sight of her. He had never been a man to reflect on his emotions, to consider the consequences of his actions beyond immediate gratification or power. But here, now, on the path of souls, stripped of the pretenses of life, there was a clarity he couldn’t ignore.

“What path will you walk, Sukuna?” Hiromi asked, her voice steady but soft, as though she already knew the answer.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Sukuna smiled—a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips. It wasn’t the predatory grin he was known for, but something quieter, something…honest.

“A path with you.” he answered, his voice carrying the weight of every century that had passed. There was no hesitation in his words, no mask to hide behind. Here, in this liminal space, he could admit what had always been true. “Even if there will be nothing between us.”

Hiromi’s smile deepened, though her eyes were tinged with something bittersweet. “Even if there’s nothing?”

Sukuna held her gaze, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I was bound to you the moment I met you. You know that too well, don’t you?”

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of a lifetime—perhaps several lifetimes—of unspoken truths. He had never been one to voice such sentiments, not in life, not when there was always another battle, another conquest, another way to assert his dominance over the world. But here, stripped of all that power, all that ambition, there was only the truth.

Hiromi’s eyes softened, and she reached out, her hand brushing lightly against his. The touch was fleeting, but it was enough. She didn’t need to say anything; the silence between them spoke volumes.

Mahito chuckled softly behind them, amused by the display but wise enough not to interrupt. “So, Sukuna…..” he teased back. “Even a human curse has your attachments, huh?”

Sukuna shot him a glare, but there was no real malice in it. “And what of it?” he muttered, though his usual venom was absent.

Hiromi gave a small laugh, shaking her head at Mahito before returning her attention to Sukuna. “It’s not attachments that hold you down.” she said softly, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of the path around them. “It’s what you choose to carry.”

“And what are you carrying?” Sukuna asked, his voice quieter now, the question more personal than he’d intended.

Hiromi’s eyes held his, the connection between them clear and unbreakable, even in this world of shadows and souls. “Only what I choose. And now, I choose peace.”

She let her hand fall from his, the warmth of the touch lingering between them. The path stretched out before them, infinite and unknown, but somehow, less daunting with her beside him. It was just like back then. When they were together. Happy. At peace.

Sukuna nodded, a rare understanding passing between them. He had been many things in his life—cruel, selfish, a god of calamity—but here, now, there was only one thing that mattered.

“I’ll walk with you then.” he said, his voice firm. He looks at Uraume. “Both of us will.”

Hiromi smiled, the kind of smile that held centuries of history, of pain, of love, and of letting go. “Then let’s walk together.” she said simply.

And for the first time in a thousand years, Ryomen Sukuna felt something other than hunger, other than rage. He felt…whole.

epilogue 

You and Yuji were crouched behind a row of bushes, peeking over the top like kids playing hide and seek. Except, instead of hiding from a grumpy neighbor, you were hiding from a low-grade curse that looked like a giant, angry turnip.

"Okay, so what’s the plan?" Yuji whispered, his face way too serious for someone talking about vegetable-based curses.

"I was thinking... you distract it, and I’ll sneak around and exorcise it fully." you replied, glancing at the turnip monster, which seemed to be getting more agitated by the second.

"Alright, alright. I got it." Yuji said with a determined nod. Then, after a beat of silence, he looked back at you, his usual playful grin sneaking onto his face. "You know, we make a pretty good team….They were right to assign us together for missions, hm?”

You chuckled softly, feeling your heart skip a beat despite the fact that this was the least romantic setting possible. "We do, don't we? Not many people can take on turnip monsters with such finesse."

Yuji grinned, then cleared his throat awkwardly. "Hey, uh, while we’re on the topic of being a good team, there's... there's something I’ve been wanting to say."

Your eyes widened a little, curiosity and nervousness stirring in your chest. "What is it?"

"Well, it's just... I like being around you. Genuinely…..It’s….I just….I like…I like spending time with you." Yuji said, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks turning a little pink. "Like, a lot. More than just the 'let's-fight-curses-together' way."

Your heart started racing, and you could feel your face getting warm. "I... I feel the same way." you admitted, trying to keep your voice steady even though your insides were doing cartwheels. "I’ve liked you for a while, actually."

Yuji blinked in surprise, then broke into the brightest, most ridiculous smile you’d ever seen. "Wait, really? Do you like me? Like, like me?"

You nodded, biting back a grin. "Yeah, I like you. A lot."

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, grinning like idiots, the turnip curse temporarily forgotten. Laughter echoes from Yuji and then you, and all at once, there was some harmony. The peace that you both had been craving to have. The joy that comes with being together.

"Man, I should’ve told you sooner!" Yuji said, looking like he was about to burst with happiness. "We could’ve been doing all this curse-fighting and dating at the same time!"

You laughed, your nerves fading as the warmth of the moment settled over you. "Better late than never, right?"

Yuji nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! And now that we’ve got that out of the way, I say we finish off this turnip monster and then—"

Suddenly, the turnip curse let out a loud, disgruntled roar, reminding you both that, yes, you were still on a mission.

"Right, curse first, dating later," Yuji said quickly, scrambling to his feet. "Let’s do this!"

In a blur of movement, Yuji launched himself at the turnip, giving you the perfect opening to come around the side. With a swift, precise strike, you exorcised the curse, watching it dissolve into nothing.

Yuji jogged back over to you, grinning. "See? Told you we’re a good team."

You smiled back, feeling a rush of affection for him. "Yeah, we are. And from now on, we’ll be a good team together—on missions and in life."

Yuji’s smile softened, his brown eyes locking with yours in a way that made your heart flutter. "I like the sound of that," he said, his voice a little quieter but full of warmth.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Come what may, right?"

"Right." Yuji agreed, squeezing your hand gently. "No matter what happens, I want to be by your side. Happy. Together."

And with that, the two of you stood there, hand in hand, as the remnants of the curse faded into the wind, feeling lighter than ever—ready to face whatever came next, as long as it was together.

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: You're back home right when Azriel was starting to lose all hope, but is the person standing in front of him the same who disappeared all those years ago?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

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[danikamariewrites]

Discipline

Cazriel x reader

Note: today is the last day 😭 I’ve loved participating and thank you to @polysjmweek for putting this week together! It takes a lot of work to plan, reblog, and post so again thank you, thank you, thank you for all your hard work 🫶🏻

Day 7 of is Why Choose! You already had your why choose moment with these two. Now you’re exploring the dynamic between the 3 of you and just how far you can push your new mates.

Warning: dom/sub dynamic, spanking, teasing, brat!reader, mean dom!Cass and Az (I think), nudity

It was so tempting. They knew it too. Knew this was a test of your patience and listening skills, which haven’t been great lately.

Cassian and Azriel have given you too many warnings to count. And you can admit that you have been a brat lately. The real question is if they’ll follow through on a punishment.

Cass and Az have been a little too soft with you. You love how caring and loving they are. It’s just, sometimes, they could be a little…more.

And today is the perfect day to push their buttons. Nothing serious is happening at Windhaven. They were just training with the younger groups of soldiers. And there was no one dangerous around—unless you count Devlon.

Wandering around the village, people wave to you, happy to see you out and about. You smile and wave back. Enjoying the sun's warmth on your face as you make your way to the training grounds.

The reason Cassian and Azriel wanted you home is because they know these young soldiers. Not yet put in line, still thinking the world will bend to their wants. Those are males they didn’t want you around. Acting before you think as one of Cassian’s soldiers has consequences.

You wouldn’t get close. Just close enough to drool over your hunky mates. Besides, they wanted you to get up and move instead of just staying curled up reading. Cassian has made sure his concerns about your posture were heard loud and clear. If he heard your spine crack as it unfurls one more time he might start screaming.

You peek around one of the tall boulders that circle the training ring. Pressing your body to the cool rock you try to stay hidden in the shadows.

Cassian walks between the rows of soldiers as they go through warm up exercises. Eyeing their form, watching for any slip up. Azriel stretches a little ways away from the group. His shadows light today. Slowly drifting up from his shoulders, reaching up to his hair then falling to rest between his wings.

A grunt pulls you away from appreciating Azriel. A soldier was face down in the dirt. Cassian drags him up by the scruff of his neck. The male beside him tried and failed to hide his laughter.

“What’s so funny, soldier?” His booming voice echoing around the grounds. The young male immediately pales, snapping his mouth shut. “Nothing, General.” Cassian shakes his head, sending them to run laps. “Did I tell the rest of you to stop?”

A chorus of No sir’s sound from the soldiers as they get back to their warm ups.

Your eyes stay on Cassian. A smirk growing at his strictness. Letting out a dreamy sigh the familiar feeling of a cool little whisp tickling you behind your ear. Your gaze meets Azriel’s. He gives you a stern look, seeing you clearly in the shadows. You smirk at him teasingly.

“Cass,” he calls out, pointing his chin in your direction. Cassian spots you in an instant. His brows furrowed and lips pulled into a stern frown. You wink at him, turning and sauntering off back to the cabin.

—

Waiting for your mates to return was agonizing but would be worth it. You riled Cassian up and knowing him he’d talk Azriel’s ear off about your disobedience, bringing Az to his side of things.

You flip a page of your book as the front door flies open and shut. Two pairs of boots making their way into the living room. Their annoyance clear in heavy footsteps.

You don’t bother looking at them when they stop in front of you. Cassian lets out a huff. “This is what I’m talking about. Her attitude lately has been crazy.” Azriel hums in agreement.

You can’t help the growing smirk on your face. You pushed just the right amount.

Cassian grips your chin forcing you to look up at them. “Tell me sweetheart, not only did you disobey my orders but you also sat here all day?” You pull at his wrist but Cass just tightens his grip. “I’m not one of your soldiers Cass. You can’t boss me around,” you snark.

At that he snaps. His pupils blown wide, taking over the soft hazel of his eyes. You look at Azriel but he just slowly shakes his head.

“Up. Don’t make me tell you twice.” You immediately stand and Cassian pulls you over to the couch, bending you over his lap. “I don’t want to hear her smart mouth.” Azriel takes that as a command to stick two of his scarred fingers in your mouth. Pressing down hard on your tongue.

Cassian pulls your leggings and panties off, throwing them to the side with no care. He squeezes your ass, rubbing his rough hand across your smooth skin. Cassian pulls his hand back, landing a hard smack on your ass. You jolt, letting out a muffled moan against Azriel’s fingers.

Cassian spanks you three more times before his fingers tease your entrance. “Gods sweetheart, you’re soaked. I knew pissing Az and I off turned you on.” You whine and swallow around Az. He pulses his fingers against your tongue, reminding you he stays until Cass says so. “This is what you wanted huh? Us to punish you?” He mocks, making you wetter.

You squirm against his thick fingers. Desperate for any friction from him. Just a little touch to give you what you need. Azriel notices, sending his shadows to cit or your thighs and ankles. “No moving baby.” You give him a feral smile. Stilling just as he said.

Cassian spanks you again. “So you’ll listen to Azriel but not me.” You hum, a slight hint of condescension. Cassian lets out a humorless laugh. “Keep it up. You’ll be begging to come until next week if you don’t drop the attitude.”

Gods you loved this. Loved their strict sides. Desperate for more.

[justmeinadaze]

Bite To Break The Skin (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: The more the days past the angstier this got. Please enjoy <3.

Warnings: Vampire Toxic Steddie X Human Fem Plus Size Y/N, SMUT, dry humping, male masturbation, degrading (whore, slut, little brat, etc) loss of virginity, choking, light spanking, biting, mentions of blood, crying (due to pleasure) I think that's all. Oh and aftercare always.

ANGST, Both boys struggle with their change, Eddie is beaten up by jocks, Steve has a fight with someone in his store, Metalhead feeds from Y/N and puts her in the hospital (goes to visit, was an accident), Steve feeds from her after school in her car.

Main event is at her house, they scare her while she's home alone before they use her (their words), Y/N cuts Eddie's arm with a knife but it heals quickly, a bit of jealous steddie near the end. Lots of conflict through out the story within them about becoming "villains".

Word Count: 7808

Steddie Masterlist/ Donate to Me

Part 2 here

Your pencil moved effortlessly along the sketchpad as you watched Eddie Munson sleep soundly on his desk after finally finishing his test. Students threw grumbled paper balls his way but he didn’t once stir. 

You, like everyone else, knew of Eddie and everything that had happened in March of 86. The people in Hawkins wouldn’t allow him to forget it as they whispered words like murderer and killer as he passed by in the halls. 

Before all that though, you were aware of him only as the metalhead who seemed to show no fear as he stood atop tables yelling or screamed about mythical fights during his club meetings. You never showed anyone but you had so many drawings of his smiling face especially when he was laughing with the younger boys at his table. 

When schools finally reopened after the earthquake that shook the town, everyone was surprised (and angered) that he was allowed to try and finish his last semester so he could get his diploma. 

He remained to himself which didn’t surprise you after everything he went through but what killed you was seeing that spark you enjoyed within him seem now totally absent. Eddie’s long hair would constantly block his face as his head hung while he stalked from class to class. His arms remained folded to his chest and he tried to stay as close to the shadows as possible. 

A BMW would pick him up after school that you soon learned belonged to Steve Harrington. The windows of his car that used to be rolled down constantly were closed tight and tinted as dark as they could go. You had some sketches of the former jock from his time at Hawkins high; the way his lips pouted out when he was trying to study in the library, him smiling with Nancy as he danced at a party you snuck into with your friends, and your personal favorite, Steve in his Scoops Ahoy uniform. 

Now adays, even his energy seemed to shift to a sad, darker tone that broke your heart. 

You couldn’t help but wonder why The King and The Freak of Hawkins were now spending so much time together but you ignored those internal questions as you continued to focus on your own boring life. 

The bell rung aggressively causing Eddie to shoot up and rub his eyes with his large, ring covered palms before absently pushing all the loose paper off his leather jacket. 

His beautiful brown eyes briefly met yours and you quickly looked away, grabbing all your books and backpack before scurrying out the door. 

***

“What movie should we get?”, your friend asked as her fingers lightly crazed the VHS tapes on the shelf of the Family Video. 

“Doesn’t matter.”, you shrug absently. “Whatever makes your heart happy.”

Your friend giggles as she picks up a box and begins absently telling you something you couldn’t care less about as the sound of gruff voices caught your attention. Gradually moving towards the noise, you paused to hide behind one of the racks as you watched Steve talking with a customer. His entire demeanor was rigid as he stood up tall seeming to tower over the man you recognized as a former student. 

“Get the fuck away from me, Harrington. We both know a pussy like you won’t do anything.”

“Talk about my friends again and I’ll show what I’m capable of.”

“Friends? What friends? That murderer who killed Chrissy or the whore who left you for that freak Byers?”

Grabbing the collar of his shirt, Steve pushes the boy into the wall so hard the VHSs in the case beside him fall loudly to the ground making you gasp in surprise. The pretty boy’s head tilts slightly in your direction but his eyes never leave the man in his grasp. 

