#undercurrent: ash

[undercurrent-if]

Hey author!

What do the ROs look like? What are their physical descriptions?

Hey there! :)

Wren:

She had sunlight-copper hair, thick curls always glinting with saltwater. Her eyes were amber-gold, full of life, always watching the horizon. Lean and wiry, like she's made of motion. Her skin was warm brown, with freckles across her shoulders and nose.

Cassian:

He has olive-toned skin, with light scarring across his forearms and knuckles. His black hair is kept short on the sides with a slight wave on top, damp from the sea. His eyes are steel-grey, soft around the edges. He's broad-shouldered, strong arms, built like a grounded swimmer than a surfer.

Imani:

She has intense dark brown eyes, shimmering with microdust. Her skin is deep mahogany, with gold undertones. She wears her hair in black locs, often pulled into high knots or left flowing down her back. She's tall, sculpted, commanding, yet she's soft.

Kye:

Lean and energetic. Has golden tan skin, often peeling from sun exposure. Has a couple of scars from reckless rides. They have electric blue eyes, with faint glow mods, when they're linked up with their neural link. Their hair is bleached blond(e), often with one side shaved or styled wildly.

Ash:

They have ash-grey hair, short and choppy (female), or flowing down their back (male), always clean cut. They have olive skin, with subtle body mods as in glowing ink and fingertips nodes. They are slim and graceful with one pale grey eye while the other is replaced with a silver cybernetic eye that adjusts to the light.

Thank you! :)

[aventurineswife]

"The Destiny Waltz" - Anaxagorus x Astrologist! Reader

This a piece that blends elegance with a tinge of melancholy, perfect for someone like him: enigmatic, philosophical, and most certainly burdened by intellect and isolation... One of my favorites of the Vanitas OST. They have to dance for this one, no matter how they get in this position... I want it. Need him analyzing us during it, ugh. <3

Waltzing Through a Vanishing Sky

Summary: You find yourself drawn into a bittersweet memory — a waltz with the infamous scholar Anaxagoras. Beneath the haunting elegance of a masquerade and the glimmer of false stars, you dance with the man whose mind shaped revolutions and whose soul defied gods. He analyzes your every move, worships your contradictions, and holds you like a revelation. But even in his arms, you remember: this is just a memory. He is already gone. Still, for a moment, you let the illusion breathe — because in this dance, he is alive again.

Tags: Anaxagoras x Reader, Astrologist!Reader, Ballroom Dance, Slow Burn, Philosophical Romance, Emotional Intimacy, Grief, Memory, Soft Angst, Melancholic Fluff, Dreamlike Atmosphere, Poetic Narration, Forbidden Love, Canon Character Death (Past), Strong Emotional Undercurrents.

Warnings: Themes of grief and loss, Allusions to past enslavement and trauma (?), Canon character death (Anaxagoras), Emotional vulnerability and psychological depth, Brief mentions of violence (defensive context), Intense romantic/psychological tension.

Tagslist: @sewoui, @tremendoustragedybard, @axolotsofluv

The marble floor was veined like frozen lightning, the reflection of crystalline chandeliers splintered across the ballroom like stardust caught in amber. The gala was a masquerade, a satire of opulence held beneath a dome meant to mimic the heavens. The stars were false tonight — suspended gems glimmering coldly, as if mocking your gaze. You would have left, you truly would have, if not for the presence that tethered you like gravity itself: Anaxagoras.

He stood at the center of the chaos, untouched by it.

His capelet flickered with candlelight, stitched gold glimmering like constellations undone. The teal of his jacket was too solemn for the occasion, too sharp, too honest — much like him. A gloved hand held a crystal goblet barely touched, and his visible eye shimmered, calculating, already miles away from the chatter around him.

You caught his gaze.

An axis tilted.

He raised his eyebrow, a barely-there curl of recognition lacing his lips. “Astronomer,” he murmured once you were close enough, voice like velvet dragged through ash. “I thought you despised these kinds of gatherings.”

You tilted your head. “Only when I’m not expected to correct everyone’s understanding of celestial motion mid-toast.”

He huffed — a rare noise that might have been amusement. “How fortunate that you arrived, then. I was considering faking a collapse to escape.”

You brushed past him, feigning nonchalance even as your heart stammered. “You’d enjoy the attention.”

He followed, of course. He always did. “That, or I needed an excuse for us to leave together.”

The music shifted — languid, romantic, haunted. It was composed for a court that no longer existed, and cursed for the ones that did. The chords tangled like starlight with shadow, a song that pretended to dance, but grieved with every step.

A noblewoman brushed past you with a trill of laughter, and Anaxa caught your arm. Not roughly. Not gently either — like he was making a statement.

“Dance with me,” he said, and you froze.

Your pulse faltered. “You don’t dance.”

His smile — sharp as frost on the edge of a scalpel. “Then let this be my first and only heresy performed willingly.”

You didn’t realize how tightly you gripped him until his fingers pried yours apart, guiding them to his shoulder. His other hand settled low at your waist — a silent, scorching brand. The violins arched overhead like meteors, and then—

You moved.

Step. Pivot. Draw.

He was terrible at this. Calculated and deliberate, like dissecting a corpse. He over-analyzed every angle, every press of your palm, every breath.

“You’re thinking too hard,” you murmured.

“I’m documenting,” he corrected. “This is a rare instance where the motion of heavenly bodies doesn’t follow Newtonian logic. Your gaze… it contradicts gravity.”

You flushed, furious at how easy he made you feel delicate. “Shut up and sway.”

The ballroom blurred. All else became irrelevant. It was him, you, the music — and the soft glow of fabricated stars reflecting in his lone, magenta-rimmed eye. He studied you like a passage from a forbidden codex, like a map of constellations no one else had ever traced.

"You looked beautiful when you threatened to decapitate that nobleman earlier,” he said, too softly.

You snorted. “He insulted the child.”

“And you reacted precisely as expected.” His grip tightened fractionally. “You are both fire and tide — and that dichotomy, it’s... intoxicating.”

You lost a step. He caught you.

“You're mocking me,” you accused.

He leaned close, breath brushing your cheek. “No. I’m worshipping.”

The orchestra swelled. So did the pain.

Because beneath this masquerade, beneath the masks and the myth and the dancing, you remembered what he had forgotten.

He was already dead.

You were dancing with a memory.

An echo.

But gods, you let yourself stay there — in that dreamscape of sound and silk and searing eyes — because in that fleeting second, he wasn’t the Demised Scholar.

He was Anaxa.

And he was holding you like you mattered more than the truth.

[Navigation]

[the-oblivious-writer]

With Her I Die - Masterlist

Past Jackie Taylor to Eventual Shauna Shipman x Female Reader

STATUS: ONGOING (WEEKLY UPDATES)

SUMMARY: For a moment, life seemed decent: nationals with your team on the horizon, an acceptance letter to your ideal college clutched in your hand, and the promise that soon, you and Jackie Taylor wouldn't have to hide anymore. Then the wilderness shattered it all. The plane tumbling from the sky wasn't just a crash - it was the universe rewriting your story. And Jackie. God, Jackie. Her body frozen beneath the snow after words you can never take back, after a fight that ended with her walking away. Her death lives inside you now, a cold weight that never thaws. Each breath feels stolen from her lungs. But there's Shauna, understanding your grief in ways no one else could. She becomes your gravity when you might otherwise float away into darkness. Her hand in yours, a silent pact between survivors. Two broken pieces holding each other together in this splintered world where nothing makes sense anymore.

WARNINGS & TAGS: (MAJOR angst) major character deaths, intimate scenes, substance use, graphic depictions of violence (blood/gore), psychological trauma, depression, grief, suicidal thoughts, and cannibalism (but you should already know that one).  

If any of these things negatively impact you in any way, don't read this series. You are responsible for the media you consume. 

SOUNDTRACK

CHAPTERS:

PROLOGUE: The Perfect Girl

CHAPTER ONE: Cold Plunge

CHAPTER TWO: Carved Grief

CHAPTER THREE: Skinning Survival

CHAPTER FOUR: The Heroic Tale of an Absolute Moron

CHAPTER FIVE: Unwanted Eyes

CHAPTER SIX: Shipman's Girl

CHAPTER SEVEN: Hallowed Intentions

CHAPTER EIGHT: Mind Over Matter

CHAPTER NINE: Chosen Speed

CHAPTER TEN: Ready or Not

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Dark is the Sky

CHAPTER TWELVE: The Dream has Gone

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Cave Sweet Cave

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Not-So Welcome Home

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Reel Around the Fountain

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Yesterday's Sins

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Delayed Motion Sickness

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Relentless Complications

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Tension and Pee Buckets

CHAPTER TWENTY: The Poison's Far From Gone

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Beneath Thin Ice

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Ashes and Exodus

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: A New Order

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Why Bother?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Weather Changes Mood

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Undercurrents

[sylusrot]

LADs Men Comforting you

A/N: Just a little idea I thought of because I, too, need to be comforted right now.

Tags: Sylus X fem!Reader, Zayne X fem!Reader, Xavier X fem!Reader, Rafayel X fem!Reader, Caleb X fem!Reader, Fluff

Warnings: Descriptions of an anxiety attack, Angst (but quickly resolved)

As always, please enjoy and send ideas to my inbox. ^^

~

Sylus:

You had gone on an extremely dangerous mission with Sylus. You're a very strong person, both physically and mentally, but every strong person has their breaking point.

Yesterday, you had witnessed a massive explosion from the passenger seat of Sylus' car. That explosion happened to be the same one Sylus was in.

You start to get out of the car, to rush in there, to make Sylus was okay, but you couldn't. An unbelievable amount of people start surrounding the now fiery building. People you can recognize as the people that want you dead, that want Sylus dead.

Tears start building up behind your eyes as you hurriedly get into the driver seat. You know he wouldn't want you to run into that, not to chase him into danger. So you drive. You drive and drive. You shouldn't be because you can barely see through the tears, eventually you pull over when you know you're far enough.

That's when you let it out. Sobs rattle your body as your fists beat against the steering wheel.

"Please don't treat my baby like that, sweetie." A husky voice says outside your window, one that Sylus had left open. You quickly look and there he is. Almost unscathed. Some ash sits on his cheek while a small gash bleeds from his brow.

"Sylus.." You say breathlessly. Nearly falling trying to get out of the car to get to him, he catches you in his arms and pulls you close. Closer than he ever has it feels like.

"You should know I would never leave you." He says into your ear, barely above a whisper. His hands rub up and down your back. All you can do is hold him tighter.

"I will always come back to you, sweetie."

Safe to say, Sylus treated you like a princess for the next month, and you never left his side.

~

Zayne:

Something felt off. You had just gotten back home after a mission and you couldn't breathe. You had seen so many things today that you're not sure you'll ever forget it.

As soon as the door closed behind you, you collapsed to the floor. Your vision is blurry, unsure whether it's from the income anxiety attack or the tears threatening to spill. Your head feels heavy, like you could pass out in any moment. Your throat feels tight, like it's closed completely.

Eventually, a sob leaves your lips. It reaches Zayne's ears all the way in your shared office. His head snaps from the computer screen and he jumps from his chair, making it crash into the wall behind him.

"Darling?!" his voice seemed calm, but there was an undercurrent of panic. Zayne felt his heart clench at the sight of you. Your breaths were heavy, quick, as if you couldn't get oxygen past your throat and into your lungs.