“Ok, Steve, come on.”, a girl with an identical worker’s vest murmurs as she comes around to place her palm on his bicep. “Let him go.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly as his knuckles tighten before shoving the kid to the side where he falls to the floor by your feet. Your gaze shifts towards the wall and your eyes blink in surprise at the slight dent made within the concrete that wasn’t there prior. 

Steve glances in the same direction and as his eyes meet yours, you duck your head and back away to find your friend. 

#################

“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The sound of shouting and loud banging on the lockers down the hall from where you were sitting caused your head to snap to attention as your neck craned to find the source of the sound. 

Eddie’s forehead was leaning against the metal as his hand banged on it again before descending to the floor beneath him. 

“E-Excuse me? Are you alright?”

“Do I look fucking alright?”, he answered gruffly without opening his eyes to bother to see who he was speaking to. “I’m not in the mood to be spit on today so go the fuck away.”

“I…I’m not…I just wanted to make sure you’re ok. I can get you some water if you need it…”

When he finally bothers to look your way, every muscle within him freezes as he takes you in. You weren’t one of the popular kids and definitely didn’t seem to be a part of any clique he’d recognize judging from your exceptionally generic wardrobe. 

Your black jacket clung to your curvy form as if you were hoping it would shield you from everyone else around you. 

“I know you. We have a class together.”

“That’s right. I’m Y/N and you’re Eddie. Here, um, drink some of this. You look dehydrated.”

As you hand him your water bottle, his eyes never leave you as he absently chugs it back before coughing hard and throwing it down the hall. 

“Are you ok?! What happened?!”, you ask as you try to pat his back, pulling back abruptly when you feel how cold his skin is even through his shirt.

“Fuck! No…I’m…I’m—shit—I forget sometimes…I can’t…”, he coughs out as he gestures towards your bottle. 

“Munson! Where the fuck were you? I’ve been waiting—” Steve stops his rant when he realizes you’re standing next to his friend. “What are you doing here?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. What the fuck are you doing here?! Are you following us?! Who are you?!”, he yells as he stomps forward, walking you backwards into the lockers behind you. 

“Steve she’s not…she goes to school here…”

Just as he had with the boy in the video store, his eyes remained on you but instead of doing the same, you searched his features realizing then that he seemed almost identical to Eddie in the since that he was shaking, sweating, and incredibly pale. 

“I’m sorry.”, you whimper. “He seemed sick and I was trying to help.”

Blinking, Steve took a step back as his head hung. 

“Stay away from us or else.”

Your jaw dropped at his threat, flabbergasted as you watched him grab his friend’s wrist and tug him out the door. 

***

Eddie wasn’t in class the following day and you couldn’t help but be worried. When you found him, he seemed incredibly ill and unlike everyone else in the town you wanted him to be ok. 

After school you thought maybe you could wait for him outside just to get visual confirmation he was ok without bothering him or being seen by Steve but as you took a step outside thunder banged loudly above you, barely covering the sound of laughter that echoed around the corner near the gym. 

“Yeah? Does it hurt, Munson?!”, someone shouted followed by the sound of a loud grunt in pain. “About as bad as you hurt Chrissy?!”

Rounding the corner, you found some of the kids you knew as basketball players for Hawkins High kicking and punching Eddie while he laid their bleeding on the gravel. 

Why wasn’t he fighting back?

“HEY!”, you screamed as another boy kicked him in the face right as the rain began to fall. “Stop that! You’ll kill him!”

Dropping your backpack, you ran forward surprised when the other kids ran off. 

“Eddie? Are you ok?!”

Just as you fell onto your knees, he pushed up onto his palms; his breathing heavy like Steve’s had been as you noticed his back rise and fall. The rain dampened his hair allowing it to hide his face from your view. 

“W-What can I do? Should I get Steve or—”

A loud growl cut you off as Eddie suddenly surged towards you knocking you onto your back and straddling your waist with his knees on either side as he held your arms down above you by the wrist. 

You still couldn’t see much of his face but you could swear you saw fangs as he flashed you a small smirk before lurching his lips towards your neck. Something sharp pierced your skin but your scream was muffled by the storm and his palm as you suddenly began to feel heavy. 

Feeling your body go limp, Eddie let you go but to his shock instead of fighting back, your fingers tangle in his hair as your other arm wrapped around his back to hug him tightly. 

All too quickly, he’s pulled off you and you vaguely see two figures through your hazy vision and hear deep grumbles of anger before the world goes black. 

*** 

Later that evening, you woke up in a hospital with your parents sobbing at your side. You told them and the doctor you couldn’t remember what happened which was partially true. You remembered protecting Eddie but then he pushed you down and…something stabbed your neck… it hurt at first but then…it didn’t…

The next couple of days were a blur as your body recuperated from whatever happened. You slept pretty much 24/7 with the doctors giving you some medicine to help. 

Your dreams were so vivid that you could swear they were real.

The first night, you thought you heard Steve Harrington beside your bed.

“I told you to stay away. Why didn’t you listen?” The hospital mattress beside you dipped and you felt a large palm pet your head. “Why did you help him? Why aren’t you like everyone else?”, he sighs. “He said your blood made him feel better. I…I don’t know if I can do that… I don’t know if I can…A part of me would rather die than hurt someone but…honey, I’m so…HUNGRY.”, Steve growled as he exhaled. 

The second evening, the smell of cigarette smoke had your eyes fluttering as you struggled to keep them open, vaguely seeing long hair and a leather jacket in the chair by your bed. 

“E-Eddie?”

“No, sweetheart. I’m not here. I need you to try and forget about me ok? I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you again.” After a while, you thought you had fully fallen back asleep but you still felt rough hands reach for yours to hold them in their grasp. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You have no idea what this is like. We’ve been trying for so long not to give into that need but…it’s like I couldn’t control it…You have no idea how bad I wanted to kill them…and then my stomach felt like it was on fire…

Even now…I want to…I can feel that pulse in your neck…Fuuuuuck…it’s so overwhelming.”

 Fingers lightly brush the bandage against your skin before you whine as its roughly removed. 

“I know…I know it hurts. Can I…Can I kiss it and make it better?” A deep sigh leaves your lips as your head turns towards the feeling of a mouth gently pressed against your skin. “You tasted so sweet, Y/N… You don’t know how good it felt to have you hold me.” At his whispered words, his tongue lightly darted out to touch your wound as his palm tenderly cupped your face but everything in him paused as you listened to silence. “Holy shit…I didn’t know…I didn’t know I could do that…”

The heat of his humid breath warmed your face before the muscle between his teeth licked along your throat to your cheek.

“Wow.”

That morning when you woke up the doctors were baffled that the puncture wounds on your neck were suddenly gone. No scar or cut of any kind and even your pain had subsided as if nothing had ever happened. 

A couple of days later, you were finally able to go back to school but you felt eyes on you constantly. 

Entering your first class, within your usual seat, you found your backpack and your sketchbook waiting for you. Blinking in shock, you glanced towards the man who was normally sullen with his head hanging low doing anything to avoid eye contact but today his gorgeous chocolate hues locked with yours as a smile painted his lips. 

Eddie had a bit more color in his face than he normally did and he seemed a lot less agitated.

Choosing not to address him, you took your seat and flipped through your book. The pages were a bit worn due to the rain it had been out in but what gave you pause was some of the red stains along a few of the pages that looked like fingerprints near the corners. 

Once you got to the last sketch you drew of Eddie slumped over in his desk, a pink colored rose that had been smooshed between the pages fell into your lap. Next to the image of him someone had written lyrics to a heavy metal song you very much recognized. 

“Screams and nightmares

Of a life I want

Can't see living this lie, no

A world I haunt

You've lost all control of my

Heart and soul

Satan holds my future

Watch it unfold.”

When you swiveled your head to look his way again, his smile had widened as he watched you go through your things, giving you a little shiver as he tossed a not-so-subtle wink your way. 

***

“Y/N, seriously, your work is phenomenal.”, your teacher praises as he walks you to the long-abandoned parking lot and hands you the painting you had displayed for your art club after school. 

During your time in the hospital, you still sketched absently (or so you thought) and when you finally made it back home painted what you drew. Everyone was amazed and slightly horrified at the image of you asleep in your bed with an angel holding your hand. The angel’s face was distorted as his head rested on his arm but his halo above was tilted, almost being replaced by horns that were obscured by his wavy long hair. 

Beside him was another boy who didn’t have a halo or horns but wings with feathers that were shedding and being replaced with what appeared to be bat wings. His head hung as his palm touched the angel’s shoulder and the light colors that surrounded them were slowly being invaded by red. 

“Thank you, Mr. Fox. I, um, I’m not sure where it came from but I had some really weird dreams.”, you giggle. 

“I can imagine after what you went through. I want you to consider submitting that to the gallery I mentioned!”, he calls after you as you continue to walk to your car. 

“Yes, sir.”

 Smiling, you watch him drive away before a sudden swish sound above you has you looking towards the sky. The night was clear and honestly quite beautiful as the stars began to paint the darkness. When your eyes tilted back down to earth they were met with a tall broad figure who was panting heavily as his hair blocked his own. 

“S-Steve?”

You gasped at the abrupt feeling of someone else behind you as their chest pushes you forward towards the other boy. 

“It’s ok, Steve, trust me. You’ll feel so much better.”, Eddie murmured seductively. “Can’t you feel it? The pulse of that vein her neck…her shallow breathing…the way she smells…fuck…better than any other high I’ve had, man.”

The former jocks head tilts as your forehead presses against his. 

“I warned you…”, he whispered before rushing towards you and promptly biting into the flesh of your neck.

You squeaked at the sudden action as your fingers immediately clamped down on the back of his head but as that now familiar draining feeling overtook you, the metalhead’s lips tenderly kissing down the other side of your throat had your eyes fluttering closed as a small moan escaped at the feeling. 

With his friend unwilling to let you go, Eddie opened your car door and helped guide you both into the backseat. Your legs were bent at the knee on either side of his lap while his fingers bruised into your waist holding you to him while his free hand cradled your head. 

It felt almost involuntary when your hips began to grind against his. There was a heat coursing through your veins down to your core that desperately needed to be satisfied and when the bulge in his jeans pressed against your center, you knew he felt it to. 

Your movements were sloppy as your body weakened and you began to feel dizzy but the grunts mixed in with the slurping sounds coming from Steve’s lips were enough motivation to keep you going. 

“Atta girl. Fuck, I told you, Harrington, you’d feel better.”, Eddie murmured with a strain in his voice. 

Somehow managing to open your heavy eyes, you could vaguely make out his head lulled back as he watched you and his friend move while stroking his cock at a now rapid pace. 

“Please…”, you whimper and at the sound, Steve grabs your hair and yanks it back allowing him a good look at your face. 

His eyes seemed so much clearer and most if not all of the color had returned to his face. 

“You have to help her. Run your—fuck—tongue along the bite.” Steve turned to glance towards his friend before focusing on your weak form. “Lick her clean.”

Your eyes practically rolled out of skull when his large tongue swept from the exposed skin on your chest up to your neck. Your own pace hastened as your pressed down against him and fell against his shoulder when you felt your body tremble as the coil snapped. 

His limbs circled around you tightly as his own hips took over till his breathing stuttered and you felt the dampness moisten his jeans. Eddie grunted at the sight, leaning against you both as you felt him shudder and his pants warm your skin. 

That following morning you jolted upright in bed, trying to catch your breath as you try to figure out where you were. You were still in the same clothes you left school in minus your shoes and socks. 

Had it all been a dream?

Pushing up onto your palms, nothing seemed out of the ordinary except for your backpack that was placed by your bedroom door and your sketch book on your bedside table. 

Placed on top was another pink rose and when you flipped through the pages, you noticed more blood-stained fingerprints smeared along the pages. Touching your throat, you didn’t feel any wounds and for that you were thankful but when you changed out of your clothes, you noticed light purple bruising along your hips and upper back.

After running downstairs to grab some breakfast, you stopped when you noticed a note taped to the fridge. 

“Hey sweetie, 

Glad you got home alright. We were already in bed when you got in I guess so we weren’t able to tell you that your father and I will be out of town until Sunday. 

Food is in the white containers and if you need anything feel free to ask Mrs. Jenkins across the street. 

Love you,

Mom”

Noticing some imprints from a pen, you turned the paper over to find something written down in handwriting that definitely wasn’t your mothers. 

“I am the Antichrist

It's what I was meant to be

Your God left me behind

And set my soul to be free.”

Fuck… if what happened yesterday wasn’t a dream…then they know I’m going to be alone this weekend…

####################

Friday you skipped school entirely, staying up all night with a butcher knife in your hand, waiting for something that didn’t happen. Saturday you slept on and off throughout the day, jolting awake with every little sound within the house.

That night, you triple checked all the locks before deciding to take a bath to calm your nerves.

“I’m probably overreacting.”, you mumble as you climb into the warm water and allow your muscles to relax. 

As your eyes closed, you mind naturally wondered to the two men you had come into contract with more so within these couple of weeks than the past 4 years you had at school. Eddie and Steve were never mean or rude to you unlike the other student body could be on occasion. 

Steve’s reputation as a king followed him up until his senior year where he seemed much less…angry…than he had been before. You had many little random sketches here and there of the popular kids and looking back on one you did of him his junior year; he had been smiling but something seemed off about it. It wasn’t as natural as it seemed to be with Nancy Wheeler. 

The past four years, you had noticed so many bumps, bruises, and black eyes on his face making you fear for his safety at home but when you found out the Harringtons were never home, you didn’t know what to make of it. 

Eddie had always kept close to his Hellfire club which consisted of the people within his band so neither of you had any interactions if at all. You did see him play guitar once on stage and even had a drawing of it somewhere absolutely loving the way his face and body came to life. When everything with him happened, you never believed he did it. 

You heard through usual town gossip he had been found and was in the hospital for while with other kids including Steve. With the town now running a bit more smoothly you saw them more and more, always together and always dragging or sickly looking. 

Until last week when they…bit you…

Laughing to yourself, you rose to your feet and dried yourself off, wrapping the towel around your body as you ran to your bedroom to put on some shorts and a long sleeve shirt. 

Grabbing the brush by your stereo, you pressed play on the settings and waited for the radio to flow through. 

“Screams!

From a life I live

Torment

Is what I give”

You freeze, turning slowly to face the device as the song Eddie had been writing to you blares through. 

“Torture!

Is what I love

The downfall

Of heavens above.”

Rushing forward, you quickly turn it off with wide eyes before hearing a loud knock on your front door causing you to drop the brush in your hand. 

Hastily you grab the knife by your bed, holding it out for defense as you tiptoe down the stairs.

“W-Who is it?” 

No one answers.

“WHO IS IT!?”

The only response is another loud knock and shakily, you gather the strength to look through the peephole before an exasperated sigh leaves you and you open the barrier to find your neighbor on the other side. 

“Mrs. Jenkins, you scared me.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Did you ask who was there? You know how bad my hearing is. A downfall of getting older.”, she laughs. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I heard you were in the hospital last week and I told your mom I’d keep two eyes on you.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m fine. It was just…low blood sugar I think.”