"Hey..." he quickly gets down onto the floor with you. Strong arms wrap around you, holding you tightly, giving you the pressure you so badly needed. Zayne rocks you back and forth as you cry, just letting you get it all out. The only words he says is to remind you to slow your breathing.

Once your breathing slows, you hesitantly look up at him.

"I have you. You don't need to tell me what happened, but I'll be right here to pick up the aftermath."

~

Xavier:

The two of you were in battle. More and more wanderers kept striking you both. It felt never ending. It was getting hard for you to keep up. The next thing you know, a searing white pain flashing in your eyes. Your guns clank to the ground in front of you. Opening your eyes, you see a giant gash in your arm. The sight of it make your head feel queasy.

Xavier is at your side in an instant. He holds onto you firmly, while being careful not to aggravate your injury any further. Another white light blinds you, but this time not from pain, from Xavier. The wanderers fall to the ground and fade away.

Watching as all the threats disappear, the adrenaline starts to slow. Your knees buckle and you start to fall but Xavier is there to catch you, slowly setting you onto the ground.

"You're okay." his voice is soft, reassuring. "Just focus on my face." You stare into his eyes as he rips part of his uniform. When he lifts your arm, you hiss in pain.

"I know, baby, I know." Xavier ties the cloth around your arm over the cut to slow the bleeding. "It's going to be okay, you're okay." Tears start to prickle the edges of your eyes. When he looks back up at you, he quickly notices. Leaning in, he first kisses your forehead, and then the tears that managed to slip out.

"Lets go get you fixed up." He picks you up with ease, one of his thumbs rubbing circles into your hip as you press your face into his chest, smelling his cologne.

~

Rafayel:

At first, you were silent, hands cupping your mouth. Tears slowly start to pool in your eyes. In front of you stood a canvas that Rafayel had been working on. A canvas that now had splatters of paint from you accidentally knocking over the table holding his paints.

You back up a bit. What were you going to do? You ruined it. In that exact moment, Rafayel walks in. As soon as he meets your eyes, the tears spill.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." The words tumble from your lips. You keep backing up, feeling the need to get away. Rafayel's eyes fill with worry. He sets down the paints he had left to get and rushes to you. You didn't want him to touch you. You knew he'd surely be mad.

Eventually, he grabs your hands, pulling them to his chest. His eyes look deeply into yours.

"Shhh... Cutie, it's okay. What's wrong?" His voice is quiet and sweet. Your initial panic subsides a bit, Rafayel's always soothing. Without saying a word, you point to his canvas and try shrinking away. He turns around and sees the mess.

A chuckle escapes his lips. He walks up to it with a small smile. After awhile, he turns back to you.

"It's perfect." A confused look washes over your face. "The colors, the way the paint flows. This is going in the next showcase."

"Nonono." You rush in front of him. "I ruined it." Rafayel chuckles again.

"In my eyes, all your flaws are a work of art, and this mistake is the same. It's perfect. I love it, just as I love each and every of your flaws."

~

Caleb:

The first day was always the worst. The nausea, the migraine, the cramps. Today was particularly bad, worse than usual. On top of all the period pains, you were just sad. No rhyme or reason to it, just sad.

Caleb had decided to stay home. He knew before you could even say anything that today wasn't going to be good.

"Stay in bed, princess. I'll make you your favorite breakfast." All you could do was nod in response, not feeling up to speaking. As he leaves, you roll onto his side of the bed, curling into his pillow and inhaling his scent.

The next time you open your eyes, the nightstand beside you had a plate filled with fluffy waffles with chocolate chips in them. A chocolate milk was also sat out. Caleb was crouched in front of you rubbing your cheek.

"Morning, pips. Breakfast is ready." He gives you a soft smile, one that you return back to him. As you sit up, a sharp cramp surges through you. You try to play it off but Caleb never misses anything when it comes to you. He hands you the plate and he goes over to one of the drawers to get your heating pad out.

How did I get this lucky? You look from him preparing the heating pad down to your food. Warmth spreads through you as you're filled with love. Tears start to slip down your cheek.

"Pips? What's wrong?" Caleb sits down beside you on the bed, reaching an arm around your waist while his other hand wipes the tears away.

"I just love you so much." is all you can say as you lay your head against his chest.

"I love you, too. I'll spend my whole life, and even after, showing you how much I love you.

[superectojazzmage]

Just back from Alien Romulus and hoooo boy oh boy. Review/analysis.

Easily the best Alien movie since the first two, which isn't saying much, yeah, but it is legit a really cool and well-made movie, competing with Late Night With The Devil, Longlegs, and Cuckoo for title of my favorite horror movie this year.

In a lot of ways it's about harvesting the few good ideas from the post-2 movies that were squandered and doing them right, plus getting the series back to it's healthier roots, kinda the movie equivalent of someone doing physical therapy to get back in the saddle after an injury. This means it's not quite brand new ground like some may hope for and I've heard some people feel it gets a little derivative at points because of it. I can kinda agree and certainly understand that criticism, but I feel it does what it's aiming for really well and sets things up for future works to go in even crazier directions. Furthermore, it takes a lot of time to try and weld together the disparate post-2 movies in a way that brings the series back to a little coherency.

The atmosphere is really intense and cool, swinging between lovecraftian dread and build-up and high-energy chaos. The aesthetics and special effects are gorgeous, taking full advantage of the progress that technology has made since 2 plus really digging in to the used cassette future vibe of the older films. The characters are likable and actually intelligent (or at least understandable) in behavior like in the first two movies, so you care about what's happening to them instead of just waiting for them to get munched. The action and kills were really cool and creative, the cinematography in general was off-kilter in an awesome way - there's a definite attempt to make the movie feel claustrophobic and intimate. Fede Alvarez did a fantastic job in general, I'd love to see him do more with the series.

It REALLY cranks up the series' psychosexual, freudian, and sexual assault subtext, arguably to a point where it's just plain text. So if you're sensitive to stuff like that or if this is your first go at Alien, be warned for that.

More specific notes go under the header for spoilers. Highly recommend you go in as blind as you can.

Andy and Rain were wonderful leads, their dynamic was fantastic and Calie Spaeny and David Jonsson both turned in great performances. I direly hope they join the first two films' casts as "major" characters for the series going forward.

The effects to make Daniel Betts look like Ian Holms were quite possibly the one and only time the special effects failed. It looks very wonky, which is sad because Betts does a really good job copying Holms' mannerisms for Ash while still making Rook feel like a distinct character.

In addition to the usual themes of sexual unease, genetics, and parenthood, this movie adds in some really interesting themes of familial legacy, the rise of new generations, foundations, etc.. Andy and Rain are like Romulus and Remus of myth, orphaned and left to fend for themselves but growing into founders of a new age - both in-story with their carrying the XX121 substance and evidence of Weyland-Yutani's misdeeds to Yvaga and out-of-story with them being the protagonists of a new era for Alien. Likewise, the Offspring is the first example of an entirely new species, neither human nor alien but taking from the lineages of both through Kay and Big Chap, a Romulus-like founder of it's breed that will later bear fruit in Resurrection with the Ripley clone and Newborn.

I'm really not kidding when I say above that the psychosexual undercurrents are taken to the extreme here. This movie basically sees the ways the original film subtly pin-pricked at those themes, says "fuck that", and deliberately rubs it in your face in a way designed to make sure you can't ignore it. It wants you to be grossed out and to squirm in your chair and it knows exactly how to make it happen.

Alvarez noted in the lead-up to release that he took a lot of influence from Isolation and you can definitely see that in how he depicts the Xenomorphs and the general aura of the film. He further described it as a kind of halfway point between the first and second movies and you can also see that; it has the Lovecraft-style tension and horror of the first, balanced with the energy and action of the second, and it does a really good job finding a middle ground between Ridley Scott and James Cameron's styles while also doing it's own dance.

I mentioned way back at the start how the movie basically harvests the good ideas from 3, Resurrection, Prometheus, and Covenant and gives them the room they deserve while dumping the bad. It does that in both terms of themes/style and continuity/lore. Concepts that those movies bungled like xeno-human hybridism, the black goo, genetic engineering as a focus, and so on are done here more creatively and competently. Themes that those films tried and failed to tackle are handled with significantly more grace. It has the atmosphere and characterization of 3 but none of it's baggage and needlessly depressive tone. It has the body horror and weirdness of Resurrection without taking it to the zany, embarrassing areas that movie went. The effects and creativity of Prometheus and Covenant without any of their awful writing and clumsy messages. Alvarez takes on kind of an Al Ewing-esque "repairman" writing style here.

The Xenomorphs are absolutely deranged in behavior compared to most portrayals, attacking like either cruel sadists or raging chimps and rarely bothering to take hosts. I'm not sure if such a reading was intended, but I got the vibe that the idea is Xenos raised without a queen or hive grow to be basically sociopathic like how real world predatory animals grown without parental figures become feral and dysfunctional. Which would also explain a lot about how the Xeno in the original movie, Big Chap, acts there.

The Offspring's design is fucking wicked and I love it.

One of my few major criticisms is that Big Chap died off-screen instead of getting more to do. What was the point of having him be alive at the start if he wasn't gonna be used beyond a backstory point to set up the main story?

All in all, a very impressive effort and a great return to form for the series that I recommend highly.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Gīsītsos (little ghost)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Fingering, dubcon, smut. Word count: ~3.7k

Summary: As part of the Red Keep's serving staff, she knows it is better to remain unseen by the family she tends to. Unfortunately for her, an incident involving the second of the Targaryen sons means his gaze is now firmly fixed upon her.

Author's note: No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on notifications. Community labels are for cops.

There is an unspoken rule among the serving staff of the Red Keep; remain unseen and unheard whenever possible. Move as a spectre through the castle, do not draw attention to the mess you are employed to clean up. Those they serve do not wish to be reminded of their imperfections. Blissful ignorance is placed upon the pristine condition of the chambers they return to at the end of each day. They have always been that way, how could they not be? But beneath it lies an undercurrent of I do not wish to see it, do not make me look.

She is content to remain out of sight and mind of the Targaryen family, though her work is thankless, there is serenity to be found in the duties of a maidservant. As long as she completes the tasks assigned to her, then she is otherwise unbothered, and she considers herself fortunate to have a comparatively easy workload to some of the others.

The maidservants that attend to Prince Aegon’s bedchamber are ordered to work in pairs, partly because the mess he so often leaves behind is work enough for two, but also because he is known to sleep late, and there is safety in numbers. A chill runs down her spine at the memory of the whisperings that had passed between the staff about Dyana, brought before the Queen and forced to drink moon tea, before being relieved of her employment from the Keep. From that point on, the maidservants were forbidden from entering his rooms alone, lest they find themselves victim of the Prince’s wandering hands and lustful appetite.

There is no such danger to be found within the sleeping quarters of Prince Aemond, which she is in charge of tending to each day. He makes her job almost too easy, but she does not allow her guilt to weigh heavily enough upon her that she would ask for additional duties, instead she gives thanks to the Seven for this small mercy and ensures she finishes each day having completed her tasks to an impeccable standard. 

As she tugs the crisp white sheets of the bed firmly back into place each morning, there is no lingering body heat or scent to be found, indicating he has been awake for hours. She wonders if he sleeps at all, considering the unrumpled state of his bedding. When she strips the sheets off to change them once a week, there are no personal effects that fall loose, no trace that the Prince she serves exists at all. He is as much an apparition as she is.

When she is finished making up the bed or delivering the old sheets to the laundress, she sweeps the ashes from the hearth and readies the fireplace for Aemond’s return. Aside from that, there is little else to do besides lightly dust the shelves and reorganise the books placed upon his table. She never once sees the Prince, nor does he see her.

The most strenuous of jobs is the one she currently finds herself doing; the once weekly wash of the bedchamber floor, which requires her to get down upon her hands and knees with a brush and scrub the flagstones with a mixture of hot water and lye. The floor is hard upon her knees, her back aching, and knuckles sore from the combination of the soap and how tightly she grips the brush.

Satisfied that there is not an inch left unclean, she drops the scrubbing brush into the bucket, groaning softly as her knees twinge in protest as she stands. She swipes at the perspiration upon her forehead with the back of her hand, before reaching behind her to soothe ache in her lower back.

She freezes as her elbow collides with something on the desk, her heart feeling as though it stops beating within her chest as she hears the heavy splash of it fall into the bucket behind her, splattering dirty water against her skirt.

Snapping herself out of her shock, she quickly turns, seeing she has knocked a book from the table into the water she had been using to wash the floor. Dread swirls in her belly as she stoops to lift it out, her mind running rampant with thoughts of how much trouble she’ll be in if she has ruined one of Prince Aemond’s belongings. At best, she would lose her job. At worst, she is unsure, but she does not wish to fall foul of the man that rides the world’s largest dragon.

Drying off the leatherbound cover with her apron, she is relieved to see her swift action has prevented any serious damage, though the pages within are sodden. She cannot return it to the desk in this condition, so she tucks the book under her arm and picks up the bucket, walking quickly out of the Prince’s chambers, and back towards the servants’ quarters. If she can get it dried and return it in time, then hopefully he will be none the wiser to her mishap.

The scullion keeps the fire in the shared space ablaze all day, and she settles in front of it, opening the dampened book, careful not to place it so close that the parchment might singe. Happy to see the water has not soaked through far enough to smudge the ink, she turns the pages carefully while they dry, her eyes scanning the words. It is a tome of philosophy, far beyond the realm of her comprehension. It serves as a reminder of the divide between her and the Prince, she is beneath such intellectual pursuits. She imagines he would be infuriated that a lowly maidservant would ever dare to read it, and finds herself hunching over the book as it dries, subconsciously concealing it from view, as though she is engaging in something forbidden and shameful.

After an hour, the heat of the fire has returned the book to its original state, or at least as close as it’s going to get. She makes haste to return it to where it belongs, hoping that Prince Aemond will not yet have returned to his chambers. Her skin is heated, a combination of having been so close to the open fireplace for an hour and nervousness at the idea of being caught.

She enters the bedchamber without knocking, expecting it to still be empty, and moves swiftly on light feet, returning the book back to the desk it had laid upon previously.

“An enjoyable read, was it?”

The voice is soft, yet its sinister edge sends a shiver up her spine, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She turns slowly, keeping her head bowed, not daring to meet the unblinking stare of the One Eyed Prince.

“Your Grace,” she utters meekly, “please accept my apologies. I did not mean to intrude.”

“And you did not answer my question either.”

She dares to look up then, watching in wide eyed horror as he walks slowly towards her, dressed in his sparring attire, his expression impassive.

Swallowing thickly, ignoring everything within her that desperately wants to lower her gaze, she forces herself to hold it. “I did not read it, I swear, I would never be so discourteous.”

“Hm,” he murmurs, standing tall in front of her, “a pity. ‘Tis an interesting text. So, tell me, what were you doing with it?”

He is standing so close to her, she can feel the tickle of his breath upon her flesh, see the angry, red indentation of the scar that runs the length of the left hand side of his face, disappearing beneath the leather patch that covers his eye. There is something in the way he looks at her that makes her want to shrink into herself, but she fears she has forever shrugged off the shroud of invisibility that has until now protected her. His eye is piercing, a silent threat. I see you.

She considers lying, but decides it will be worse for her than simply telling the truth, if he catches her out. “I…I accidentally got the book wet while I was cleaning. I took it away to the servants’ quarters to dry it.”

Aemond leans his body into hers, and she can feel the warmth that radiates from his chest, smell the sweat that lingers on his skin from his exertion in the training yard. She screws her eyes shut, icy fingers of fear gripping her insides as she awaits her punishment, but then the heat of him is gone.

Slowly opening her eyes, she sees that he is still standing in front of her, but his attention is now focused upon his book as he flips through the pages, studying it for signs of damage. He had simply reached behind her to retrieve it. The relief that floods her is enough to make her want to laugh, but she knows better, biting it back as she exhales heavily through her nose.

Satisfied that his book is unruined, he snaps it shut, holding it with both hands as he looks at her once more. “Are you always this clumsy?”

She gapes at this, white hot embarrassment radiating from head to toe. “N-no, never. It was an accident, Your Grace, I swear it.”

He smirks, cocking his head. “Perhaps I ought to keep a closer eye on you?”

Please, no.

She wants to leave, to be away from the intensity of how he looks upon her, to have him forget her face and allow her to go back to being invisible.

“I promise I will take greater care in future, Your Grace. I apologise. Can I go?”

He raises an eyebrow at this. “I do not know. Can you?”

This is humiliating. Is he getting some sort of satisfaction from this?

“If that will be all, Your Grace.”

She bows her head to him and hurries from the room, feeling her heartbeat in her throat with every step that she takes. She can sense his eye upon her, boring a hole into the back of her, long after she has left his chambers, and it fills her with a sense of unease for the rest of the day. Her only solace is that she can return to her duties upon the morrow without having to see him.

However, as she enters the bedchamber the following morning she is horrified to find the Seven have decided her spell of good fortune has come to its end. Prince Aemond still occupies the space, standing at the foot of the bed as he fastens his tunic. Halting her steps, she lingers uncertainly, not knowing what she ought to do.

He stares at her as he continues to dress, not making any moves to alleviate her discomfort, and she takes a tentative step back.

“Should I come back?” She asks warily, glancing over her shoulder towards the door - it has never appeared so inviting.

“No need,” he assures her, “do what you need to.”

She hesitates a moment longer, but realising she is in no position to protest, she begins the task of turning down the bed. She can feel him looking at her the entire time, making her feel self conscious. There has never been an audience to spectate over her daily tasks before, and she moves as though she is suspended in honey, afraid to make a mistake while he is watching, despite the fact that these are duties she has performed hundreds of times before.

To her frustration, he moves as slowly as she does, unhurriedly clasping on his sword belt and pulling on his boots, watching her all the while, but never speaking a word. It is not until she begins sweeping away the ashes from the fireplace that he finally takes his leave, silently striding from the room without addressing her further.

For the first time since she entered Aemond’s chambers that morning she feels as though she can breathe, although a voice in the back of her mind tells her she has not seen the last of Aemond, and he certainly has no desire to see less of her.

Over the next few days, he is there every time she arrives, either in the process of dressing, or still laying in bed, causing her to turn away, ashamed at the way excitement flutters in her lower belly at the sight of his well defined bare chest.

He is doing this on purpose, she knows he is, abusing the imbalance of power between them, because she cannot ask him to stop. He is not really even doing anything wrong; it is not uncommon for maidservants to be in the presence of those they serve as they perform their duties, yet there is something about this that feels completely improper. The way his stare lingers upon her, stalking her as though she is prey, it both frightens her and fills her with a sense of mortification, because she knows that, deep down, there is a part of her that likes the fact that his attention is on her. The veil between them has been lifted, and now that she has gotten to know what resides on the other side, at least a little, she thinks of nothing else. It is both exciting and terrifying to have someone in such a position of authority so interested in her and what she does.

It is the day she strips the bed in order to place fresh sheets upon it, and she enters the bedchamber prepared to have to wait for the Prince to vacate it first. However, she finds that he is already gone for the day. Unsure if it is relief or disappointment that she feels, she immediately begins to pull back the bedding, deciding she would prefer not to dwell on the hollow feeling that has settled within her chest.

As she tugs the bedsheet loose from beneath the corner of the mattress, a small piece of parchment flutters from it, landing softly on the flagstones beside the wooden bedframe. Nothing has ever fallen from Aemond’s bed before, he is much too tidy, and so her curiosity is immediately piqued.

Plucking it from the floor, her mouth runs dry at the words she finds penned delicately in black ink.

Though I am absent, I think of you.

Was this meant for her to find? She feels foolish for considering such a notion, and yet she cannot shift the idea that it might be. Her hands shake as she holds the note, her mind reeling with thoughts of what she ought to do with it: keep it, cast it into the fireplace, put it back and pretend she has not seen it?

The latter is impossible, he would notice the fresh sheets upon the bed and know that she has found it. Perhaps she is being presumptuous, and this has been left for him by a bedmate? She decides to simply place it upon the desk, and leave it up to the Prince to decide its fate.

Though she attempts to continue her day as normal, thoughts of Aemond and the contents of his note will not allow her any peace. She wonders if it is indeed her that he is thinking of, and if it would satisfy him to know that he haunts her mind in equal measure. If only she had never knocked that wretched book into the bucket, then she would be free of this torment.

Aemond is fully clothed as she walks into his rooms the following day, standing beside his desk. There is absolutely no reason for him to linger, but she knows precisely why he does, her suspicions confirmed when she spies the note clasped between his fingers.

“You read it?” He asks, lifting his gaze to meet hers as she enters.

“Was I not supposed to?” She asks quietly, setting down the basket which contains the brushes and rags she uses for sweeping and dusting.

“I left it where only you would find it,” he retorts, allowing the parchment to flutter back down upon the desk. “What do you think?”

“I do not know, Your Grace,” she responds simply, attempting to keep her focus on meticulously unloading her supplies.

“Leave that,” he orders coolly. “Come here.”

She trembles as she steps slowly towards him, and he rounds on her, caging her between himself and the desk, its wooden edge biting into her lower back.

“You are beautiful,” he breathes, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. 

The trace of his fingertip leaves a trail of heat in its wake. She feels dizzy, overwhelmed, the urge to run and her body’s insistence at remaining rooted to the spot at direct odds with one another.

“Please,” she whispers, “do not. It is improper.”

His hand drops to his side and he regards her with a look of amusement. “I am not my brother. I will not take anything that is not given freely. But I suspect you want this as much as I do. Tell me I am wrong.”

“Your Grace, I–I…”

The words die in her throat, what can she say? A maidservant cannot speak of her desire for the Prince she serves. How can she give voice to the fact that since he first acknowledged her, he has plagued her every waking thought?

“Say the word, and things shall go back to as they were before, we shall be strangers once more.”

That is certainly the easier of the two options, and yet the idea of having to live without his attention now she knows the sweet torment of what it is to have it seems unfathomable to her. She is playing a dangerous game, treading a knife’s edge, placing herself directly in harm’s way, and the words she speaks next will forever change her life’s trajectory, but as she stares up into his piercing blue eye her judgement is too clouded for her to mind.

“I do not want that,” she says earnestly.

“I want you to beg for it,” he tells her, the slightest hint of malice in his tone.

She feels a stickiness between her thighs, a dull throbbing ache in her core that makes her nerves sing for release. Her voice is foreign to her, pathetic sounding as the single utterance of “please” tumbles from her lips.

“Please what?” Aemond asks, tilting his head, mocking her as he looms over her, keeping her pinned against the desk behind her.