“Oh? Your mom said you were cut or something.”

Flashing her your skin, you smile as you reply, “No…no cuts.”

“Well, good. Have you eaten?”

“Yes, ma’am and I just took a bath so I think I’m just going to relax.”

“Alright, sweetheart, if you need anything just give me a call.”

After reassuring her, you close and lock your front door, shaking your head at your own jittery nerves. 

The phone blares startling you and you scold yourself once more as you reach to answer it. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, pretty girl.”

“I’m sorry…who is this?”

“Oh, don’t break my heart and tell me you don’t know my voice. You’ve spent so much time drawing me I guess you never took the time to listen to me speak.”

Your eyes widen as you grab your knife and hold it out into the air while taking a quick scan around the room. 

“Eddie?”

“Good girl. I actually like your work. Last night Steve and I found some of your other books. Are you just like obsessed or what?”

“I-I-I draw what I see.”

“Hm…so…are you telling me while you were in the hospital you saw horns and a halo on my head?”

“I don’t know what I saw. When I paint…I paint what I feel…I dreamt about you a lot…”

“You and I both know that wasn’t a dream, sweetheart. I didn’t know if you were dead and we just needed to make sure you weren’t. Or that you didn’t become what we are.”

“What are you?”, you whisper as the tears begin to fall and you hear him chuckle. 

“I used to be a good man but then this town took that all away. I died for them and they didn’t fucking care!” Eddie growled loudly at his last word, sounding like an animal untamed. “Steve found that out later after everyone abandoned us. They kept insisting we could be good. ‘Don’t drink blood. Don’t hurt anyone. We’ll find a way.’. Well, IIIII found a way…through you…

Y/N, you have no clue how weak I was when those dicks were kicking my ass. I was losing blood and I was starving… and then there you were…”

“Please, Eddie, don’t do this.”, you beg but he continues as if he didn’t hear. 

“Jesus and then you held me…fuck, baby. To have someone nicely touch me again… When I found out I didn’t kill you or turn you, I knew. We forever have an untapped resource.”

“Haven’t you hurt me enough!? Just leave me alone!”

“Did we hurt you, honey?”, Steve replied with mocking taking over the call. “Your pussy grinding against my cock says otherwise.”

“I…I didn’t…I…”

“Are you a virgin, Y/N? Have you ever done that with anyone else? Dry humped them with your body so fucking close but not really touching?”

“Fuck you!!”

“That’s a yes on the virgin, Ed. Good…I like them better when they aren’t spoiled.”, he laughed. 

“Fuck you! I’m…I’m not…”

“Oh, yeah? You’ve had your cunt played with till you’re begging them to stop? Fingers so deep, reaching places inside you your little fingers could never hope to reach? A cock so far down your throat that you gag and choke cause you can’t handle the size but you don’t pull away because the little whore in you is desperate to make your partner feel good?”

While he spoke his husky, breath filled words, you continued to look from left to right prepared for one of them to pop out at any moment. 

“You’ve had a thick, hard dick stretch your pussy till you feel him in your stomach, fucking you so hard you’ll be sore in the morning?”

“I…I…”

“Didn’t think so.”

The line suddenly went dead and you screamed as the power went out. Tears streaked your cheeks as you exited the kitchen, searching everywhere for any sign of them but finding nothing. Something loud crashed in your parent’s room down the hall and you ran so fast up the stairs, slamming and locking the door for good measure. 

On your bed you noticed the phone was off the hook beside your sketch book that was open. 

They had been up here while talking to you…

How long had they been in the house??

Movement on the other side of the door stops you as you listen to footsteps bang loudly up each and every single step before ceasing just outside in the hallway. Covering your mouth, you silence the whimper that wants to escape as you watch the doorknob slowly turn left to right but fail to open the door. 

Quiet falls around you but as you take a couple of steps towards it, your door shakes as if any moment it will break off its hinges. Running towards the window, you open it with the goal of sneaking down the pipe and running to the neighbors. 

“Going somewhere?”, Steve replied casually as you scream and fall to the floor. 

While he hovers outside, you take in his large gray and black wings that allows him to suspend in the air as he smiles widely your way to showcase a set of fangs that had your mouth dropping in horror.

Entering your room, his bare feet touch the carpet and his wings make a sharp fluttering noise as they retract into his back. As you back out of his way, Steve saunters towards your bedroom door and opens it to allow Eddie entry. 

Both men seemed a bit paler than the last time you saw them with that hollow ring around the metalheads eyes that told you he was a lot more worse for wear than his friend. 

“I’m fucking starving.”, he growled, taking a step towards you before hissing loudly as he falls theatrically against your dresser. The knife in your hand had gashed a deep cut into his forearm, trailing blood as it dripped from the wound. “God fucking damn it! Ugh! Still fucking hurts!”

“Don’t be a baby.”, Steve laughs, holding up his friend’s arm to show it now fully healed. 

“Doesn’t make it not hurt, dick. How about a I let her slash you with the sharp ass knife next time! Come here, you fucking brat.”

You absently swing the knife but hit nothing as Eddie takes hold of your wrist and forces your fingers open to drop the weapon before pushing you down to your knees. With a firm grip on your hair, you watch as he unbuckles his pants and shimmies them down to free his cock from its confinement. 

You barely have time to comprehend what’s happening as he shoves his length into your open mouth. 

“Oh my God.”, he groans through clenched teeth as his palms clutch either side of your head while he thrusts his hips. “That’s it…keep your tongue flat…Y-You can take it.”

Falling to his knees beside you, Steve delicately moves some of your hair behind your ear. 

“Was that the first time you’d ever cum, Y/N? On my lap in your car?” Your eyes squeeze shut as you gag around Eddie’s cock before pulling your hair to yank you back and allowing you to breathe. “It’s ok, honey. You’re doing so good for us.”, he softly coos as his friend pushes you back onto him and grunts as he fucks your face. 

A large hand slides under the waistband of your shorts and you push your head back against a ringed palm when a long finger grazes your clit. 

“No panties? Naughty girl. It’s like you knew we were coming for you. Are you not wearing a bra either?”

Without waiting for an answer, Eddie roughly tugged off your shirt and both men mewled at the sight. 

“Jesus, baby. Why were you hiding in the shadows all this time?”, Steve whispers, pressing his forehead against your temple and your breathing stutters as his finger breaches your entrance squeezing tightly around him. “Don’t worry, Y/N. We are the shadow now.”

The metalhead smiles wickedly and shoves your mouth onto him again. Your senses were completely overwhelmed as Eddie’s cock continually hit the back of your throat and you gaged while feeling the heat rise along your body as the other curved his finger inside of you. 

Prepared, Steve wrapped his arm around you and tilted back slightly to watch your face as his ring finger joined his middle. Your back pushed against him but he was much stronger than you as he held you in place. 

“Don’t run from it. We got you. Fuck, Y/N, my favorite thing about virgins is how tight you are. We are going to ruin you, little girl. Who do you want to actually take you? You drew Eddie the most…”

The metalhead fully released you from his grasp and backed away as he began to tug off his clothes. 

“I may be a bit gentler than he is though.”, Steve laughs as his fingers thrust faster inside of you making you whine as you fully fall into his chest. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to pound you into that fucking mattress. Oop…she liked that, Ed. Her pussy just clenched tighter around me.”

“Oh yeah? You like it rough to, sweetheart?”

The former jocks free hand pulled your hair as he gritted his teeth. 

“Answer him.”

“I…I can’t…I…”

“You better try!”

“I…I like…like it…mmm...rough.”

“Close enough.”, Steve scoffed as he abruptly removed his hand from between your legs and pushed you against the carpet. 

Without saying a word, Eddie lifts you off the floor, tossing you onto your bed as if you weighed nothing and effortlessly ripped your shorts in half before throwing them to the floor. 

“Oh my…God.”, you moan as his head dips between your thighs and his mouth envelopes your clit.

“Mmm…fuck! You taste so fucking good.”, the metalhead growls, leaning back to spit between your folds and uses his cock to stroke it everywhere he needs it to be. His fingers bruise your legs as he yanks you closer and brings one of them over his shoulder before he gradually begins to push into your core.

“Wait…ow…”

“It’s ok, baby, you can take it. I’m—fuck—you’re lucky I’m going as slow as I am right now. Goddamn, Steve, you were right…so fucking tight.”

You felt like you were being split in half as the sheer size of him overwhelmed you. He thrust his hips gradually, allowing every inch of him to carefully fill you but as he clung to your thigh and muttered obscenities, you could tell he was right… you were lucky he hadn’t lost all will and just snapped his hips to push himself deeper into you. 

Something wet poking your lips caused you to turn your head to find Steve’s leaking cock prodding at your mouth.

“No.”, Eddie growled making his friend freeze. “I’m not done watching her face.”

Steve made a small pfft sound as he continued forward, licking his lips when your tongue lightly grazed his tip but the metalhead’s palm pushing at his chest startled even you as you began to back away. 

“Don’t fucking move!”, he hissed, keeping a firm grip on your thighs and yanking you closer to him before glaring at the pretty boy. “I said…I’m not done…”

“She doesn’t just belong to you, Munson.”

“Fine.”, he spat. “But I want you out of the fucking way entirely when I eat.”

“Noted.”

Now amped with angry energy, Steve’s fingers tangled in your hair as he guided his cock between your lips, mewling loudly as you moaned at the feeling of Eddie no longer being gentle, thrusting his length so deep inside you, you knew you’d be sore for days. 

“God, your tits are perfect.”, the former jock panted as his large hand kneaded your breast. “I just want to slide my dick between them…play with them with my new teeth--Shit, Y/N—how does his cock feel now?”

“G-Good…”, you moan when he pulls out to allow you to answer. 

Steve growled prominently when Eddie pushed him backward, dropping your leg to the mattress so he could hover over you. 

“It’s about to get better.”, he announces before bearing you his fangs causing your eyes to widen in fear. “Right when you’re about to cum…I want to hear you moan my name. Do you understand?” When you only nod, his palm wraps around your throat as he presses his lips onto the shell of your ear. “Tell me you understand, you little whore, so I know I’m being heard.”

“I understand.”, you whimper tilting your head to kiss his cheek. 

The action startles him slightly as his eyes scan over your face. 

For just a moment, you see the boy you drew so many times before. The soft but loud kid that would walk on tables and spend time with the underclassmen…

But that was short lived as his pupils turned black and his teeth bit into your neck. 

“Ah…Eddie.”

That dizzy feeling you felt before began to overtake you but was immediately overpowered when his hips rolled hard into yours punching his cock deep into the soft spot inside you that had your eyes fluttering shut. It felt almost like a dream again when your arms lifted to drag your nails down his back and he growled softly at the feeling. 

“Eddie…”

Your legs wrapped around his waist as his pace quickened and the headboard began to slam into the wall at his intensity. 

“Edd—ie…”

The man’s muscular arm shot out to grab the wood above you, trying his best to hold it still and it was then that you realized he was doing that so he could hear you better. 

That feeling that had been building in the pit of your stomach shot down to your core and you practically screamed his name as your body trembled against his. His teeth retracted as his tongue ran along the soreness in your neck and you instantly felt better as he chased his own high. 

“Beg me, whore. Beg for my fucking cum.”

“I…I don’t…I’ve never talked that way…”

Eddie’s palm grips your throat as he growls like a feral animal in your ear. 

“It’s not that fucking complicated. BEG. ME. FOR. MY. CUM!” Between each word, he punctuated it with a rough slam of his hips and you whined at the feeling. 

“Please, E-Eddie, I want you…want you to cum. I-I want to feel you cum.”

“Fuck…where, baby? Where do you want me to cum?”

“O-On…On me…on my tits!”, you hurried when you could tell you weren’t answering correctly but when you finally did, he chuckled. 

“Bad girl. You chose that to make Harrington jealous, huh? Alright.” After a few more rough pumps, Eddie hastily pulled out and climbed up your body, stroking his cock till he painted your chest with his release. Smiling cheekily at his friend, he climbed off you and pat his shoulder. “Your turn.”

Steve growled but to you his always sounded different; deeper. As if it came from his stomach whereas Eddie’s came from his chest. It oddly sounded…angrier…more protective. 

“You wanted to make me jealous? Get a rise out of me?”

“No, Steve, no.”

His eyebrow raises sarcastically as if he doesn’t believe you and he firmly grabs your arms, manhandling you onto hands and knees. Swatting your thigh, he makes sure your legs are as far as they can go in your current position before one of his hands clings to your shoulder while the other guides his cock inside your entrance. 

Your mouth falls open as you push up onto your palms and he gradually thrusts his hips.

“Goddamn… look how wet you fucking are. Munson made you feel really good, huh? Fuck, your pussy is just making a mess all over my dick.”

One he found a good rhythm, your head hung as he aggressively slammed his body into yours. Feeling something wet land on his fingers, he pulled you to his chest and your head leaned against his shoulder as he slowly rolled his cock past all your sensitive areas into your stomach. 

“Why are you crying, little girl? Does it hurt…my cock ruining your cunt?”

“N-N-Noooo…Mmph… feels…feels good.”

You felt him smile against your cheek as his hand slid from your throat down to your collarbone. 

“I know, honey, I know.”

That now familiar pain of something sharp digging into your flesh had you screaming his name as one of your hands tangled in his hair. Steve’s fingers surprised you as he pushed them into your mouth and along your tongue before sliding them between your legs to play with your clit. 

“STEVE!”

The man grunted at the sound of his name as your body began to shake. That dizzying feeling swept through you and you couldn’t help it when through your own tears a little smile painted your lips. 

“Steve…please…”

Just as Eddie had done, his tongue licked along your pain and as soon as it disappeared, your cheek was pushed into the mattress as his massive palm remained against your head holding you down with your ass still in the air as he slammed into you. 

“That’s it…fucking whore…keep your pussy open for me till I’m…fucking done using it.”

With every ah that left you, his pace increased as if your pleasure was egging him on. Moaning his name, you cling to the sheets underneath your hands as you came. Grunting at the tight feeling, you felt his hips stutter and you would be lying if you said a part of you wasn’t giddy at the thought that he may cum inside you. The notion that you made him lose control enough that he couldn’t help but do it had your pussy continually quivering as if she were begging on your behalf. 

Just at the last second, Steve pulled out and you watched over your shoulder as he rapidly stroked his cock till his spend landed on your behind that he promptly spanked for good measure. 

You weren’t sure what happens now but all you knew was your brain and body felt incredibly heavy as if you had just run a marathon.

The lights in your room snapped on and you hissed as you blocked your eyes behind your hand before you were suddenly lifted by Eddie who carried you to your bathroom. He tried placing you on your feet but your eyes rolled as you tilted forward and he promptly caught you guiding you to the tile floor. 

“Is…is she ok?”

You knew that voice…it was soft and kind yet filled with worry. You hadn’t heard it since high school.

“Steve?”

“I think so. I think maybe we took too much?”, Eddie answered in a concerned and uncertain way that had you unsure this was even the same two people you were just with.

“Eddie?”

“I thought you said the licking helped?”

“I said it cures the bite. I’m not sure what it does when we feed.”

“Goddamn it, Ed.”, the man growled cause the metalhead to do the same.

Pushing at his chest, you crawled to the toilet and the sound of you vomiting echoed through. A ringed hand tenderly pet you head and as you leaned back against the wall, you notice Eddie’s eyes were no longer black but the brown you remembered. 

“I know you.”, you slurred, reaching out to touch his cheek. 

“Go get her some water and make sure there’s no blood on her sheets or floor.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, Munson.”

“You’re the one who said you didn’t want to kill anyone, Harrington. If you had let me kill those fuckers that beat the shit out of me then we maybe we wouldn’t be here.”

You jumped at the sound of something banging loudly and when you narrowed your eyes to try and see better, the bathroom door was open and Steve was gone. Silently, Eddie put together a bath and carefully placed you in the water. 

Your eyes remained closed as a rag was run across your body before being casually tossed to the side. You thought you were alone after a while, hearing nothing but your own breath until fingers lightly traced down your cheeks to your lips. 

“I wish we had met you before all this. I would have talked to you if you came up to me at lunch or in class. Maybe taken you out on a date…fallen in love… but then maybe that would mean you would be dead… like Chrissy. Then again, maybe if you had come home with me that night everything would have been different…”

Heavily sighing, Eddie takes you in his arms and sits you on the edge of the porcelain as he dries you off. 

“Eddie? Am I dreaming?”

The metalhead snorts out a laugh as he collects you once more and carries you to your bedroom. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re dreaming.”

“Oh…”

When he places you down on your bed, a new set of warm hands pull a baggy shirt over your head before something cold is placed near your lips causing you to flinch away. 

“No, hey, this is just water, honey.”

Nodding, you sip the liquid back with loud chugging slurps that has Steve chuckle through his teeth. When your finished you try to hand it to him but it falls from your grasp. While you wait for the sound of glass to shatter you open your eyes to see he had extended out his arm to catch it.

Your glassy eyes scan along his face that has more color in it now than it did before but even you can feel the intense dark energy still radiating from them both. Your hands shake slightly as you reach out to touch the red indent along his neck and he sighs as his forehead leans against yours.

His eyes close as your fingers trail down his hairy chest to his stomach but just as they begin to graze what appears to be a deep scar, the glass in his hand breaks on the floor as his palm aggressively reaches out to grab your wrist while that gruff growl escapes him. 

“I warned you, Y/N…”

“It doesn’t matter right? Because this is a dream…”

Again, he laughs as he releases his hold on you long enough to tilt you back into your bed and pull the covers over you. 

“Yeah, baby, it’s all a dream except for that soreness between your legs. That’s real. Do you know why?”

“Because you belong to us now.”, Eddie answers for you when you shake your head. “Steve was right, Y/N, we are the shadows…”, he whispers as he kneels down to pet your head and place a fresh smelling pink rose on your bedside table. “So don’t you dare dream of anyone else, pretty girl, or else we’ll make you both regret it.”

#################

@debkk16 @myherometalhead @veemoon @hardladyheart

[azsazz]

Severance

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Idk if you’re taking requests and it’s okay if you aren’t but I was rereading Feysand bonus chapter and it mentions that Feyre’s libido was heightened due to pregnancy and really wanted a fic where we see that with Az and reader bc I LOVE LOVE your daddy!Az fics and it would be funny seeing Az being a dad but also finding time to pleasure his pregnant mate due to hormones that man’s schedule would be jammed pack hahaha

Warnings: Smut, reader is pregnant, light breeding kink.

Word Count: 2061

Notes: This req is literally from a year ago today 😳 now that's some sort of fate (or mad laziness lol) Also, it's been a hot minute since I've written some smut hopefully it's good.

Bat Babies ages in this fic: Wren, Nyx, Gid 8, Baz 6, Zuzu 3, Jax 2, Knox and Malos in the womb.

_________________________________________

“Wren,” you sigh exasperatedly at your eight year old, “Please go play with your siblings. Mommy just needs a few minutes to herself.” 

It’s hard to keep your tone cool and level while your core is burning, dripping for the mate who’s stepped into the shadows whilst you bargain with your son. The both of you had snuck off for a few quick kisses that turned into something more, and it’s the first time you’ve had any time to yourselves in weeks. You don’t know if it’s being pregnant with two babies this time around making every single one of your senses heightened, but you don’t recall being this horny for your mate during your first four pregnancies.

Oh, you were insatiable, sweetheart, your mate purrs in your mind. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him not only from the bond tethering you, but from where he stands, five feet away and shrouded in darkness. And I loved every moment of it. You did too, of course.

You shut your eyes for a long second so your oldest son doesn’t catch you rolling them. I would love for you to remind me of just how much I loved it, mate, you send back, letting your frustrated desperation cling to your words, if we can ever seem to find the time.

Last week, Zuzu refused to go to Feyre’s painting class even though all of the other cousins were going in for a private session the High Lady had set up specifically so that you and your mate could spend the night alone together. She spent the entire time latched to Azriel’s leg and crying her little eyes out until the both of you gave in and let your daughter stay home. Your only saving grace that night was getting to lounge on the couch with a good book—that really only made you hornier for your mate—whilst Azriel and Zuzu baked cookies in the kitchen and hand delivered them to you with a large glass of milk.

A few days ago, it was Baz who had trouble sleeping and came pounding at your door while your mate was three fingers deep into your sopping cunt. The both of you had hastily gotten dressed, grumbling the entire time you did so, and let your second oldest son into the room. Azriel swiftly avoided Baz’s questioning about why your door had been locked in the first place, and the both of you watched him crawl up onto your bed and settle in the center of the tangled sheets, looking at the both of you expectantly. Baz talked your ears off all night long. 

And it was only last night when Jax who couldn’t be consoled when he couldn’t find his stuffed Suriel for bedtime. Azriel spent an hour scouring your house for the toy while you held Jax close, trying to keep your own emotions calm and serene instead of the frustration you wanted to give into, lest your son pick up on them and dampen his mood further. Even with his keen spymaster abilities and the shadows he’d released to help the cause, Azriel came up empty.

With four young children and twins on the way, it seemed as though they always knew the perfect time to interrupt you and your mate every time you tried to get close to each other. 

Wren frowns, his head falling back on his shoulders as he stares up at you with those hazel eyes that are a gift from his father. They’re pleading, and he really wants to have that sleepover with Gideon and Nyx, but you’ve never been a sucker for those pleading looks. If Wren thinks that huffing and puffing and making sad faces is going to change your mind, he came to the wrong parent.

Especially since he’s interrupted your fun as well.

You tap your foot, waiting your son out. He stares, and you stare back. You even cross your arms over your chest, resting them over the swollenness of your stomach, nearly two-thirds of the way through your pregnancy.

Your body goes taut at the feeling that Azriel lets zip down the bond. It’s one of complete arousal, his obsession with you when you make that stern face. 

It takes all of your willpower not to shift on your feet with the rush of wetness that accompanies the feeling of heat rushing through your veins. Not to clench your thighs together or glance over to where your mate stands, probably staring at you with his hazel eyes, filled with need.

Not that you’d be able to see him in the darkness anyway.

Wren’s pleading draws your attention away from your desires and back to the matter at hand.

“Please, mom!”

Clearing your throat so that it doesn’t falter when you speak, you answer. “You may have a sleepover with Nyx and Gideon tomorrow night if you're a good boy tonight. And that means playing with your siblings for a few minutes until I come to take Jax and Zuz for their baths.”

You’re pretty sure you lost your eldest son when you agreed to the sleepover, and you nearly stumble when he throws himself at you, hugging you tight. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Wren screeches with excitement, and your heart grows when he places a fleeting kiss to your stomach and bolts from the room. You can hear him tearing down the halls to where Baz is loudly making the toys in the living room speak. 

“Sweetheart, are you crying?” Azriel’s voice startles you. No longer is he hiding in the shadows, but at your side, swiping a calloused thumb across your cheek, swiping away the wetness.

“He’s just so sweet,” you gush, leaning into your mate’s arms. You press your ear to his chest, listening to the steady and strong thumping of his heart. You love this man and everything that you’ve built together. Through all of the missions and worrying, to building a home and family together, you truly are grateful for the life that you live.

“You know what else is sweet?” Azriel says, his suggestive whisper caressing the shell of your ear. It causes you to shiver, fingers curling into his shirt as he pulls you closer, lifting you easily into his arms.

“What?” you answer breathlessly, already losing yourself to your mate’s touch again. Namely, his thick cock brushing against your cunt with each step closer to the desk in the office he takes.

You don’t even have to worry about the kids right now. You can fall into the bliss you’ve been so desperately trying to find for the past week, because you noted how Azriel’s shadows trailed your son from the room, at least one always with every child at all times of the day.

“You.” His lips slant over yours, his tongue parting your lips with ease. You meet him halfway, licking, tasting your way as his hands hike up the skirts of your dress and pull your panties to the side as soon as your ass hits the edge of the wooden desk. “Tell me what you need, mate.”

There isn’t time for foreplay, for teasing nips of teeth against your hardened nipples. They’re rubbing against the fabric of your dress just fine. No time for orgasms by his hands, his tongue. You’d hardly be able to enjoy the view of Azriel on his knees for you with the size of your bump.

“Your cock,” you whimper, trying desperately to keep your voice low.

You shudder against the fingers he drags across your cunt, swiping through your slick. You’re ready, more than. You need him right this instant.

Azriel swallows the plea you’re about to release, enjoying the way you tug on his hair as a way to reprimand him. It has him grinning into the kiss, his fingers quickly fumbling with his belt because he’s just as desperate as you are, having not nearly been near you—or in you—enough in the past few weeks. 

Your pesky children are always interrupting.

“Your wish is my command,” he answers easily, and your back arches as he rubs the head of his cock across your sopping heat.

Azriel almost snarls with pleasure at the sight of your bump pressing sky-high. He leans in closer, loving the feeling of the three of you close. You’re so fucking beautiful, and there’s something special about how you look swollen with his child, something the both of you made.

He’s seen it four times over by now, and it never gets fucking old. He’ll keep you good and pregnant until you tell him you don’t want any more children.

And he loves the way you writhe against him, hook your legs around his waist, trying to force him closer, your cunt greedily trying to suck his cock deep into your womb. Loves the way your nails pinch into his shoulders, the way your teeth latch onto his lip to keep quiet when he pushes into you in one fell swoop. 

There’s a burst of blood on his tongue but Azriel loves it, quickly pulling out and pressing back in so that you’ll bite him again. When you come down from your high, you’ll apologize profusely, but he doesn’t care, likes a bit of pain with his pleasure. 

He’ll revel in the redness of your cheeks when your children ask him what happened to him later, though.

“Azriel,” you cry, clutching onto your mate for dear life. You love the feeling of his thick cock stretching you, the gushing between your legs when he so easily finds that spot that has you cumming within seconds like some whore. He knows that you need this release, that the both of you need to be quick and quiet with your fucking. Your children can only be occupied for so long.

“I’ll make sure Cassian or Rhys can take the children tomorrow,” Azriel promises against your mouth, smothering the sounds you make for him. He’s just as desperate to hear you scream, the reminder of it has heat pooling in his core, his pace quickening. “Then, you can scream as loud as you want, mate, all night long.”

A second orgasm washes over you like a wave. Azriel didn’t even have to stick his hands between the both of you, but he is now, wanting one more before he releases himself. It’s brewing quickly, and he circles his fingers over your clit, skilled and an expert at everything that has to do with you.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You beg, hips rolling to meet his. Azriel groans into your neck, sucking harshly and laving his tongue over the hurt.

“I’m going to cum,” he pants harshly, straightening to his full height to look down at you in all of your sexed-out glory. The way you can barely keep yourself braced against the desk, the way your mouth is parted in that perfect shape that almost makes him want to pull out and stick his cock down your throat instead. The way that your eyes are rolled so far into the back of your head that you can see the bond connecting the both of you, completely overcome with desire.

You keen your agreement, words jumbled as he takes you to your peak again, the both of you shuddering with pleasure as your orgasms overcome you. 

He rubs you through your pleasure, rocking his hips slowly as he empties himself deeply inside of you. If you weren’t  already pregnant, Azriel’s sure you would be now, with how much cum he’s pumping inside of you.

Your mate hugs you close, rubbing your back until you come down from your high. 

You lean back, blinking up at him blearily, and it makes Azriel want to take you all over again.

“Is that a promise, mate?” You ask, referring to him making sure that all of your children will be away at their aunts and uncles tomorrow night, leaving the both of you to yourselves. Well, plus the two in your uterus.

Azriel hums, finally pulling out of you. You gasp at the loss but his fingers are there, stuffing the leaking cum back into your cunt. You’re not sure your legs can support you right now, but they don’t need to, because you’re already rearing for another round. 

“It’s a promise, sweetheart.”

[s1eepy-bear]

‧୨🌿୧ ₊˚ 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥・𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

pairing: robert 'bob' reynolds x ex shield agent! f!reader

synopsis: it's your first day on duty and you bring donuts for the team. a silly morning encounter reveals bob's hidden vulnerabilities. you quickly developing an unexpected connection with him.

content: no y/n, silly, fluffy, cute, slow burn

warnings: MDNI! not proof read, bob's abs lol

a/n: i finally thought of a title for this series! i wonder if i'm getting too hung up on everyone else's interaction with the reader, should i focus more on her interactions with bob? let me know <3 Chapter 1

That night, a soft, balmy breeze billowed your open curtains, bringing with it the faint, persistent pulse of New York's distant hustle and bustle.

You lie in bed, soft sheets enveloping you as you try to drift into sleep. Behind your closed eyelids, a persistent image gnawed at you: Bob’s red, shy face. 

A sliver of guilt hangs heavy in your chest for having flustered him so abruptly. You now have a level of access to those in the spotlight that SHIELD had never granted you, and the excitement of your new proximity to the New Avengers had entirely swept you away. You must remain professional.

Just two years ago, Bob slowly inked New York City away into darkness, turning people into shadows one by one, causing severe damage to the city and resulted in numerous injuries.

With this in mind, flirting feels frivolous and irresponsible when confronted with the ghosts of his past. And if he is in a vulnerable head space, you don’t want to be the one to take advantage of it, even if it's unintentional. This isn’t the kind of crush you can afford to have.

With these thoughts plaguing your mind and the heavy exhaustion from the busy work day, you slowly drift off to sleep.

༉ ✧˚₊

The following morning, the sun drenched the landscape, laying a shimmering, translucent veil over everything. A gentle breeze dances through the air, the sun is still low on the horizon.

You woke up extra early to drop by the charming donut shop you frequent to grab breakfast for the whole team. You opted for something simple, sugar donuts, until you learn everyone’s preferences.