Under ordinary circumstances, she would feel ashamed by such lewd behaviour, but these are no ordinary circumstances, and her actions are driven solely by desire, so she feels no chagrin as she allows herself to murmur “please touch me”.

The Prince’s deft fingers make quick work of moving up her skirt, ghosting along the inside of her thigh as he goes, causing her to suck in a shaky breath as she grips his shoulders for support.

She mewls helplessly as his middle and index fingers work their way beneath her smallclothes, dragging through her silken folds, wet with arousal.

Aemond hums in appreciation as his digits explore her, his entire hand moving beneath the thin cotton of her undergarments, cupping her mound. She exhales a shocked gasp as he pushes two fingers forcefully inside of her.

His free hand clasps over her mouth, muffling her sounds, as he works his fingertips inside of her at a lazy pace. “We have to be quiet,” he tells her, “or we will get caught, and we cannot have that.”

She nods in understanding, whimpering against his palm as his thumb begins to circle her pearl, the pumping of his fingers increasing in pace, the sticky sounds of her arousal accompanying her stifled whines of pleasure.

They have not even shared a kiss, there is no romance to be found here, but she does not mind. If anything, the depravity of the act serves to heighten the sensations and renders her more responsive to his touch.

His eye bores into hers, the pupil so large it almost eclipses the blue of it, his lips parted slightly as his nostrils flare. He crooks his fingers, brushing against a spot inside of her that causes her to buck against his hand. He grins wickedly, speeding up his movements both inside of her and against her bud.

The pleasurable ache she feels building winds tightly within her gut, and her thighs tremble with the effort of keeping her upright. Her fingernails dig into the fabric of Aemond’s tunic, as she feels her body tense in preparation for what’s to come.

With a final press of his fingers, she falls apart, her cry almost silenced by his hand over her mouth as she breathes erratically through her nose. She tightens around him in quick pulses as waves of warm relief pass through her body, making her pliant against him. 

She maintains her grasp on his shoulders, not trusting her shaking legs to keep her upright as he releases her mouth and withdraws his hand from beneath her skirt, his fingers glistening with her release.

He tuts, examining them carefully as he holds them up between them both. “What a mess you’ve made���, he says condescendingly, pressing them against her lips and forcing them into her mouth. The taste of herself upon her tongue is tart, the very idea of what she is doing lewd to her. “Something else for you to clean up,” he coos, watching as she sucks her essence from his fingers.

With these words she is brought crashing back down to earth as she is reminded of the power imbalance between them. She will always be the woman who tends to his messes, who serves him, except now she is also a vessel for his pleasure and, whatever the outcome of that may be, it is too late now to take it back. He has seen her, fully, and she will only ever see of him what he allows her to.

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More Aemond fics

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

Hellooo can I request for soulmates!au with targaryen male reader x oberyn?

Reader is rhaegar's twin brother, but other than the same sliver hair and dark purple eyes they don't look much alike, reader is tall and broad shouldered and on the heavy side, introverted and is not a fan of court whatsoever

Sun kissed

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Male Targaryen reader Tags: soulmate au {A touch from your soulmate will leave an imprint there}, falling in love, word count : 1179

Y/N Targaryen the twin brother of Rhaegar Targaryen was not one for grand gatherings. With his silver hair cascading down broad shoulders and dark purple eyes that often flickered with disinterest, he stood in stark contrast to his brother's ethereal beauty. Y/N preferred the solitude of the castle gardens, where whispers of nature could replace the empty chatter of the court.

Having left the festivities behind, Y/N wandered through the red keep garden. He stopped by a fountain, its waters shimmering under the light of a crescent moon. There, he let out a long, weary sigh,

Little did he know, someone was watching him from the shadows.

Oberyn Martell leaned against a pillar in the dimly lit space, his dark, serpentine eyes studying the man who was both a prince and a ghost in his own castle. The air crackled with intrigue as the prince of Dorne took a step forward, the fleeting moments of his reputation as a fierce warrior clashing against the pull of something deeper when he laid eyes on Y/N.

"Lost in thought, are we?" Oberyn's voice was smooth like honey, cutting through Y/N's musings.

Startled, Y/N turned, locking eyes with the Martell prince. "Being lost is preferable to being found," he replied with a teasing smirk, an armour against any vulnerability.

Oberyn chuckled softly, the sound invigorating the cool night air. "And yet here I am, willing to find you. Not many can say they have seen Rhaegar's brother."

"People have strange inclinations," Y/N replied dryly, "and I have made it abundantly clear that I do not belong in their games."

“Neither do I,” Oberyn said, stepping closer, the glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Court is a web of lies and politics. I'd much rather hear about your thoughts on the sea or the stars.”

Intrigued, Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You are very bold, aren't you? To approach me like this, in the dark."

“Perhaps,” Oberyn admitted candidly, his smirk shifting to sincerity. “I find something… interesting in you.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened at the charged atmosphere weaving around them. “Interesting… how so?”

Oberyn smirked, stepping even closer. For a brief moment, Y/N could almost feel the warmth radiating off the man before him. “You are fierce in your silence. An undercurrent of passion flows beneath, like a dormant volcano. You’re trapped by those who seek to define you. But I am not afraid of fire, nor am I afraid of the ashes.”

And then it happened. Oberyn reached behind his head, brushing aside the silver hair that veiled Y/N’s eyes and cupping his face momentarily in a gentle but daring touch. The world around them faded, and Y/N felt a surge of warmth wash over him, a sensation blooming vividly where Oberyn’s fingers lingered.

It felt as though a piece of himself had been uncovered—a mark left upon him, an imprint that whispered of possibilities. “You…” Y/N faltered, lost in the intensity of the moment. “You felt it too.”

“Of course.” Oberyn’s voice dropped to a seductive whisper,his gaze filled with understanding as if they shared a secret no one else could grasp. Oberyn's eyes gleamed with a mixture of mischief and sincerity, a blend of emotions that both excited and terrified him. “It means we are bound in a way that defies the chaos of our worlds, Y/N. A connection that transcends mere courtly expectations.”

Y/N felt his heart race at the sound of his name on Oberyn’s lips—a melody he hadn’t realised he longed for. They were a stark contrast, he and the Dornish prince; where Y/N was all stormy skies and shadows, Oberyn was the blazing sun, radiating life and intensity. Yet, within that contrast, there was an undeniable pull, a gravity that knew no bounds.

He took a step back, consideration forcing a separation he wasn’t sure he wanted. “You have no idea who I am, Oberyn..” The walls he had built around himself felt shaky now, as if the touch of his soulmate had begun to erode the very foundations he had relied upon for protection.

“Perhaps not,” Oberyn replied, not backing away but rather holding his ground. “But I am not afraid of getting to know you behind your reclusivity. But tell me—what do you truly desire?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Y/N had never considered what he wanted for himself beyond the confines of duty and expectation. He rubbed the spot where Oberyn’s fingers had brushed him, a soft imprint warming his skin, like a reminder that he wasn’t just a shadow of his brother.

However, a sense of wariness crept in, fueled by the walls of responsibility society shoved upon him. “I desire—” he faltered.“I desire freedom. The ability to explore the world without judgment hanging over me. Here in King’s Landing, I feel like a ghost. I wish to step away from it all—”

“Then why don’t you?” Oberyn stepped closer, an unyielding shimmer of encouragement sparkling in his piercing gaze. “Leave King’s Landing behind. Come to Dorne with me.”

The proposition came like a revelation, an escape untainted by the dark intrigues of their current lives. “You can't be serious,” Y/N responded, the idea both exhilarating and impossibly terrifying. Just the thought of leaving everything behind sent jitters of anticipate

through his body.

“I am very serious,” Oberyn said, his voice low and inviting. “Dorne is a land of sun and freedom, where the winds carry the salt of the sea and the laughter of the people. You will not have to hide there, Y/N. You could do whatever you wish. Be whoever you want to be.”

The moment was filled with anticipation , and Y/N felt the weight of Oberyn’s words stirring something deep within him. Hope. The flicker of a longing he had tried to extinguish for far too long began to simmer again.

“Your touch…” he said, hesitantly tracing the imprint where Oberyn's fingers had rested. “It leaves a mark. A reminder of our bond.”

Oberyn’s voice turned low, almost conspiratorial. “Then cherish it. Cherish the possibility of what we could create together.” His gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced through the fog of doubt.

“Are you truly unafraid?” Y/N asked, his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped closer to the Dornish prince, boldness emerging he hadn’t recognized within himself before.

“Fear has never kept me from seeking what I desire,” Oberyn replied with decisive earnestness that stoked the fire within Y/N.

“Perhaps one is foolish to court danger so closely,” Y/N mused, allowing a grin to break through his troubled countenance.

Oberyn stepped forward, the air thick with tension  perhaps so,but I can think of no greater folly than living a life devoid of passion.”

He took a breath, his heart pounding as he dared  “Then, perhaps… Perhaps I will venture with you.” he took his hand clutching it in a fierce grasp. “I will come to Dorne, my prince.”

[actual-changeling]

I wrote a little something inspired by the latest chapter from the wonderful oopsie!omens AU @asleepyy is writing. Definitely check out their comic here and leave some love!

-

They run into each other by chance, which carries a certain irony considering Jophiel has actively been looking for him. It is a small settlement, large enough to have a sprawling market filled with voices and movement, but not the kind of place he'd expect Azazel to be. Still, if the universe wills it so, he is certainly not going to question it.

Regardless of the circumstances, the demon seems to continuously hold back an ocean of anxiety, wave after wave crashing on the rocky shores and spilling over, and today is no different. He is pressed against a stone wall at the edge of the square, the shade providing both some escape from the flickering heat and cover, keeping him hidden and inconspicuous.

Jophiel strolls through the crowd, weaving around the humans with practiced ease and picking up a ripe pomegranate from one of the stands; he pays and leaves a generous tip. Well, and he blesses the woman's sick daughter simply because he can.

By the time he has reached Azazel's spot, he has long seen him coming, wringing his hands and biting his lip bloody, which he silently takes in with a frown.

"Jophiel," he greets, his eyes wide and black as always, although at least his robe seems less tattered and more put-together than the last time they had seen each other.

"Azazel. Fruit?"

Freezing on the spot, his gaze rapidly switches between the stretched-out hand and Jophiel's face, who smiles with all the holy patience he can muster, the Metatron's words cutting thorns in the back of his throat.

"I- I've never actually..." Azazel gulps, nervous, yes, but there's an undercurrent of excitement to it, too.

Jophiel leans back against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankle and breaking the pomegranate open in an infinitesimal display of celestial power. Thin splashes of red juice wet his hands and run down his wrists, and he feels Azazel's attention heavy but not unwelcome on his skin when he lifts his arm to lick it off. A mild breeze ruffles their hair, red and white locks alike, and their fingers brush when Azazel reaches out to take his half.

"Thank you."

Pure gratitude laces his words, and they both know it is for more than the fruit. The Metatron, he decides as he watches Azazel carefully plug seed after seed out of its white shell, might be God's voice in heaven, but not here on earth. Otherwise, he would see his fragile smile and nervous ticks, hear the accidental admissions of faith and kindness, and know that there had been a mistake.

They eat in amicable silence, the noises of life and warmth flowing together into one, and while Azazel watches the crowds, Jophiel watches him.

I promise you I will fix this, he swears, and then, because the sparks of anger and dismay have yet to die and turn to ash, he speaks a prayer—a warning.

Azazel has more faith than your 'voice' does, God, and either you will take him back willingly or I will find a way to make you.

[theskywithin]

Excerpt from my Book: What’s Your Sign? Part Two ( Libra to Pisces )

✨📖 ( link at the end of the page )

Sun in Libra ( September 23 - October 22 )

If your Sun is in Libra, your soul came here to make beauty out of contrast. To take broken things, people, conversations, spaces, and show them how to meet in the middle. You don’t crave balance because life is calm. You crave it because you’ve known what it feels like to be caught between opposites, torn between what you want and what others expect. Ruled by Venus, you are the Lover, the Peacemaker, the Mirror. You see the world through a lens of connection, always noticing where things feel off and instinctively trying to restore harmony. You bring people together not by demanding attention, but by offering understanding. You lead gently, with grace. You listen like it matters, because to you, it does. You have a gift for seeing both sides. For stepping outside yourself and into another’s perspective. And while this makes you a brilliant communicator, a fair mediator, and a beloved friend, it also means you sometimes forget which side is yours. You weigh every choice, every word, every ripple your decisions might create. And in trying to be fair to everyone, you often abandon yourself. You long for partnership. For shared experiences. For love that feels like a meeting of minds and hearts. You don’t just want romance, you want resonance. A partner who sees not only your beauty, but your depth. Someone who doesn’t rush you to decide, but helps you trust what you already know deep down. But when your fear of conflict becomes stronger than your truth, you go quiet. You nod when you want to scream. You accommodate, adjust, apologize. Not because you’re weak, but because peace matters to you more than being “right.” Still, peace without honesty is just silence. And you weren’t born to disappear for the sake of harmony. You’re more than your softness. You’re more than your charm. You carry wisdom in your heart and fire in your mind. There’s a sharpness beneath your calm, a storm behind your smile. And when you allow yourself to fully show up, to speak without shrinking, you become magnetic in ways you’ve never had to force. Your lesson is to find balance between grace and truth. To remember that your intuition is just as sacred as anyone else’s opinion. And that saying “yes” to yourself is not a disruption, it’s an act of alignment. You weren’t born to walk tightropes just to keep others comfortable. You were born to teach the world how to meet in the middle without losing themselves in the process.

Sun in Scorpio ( October 23 - November 21 )

If your Sun is in Scorpio, your soul came here to feel everything, to burn, to break, and to rise again. You do not live on the surface. You were never meant to. The shallow, the artificial, the light-and-easy, none of that holds your attention. You crave what’s real. What’s raw. What’s buried beneath ten layers of silence. You’re not just intuitive, you’re piercing. You see things people haven’t said. You feel things they’ve forgotten how to name. You were born with a quiet kind of power. The kind that doesn’t need to be seen to be felt. You observe. You withhold. You sense the undercurrents in every room. But behind your mystery is a tenderness so deep, you’d rather hide it than risk it being mishandled. You love with intensity, but only once someone has proven they can meet you where it matters: in truth. Ruled by Mars and Pluto, you carry both fire and ashes. You are the death and the rebirth. You don’t just survive pain, you become new because of it. You’ve walked through betrayals, losses, and disappointments that would’ve broken someone else, but you alchemized them. You became the alchemy. When you commit, you go all in. Whether it’s love, a dream, or a belief, you don’t do halfway. Your devotion runs soul-deep. But your trust? It’s earned slowly, and when it’s broken, something inside you closes. Betrayal doesn’t just hurt you, it rewires you. And sometimes, instead of grieving, you guard. You disappear. You bury it under control, obsession, or silence. Your shadow emerges when you try to protect your heart by holding power instead of sharing it. When you love from fear instead of freedom. When the pain of your past whispers that closeness is a risk, and you believe it. You may shut others out before they even have the chance to get close, convincing yourself it’s safer that way. But isolation isn’t safety, it’s sorrow in disguise. You are not cold. You are not cruel. You are just unguarded tenderness wrapped in steel. And when you let someone in, truly in, you become one of the most loyal, profound, transformative forces they will ever know. Your lesson is not to stop feeling. It’s to feel without drowning. To trust again, even when it terrifies you. To learn that power isn’t control, it’s presence. And vulnerability doesn’t weaken your intensity, it deepens it. You weren’t born to skim the surface. You were born to hold the dark in one hand and the light in the other, and remind the world that both are sacred.

Sun in Sagittarius ( November 22 - December 21 )

If your Sun is in Sagittarius, you came here to chase what can’t be held. Not to escape, but to expand. To stretch beyond borders, of thought, of love, of self, and find what makes life feel infinite. You carry the wild spirit of the centaur: half rooted in the earth, half reaching for the stars. You were born with a compass in your soul, an arrow always pointing to something more. New lands. New truths. New versions of yourself you haven’t yet grown into. Ruled by Jupiter, you are the philosopher of fire. You seek truth not just in books or belief systems, but in conversations at midnight, in airports, in art, in the way people break and rebuild themselves. You’re not here to settle into one story, you’re here to live many. You see life as a grand, unfolding adventure. Even in pain, you look for purpose. Even in endings, you search for what it taught you. Your optimism is not naive, it’s resilient. You believe in better days because you’ve walked through darkness and still choose to believe in the light. You speak your truth with passion, sometimes without a filter, because honesty, for you, is love. You’d rather be bold than fake. But sometimes, in your rush to be truthful, you forget that softness doesn’t dilute the message, it deepens it. In relationships, you love with enthusiasm and freedom. You need room to roam, but also someone who keeps up with your mind. A fellow seeker. A co-adventurer. Someone who doesn’t ask you to shrink, but expands with you. And yet, when things start to feel still, you may mistake comfort for confinement. You may run, not because you don’t care, but because staying feels like a risk you don’t know how to navigate. But commitment doesn’t have to be a cage. It can be a launchpad. It doesn’t mean giving up who you are, it means allowing love to walk with you as you evolve. Your shadow emerges when movement becomes avoidance. When you chase the next experience hoping it will quiet the restlessness inside you. Your lesson is to realize that the truth you seek out there often begins in here. You don’t have to run to be free. You just have to trust that your fire won’t go out if you stand still long enough to let someone really see you. You were born to ignite wonder. To turn questions into constellations. To remind the world that joy is a kind of wisdom, and meaning is found not at the end of the road, but in the way you dare to travel it.

Sun in Capricorn ( December 22 - January 19 )

If your Sun is in Capricorn, you came here to build what lasts. To turn time into something sacred. To carve your purpose from stone because your soul needs something solid to stand on. You carry a quiet kind of strength, the kind that doesn’t need to be loud to be real. The kind that keeps showing up, even when no one’s watching. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.  Ruled by Saturn, the planet of structure, limits, and time, you were born with a sense of responsibility far beyond your years. While others drift, you plan. While others chase, you build. You move through life with intention. You don’t rush. You don’t cut corners. You know that success isn’t a stroke of luck, it’s the outcome of showing up over and over again, especially when the results are slow to come. You carry your goals like a sacred oath. You take your promises seriously, sometimes more seriously than your own rest, your own heart. To many, you are the one they lean on. The dependable one. The steady one. And while you carry that role with grace, it can sometimes leave you feeling like you have no space to fall apart. Like strength is your only option. But even mountains erode, and even you, brave soul, need space to be held. In love, you are deeply loyal, devoted in ways that aren’t always loud, but are always real. You show affection through protection. Through showing up. Through doing what needs to be done so the people you love feel safe. You may not wear your heart on your sleeve, but you build your relationships like you build everything else: with care, with time, with longevity in mind. Your shadow appears when responsibility turns into rigidity. When you forget to rest. When you believe that your worth is measured only by your output. You hold yourself to such high standards that sometimes, nothing feels like enough. And in chasing the next goal, the next achievement, you may miss the very moments your heart was quietly asking you to feel. You don’t need to do more to be more. You don’t need to carry everything to prove you’re strong. Your lesson is to remember that success also lives in softness. In stillness. In laughter that has no purpose but joy. In a single afternoon that asks nothing of you but your presence. You were born to build, yes. But not just structures. You’re here to build a life that nourishes your soul, not just your legacy. Let the sunset be your deadline sometimes. Let the moment win over the mission. And let someone else be the strong one, if only for a while.

Sun in Aquarius ( January 20 - February 18 )

If your Sun is in Aquarius, you came here to think what hasn’t been thought yet. To see the future and wonder why the world is still stuck in the past. To challenge every rule that no longer serves and quietly write your own. You are ruled by Uranus, the planet of rebellion and electricity. There’s a current running through you that others can’t always name, but they feel it the moment you enter a room. You don’t move like everyone else. You question, you reimagine, you redesign. You are not here to belong, you are here to awaken. Your mind is a constellation of brilliant ideas. You speak in visions, you live in questions, and you crave conversations that pull people out of small talk and into possibility. You are fascinated by what could be. What’s next. What hasn’t been done before. But behind that curiosity is a heart that doesn’t always know how to be held. You care deeply about humanity, about progress, about justice, but when it comes to your own emotions, you tend to step outside of them like an observer. You analyze what you feel instead of sinking into it. You keep your heart behind glass, not because you don’t want love, but because you’re not sure it knows what to do with someone like you. Your independence is sacred. You need space to breathe. To think. To remember who you are before merging with someone else. In love, you are loyal, surprising, and electric in ways that defy tradition. You don’t need a partner to complete you, you need one who understands that freedom is not the absence of love. It’s how you recognize it. But your shadow appears when distance becomes defense. When your detachment is really loneliness dressed as logic. You may offer your brilliance to the world while quietly wondering if anyone will ever understand the complexity beneath your calm. You don’t need to choose between thought and feeling. You are allowed to have both. To be wild and soft. To be brilliant and vulnerable. You are not too much. You are just ahead of your time. Let people in. Let them see past the spark into the circuitry. Let them hold the heart that built a universe of ideas. Because when you love, it’s a revolution. Not loud, but true. Not perfect, but pure. A quiet rebellion, where every touch says: I see you, even if the world never did.

Sun in Pisces ( February 19 - March 20 )

If your Sun is in Pisces, you came here to feel what the world has forgotten. To dream with your eyes open. To dissolve boundaries to remember that nothing is truly separate. You are ruled by Neptune, god of oceans and illusions. And like the sea, you hold depth that few can comprehend. You feel what isn’t said. You see beauty where others only see blur. You know the unspoken language of energy, how love lingers, how grief echoes, how silence can say everything. You are fluid. Ever-changing. You adapt not out of passivity, but out of understanding. You know how to become what the moment needs, how to mirror others so they feel safe, seen, held. But sometimes, you forget that your shape is sacred too, and it deserves to be honored, not just blended into what others desire. Your intuition is a compass no map can compete with. You feel your way through life, guided by a deeper knowing. And in your quietest moments, you carry messages that didn’t come from this world, but still ring true within it. That’s your gift. You are a bridge. Between what is and what could be. Between reality and the divine. In love, you give everything. You offer softness like shelter. You listen between the lines. You hold space not just for someone’s heart, but for their soul. But your love is so expansive that it can become boundary-less. You give until you vanish. You pour until you’re empty. And still, you wonder if it was enough. Your shadow appears when escape becomes easier than staying. When fantasy protects you from the harshness of truth. When you absorb the pain of others and call it your own. You retreat into dreams, into art, into numbness, hoping something there will feel safer than what’s right in front of you. But your softness is not weakness. And your sensitivity is not a flaw. It is the very thing that makes you holy. Your lesson is not to harden. It is to protect your sacredness without closing your heart. To learn that empathy without boundaries is a flood. And that your magic is not for everyone, you get to choose who receives it. You are the end and the beginning. The echo and the origin. You are water, yes, but not just any water. You are the tide that shapes the world in silence. The wave that knows exactly when to rise, and when to pull back. And in your patience, in your power, you show the world that healing doesn’t shout, it whispers.