You walk into the tower from your car, the bag of donuts in hand, thoughtfully greeting the other workers maintaining the tower along the way.

The light above the sensor in the elevator beeps green when you touch the access key to it and whirs into motion, swiftly bringing you to your desired floor.

The common area where the team welcomed you yesterday is now dark due to the curtains being drawn. The space is quiet, spared from the steady, low hum of the air conditioner running. You check your watch: only 6:10. Most of them are probably asleep.

You decide to take this time to brew some fresh, actually hot, coffee. While the pot gurgles, you tidy up various spots in the common area and kitchen: throw pillows on the floor, a bag of Goldfish crackers left open, a few books and magazines scattered around, dishes in the sink, cereal pieces that didn’t make it to the mouth, expired things in the fridge.

The smell of the fresh brew fills the space as you continue to busy yourself with noting down numerous items, food, and snacks for restocking. You silently note to yourself to get everyone’s phone number so they can get ahold of you if they ever need something.

“Oh, good morning,” Yelena says as she walks out from a corridor, which you learned from her yesterday, leads to the gym.

Her face shiny from a thin sheen of sweat as she makes her way toward you, wiping the sweat off with the towel around her neck. Her short blonde hair is pushed back with a headband.

“Good morning, Ms. Belova,” you greet her back with a mellow murmur, the sound soft enough not to disturb the early morning quiet. 

“No, no, none of that,” she plops herself down on one of the leather bar stools by the kitchen island, the stool legs scraping faintly against the floor.

You tilt your head, a question forming in your head. The coffee maker gives a final satisfying beep, its brewing cycle complete.

“Just Yelena,” she clarifies. 

 You smile at that, “Well, Yelena, would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

You collect two mugs from the cabinet, the ceramic cool beneath your fingers, and fill them both with fresh coffee. Wisps of steam rose lazily from the dark liquid. The rich aroma blossoms in the air as you set one mug before her. She nods appreciatively.

“So, you think Bob is cute, huh?” Just as you take a sip out of your mug, Yelena inquires suddenly with a playful glint in her eyes. The unexpected question catches in your throat, forcing a sharp, spluttering cough.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” your initial serene expression crumples, replaced by a deep flush rising to your cheeks. You lower your cup to press your fingers between your eyebrows in a flustered manner.

Yelena laughs, a low, throaty sound, propping her elbows on the counter.

“Come on, you wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it.”

“It’s not that I didn’t mean it, it’s just…it was unprofessional,” you avert your gaze, suddenly the bleak marble counter looks very interesting. 

“Who cares!” She lightheartedly rolls her eyes. “We’re hardly a professional organization. You just said what was on your mind.”

“Still,” you insist softly, tracing the rim of your mug with your thumb, the ceramic now warmer due to your body heat and hot beverage.

The Watchtower's dormant systems hummed—a low, almost imperceptible sound that seemed to amplify the awkward quietness. Your downcast eyes catch the wrinkled paper bag of donuts—your saving grace.

“Anyways…care for a donut?” You ask as you hold up the bag. “I settled for something basic since I don’t know what everyone liked. Let me know if you have any preferences,” Yelena gives you a knowing look, taking a deliberate sip of her coffee to hide her lips twitching with suppressed amusement. She is letting you off the hook, for now.

Yelena reaches for the bag, her fingers lightly hover as she carefully chooses what must be the perfect one. She takes a huge bite and lets out a genuine, drawn-out groan of pleasure. “Mmm! This is good, actually good, better than whatever dad tries to make.” 

You let out a quick exhale of a laugh. The tight knot of tension in your chest finally loosens. You pluck a donut for yourself, not bothering with Yelena’s meticulous selection process.

Even with her teasing about Bob, a warm wave of relief washes over you. You've found a connection with at least one person on this team. Well, there's Alexei too, but Alexei is friendly right off the bat, like a big, boisterous golden retriever.

As you and Yelena enjoy your donuts, a quiet murmur of conversation and two pairs of footsteps draw steadily louder. 

“Wow, looks real tidy out here,” Walker’s voice announces from just around the corner.

“Smells real good too,” he steps fully into the kitchen, Bucky Barnes following close behind him. They both are in athletic gear, ready for a morning workout.

“Good morning, Mr. Walker, and nice to finally meet you, Mr. Barnes.” Your lips curve upward in a polite greeting. Bucky simply returns it with a nod and a small smile of his own, while Yelena tosses a casual, “What’s up, losers?” their way.

“Some coffee and donuts?” you offer, holding up the bag. Both of the super soldiers accept enthusiastically. While they chat with Yelena, you busy yourself with coffee and mugs.

"Maybe this secretary thing is awesome after all," Walker remarks complacently with a smirk, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement.

“Walker,” Bucky lectures, his voice a low, warning rumble—probably worrying about Walker's statement being rude.

You smile back at Walker as you set their coffee in front of them on the kitchen island.

"Just part of the job,”

You can’t deny that it feels good to have someone acknowledge and appreciate your work, even jokingly. 

༉ ✧˚₊

After a quick breakfast, the others begin to disperse. Yelena leaves to go take a shower, and Bucky and Walker make their way to the gym. 

You inhale your donut in a few quick bites and retrieve your company-issued tablet from your purse, flipping through various tabs, reviewing the team’s schedule today.

Although each person on the team is sent their own schedule, you keep everyone’s, so you can locate someone if you are looking for them, or if someone doesn’t make it somewhere on time, it’s your duty to check on them.  

A quick glance confirms the mission briefing for tomorrow: the whole team, minus Bob. It seems like Val is utilizing the new support staff—you, to keep him company while the team is deployed. While your role for most of the team is to respond when needed, your duties for Bob involve a slightly more active form of oversight. You have to make sure that he wakes up before noon and eats all his meals. 

For now, you sit in the common area with the curtains drawn open, as you review what would be stacks of paperwork if it weren’t digital. The Watchtower is brighter but not much more lively. Today is everyone’s day off; therefore, some go their separate ways to take care of business. You would usually find the quietness relaxing, but the lack of structure is unnerving. It’s not the kind of stressful, rigid work environment you're used to.

You officially met Ava Starr when she strolled past the common area on her way out. Her movement fluid and silent, as if gliding. Her ethereal, pale blue eyes remind you of a fairy.

With your introduction, she simply mutters, “finally, another girl.” A faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Want a donut?” 

How many times have you said the word ‘donut’ today?

“How thoughtful, don’t mind if I do,” Ava says, giving you a nod of thanks before she disappears.

A moment after Ava leaves, just when the air has settled, a soft padding of bare feet against the tiled floor catches your attention. Bob’s eyes are half closed, still lost somewhere in sleep, as he wobbles slowly across the common area toward the kitchen, oblivious to you. Strands of his brown hair stick out in different directions, appearing golden under the sun. You would alert him, but there’s something so captivating about watching Bob just existing, devoid of nervousness or uncertainty. 

He rubs his eye as he yawns tiredly, reaching a hand up under his shirt to scratch his stomach. The fabric rides up, revealing his abdomen. Your eyes widen, and your heart jolts against your ribcage. His baggy clothes make him look unassuming, even scrawny, but the reality is anything but. Beneath the fabric lay an expanse of taut, defined muscles that spoke quiet strength—a sharp contrast that stole your breath. You swallow thickly.

Fuck.

Still unaware of your presence, Bob's eyes finally open fully, drawn by something in the kitchen. His gaze falls on the last donut remaining on a plate. He absentmindedly grabs the pastry and starts feasting. Mid-chewing, he turns, locking eyes with you, and freezes.

“Oh shit,” he says incoherently, you almost didn’t make out his words. He swallows his bite, his eyes wide from surprise or panic, you’re not sure which, “uh, hey…that wasn’t yours, was it?”

You sputter, a fit of laughter hits you all at once, and you can’t seem to take a full breath. Maybe it was because of how carefree he was the second before, but reverted to his usual self in the snap of a finger, or the fact that there’s sugar on the side of his mouth.

Your laughter evokes a bashful smile from Bob, “So, was that a 'no, it wasn't yours,' or do you just enjoy my cluelessness?” He says, his tongue darts out briefly to lick away the sugar on the side of his mouth. 

“Maybe I do, and the donut is for you,” you say, still breathless from laughing. “You’re lucky that I’m here to make sure no one grabbed two.” 

“Thanks,” Bob lets out a sigh of relief, clearly still a bit embarrassed but grateful. "I…I didn’t know that you were going to be here today.”

“Well, Bob, I have a job here,” you tilt your head with an amused smile as you make your way to the kitchen, to him. “And I’ll be here every day.”

“Right, that makes sense…” His voice trails off. 

A quiet elation blossoms within him in your presence, like a breath of fresh spring air. You, with your gentle smile and disarming frankness, are a stark contrast from those who walk on eggshells around him, wary of rattling the Void. He doesn’t hold that against them, but it felt good being treated like he’s a normal person—no serum, no Sentry, no Void.

A tingly, warm feeling spreads across his chest, a feeling he didn’t even realize he missed. His bashful smile softens further, and his gaze, usually a little distant, settles on you with a warmth that matches the new feeling in his chest. He clears his throat gently. "So," he begins, “what exactly is your job with us…I mean, I know you are our uh, assistant or secretary, but what does that entail?”

“Well, just about anything, I can cook for you guys, get groceries, manage paperwork, clean, be good company,” you list, but pause, “speaking of groceries, you guys are very out. Would you come to the store with me? I’m not sure what everyone likes.”

“Oh, um…” Bob's face falls, his blue eyes clouding with sorrow. "The team doesn't like me going outside," he explains quietly. "Because the Void might come out, you know. And that's... not good."

“So you just…stay here all day?”

“Pretty much.”

You soften your gaze, speaking gently. "Val actually mentioned you're allowed to leave the Tower with a companion. You can't conquer the Void by being cooped up all day, Bob. Besides, we're only going to grab groceries, we'll come straight back if you'd like, and I'll be right there with you." You suggest, being careful not to pressure him into something he's uncomfortable with.

“Are you sure?” Bob fiddles with the sleeve of his sweatshirt—you learn that it’s a nervous habit of his.

“I believe in you. Do you believe in yourself?”

Bob seems to ponder it over in his head and eventually takes a deep breath. “Okay…I will at least try.”

“Alright,” you beamed, unable to stop the big smile spreading across your face. “That’s all I ask.”

Your smile lightened something in Bob, drawing a soft, answering smile to his lips.

Bob nodded, his gaze softening as he held your smile, “yeah…”

You tilt your head, a playful glint in your eye. "So, are you flying us or should I drive?"

button divider by @/bernardsbendystraws

[loveyouprongs]

bringing up baby 3

remus lupin x whimsical fem!reader | Buttoned-up grad student Remus Lupin has the rare chance to work under one of the top scholars in the country. But his carefully laid plans keep getting derailed by the scholar's free-spirited whirlwind of a daughter who seems determined to unravel both his plans and his sanity.

upcoming content: FLUFF!! YEARNING!! mean boy (not remus, duh), protective remmy!

authors note: PART 3! my favorite part yet!!!! i really really hope you like it :')

word count: 3.5k

series masterlist | masterlist

tagging (pls lmk if you do or do not want to be tagged): @wrenisrad @daydreamandforget @jamesweather @oldhollywoodniall @sillygirlantics @shipwreckedlor @slutfortheblog @rulesareshadesofgrey @lettertovera @knew-better-forever-girl-two @siriusement

Over the past month, you and Remus had grown… quite close. Friends.

You showed up during most of his shifts with a new book in hand, the bookmark always tucked somewhere within the first dozen pages. You claimed the office was just better for reading. Remus always rolled his eyes and gave you a warning not to bother him. You always ignored it.

Within half an hour, the book was forgotten and you were crouched beside him, helping wrangle the more uncooperative volumes and telling him stories about your father that made Remus question everything he thought he knew about his boss. He still couldn’t quite picture Professor Binns in a pair of glitter wings and a tutu, but you swore up and down it had happened. “No one had shown up to my party, which was fine, I didn’t very much like those girls anyway. But all I wanted was a fairy princess there!”

In return, Remus humored you with stories about his own life — James’ latest disaster meal, Sirius’ deeply questionable fashion experiments, how their 50 year old neighbor always made eyes at Sirius in the laundry room. You laughed at all of them, sometimes too hard, and occasionally took notes in the margins of whatever book you were pretending to read.

You left a mess wherever you went. Crumpled wrappers, ribbons, feathers, a single sock (when you took off your shoe, he never knows) all part of your wake. You always conviently left before cleanup, leaving Remus to spend an extra fifteen minutes tidying up after you.

It was a mess. And Remus hated mess.

Except… he’d sort of gotten used to it. Used to you.

Which was why, when he hadn’t seen you all day, something in his chest had curled in on itself a little. He decided to ignore it. Probably just his chronic pain acting up again — it had been a rough morning, the kind that settled in his joints like damp in the walls. Bad enough that he’d asked Binns if he could go home early. He originally tried to push through, but Binns had taken one look at him fumbling to shelve a dictionary and called him over.

“You don’t need to be a martyr to the archive. Go home. Rest. These dusty old things will still be misbehaving tomorrow.”

Remus had protested, of course, but Binns just waved a hand like he was swatting away a fly.

So, with his tail between his legs, though admittedly with less guilt than usual, Remus packed up early.

By the time Remus stepped outside, the sun was high and obnoxiously golden, casting long shadows across the path. He squinted against it, adjusting the strap of his satchel on his shoulder as he fished his phone from his coat pocket.

“Hey,” he said when James picked up on the second ring.

“Oi! You live!” James replied. “Did the books finally stage a coup?”

“Not today,” Remus muttered, beginning the slow walk down the steps in front of the building. “I’m heading out early. Can you come get me?”

There was a beat of silence. “Wait, really? You? Leaving voluntarily? Who are you and what have you done with my best mate?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Don’t make a thing of it.”

“Is this about your knees? I told you to try that stuff I gave you, but nooo—”

“Yes, it’s about my knees, and no, I’m not taking a mystery ‘potion’ Lils got from a guy named Topher.”

“Topher’s legit! He has a table at the farmer’s market.”

“James.”

“Okay, okay,” James relented. “I’m finishing up at the gym. I can be there in twenty.”

Remus nodded, then realized James couldn’t see him. “Yeah. I’ll wait out front.”

Just as he was about to hang up, something caught his eye.

Someone.

Lying in the grass just past the footpath, familiar skirt, familiar hair, very much not reading.

Remus hung up without saying goodbye and already began veering off course.

You were lying in the grass, long white skirt fanned around you like a picnic blanket, sparkly vest top catching the light as you rifled through clumps of clover. From a distance, Remus thought you might be napping, but as he got closer, he saw the intense concentration on your face. You were definitely looking for something.

Remus, phone still in hand, stopped at the edge of the grass. “Am I interrupting a turf war?”

You looked up and grinned like you’d been expecting him. “Remus! Excellent. You can help me greet the fairies.”

He stared. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t just say things like that with no context.”

You patted the grass beside you. “Oh, come on. The fairies are shy. They’ll be more likely to show themselves if you look approachable.”

“I’m wearing proper trousers,” he said, gesturing at himself, “and I’m very tired.”

“You’re always tired,” you said cheerfully. “That’s no excuse.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Remus dropped to his knees beside you. “I swear, if something bites me again, I’m filing a report.”

“You’d have to report it to the fairies. They run the place.”

He glanced sideways at you. “You’re deranged.”

You just beamed at him. “That’s why you like me.”

Remus blinked, caught off guard.

“Please, Rem?”

You looked up at him expectantly, eyes squinting in the sunlight, lips curled in that familiar, self-satisfied smile that always seemed to know more than it let on. The sun lit up the fine edges of your hair like gold leaf, casting your whole face in a glow that was frankly unfair. Remus stared for a moment too long, something tugging in his chest before he shook his head, just a little, like he could knock the thought loose.

What was he, a crow? Drawn in by something shiny?

And yet, even as he thought it, he watched your smile stretch wider the slower he moved, like you’d known he’d give in all along. So with a sigh, equal parts fond and resigned, Remus was on his belly just like you were.

He squinted into the blades of grass, hands braced on either side of him, trying his best to make sense of whatever magical nonsense you’d pulled him into this time. Maybe if he stared hard enough, something would twitch, shimmer, fly away, anything!

But the grass remained stubbornly still.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low with concentration as he turned his head, “but what exactly am I supposed to be see—?”

You were already looking at him, chin propped in your hand, the sun catching in your hair and making your eyes look almost gold. He was squinting into the grass like it held secrets only he could decipher, jaw tight in concentration, and you felt something in your chest pull a little.

There was something unfair about how pretty he was when he was confused: soft and serious. You weren’t entirely sure when you’d started noticing things like that. Or when you’d started hoping he’d notice you noticing.

Remus blinked. “What?”

“I dropped my ring,” you said cheerfully. “Figured I’d have a better shot at finding it with your help.”

Remus reared back slightly. “You—you what? Then why did you tell me there were fairies down here?”

“Well, there could be fairies,” you said innocently, gesturing vaguely to the grass. “But not today. Not the season.”

“You had me lying in the grass in a dress shirt for no reason?”

“I had a reason,” you countered, nonchalantly plucking at a daisy. “And what’s so bad about a little grass stain? When’s the last time you let the sun hit your face, Gloomius Lupin?”

Remus stared at you for a beat, then groaned. “Okay. That’s it.”

He stood suddenly, brushing his trousers off, but made no move to leave. You raised an eyebrow just in time for him to dart forward with a mock-threatening glare. You shrieked and scrambled to your feet, laughing as you bolted.

“You can’t catch me, Lupin!”

“I shouldn’t have to catch you, you menace!”

You ran fast—too fast for someone who’d spent the morning sprawled in the grass like a cat in a sunbeam. Remus followed, but his body lagged behind, knees and hips groaning in protest. He pressed a hand to his side, willing the ache away.

You glanced back, eyes still bright with laughter, only to see him falter, pain pinching the corner of his mouth.

“Remus, are you alri-?”

You didn’t get to finish the thought. Your foot caught on a thick branch buried under leaves, and with a sharp yelp, you tumbled forward right into the pond with a dramatic splash.

Remus froze.

Then: “Oh, bloody hell.”

And he was wading in after you without a second thought.

When you resurfaced with a splash, sputtering pond water and hair sticking to your face, Remus was already wading in after you, shoes, satchel and all, like some kind of scholarly knight.

You blinked up at him, chest heaving, eyes wide at the sight before you: his button-down was soaked clean through, clinging to his arms and chest, and his slacks, well, what was left of them, were plastered to his thighs in a way that was somehow both hilarious and… unreasonably attractive.

It was, in all, a deeply stupid image. And yet you felt your heart kick a little, a lot.

“Remus, I’m so sorry,” you gasped, pushing wet strands of hair from your face. “I didn’t mean to—are you okay? You didn’t have to—”

He rolled his eyes, water sloshing around his knees.

“What?” you blinked at him, caught off guard by his flat expression.

Then, with great theatrical effort, he rolled his eyes again—bigger, slower this time, like he was trying to dislodge something behind them.

You stared at him for a beat, then let out a breath of laughter. “You’re such a brat.”

“I was lured into the grass under false fairy pretenses,” he replied dryly, pushing a wet sleeve out of his face. “I’m the victim here.”

You laughed, the sound ringing out across the water. “Come on, we can’t stay in here forever. The fish’ll get mad. Territorial little buggers.”

Together, you began trudging toward the bank. It was deeper than either of you expected, your clothes heavy with water, shoes squelching. Near the edge, you lifted your arms for balance, eyeing the embankment skeptically.

“It’s a bit of a leap,” you murmured, gauging the moss-slick edge.

Without a word, Remus stepped forward, one hand catching your elbow, the other settling at your waist.

It was meant to be practical, just a steadying gesture, but his hands lingered a moment longer than they needed to, and the world around you went quiet except for the sound of water dripping off both of you.

Your breath caught. His eyes met yours, and for the first time all day, there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or exasperation in them. Just that steady, serious warmth that always seemed to slip past your guard.

You swallowed. “Thanks,” you said softly.

His voice was quiet too. “Anytime.”

This moment was like something out of a painting, the dew drops dripping down his jagged cheeks. Or a scene in one of your books that had you giggling under the blankets. You were just about to speak when a voice rang out from the path.

“Well, this is rich,” Evan called, coming up the path with that ever-present smirk like he was the cleverest person in the room. “Didn’t think you’d fall for her tricks, Lupin.”

You froze where you were, hand still brushing pondweed from your arm. “Go away, Evan.”

But Remus stepped forward, sodden and rumpled, hair dripping into his collar. “What tricks?”

Evan gave a little laugh, like he was amused to be asked. “You know—her little spells. Acting like the world’s her stage and everyone’s meant to chase her around in it.” His eyes flicked to you. “She’s good at it. But you? I thought you’d be smarter.”

Your face burned, and you hated that it did. “Seriously, Evan. Go away.”

“Oh, come on.” Evan tilted his head, now all false sympathy. “It’s not personal. It never is. You get to be the favorite for a week or two—maybe a month if you're charming enough. Then she gets bored and forgets your name.”

Remus’s jaw tightened. “You really don’t know anything about her, do you?”

Evan raised an eyebrow. “Don’t I?”

Remus moved in front of you then, still dripping, still visibly aching, and yet somehow standing tall. “I like her,” he said, so plainly and without flourish it almost sounded like a fact. “She’s brilliant. And funny. And deeply weird. And she’s with me, so whatever petty little grudge you;ve got, take it elsewhere.”

Evan scoffed, clearly rattled. “Seriously? You?”

Remus didn’t flinch. “Yeah. Me.”

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts.”

“We will,” Remus said, and didn’t look away.

Evan hesitated, clearly not expecting that kind of calm, pointed finality. Then, for once, he didn’t have a comeback. He huffed out some vague, sour noise and walked off.

The second he was gone, the confidence in Remus’s posture deflated by half. “God,” he muttered, raking a hand through his wet hair. “What was that?”

You were still looking at him. Really looking at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Evan’s a real piece of work,” he muttered, flicking a bit of pondweed off his sleeve. “Nice to see him shut up for once. Even if it took a little lie.”

You glanced over at him, your voice light. “Right. Well. It worked.”

You tried to smile, and you did, sort of, just enough to hide the way your chest ached a little.

The two of you walked on in silence for a few beats, pond water squishing in your shoes.

Remus cleared his throat. “He is wrong, you know.”

You glanced over. “About what?”

“About you,” he said, almost shyly. “You don’t forget people. You care too much.”

That time, you really smiled. “Even when I leave socks in the office?”

He sighed. “Even then.”

As the two of you rounded the corner, Remus spotted James’s car parked a little crookedly in the staff lot, hazard lights blinking like it was an emergency. Through the windshield, James was very clearly staring, mouth slightly open, face twisted in something between alarm and intrigue.

Remus sighed. “That’s my friend. He’s going to kill me for getting pond water all over his precious leather seats.”

You followed his gaze, then turned back to him with a hopeful tilt to your voice. “You could ride with me instead? I don’t care if you ruin my seats. I mean, they’re already ruined from glitter and, like, snack crumbs,” you tapered off, crossing your fingers in your head.

Remus smiled, soft and crooked. “Tempting.”

Then, without thinking, he reached up, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. His touch was tentative at first, but he didn’t pull away. His thumb swept across your cheekbone, slow and deliberate, eyes following the motion like he needed an excuse to look at you this closely.

“You had a piece of grass,” he said quietly, almost like it was an afterthought.

“Oh,” you paused, “I’m sure our drains will be filled with it when we wash tonight,” you said.

Remus chuckled, “If my mates even let me in the door, they might just hose me off in the back garden.”

You laughed, nudging his arm lightly with your elbow. “Tell them it was for a noble cause. Fairy diplomacy and all.”

Remus huffed a quiet laugh, his eyes still on you. “I’ll see you Monday?”

“Monday,” you echoed, with a little nod.

He turned and walked to James who was still looking at him unblinkingly, he mentally prepared himself for the questioning that would undeniably come once he entered the car. His shoes squished with every step. His hair was dripping onto his nose. His cheeks ached from smiling.

He turned back just as you stepped toward him, wrapping your arms around his middle without hesitation. For a second, he froze, caught off guard.

And then his hands settled at your back, drawing you in. He was damp and still smelled faintly like pondwater and summer grass, and somehow it made the hug feel even more like him. Solid and real.

His cheek brushed your temple. Neither of you said anything.

When you finally pulled back, your smile was bright and a little breathless. “See you Monday.”

And then you turned, squelching off in your soaked shoes like he hadn’t just been dunked in water for the second time that day.

Remus barely got one leg in the car before James was twisting in his seat, eyes wide. “Remus! What the HELL happened to you?”

Remus exhaled, water immediately soaking into the fabric. “Hi, James.”

“You’re soaking! You look like you got mugged by a pond! Why are you-? What happened? Did someone push you? Was it that nasty geese that chased you in sixth year?!”

Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. “She said there were fairies.”

There was a beat.

“What? …Are we talking literal fairies or code for something weirdly academic?”

“Literal,” Remus said flatly. “Or not. Apparently not. She lost her ring.”

James blinked rapidly. “Okay, okay, back up. Start from the top. Fairies?”

“I was walking out. She was in the grass. Said I looked too serious and needed sunlight. Lured me down there under the pretense of fairies.”

James made a high-pitched noise. “She tricked you with fairies? You deserved to fall in the pond.”

“She tripped,” Remus muttered. “She fell first. I went in after.”

“Oh my god.” James grabbed the steering wheel for balance, like this story was physically too much for him. “You leapt into a pond for her. In work clothes. You’re gone. Absolutely gone.”

Remus looked out the window. “And then Evan showed up.”

“Oh great, what did that walnut have to say?”

“Said she does this to everyone. That I was just her newest toy.”

James’ eyebrows shot up. “Did you punch him? Please tell me you punched him.” You’d met James a few times and immediately took a friendly liking to each other. You liked watching him do rugby tricks, always clapping like an easily entertained toddler, or like a seal sometimes, Remus thought. James liked that you always smelled like strawberry syrup.

“No, I said…” Remus gulped, eyes fixed out the window, “I said she was with me.”

“You WHAT.”

“I told him we were together, alright? Just to get him to shut up.”

James actually gasped. “Remus John Lupin.”

Remus winced. “Please don’t say my full name.”

“That’s basically a confession,” James said, flailing a little. “You told Evan you were together! That’s like… relationship declaration level three! Do you know what I would've given for Lily to say something like that in public before year six?!”

“It wasn’t like that,” Remus muttered, cheeks warm. “I just wanted him to back off. She looked... he was getting to her.”

“And then she hugged you,” James said, steamrolling. “I saw that hug. That was not a 'thanks for getting rid of the jerk' hug. That was a lingering hug!”

Remus stared ahead. “You’re imagining things.”

James drove for a few meters, then lowered his voice, as he spoke sincerely, “No, mate. I’m not. You’ve been in that office together every day for what, six weeks? She brings snacks, she steals your pens, she makes you laugh out loud, which I didn’t think was possible outside of Marauder-related mayhem. She likes you.”

Remus stayed quiet.

“And when you're with her,” James continued, “you’re more like you. Like how you are with me and Padfoot and Lilykins.”

Remus groaned softly. “You’ve got to stop calling her that.”

“Never,” James said cheerfully, “She likes you. And I like that she makes you happy. Because you do this thing… this thing where you convince yourself you’re too much trouble to love, but I’ve known you for ten bloody years, and I’m telling you: you’re not.”

Remus felt himself wilt a tad, caught.

“So take the chance,” James said, a little softer. “I really think it’ll be better than you think. And I really mean that, because I haven’t yelled once about you soaking my seats in pond water.”

Remus exhaled a half-laugh, shaking his head. “Yet.”

James smirked, satisfied. “That’s the spirit.”

They lapsed into a more comfortable silence after that, the windows fogged slightly from their damp clothes and the fading sun bleeding gold across the dashboard.

Remus shifted, pulling his soaked coat tighter—then paused, fingers brushing something in the inside pocket.

He pulled it out: a tiny corked vial, the label written in your unmistakable handwriting.

“Takes away the pain :)”

Remus stared at it for a long moment, heart thudding quietly in his chest.

Maybe, just maybe, you liked him back.

<- part two part four ->

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

earl grey

Chai

Milkshake 

Juice

for azriel

beautiful angel

order up!

hi lovely thanks for the request, this is my first time writing for acotar so apologies if it's not that great, i have read the books and personally i am an azriel girl so this request just hit the spot as did all the other ones i've received <3 i did end up picking prompts from my bakery list to go with this just fyi and those prompts will be bolded.

pairing; azriel x soft fwb female reader

blurb; azriel needs his sweet girl but he's exhausted and you want to help him but you've never been on top ever.

faceclaim for azriel; fabien frankel

warnings; gentle sex, breeding kink, creampie, size kink, riding, fingering, belly bulge, slight mention of painful sex and biting [let me know if i missed anything!]

chai; biting or hickeys [i picked biting] juice; breeding kink earl grey; big cock milkshake; size kink victoria sponge; "you wanna hold my hand" custard tart; "you gonna let me cum inside" pumpkin pie; "are you nibbling on me" sugar pie; "stop wriggling" french toast; "i don't think it'll fit"

currently playing; beautiful by bazzi ft camila cabello "beautiful, beautiful night right now, beautiful, beautiful by my side right now, yeah, hey, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful angel"

"azzy" you mumbled opening the door to the shadowsinger on the other side leaning against the frame like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

his shadows were no where to be seen however, they were most likely back at the house of wind, knowing that when he was with you that azriel liked to be truly and completely alone.

glancing at the clock on the wall next to your door you grimaced "it's three in the morning, are you okay" you asked him, you cared for azriel you really did but was waking you up at three in the morning really necessary.

you'd been snuggled up in the soft pink blankets of your bed, warm and cozy when the thump of a knock sounded on your apartments front door, you'd tried to ignore it at first but when it became more consistent, you knew there was no avoiding it.

instead of answering your question azriel merely pushed into your apartment wrapping his arms around you to hold you close, exhaustion taking over his body as he kicked the door shut with his foot.