📖👇😊

[undercurrent-if]

How would the ROs react if mc showed up with a pet that surfed with them?

Presumably this is post-romanced ROs

Hey there! :)

Wren:

She lights up the moment you walk onto the beach with the pet, as if this is possibly the best gift you've ever given her. She immediately drops her board and rushes over. "No way!" she exclaims, scooping the pet from your arms into hers.

She's grinning so wide it hurts to look at her. "You're telling me I get you and a sidekick? Today really is my birthday."

Wren would immediately insist the pet needs their own custom gear and a small tiny matching board. She's full of excitement and plans before you're even in the water.

Ash:

Ash smiles the moment they spot you, and it only widens when they see the pet in your hands. "You never stop surprising me," they say, voice warm. They reach a hand out to towards the pet.

"Looks like we'll need to make some room on the board for this little guy," they joke softly, already pulling your gear out of the makeshift shed next to you. All this pet is is an extension of you, and because of that, they'll be protective of it.

Kye:

Kye crosses their arms and raises an eyebrow, their mouth twitching at the corners like they're trying not to laugh. "You gonna teach it tricks too, or just how to wipe out with style?" They quip.

But there's no real bite in their voice—just a rough sort of fondness that they're terrible at hiding. When you set the pet down on the sand, Kye leans down, offering a hand with a gentleness you didn't know they had.

"Guess if you're keeping it around... it’s gotta be tough."

They nudge your shoulder. "Just like you."

Imani:

She blinks at first, taking a second to process the sight before her before a soft smile curls her lips. "Trust you to make even surfing a family event," she says warmly.

Letting the pet come to her on its own, she would kneel patiently, her smile never leaving her lips. "You're sweet, Surfer," she says without looking up. "This is where you and this little guy belong."

Cassian:

Cass is completely off guard when he sees you approach with a pet. He gives you a tight-lipped smile, meeting you halfway.

"I thought you were kidding when you said you were going to bring your pet?" He questions, his eyes briefly glancing down before going back to yours. Depending on your response, he sighs.

"I suppose it's not the worst idea... better company than some people," he teases, deadpan and low. You both start moving to gather your gear, Cass right beside you when he mutters, "Especially if it's yours."

Thank you so much!

[mononijikayu]

as the world caves in — ryomen sukuna.

In an instant, the peace you had cherished was shattered, replaced by the harsh reality of war. With a sense of dread knotting in your stomach, you looked at Sukuna who nodded back at you resolutely. Your uncle led the way, his voice ringing through the compound. There was no way back. There was only kill, or be killed.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Pseudo-Incest, Adoptive Cousins, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language, Smut, Detailed Depiction of Sex, Depiction of Sexual Foreplay, Sexual Penetration, Consensual Sex;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: as the world caves in by sarah cothran

note: beyond what i usually write, but i ended up doing it because i dont think it would be easy to fit in the next chapter. the next chapter is already decided. so i dont think i have the heart to add another chapter. the series is already long as it is. but still, i hope you enjoy it. i hope you enjoy the ride. buckle up, the chapters change from this on to absolutely brutally painful. anyway, i love you!!!

YOU HATED BEING HERE. In the tranquil expanse of neutral territory, where the boundaries blurred between the domains of the Ryomen and Fujiwara clans, an uneasy gathering took place. Here, beneath the boughs of ancient trees and amidst the whispers of nature, the destinies of two families intertwined. Families bound by bad, spoilt blood —blood that unites in misery, meet to unite again. 

Your bright colored kimono felt tighter as the air disappeared from your lungs. The weight of the fabric, usually a symbol of your clan's pride and dignity, now seemed like a constricting shroud, amplifying the suffocating tension that surrounded you. Each breath became a conscious effort, a reminder of the expectations and pressures bearing down on you from all sides.

You stood beside your father, Ryomen Isamu, his presence as imposing as the ancient trees around you. The towering oaks and cedars, with their gnarled trunks and sprawling branches, seemed to echo his steadfastness and strength.

Isamu's broad shoulders and firm stance radiated a quiet power, a testament to his unwavering commitment to honor and duty. His face, lined with the wisdom of age and experience, remained calm, though you could sense the undercurrent of resolve that lay beneath his composed exterior.

In stark contrast stood Fujiwara Ankoku, your grandfather. His cold eyes, sharp as a hawk's, pierced through the air with a severity that made the spring day feel like the dead of winter. His proud demeanor, honed by years of wielding power and influence, seemed to draw the very warmth from the surroundings, creating a palpable chill.

The lines on his face were etched deeply, not just by time but by the burdens of maintaining his family's supremacy. His robes, richly embroidered with symbols of the Fujiwara clan's authority, only amplified his intimidating presence.

The neutral ground, chosen meticulously to symbolize a chance at reconciliation, felt anything but peaceful. The tension between Isamu and Ankoku crackled like a storm ready to unleash its fury.

The air, thick with unspoken words and historical grievances, seemed almost tangible. Every rustle of leaves and every distant bird call felt amplified in the heavy silence that followed each exchange.

Your father spoke with measured calm, his voice steady and deliberate. "We seek an alliance built on mutual respect and honor, Ankoku-dono. This marriage is a chance to mend our….past wounds. We are kin, after all. We must move forward united."

Ankoku’s response was an apprehensive snicker. "Respect and honor, you say? Words often spoken too easily, Isamu-dono. It is a matter of them being upheld. What guarantees can you provide that your lineage is worthy of our name?"

Each word from your grandfather felt like a blade, slicing through the fragile hope for peace. His dismissive tone stoked the simmering anger within you. Your clansmen felt the same, you knew that too well. There was pride in all of you—the Ryomen were older, bolder, more ancient than the Fujiwara. 

Even so, to say that you were unworthy of your cousin Koku was entirely foolish. The clan had wondered in hushed whispers if Koku was even worthy of you. The Fujiwara had only been in such power for such a short time, one could consider it a blink.

You felt the burning pride for your clan call to you.You and your brother were born to such a glorious name. You were both worthy. You have no need to prove it. Your blood was noble. It will always be. 

"The same one which you had wrought upon me by marrying me to your daughter," your father retorted, his voice firm but edged with a restrained anger. 

Hiramu’s lips trembled with laughter, but he bit his lip.Your mother’s glare bore against your father’s head and then your uncle’s. The tension in his words was palpable, a clear challenge to Ankoku's authority. 

“Do you question me so, Ankoku–dono, that you forget thus?”

Ankoku's eyes narrowed, the lines on his face deepening as his expression turned icy. "My daughter brought honor and strength to your clan, Isamu-dono. It is you who must prove that your bloodline is worthy of continuing this legacy."

Isamu's jaw tightened, his composure fraying at the edges. "We have upheld our end of the alliance with dignity and strength. You see my daughter, as you have seen my son. They had grown to be the pride of our clan.  It is not our lineage that is in question here, but the sincerity of your intentions, Ankoku-dono."

A cold smile curled at the corners of Ankoku's lips. "Intentions, Isamu-dono? My intentions are transparent. I seek to ensure the superiority of the Fujiwara name. That is my duty. If that means questioning the worth of those who wish to align with us, so be it."

You could feel the air grow heavier with each passing moment, the space between your father and grandfather crackling with unresolved tension. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the intensity of the confrontation.

"An alliance built on mutual respect cannot thrive under a cloud of suspicion and disdain, Ankoku–dono." your father pressed on, his voice steady but with a hint of frustration. Sukuna catches your uncle’s eye for a moment. 

"Things as of late, it must be known as regretful. But we must move beyond these grievances if we are to secure a future of peace and prosperity for both our families. Have we not proven this with my own marriage?”

Ankoku's eyes flashed with a dangerous glint. "Peace and prosperity are earned, Isamu-dono, not freely given. Prove to me that my granddaughter can uphold the honor of the Fujiwara name, and perhaps then we can speak on the completion of this alliance.”

A sharp intake of breath from Sukuna caught your attention. His eyes, usually filled with warmth when meeting yours, were now cold and hard as he glared at Ankoku and then towards your cousin Koku.

The anger simmering within him mirrored your own, a shared defiance against the oppressive authority of your grandfather. Sukuna’s usually calm demeanor was replaced by a visible tension, his jaw clenched and his fists tightened at his sides.

Koku, seated beside you, seemed entirely unfazed by the turmoil around him. He sat with an air of smug confidence, his back straight and his chin lifted slightly, exuding an aura of superiority that only served to stoke the fires of resentment burning within you and Sukuna. The pride in Koku's eyes was unwavering, a clear indication that he felt secure in his position and indifferent to the suffering or discord that his family's actions caused.

As Sukuna's gaze bore into him, Koku met it with a condescending smirk, a look that spoke volumes about his sense of untouchable entitlement. He was the first born son, the symbol of Fujiwara pride, and he seemed to revel in the conflict, basking in the glow of his perceived invulnerability. And he was seeping in — destroying the peace, by forcing Fujiwara peace through a putrid marriage that should never be.

The tension was palpable, an invisible thread stretching taut between Sukuna and Koku, threatening to snap at any moment. The space between them crackled with unspoken animosities, the air thick with the weight of ancestral grudges and personal vendettas. You felt caught in the middle, the pressure of the moment making your kimono feel even tighter, your breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts.

"My daughter has proven his worth time and again, Ankoku–dono." Isamu countered, his voice rising. "It is not my daughter’s honor that is in question here, but your unwillingness to see beyond your prejudices.”

Ankoku's cold smile vanished, replaced by a stern, unyielding expression. "Choose your words carefully, Isamu-dono. This marriage is not just a union of individuals but a merging of legacies, of clans. Any misstep could bring dishonor upon us all."

Your father took a deep breath, steadying himself before responding. "We will honor this union, Ankoku-dono, but it must be based on mutual respect. If we continue down this path of mistrust and animosity, we doom ourselves to repeat the mistakes of the past."

The silence that followed was heavy, each second stretching into an eternity. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you watched the two patriarchs lock eyes, their wills clashing like titans in a battle for the future.

Ankoku finally broke the silence, his voice cold and measured. "Very well, Isamu-dono. We will proceed with this marriage. We will keep the peace. But know this: I will be watching closely. Any sign of dishonor or weakness, and the consequences will be severe."

As Ankoku turned away, the tension in the air began to dissipate, leaving behind a sense of uneasy resolution. Your father exhaled slowly, the strain of the confrontation evident in his eyes. You exchanged a long, meaningful glance with Sukuna, your silent vows of defiance and determination reaffirmed.

Ankoku, sensing the tension still lingering, paused and turned back towards Isamu, his cold eyes narrowing. "Do not mistake this agreement for weakness, Isamu-dono. The Fujiwara name demands nothing less than absolute loyalty and unwavering strength."

Isamu met Ankoku's gaze, his voice steady but edged with a simmering intensity. "And do not mistake our willingness to unite as submission, Ankoku-dono. We are equals in this alliance, and respect must be mutual if we are to succeed."

Ankoku's lip curled in a slight sneer. "Respect is earned, Isamu-dono. Your family has much to prove."

Isamu's jaw tightened, but he remained composed. "And we will, through actions and honor, not through empty words and hollow threats."

A tense silence followed, each word hanging heavily in the air. Ankoku's gaze flicked to you and Sukuna, his eyes narrowing with suspicion and challenge. "See that you do. The future of both our clans depends on it."

Isamu nodded, his expression unyielding. "Indeed it does. Let us hope that our children can bridge the gaps that we could not."

Ankoku turned to leave once more, but this time Isamu’s own voice stopped him. "Ankoku-dono, understand this: the Ryomen clan will not tolerate disrespect. We come to this union with duty in our hearts, but we will not be subjugated."

Ankoku's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and grudging respect. "Very well, Isamu-dono. Let us see if your actions can match your words."

As Ankoku finally walked away, the atmosphere remained charged with the remnants of their confrontation. Your cousin Koku stood from his position, his movements deliberate and measured. His smug expression never wavered, and he approached you with a condescending air that made your skin crawl.

"Well, little cousin." Koku began, his voice dripping with feigned politeness, "It seems we are to be bound by fate and duty. I hope you are prepared to uphold your part. To honor our family, despite your… humble origins."

You bristled at his words, but you held your ground, meeting his gaze with defiance. "I am ready to do what is necessary for our families' future, Koku–dono. I trust you will do the same."

“Oh so formal with me. Are we not family?” Koku's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "Of course, I will. After all, it is my duty to guide and protect you, to ensure that you do not falter in your responsibilities."

His patronizing tone grated on your nerves, but you refused to let him see your frustration. "I must do well by my family. I shan’t be degrading. I am sure this must reflect that I am perfectly capable of handling my responsibilities, Koku–dono. You need not concern yourself with such acts.”

Koku chuckled, a low, mocking sound that only served to heighten your irritation. "Ah, such spirit. It will be interesting to see how long it lasts. Remember, little Hiromi, this union is as much a test for you as it is for me. Do try not to disappoint."

Before you could respond, Sukuna stepped forward, his presence a solid wall of support beside you. His voice was cold and measured as he addressed Koku. "Hiromi-sama does not need your condescension, Koku-dono. Hiromi-sama is your equal, an heir of her lord. You must respect my lady."

Koku's eyes widened slightly, the surprise quickly masked by a sneer. "Respect, Sukuna? Respect is earned. Your Hiromi-sama may have the title, but she has yet to prove she deserves the honor that comes with it."

Sukuna's expression remained steely. "Hiromi-sama's worth is not for you to judge. My lady has shown strength and grace under immense pressure. That, in itself, commands respect."

Koku stepped closer, his gaze flicking between you and Sukuna, his voice dropping to a low, mocking tone. "It seems you have quite the protector, little cousin. But remember, loyalty can be a fleeting thing, especially when tested by the harsh realities of our world. One of course, your pet will never understand.”

You could feel Sukuna's anger simmering beside you, his body tense with barely restrained fury. You placed a hand on his arm, a silent plea for calm, and stepped forward to face Koku directly. You shook your head at him and mouthed an order, telling him to move away. Sukuna glared at you, as though he wishes to resist. Your eyes glared back, hardening at his indulgence. His face contorts and bows swiftly, before he walks off.

"My loyalty to my family and to this alliance is unwavering." you said, your voice steady and clear. "And I expect the same from you, Koku-dono. Do not let your arrogance blind you to the importance of unity. That is your hubris.”

Koku's sneer faltered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he masked it with a condescending smile. "Very well, little cousin. Let us play this game. Let us hope that your confidence is not misplaced."

He turned away, the tension in his posture revealing more than his words ever could. As he walked off, you exhaled slowly, the weight of the confrontation settling heavily on your shoulders.

At that moment, Your father Isamu had slowly come to approach you. You bowed before him, but he raised his hand, releasing you from that obligation to formality. He looks to you, before turning to order the servants away, to give you some privacy. In that moment of lonesomeness, the lord’s face withers to reveal a father’s.

Ryomen Isamu expressed a mix of pride and worry as he approached you. His gaze held a depth of concern that spoke volumes, revealing the inner turmoil he grappled with. "Daughter."

"Father." You smiled at him, but you knew, as he did, that it was never full. There was a weight to his words, a heaviness that lingered in the air between you. "I am glad to serve you and your will, father."

Isamu's expression softened, but the worry remained etched in the lines of his face. "Hiromi, you do not have to do this. I do not want you to sacrifice anything for the sake of peace."

You opened your mouth to argue, to reassure him of your commitment to the alliance, but before you could speak, Isamu's next words stopped you in your tracks.

"I know about you and Sukuna," he reveals quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "And if being with him is what makes you happy, then I will allow it. I would do anything for you to be happy, my dear. So that you may not suffer as much as me.”

Shock washed over you, mingled with a pang of guilt. You had thought your feelings for Sukuna were a secret, carefully concealed from prying eyes, but now you realized that your father had known all along. The realization was both comforting and heartbreaking, knowing that he had seen the turmoil within you and had chosen to support you nonetheless.

Tears welled in your eyes as you shook your head, your heart breaking at the thought of disappointing him. "Father, I... I cannot…" you whispered, the words catching in your throat. "As much as it pains me, I must do my duty to you, to our family, our clan. For the sake of peace. You know this.”

“Daughter—”

You feel tears prickle your eyes. “Father, please.”

Isamu's eyes glistened with unshed tears, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow. "I understand, my dear. Your sense of duty has always been your strength, and I am proud of the woman you have become."

His words wash over you like a balm, soothing the ache in your heart even as they deepen the resolve within you. You hold onto his embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of his love and understanding. It's a rare moment of vulnerability between you, a reminder of the unbreakable bond that ties you together as father and daughter.

The weight of his acceptance and support is both a comfort and a burden, knowing that he sees the sacrifices you make for the sake of peace, for the sake of your family's legacy. But in this moment, you also feel a flicker of hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness that surrounds you.

"Thank you, father," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "For everything."

Isamu pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he meets your gaze with unwavering love. "You are my daughter, Hiromi. And nothing will ever change that. No matter what challenges lie ahead, remember that I will always be here for you."

You nod, a lump forming in your throat as you try to hold back tears. "I know, father. And I will always strive to make you proud."

He enveloped you in a warm embrace, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the weight of the world. In that moment, you felt the depth of his love and sacrifice, and you vowed to do everything in your power to honor his trust and uphold the legacy of your family.

As you pulled away from the embrace, wiping away your tears, you met Isamu's gaze with a renewed sense of determination. "I will make you proud, father. I promise."

Isamu smiled, a bittersweet expression tinged with pride and love. "I know you will, my dear. And remember, no matter what challenges lie ahead, I will always be here for you."

With those words lingering in the air like a comforting embrace, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. Whatever trials awaited you on the path ahead, you knew that with your father's unwavering support and your own sense of duty guiding you, you would face them with courage and resilience.

TIME PASSED TOO QUICKLY FOR YOU TO KEEP UP. The past few weeks had been a blur of unspoken words and lingering heartache. But you could not say it out loud. You couldn’t cry out or sob about it. Not anymore. Your personal life could not get in the way, you knew that. But you couldn’t help it.

Not in the lonely nights when you long to brush your fingers against fuschia hair. Not when you long for the warmth that brings you the sun on cold nights. Not when you long for the rare smiles that truly only belong to you. 

These past weeks, Sukuna and you had not exchanged a single word. When you saw him, you tried to look away. When he looks at you, he lowers his gaze. Between the two of you, the silence between you grows heavier with each passing day. 

He has maintained that he is loyal to you, that he is your right hand man. That he only belongs to you. Yet, he cannot call you with all the loving names he has made for you. He cannot hold you, he cannot love you as you wanted him to. And it breaks your heart over and over.

You had tried to focus on your duties, to bury your sorrow in the preparations for your upcoming wedding to Koku, a union that you loathed. You tried to sleep it off, to bury out the sound of whispers.  But nothing had settled you. Not duty, not stifling your sorrow, not resting. The weight of duty pressed down on you, stifling your spirit and filling you with a sense of despair.

Uncle Hiramu had tried to speak to you, so did father. It was easily noticeable that you were unhappy about your day to day. They worried, you knew that much. But in each conversation that comes between you, you consistently said that you were fine.

You parrotted words that expressed the same thing — you must do your duty. A Ryomen must do their duty.  But you knew, they did not buy it one bit. Yet they kept their tongue tied and mouth closed.

In a desperate bid to escape the suffocating atmosphere, you saddled your horse and rode out into the countryside, the wind whipping through your loose dark hair as you sought solace in the open expanse. The rhythmic pounding of your horse's hooves against the ground provided a temporary reprieve from your thoughts, but no matter how far you rode,  no matter how fast, no matter how the pressure of your horse’s weight dove against you, you couldn't outrun the pain. 

Eventually, you slowed your pace, coming to a halt near a secluded grove of trees. Your kimono had all but become wrinkled, your hair tattered. You thank your horse in a small mumble, your breath echoing exhaustion. You dismounted and led your horse to a nearby stream, letting it drink as you sat on a large rock, your heart heavy with the burden of your unspoken sorrow.

Hours passed, the world around you a blur. Soon enough, your mind began to drift. Laying your head against the tree, closing your eyes from the image of the secluded grove. The stillness of the place wrapped around you, offering a brief respite from your pain.  The voices around you faded into the background, replaced by a distant hum as you retreated into the sanctuary of your memories.

You saw Sukuna’s face, his eyes filled with warmth and mischief as he teased you about a particularly clumsy moment during one of your training sessions. You remembered the way he laughed, a sound that felt like sunshine breaking through the clouds, lighting up even your darkest days. There were stolen moments in the garden, where he’d lean in close, his voice a soft murmur in your ear as he shared his dreams and hopes with you.

A particular memory surfaced, one of the two of you riding through the countryside, the wind in your hair and the world spreading out before you like an endless tapestry of possibilities. You recalled how he’d reached out to steady you as your horse stumbled, the warmth of his hand a comforting anchor. In those moments, with Sukuna by your side, the future seemed bright and full of promise.

But now, those days felt like a distant dream, a cruel illusion that had slipped through your fingers. The reality of your impending marriage to Koku, a man you neither loved nor respected, loomed over you like a storm cloud, darkening every corner of your heart.

The memory of Sukuna’s smile, his touch, his laughter, was too much to bear. Desperate to escape the suffocating weight of your duties and the impending wedding, you decided to steal a few moments of freedom. You sighed, not knowing or caring what the hour was. What propriety was as you lay against the grass. You could only want, you could only dream. You could only yearn. You wanted to pretend that your world isn’t falling apart. 

Moments later, the sound of approaching hooves reached your ears. You blinked, slowly returning into reality. With a heavy sigh, you sat up. You turned to see Mikoto Masaomi, your loyal guard, riding toward you. His expression was one of concern as he dismounted and approached you.

You felt like he had aged in just a small time, just looking for you. But then again, you had disappeared for so long. He got off his horse, and settled the animal beside your own. He walked towards you and bowed.

"Hiromi–sama." Masaomi said softly, his voice filled with worry. "We've been looking for you. Are you all right?"

“I’m alright.” You retorted, tight lipped. “I was just….”

Masaomi sighed, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of his concern. “Hiromi-sama, you do not have to lie. It is alright… to be honest with me. It is just me. Your loyal friend.”