"long day.. had to see you" he mumbled against the skin of your bare shoulder, you knew that rhysand had been working him hard, the last time you'd seen azzy was almost a month ago.

you held him close, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers playing with the pieces of hair at the base of his neck to which he let out a sound that was almost like a purr of sorts which made you giggle.

"i love that sound" azriel murmured against your neck as he began to back you up, moving you both to back to your bedroom, feet tripping over eachothers in the shuffle.

once inside the safety of your room, he all but collapased against your bed bringing you down with him and holding you close, his free hand running up the back of your thigh and squeezing at the flesh .

"your so soft" he informed you as he finally kissed you for the first time that night, you smiled against his lips finally happy now that he was back with you, you'd always wanted more but azriel had issues with commitment and so you never pushed it, for now you were content with what you had going.

you lay in arms feeling nothing but bliss as his kisses slowly trailed away from your lips and down your neck, he was being extra soft tonight the poor baby.

you were so distracted by the feeling of his kisses that you almost forgot that azriel had a thing for biting until you felt his graze against your neck but that was it... there was no biting or pain,

azriel continued to kiss his way down neck and across your shoulder, nibbling at the skin as he went "are you nibbling on me" you asked surprised, something was going on in his beautiful mind... but what

"no...." he murmured which made you giggle again as his scared hand trailed up and under your nightgown cupping the firm and smooth expanse of your ass, squeezing at it.

"need you so bad angel" azriel begged as he nuzzled into your neck breathing in the smell of your perfume which he loved so much; coconut and vanilla.

he bought that exact perfume for you last winter solstice after he realized he'd had feelings for you wasn't fully comfortable asking for you to be his due to his past relationship issues.

"azzy you could barely stand your so exhausted what makes you think you've got the energy to get down and dirty with me" you explained softly as your hand moved to cup his cheek, pecking his lips between every few words with a soft intimacy that he loved experiencing with you.

azriel rolled onto his back gently pulling you with him and moving you around until you sat above him straddling his lap as his hands rubbed up and down your thighs with soft pressure "so ride me angel"

his words surprised you to say the least, you'd never been on top and it's not something you'd ever thought you do, you were azriel's little pillow princess and the fact that, that was about to change made you nervous.

azriel had to admit seeing you like this on top of him was his new favorite thing, he chuckled at your nervous wriggling "stop wriggling" his voice was low and gruff "your not helping my situation right now angel"

"sorry" you murmured, your hands shaking as you unbuckled his belt, pulling his leathers down his legs "i don't think it'll fit" you stuttered, looking at his lengthy cock laying against his stomach "not like this"

azriel chuckled as his fingers trailed up your sides, he knew he was big and god was he smug about it, he didn't fit all the way in you normally and now.. well he knew it would be a struggle for you to take him this way.

"don't worry angel, i don't expect you to take all of it" azriel slowly pushed your nightgown up, playing with the hem of your underwear.

"let me help you" your breathing began to pick up as azriel slid your panties to the side, fingers sliding through your folds with ease as of how easy it was for this man to turn you on.

your hips started to rock, grinding against his hand with fervor as he began to trace your clit with soft touches that you breathless, your own fingers gently ran along the membrane of his wings, it was azriel's turn to be breathless now for a second.

you'd never touched his wings before, well you had just not in such an intimate way and god did azriel never want it to stop but sadly his hope was crushed as you pulled your fingers back.

"why'd you'd stop" he panted, trying to catch his breath as he came down from the intense feeling "you stopped" your words were mumbled as you complained in a whiny tone that never failed to drive him mad and so his fingers slipped inside you.

the moan you let out at finally having some form of relief even if it was only finger penetration left you squirming in his lap, azriel's fingers moving faster and faster with every movement.

the only sounds that could be heard bouncing off your bedroom walls currently were your soft moans and the wet sloppy sounds coming from between your legs as azriel's fingers drove into you again and again.

your hips began to rock again, moving in time with his fingers.

azriel could feel your warm wet walls tighten around his fingers as the coil slowly built in your stomach, muscles tensing and tightening from the pleasure coursing through your body.

"azzy" you mumbled, body going numb as your climax came, body shaking as you collapsed against azriel's chest, one arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close.

you were so exhausted just from that first orgasm that you missed azriel slip the fingers that just been deep in your cunt past his lips, the wet smack that came from his lips almost made you cum again "you taste so fucking angel" he hummed.

you shifted against his chest "can you take this off" you murmured, tugging on his shirt that had yet to come off, he merely chuckled and pulled it off his toned tan body as you sat up, running your hands up the new expanse of skin.

"you think your ready to try angel" he asked to which you simply nodded, body once again shaking with nerves at the thought, you sat up on your knees, slowly stroking azriel's cock in your soft hand.

once he was fully hard you pressed his red oozing tip to your entrance but didn't move any further "you wanna hold my hand" he asked sensing your nervousness.

you didn't reply and simply tangled with your fingers with his own, holding tight as you slowly sank down on his cock, it was easy at first you'd take this part of him before but as soon it started to sting you hissed and azriel gripped your hips tight to keep you still.

"that's enough" he soothed, letting you adjust, after a few seconds you started to rock your hips slowly, his cock sliding against your inner walls.

"oh god" you mumbled hands gripping his tight as your hips picked up speed, rocking against azriel's with fervor but eventually you couldn't hold on any longer and collapsed against his chest.

but unfortunately for you right as you collapsed against him, azriel himself couldn't hold on any longer and trusted his hips up to meet yours, fully seething himself inside your tight hot cunt.

you were shocked, body tensing as a sheering pain tore through your body, azriel however was freaking out as you froze "angel, please tell me your alright.. i'm sorry... i didn't mean to" he stuttered.

you stayed silent but nodded numbly against his chest, as the minutes passed he felt your body begin to relax, your walls loosening up and muscles un-tensing.

"i told you, you could do it one day angel" azriel sounded smug as he realized how quickly you were adjusting to the full size of him, he gently rocked his hips upwards testing the waters causing you to hiss.

"shut up" you smacked at his arm, sitting up in his lap once more, hands pressed against his chest for support as you wriggled in his lap adjusting to his size a little more.

"holy shit" azriel mumbled, hand coming rest against your stomach, pressing against the bulge there "do you feel that, look at how deep i am angel" he chuckled darkly.

you shivered at the sound of his voice, when it got that deep it did things to you, he could feel your walls clench around him, his hands gripped at your hips as you began to rock your hips again becoming more enthusiastic by the second.

so enthusiastic in fact that were practically jumping in his lap, ecstatic that your could finally take all of him so deep inside your cunt, he was so deep he was practically hitting your womb.

"should i start calling you bunny instead of angel huh" azriel joked hands gripping your hips so tight that he was bound to leave bruises at this point.

you kept rocking your hips against azriel's moving faster and faster by the minute until finally your orgasm hit you like a truck, eyes rolling back into your skull and body shaking,

when you calmed down from your erotic high, azriel was still rutting his hips into yours "you gonna let me cum inside" he moaned deeply "let me claim you, mark you as my own" your body shuddered at his words, warmth flooding you.

as soon as you hummed, he stilled and groaned holding your hips tightly against his own as he released rope after rope of cum deep into your cunt.

he looked beautiful right now, laying in your bed tangled in your pink floral blankets and frilly pillows; your pillow prince you thought as your fingers threaded through his soft locks, massaging against his scalp.

he hummed at the feeling, content for the first time in a long while as he felt you place kisses to his forehead, azriel couldn't help but pull you closer against his chest, your ear pressed to the skin right above his heart, listening to the rhythmic beat happily.

"that's for you, you know" he whispered against your ear making you gaze up and into his beautiful hazel from your comfortable position

"my heart beats for you angel, it always has" you felt like your own heart was going to explode at his words and how sweet he was being with you in this moment.

"i love you azzy" you whispered against his damp chest, smiling from the happiness coursing through your veins currently.

you were his now and he was damn well going to keep it that way and no one was going to get in the way of that, he would make sure of that.

"i love you too angel... my beautiful angel"

[jacquitries]

Crawling Back to You Pt. 1 | J.P.

Have you got color in your cheeks?

Menu | Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4

James' usual charm and teasing seem to have an unexpected edge when he catches your eye. There’s something in the way he looks at you — something more than just playful banter. Unlike his interactions with Lily, which are lighthearted and carefree, James’ attention on you is different. More intense, more personal. His heart is caught somewhere between the easy game he plays and the quiet yearning he feels for you. The question remains: do you feel it too?

𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

James Potter had always been different around you. To the world, he was the boisterous prankster, the charming heartthrob, the one who flirted with Lily Evans in public and teased her relentlessly. But to you? He was something else entirely. You never understood it at first — why James Potter, so sure of himself with everyone else, was so quiet, so gentle with you. The way his voice dropped into a near whisper when he spoke to you, the way his eyes softened whenever you caught them, as though he were holding back something much deeper than mere words could express.

You’d known for a while that there was more to his teasing with Lily. It wasn’t because he liked her — no, he liked the game. He liked knowing she would reject him, again and again, in front of everyone, and yet he’d persist. You had thought at first that it was simply his ego — the kind of thing boys with too much confidence and too little care did for attention. But with time, you realized the truth.

It was never about Lily Evans. It was always about you.

James Potter, for all his charm, for all his bravado, had never been the same when you were around. His flirtations with Lily were nothing but a mask, a way of distracting everyone from the soft, almost unnoticeable way his gaze would linger on you when you weren’t looking. You knew that, deep down. His gestures toward Lily were never meant to capture her heart; they were meant to keep everyone else from seeing what lay beneath his smiles, his jokes, his infamous pranks. They were meant to shield the truth — the truth that James had always loved you, always had. It was you who made his heart race, you who made his palms sweat, you who caused him to stutter on those rare occasions when he’d speak to you with such careful tenderness. He could tease Lily all day, but it was you who made him act like a puppy, obedient and quiet, without a single ounce of the show-off persona he usually wore.

It hurt, watching him flirt with Lily, pretending that was where his heart lay. You could never quite stop the pain that twisted inside you each time he looked at her with that same overconfident, smug grin, that familiar glint in his eye as if he knew exactly how she’d react to him, as if he thrived on it. You couldn’t help but wonder, often in the silence of your thoughts, why not me?

But tonight… tonight you were certain.

You and James had both found yourselves in the library late one evening. The rows of towering shelves stretched endlessly, casting long shadows across the dimly lit room. It was quiet, save for the soft scratch of quills on parchment and the faint rustle of pages being turned. It was the kind of night where everything felt hushed, where the weight of unspoken words seemed heavier in the stillness.

You were seated at a corner table, tucked away from prying eyes. The warm glow of the enchanted lamps cast a soft light over your books, the faint flicker making the words blur together as you read. James had been unusually subdued all evening, lingering near the same section of shelves, his usual boisterous energy replaced by a strange, unsettling calm.

For a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world had melted away. The whispers of the library, the faint footsteps of other students, all blurred into nothingness, leaving only you and him in this strange, fragile moment suspended in time.

Then, he spoke.

“You ever think about what it would be like… if I asked you out?” His voice was low, almost a murmur, the words slipping out like a confession he hadn’t meant to say aloud. His eyes weren’t teasing, weren’t filled with that familiar mischief you’d come to expect. They were earnest, uncertain, full of something you didn’t quite understand.

You laughed, a sharp, almost nervous sound that broke the quiet like shattering glass. “James, come on. We both know that’s not something you’d do.”

But it was the truth, wasn’t it? James never asked you out. Not in a real way. He had asked Lily, time and time again, with that easy, overconfident charm that always made you want to turn away. But with you, it was different. You were the one he didn’t know how to talk to, the one who made him hesitate. The one who made his heart stumble in a way it never did when he was surrounded by his friends. He’d never taken that step with you, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. You were too real for him, too serious. The teasing, the jokes, they were all just his way of hiding it—of keeping you at arm's length.

But tonight, in that fragile stillness, it was as though he had forgotten the mask.

You shook your head, almost dismissively, though your heart fluttered in your chest. “You’re just joking, James. Don’t mess with me like that.”

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. Instead, he stared at you, his gaze intense and searching, like he was trying to find something in your eyes. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you knew, in that moment, you weren’t sure you could give it to him.

“Maybe I’m not joking,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustle of nearby parchment. “Maybe I’ve never been.”

The words hung in the air, heavy, unspoken truths settling between the two of you like a weight neither of you could escape.

You excused yourself quickly, too quickly, as if you could outrun the moment, as if it had never happened. You told yourself it was just another joke, just another thing James Potter did to amuse himself. But deep down, there was a gnawing ache in your chest, one you couldn’t ignore.

And as you walked away, weaving through the maze of bookshelves, you couldn’t help but think about the way his words had felt—how much they had hurt, how much you had wanted to believe them.

But the fear, the uncertainty, kept you distant, kept you safe from the truth.

It wasn’t until later, when the solitude of your dorm wrapped around you like a cloak, that you realized something.

Maybe James Potter wasn’t the one who was lying to you. Maybe you were the one lying to yourself.

[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!simon x f!reader / part 6

previous part

tw: gore, violence, blood, ghost makes a return ooo, please be warned! <3

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Simon had never felt such a boiling rage to the point his blood was bubbling, ready to explode out of his body and paint the walls of your apartment a crimson red that would stain the chipped-away white with messy splatters. It simmered hotly beneath his scarred skin, sifting through his veins like wildfire and egging him into dangerous territory.

He was no saint. He killed people for a living. He took the money of pathetic, lowly people who had the coldness in their heart to request his favor in killing somebody they didn’t like. Lawyers, CEOs, big name people who ate with the silver spoon embedded in their teeth and tainted their smiles with a greedy unnerve.

So no, Simon was no saint.

But he’d certainly ruin any chances of redemption when he got his hands on the coward who’d brought you harm.

Simon didn’t need payment to seek him out. He didn’t need a stack of cash waved in his face, or a bank transfer notified on his phone.

All he needed was to see the pretty girl in tears and blood, lying broken on the floor like a toy, used and tossed aside – worthless, undeserving. His pretty girl.

You were enough to tear down the concrete walls he’d encased around himself, built with his own bare hands. You were enough to wake the flame in his soul, to remind him just what he was capable of.

Simon was tired of killing those who did nothing to him. Sure, many deserved it, but they hadn’t done anything to him. He was a mediator. A spectator. He was a part of a story as a side character, only rising from the shadows to cut that story short and end it with bloodshed and a transaction. Their pages were quipped, torn from the spine of the book with no prospect of a completed ending.

Now, the plotline had changed.

He had the upper hand in this story. He was able to rewrite it without the complications of another’s orders. And he’d be damned if he didn’t tear the man who hurt you right out of the pages.

Simon didn’t want to leave you. He knew how disoriented you were from the fists that had put you through torment – torment he wasn’t there to protect you from. You were dazed and lost, hanging on by the thin of a wire that Simon was the one desperately clinging to.

When he had patched you up and put you to bed, he waited until you succumbed to the exhaustion and fell asleep for him to strike.

He was a man on a mission. A dog off its leash. His nose flared from under his mask as if he was a damn K-9 tracking down his suspect.

He searched through the entirety of your apartment, tearing it to bits in order to find a hint, a clue. All he needed was one quick search of your phone through your blocked numbers to find what he needed.

There was no contact name. No indication of who this man could be.

But a phone number was enough, and when he texted it to Gaz with the demand of finding it out for him, it wouldn’t be long until your ex-boyfriend would be another name on a crumbling gravestone.

Gaz was quick to find him the information. No questions asked, and that’s why Simon loved working with him. He minded his own, and trusted him to complete a job alone. He was good at tracking information for Simon, good at all that he did, and he was sure as hell good at picking up on the signs that Simon was involved in something, or someone that made him bend the fabrics of reality for them.

The name left a bitter taste in Simon’s mouth.

Phillip Graves. American. Bastard with a sharp tongue and a cockiness that’ll get him killed.

Ghost could make that happen.

The man walking down the streets, prowling with a threatening cloud of smoke around him wasn’t Simon.

Simon was the one who tucked you into bed, who wiped off every dot of blood that tainted your pretty skin. He was the one who watched over you in the corners of the night, making sure you got home safe, making sure you were keeping up your end of the deal.

He was the one who you baked pastries for, and didn’t have the heart to tell you he didn’t have a sweet tooth. He stuffed his mouth full of every single crumb despite the fact, just to see you smile.

He was the one who thought you were beautiful at first glance, and didn’t have the capacity to take your money and rid the world of a human being carved like a piece of art in a mausoleum. He was selfish, and he wanted you.

The man in the reflection of every store window as he strode by was Simon no more. Simon was gone, tucked away in the back corner and replaced by the brute of a man he’d been before you.

You were Simon’s religion, his reason for salvation. He’d bow at every altar, pray to every God with his blood stained hands clasped in a plea, just to worship you – but Ghost wasn’t a religious man, and he garnered no peace from anyone. Not even you.

Simon was the one who would protect you. Ghost was the one who would kill for you.

All Ghost had on the screen of his phone besides a name, was an address. It was a temporary one, judging from how recent your ex had moved into it, and the thought of it caused his teeth to grit in annoyance.

The fucker was staying close to you, with intentions so sick it could only make Ghost’s fire burn into grueling embers. He was stalking you, tracking you down, plotting.

Ghost knew exactly what he needed to do to ensure your safety. He made a promise to you, a promise that he hadn’t vocalized but rather slipped in when he made that deal with you. It was written in small lettering, so small so you’d gloss over it and he’d be able to hide away the watchful eye he had on you.

Finding Graves’ apartment was an easy feat. He nearly laughed at how effortless it was to stalk his way up to the apartment building that was somehow even more rundown than yours. But it made sense – Graves wasn’t planning on staying for long, and he was going to flee after latching his grimy hands on you once and for all. He didn’t need a fancy apartment to stalk his claim.

On normal jobs, Ghost was discreet. He’d figure out an alternative for breaking into one’s apartment or home, one that required no curious eyes or witnesses to see. He was quiet, like a shadow moving across the walls in dark anticipation.

This time around, he found himself stomping right up the musty stairwell, boots clattering along every step that creaked beneath his weight. He was an incoming storm the way he clouded over the hallway with impending doom, rain clouds hovering over him with lightning prepared to strike at any given moment.

He didn’t knock. He didn’t wait or stall.

He kicked at the door with the heavy soles on his feet, wallowing in every crack and snap the door made under its sudden force. It withered, flying off of the hinges and slamming up against the wall as it smacked open.

The apartment was a shithole. Messy, cluttered, and uninhabited. Dust collected on every surface, furniture bare from every room, and all that was used was an old mattress with blankets to keep Graves warm from the chill of every night.

Graves stood in the aging kitchen, cooking up something that made Ghost’s nose flare. The bastard didn’t deserve to have an appetite after what he had done to you. He didn’t deserve to use his tongue, didn’t deserve to keep his teeth.

Stood like a deer in headlights, Graves quickly regained his composure, sneering at him with a mock threat made Ghost snort.

“What the fuck?” Graves shouted in a fit of anger, stumbling in the kitchen as he caught himself from the sudden surprise. His narrowed eyes stared Ghost down, taking in every inch of him.

A looming mass with a skull painted mask with eyes that could kill. Graves would be a dead heap on the floor if that was so.

“You,” Ghost spat. He walked slow and dangerous, darkened glare focused on Graves without a single intent of leaving. It was cold, piercing, full of millions of daggers that he wished could mutilate Graves in front of him. “You should’ve gotten a more secure place.”

“The fuck are you talking about? Who are you?”

Graves was tougher than he thought, Ghost had to give him that. He didn’t cower in fear, nor did he try to run like most people did. Ghost was a force to be reckoned with, and looking at him was like looking the Devil himself in the eye.

Ghost continued stalking towards, like a predator to prey, every step calculated. His boots were like hell’s bells ringing as they hefted with every step, stomping clouds of musty dust around his ankles. It was enough to have Graves leaning back, the action so small Ghost would’ve missed it if not for his keen eye and trained skill.

“You touched her,” he stated. His tone was so calm it caused unease to smother the room, suffocating the two of them in a thick cloud. “You hurt her.”

It took a second for Graves to understand, and when he did, he scowled, perfectly aligned teeth just begging to be knocked in. “You’re Simon.”

“Ghost,” he was quick to correct. “Not Simon to you.”

Graves laughed mockingly, the sound more like a scoff as it escaped his thin lips. “Oh, right. She calls you Simon. Little whore, that one is. 

Ghost stopped when he was in front of Graves. He peered down at him with a thirst for blood glimmering in his eyes, locked in on Graves’ own and burning the retinas with the flames that danced around his pupils.

“You hurt her,” Ghost repeated. “I don’t like men who hurt women. Don’t like men like you.”

Graves’ expression soured and he stared up at Ghost with a mix of confusion and offense. He was trying to read Ghost from under the mask, see what was burning in those embers of his, but he only saw rage. A calm, brewing rage that held no remorse and no sympathy for a man like Graves.

“I’m going to rip the flesh off your fucking bones and pluck every single one of those teeth out with my bare hands,” Ghost threatened, and it was only then that Graves showed a single sign of fear. His lips twitched, hands flinching at his sides as if debating on whether or not he could throw a punch at Ghost and scurry his sorry ass away.

Back to his town, far away from this shitty apartment, and far away from you.

He didn’t know Ghost never left a job unfinished. Not until he was left a bloodied, gory mess on the floor of his kitchen, face unrecognizable, tiles stained with the red he had colored your own bathroom the night before when he laid his hands on you like the weak link he was. Graves’ eyes were glossed over, lifeless, staring blankly into the pit of Ghost’s as he took each and every brutal impalement from the kitchen knife Ghost had snatched from the counter.

Ghost didn’t falter, nor did he stop until the fire in him slowed to a stop, leaving behind nothing but ash and debris. He stared down at the man who had hurt you, watched the way his blood seeped into the grout of the tiles like a sponge absorbing water.

It was a picture Ghost never wanted you to see. A side he never wanted you to take a glimpse of in fear of you running.

Ghost wasn’t religious. He didn’t worship you like Simon did. Wouldn’t get on his knees for you and beg for forgiveness for his sins.

Ghost was hungry. Starved. He’d shed the whole town’s blood for you. He’d bury every fucking soul six feet deep if it meant none of them would have a chance to hurt you.

When you woke up from the deep slumber you found yourself in, everything ached. Your body was crying for help as it twisted and stiffened when you sat up in bed.

The apartment was quiet. Cold. Simon was nowhere to be found, nor did he leave you a note when you got up to look for it. The kitchen was void of his presence, void of the banter you two had shared just nights ago when you baked for him and he sat with an admiring gaze.

Last night began to resurface, and your mind flashed you the ghostly images of Graves’ face as he stood over you, lips pulled into a menacing sneer, bitter laughter leaving his lips as he kicked and slashed every part of your body. He didn’t leave a single bit unscathed from the torment, and you felt the weight of it with the way your skin hissed when it tugged or how your nose gasped for air beneath the swelling and ache.

Bile filled your lungs as you replayed the painful memory and recalled every hit and strike he laid upon you. Recalled Simon not answering the phone, not showing up until the damage was done.

Your legs moved before your mind did, and they took you back to that very bathroom where you were nearly left for dead. The contents in your stomach were minimal, and when you emptied them out into the toilet, you were left dry heaving and begging for air. Pangs of grueling pain fluttered in your stomach, and the butterflies that once flew freely had turned into overbearing moths that were desperate to get out.

You didn’t know tears began to flow down your cheeks until they caused your open cuts and wounds to sting. They cascaded in waterfalls, bathing you in a cold, sticky sheen of despair.

Your mind was angry at Simon, but your heart longed for him. The loneliness of the bathroom as the tiles dug into your bruised knees was just an aching emphasis that he wasn’t there to fill that void, to help pick you back up like he’d been doing ever since the two of you met.

Anger you could get over. The hurt of knowing he didn’t answer your call, you could get over.

But the yearning in your heart was something that no amount of anguish could get rid of, for it filled you up like an overflowing glass, pouring and pouring over the rim until you couldn’t take it.

So you waited. And waited. You laid curled up in the same bathroom he found you in the night before, all the way up until he showed – because even if it was late, it was always.

Simon was a mucked up mess when he came ducking into your apartment the same way he left. His hands, covered in dried, cracking red, and his shoulders pulled taut with unfurling tension were the first thing you saw when he entered. His eyes had immediately searched for you, and just like before, willed himself to you like a moth to a flame when he saw you in the bathroom once again.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted softly. His voice sent warmth through your bloodstream, lighting you up from the inside and out. “What’re you doin’ in here?”

Simon crouched to your level, lifting a hand to grace it across your features before it froze up and dropped away when the sight of red reminded him of the sins etched into his skin. The sins performed by Ghost, with Simon seeking redemption.

“You weren’t here when I woke up,” you sniffled, a pathetic sound leaving your mouth, almost like a hiccup. It shattered Simon’s heart and buried a knife through the arteries.

“M’sorry sweetheart. M’here now, I promise. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he promised, and blood be damned, he wanted to touch you, to reach out to you and cradle him in his loving light.

So he did.

You didn’t flinch away when he shoved aside his worries and placed calloused hands on each side of your face. You stilled, melting into him like a child would its mother, sinking yourself into the tranquil solace of his touch. It chased your demons away, filling you with angelic purpose.

When you allowed yourself the brief slice of heaven in the form of a man, you worried your gaze on the blood that soaked from his hands and up his tattooed arms, lacing him with a layer of damnation. Your eyes trailed up, slow and unsteady, before reaching his eyes, which were softened and filled with apologies.

“What did you do, Simon?” you asked in a whisper, and for the first time, he flinched as if you burned him.

“I took care of it,” he assured. “I handled it.”

The it being him. The him being Graves.

Simon didn’t go into the details, but he didn’t have to. Given his track record and the reason as to why the two of you met in the first place, you could assume the worst – but really, it was far from it. It was a taste of freedom.

You would no longer have to walk on eggshells, or peek around every corner. You wouldn’t have to remain bound to shackles that were never meant to be chained to you in the first place.

Simon freed you from the demon you were indebted to, and he did so without a single ounce of hesitation or regret. He’d do it all over again if it meant releasing you from hell and showing you a glimpse of heaven. He broke the contract you signed when vulnerable, and freed you from a lifetime of purgatory.

“Why did you do that?” you asked, and he smiled under his mask. You could see the faint imprint of his lips curling up on the edges, and the crows feet that wrinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Nobody hurts my pretty girl. They’ll be sorry if they do.”

My pretty girl. His pretty girl. It was a claim, one that didn’t feel like a trap that will lure you in and sink its teeth into you, but it was also a declaration of his devotion for you. It posed the option to back out, leaving you no longer bound like you were with Graves. A choice.

Your hand moved on its own accord, and it sauntered its way up Simon’s arm. Fingertips brushed along coated and marred skin, until they rested on the bottom of his mask. You heard him inhale a sharp breath, but made no move to stop you, so you continued.

Grasping on the hem of the mask that laid upon his throat, you lightly tugged it up, and up, until blond hair fell in short tufts along his forehead. The mask fell to the floor of the bathroom where you both resided, but that wasn’t what you focused on, no.

You were seeing his face for the first time, all of it. Not just his mouth where he’d nurse a cigarette, or would stuff your crummy pastries. You saw every blemish, every scar, every bit of stubble that poked from his skin. His cheekbones, high on his face, and his eyebrows, thick and unkempt yet soft and lax without a hint of daunt or upset.

The fingers that had taken off his mask with such care slowly traced along his features, grazing the plush of his lips, to the prickle along his jaw that scratched your fingertips in a way that had you smiling.

Simon was unsure why you smiled, but he offered a pleased one back, his shoulders releasing the tension that had stiffened them before.

“You’re pretty, Simon,” you complimented, and your eyes watched his lips as they parted into a laugh. Teeth, aligned and pretty, making him light up the entire room in a luminescent glow.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Thought you were the pretty girl, sweetheart.”

Your smile grew, nearly cracking the cuts littering the skin of your lips.

“Your pretty girl,” you reminded, and he gazed at you in a mix of adoration and amusement.

“My pretty girl,” he repeated.

The way he said it, so sweet and treacly, caused your mind to fuzz over with unrelenting homeliness. This was what it felt like to be loved, to be cherished, to be at home.

“Can you say it again?”

Simon beamed. “My pretty girl.”

You sucked in a breath. “Again.”

He leaned closer, his own fingers cradling the plains of your bruised face and layering the black and blue with tender touches and glimpses of a world where your skin would never feel the tortures of pain again, but rather longing and care.

“My pretty girl,” he repeated one more time, and by the last syllable, his breath was fanning across your face, warming you and nuzzling you with unfathomable fondness. “I really want to kiss you. You know that?”

Your eyes fluttered as you stared at him, feeling those moths transform back into butterflies from the simple weight of his words, swarming you with a never ending fervent.

“Would you do it if I said yes?” you managed to murmur through your newfound shyness.

“I’d be an idiot to ever deny you, sweetheart,” he muttered sweetly, and with no more words needing to be said, he pressed his chapped lips to yours, taking you with such gentle care it left you dizzy.

Home was where Simon went, and to Simon, he’d go with you to the ends of the Earth if it meant you’d follow him.

With close to three days left of your deal, he had high hopes you'd pull through.

posting this and running away (also thank u to my bbg abby for the BAR of a line about you being simons religion I LOVE U)