You looked at Masaomi for a moment, searching his eyes for any sign of judgment or doubt, but found only sincerity and a deep, abiding loyalty. His presence, a constant in your life, offered a rare moment of solace amid the turmoil. For a moment, your brother’s face tethered in your mind as you looked at Masaomi. 

“Masaomi, I just....” you began, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. “I… I feel so lost. Everything is falling apart. Sukuna is gone, and I am being forced into a future I never wanted. It feels like I am being crushed under the weight of everyone's expectations, and I don’t know how much longer I can bear it.”

Masaomi nodded, his expression understanding and patient. “I know, Hiromi-sama. I see the strain this is putting on you, and it pains me to see you suffer. You have always been so strong, but even the strongest hearts can break under such pressure.”

His words struck a chord deep within you, and the tears you had been holding back spilled over. You turned away, trying to hide your vulnerability, but Masaomi gently took your hand, his touch grounding you in the present.

“It is alright to feel this way,” he continued softly. “You are not weak for wanting something different, for longing for happiness. You are human, and your feelings are valid.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the dam within you finally begin to break. “I miss him so much, Masaomi. Sukuna… he was my anchor, my hope…..my heart. And now, without him, I feel adrift, lost in a sea of expectations and duties that I never wanted.”

Masaomi’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, a reassuring pressure that reminded you of his unwavering support. “Hiromi-sama, your happiness is important. You deserve to find joy and peace, not to be shackled by obligations that only bring you pain.”

A fresh wave of tears blurred your vision, and you looked down, the words spilling from your lips in a torrent of despair. “But how can I? I am bound by duty to my family, to this alliance. My brother’s duty is mine. I cannot abandon them. If I refuse, it could mean disaster for everyone I love. How can I be so selfish as to choose my own happiness over the well-being of my clan?”

Masaomi’s voice was gentle but firm as he responded. “Choosing your own happiness is not selfish, Hiromi-sama. It is necessary. A leader who is broken and unhappy cannot effectively lead or bring peace. Your well-being is the prosperity of your clan, of all your vassals. Of me.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty. “But what can I do, Masaomi? How can I find a path that honors both my duty and my heart?”

Masaomi’s gaze was steady, his expression filled with determination. “We will find a way, Hiromi-sama. Whatever it takes, we will forge a path that allows you to fulfill your duties without sacrificing your soul. And if that means defying tradition or challenging those who stand in our way, then so be it. As I was with your brother, Akimu–dono, I am with you. Always.”

His words lit a spark of resolve within you, a flicker of hope that had been nearly extinguished. You squeezed his hand, drawing strength from his unwavering support. “Thank you, Masaomi. You have never abandoned me. I am grateful to you. Truly.”

Masaomi smiled, a rare expression that softened his usually stern features. “You will never have to find out, Hiromi-sama. The Mikoto will always stand with you. If we must go against the Fujiwara, then we will. Until death, Hiromi-sama. We will join you.”

The sincerity in his voice, the unwavering loyalty, filled you with a newfound determination. But there was still the lingering pain of separation from Sukuna, the unresolved feelings that gnawed at your heart. Masaomi seemed to sense this, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he studied your face.

“You need to talk to Sukuna when he returns,” Masaomi said gently but firmly. “You need to tell him how you feel, Hiromi-sama. Keeping these feelings locked away will only cause more pain. He deserves to know the truth, and you deserve the chance to find peace, whether it be with him or through closure.”

The idea of facing Sukuna after all this time, of baring your soul to him, was both terrifying and exhilarating. Your heart ached at the thought, but deep down, you knew Masaomi was right. Avoiding the truth had only prolonged your suffering.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What if… what if I’ve lost him forever?”

Masaomi shook his head, his expression resolute. “You will never know unless you speak to him. And even if his feelings have changed, at least you will have clarity. You cannot live in this state of suffering, Hiromi-sama. It is not fair to you, and it is not fair to him.”

You took a deep breath, the enormity of the decision settling over you. “When he returns… I will talk to him. I will tell him everything.”

Masaomi’s smile broadened, a rare show of genuine happiness. “That is all I ask, Hiromi-sama. Be true to yourself and to your heart. No matter the outcome, you will have the support of the Mikoto and of those who love you.”

As the last light of the setting sun bathed the grove in a golden glow, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. The path ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, you had a clear direction. You would confront your fears, face the truth, and fight for your own happiness, whatever that might look like.

You and Masaomi mounted your horses and began the ride back to the estate, the cool evening air washing over you. As you rode, you allowed yourself to hope. To imagine a future where you could find a way to honor both your duty and your heart, where you could find peace and perhaps, even happiness.

YOU TOOK MASAOMI’S ADVICE. The days stretched into weeks since you last saw Sukuna, the silence between you growing heavier with each passing moment. The engagement to Koku felt like a noose tightening around your neck, suffocating the very essence of who you were. You missed Sukuna terribly, his absence a constant, aching void. Finally, you could bear it no longer and summoned him to your chambers.

The night air was cool as you waited in your dimly lit room, the flickering candle casting shadows on the walls. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of your own breathing. When Sukuna finally arrived, he entered quietly, his presence filling the space with an intensity that made your heart race.

“Hiromi-sama,” he said formally, bowing slightly as he stood before you. “You called for me. Why am I here?”

The formality in his tone cut through you like a knife, a stark reminder of the chasm that had grown between you. You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. “We need to talk, Sukuna. There are things we need to say… things we need to understand.”

He nodded curtly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Very well. Speak.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I… I’ve missed you, Sukuna.” you began, your voice trembling. “I’ve missed us. This engagement…duty as it may be – it's tearing me apart. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel anything for you.”

A flicker of emotion crossed his face, but he quickly masked it. “You chose your duty, Hiromi-sama. You chose Koku.”

“I had no choice!” you cried, your voice breaking. “You know that…. My family, the clan… they all depend on this alliance. Peace depends on this. It’s not about what I want. It’s about what I have to do.”

“The Fujiwara care little for honor and you know this.” He hisses back at you. He shakes his head. “Do you honestly believe that they will not do some trickery, some game upon us?”

Your eyes narrow. “Sukuna, they are my kin. They shall honor–”

“Blood means little to the greedy.” 

“You know I cannot….” You whisper, lowering your gaze. You knew he was right. You knew that he was honest about it. When has Fujiwara been honorable? “You are not the only one suffering this, Sukuna.”

Sukuna’s eyes flashed with anger. “And what about me? What about what we have? What we had together, our love? Does that mean nothing to you? Do I mean little to you?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. “Of course it means something! It means the world to me. You mean everything to me…..But I’m trapped, Sukuna…..I…”

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel the same way? You’re not the only one suffering here, Hiromi.”

The raw emotion in his voice broke something inside you. It burns to hear only your name from his lips. Not his endearment. Not his token of love. The tears you had been holding back spilled over, and you turned away, trying to hide your vulnerability. 

“I hate this.” you whispered. “I hate all of it…..I don’t want to,....I don’t want us to fight. I don’t want to do away with this. From the person I love.”

Sukuna’s expression softened suddenly. It hurts him to see you in tears. To see you in pain. He sighed. He loses to you, he always does.  

He reached out, gently turning you to face him. “Night flower… look at me.”

You met his gaze, your heart breaking at the sight of his own anguish. “I don’t know what to do, Sukuna.” you confessed, your voice trembling. “I feel like I’m losing myself. I want to follow my heart but I just….”

He pulled you into his arms, his hold possessive and desperate. “You’re not alone in this, night flower. I told you, I will not abandon you.” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “We’ll find a way against the Fujiwara. Trust me.”

You felt the heat of his body against yours, the familiar scent of him enveloping you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, intimate space. He tilted your chin up, his eyes searching yours.

“Night flower,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You belong with me. You know that, don’t you?”

A sob escaped your lips as you nodded, the tears streaming down your cheeks. “I know.” you whispered back. “I’ve always known.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened with a fierce possessiveness as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing, desperate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of frustration, and of a love that refused to be denied. Your initial resistance melted away as you clung to him, pouring all your pent-up emotion into that single, searing moment.

His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer as if trying to meld your bodies into one. The intensity of his kiss left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel his desperation, his need for you, mirrored in your own.

When he finally pulled back, his breath ragged, he rested his forehead against yours. “I can’t let you go.” he whispers to you tenderly, shutting his eyes.. “No matter what it takes, night flower.  I’ll do it. Just….just stay with me.”

You nodded, the tears still streaming down your face. “I’m sorry, my love.” you agreed, your voice a whisper. “I really am.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I—”

He says, his eyes opening once more. “I’ll kiss you.”

You looked at him, tears spilling from your eyes. “Do it.”

“Beg for it.”

In the heat of the moment, your words dissolved into a needy moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as you surrendered to the overwhelming desire that pulsed between you. "Don't tease me." you pleaded, your voice husky with need, unable to deny the magnetic pull of his touch. “Please, my love.”

“Hm… what does this little flower want?”

“You.” You moaned, weak against his warmth. “Only you, my love.”

Sukuna’s response was immediate and primal. He growled deep in his throat, the sound reverberating through you and igniting a fierce, uncontrollable hunger. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, pulling you flush against his hard body. The intensity of his need matched your own, a raw, animalistic force that threatened to consume you both.

With a low, guttural sound, Sukuna's lips crashed down on yours, not gentle or tender, but demanding and feral. His kiss was a storm, fierce and unrelenting, his teeth grazing your lower lip as if to mark you as his. You gasped into his mouth, the pain only heightening your desire, and he took the opportunity to delve deeper, his tongue tangling with yours in a battle for dominance.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him. His hands roamed your body with a possessive urgency, his touch setting your skin aflame. He pushed you against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and you arched into him, a desperate whimper escaping your lips.

Sukuna's grip on you tightened, his nails digging into your flesh as he growled against your mouth. "You're mine, night flower." he snarled, his voice rough with possession and desire. "All mine."

The ferocity in his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you moaned, your body reacting instinctively to his dominance. You clawed at his clothed back, needing to feel him closer, to be consumed by the fire between you. Sukuna responded in kind, his mouth leaving a trail of fiery kisses down your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin, marking you as his own.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the world narrowing to just the two of you, lost in a whirlwind of passion and need. Every touch, every kiss, was a desperate claim, a refusal to let go. The line between pleasure and pain blurred as Sukuna's teeth grazed your collarbone, your back arching in response, pressing your body harder against his.

He pushed you back against the wall with a force that left you breathless, his body pressing firmly against yours. The hard, unyielding surface behind you contrasted starkly with the searing heat of his touch, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. Your back arched instinctively, seeking more of the delicious friction he offered, as your senses were overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. 

His hands roamed possessively over your body, igniting flames of desire wherever they touched. The sensation of his fingers tracing the contours of your skin sent shivers down your spine, awakening a hunger you hadn't realized was lying dormant within you. With each caress, each brush of his lips against your skin, you felt yourself surrendering to the primal need that pulsed between you.

Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer, urging him to deepen the kiss. Sukuna's lips trailed down your neck, leaving a burning path of bites and kisses in their wake. Each touch was like fire against your skin, sending waves of pleasure cascading through your body and making your head spin with dizzying delight.

With a rough, almost desperate motion, he tore at your clothes, his hands exploring your skin with a fervent need that sent shivers down your spine. Fabric tore away under his touch, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his hungry gaze. The air crackled with anticipation as he hungrily drank in the sight of your bare skin, his eyes ablaze with an intensity that made your heart race even faster.

You tear at his clothes eagerly, happily — not caring about the cost, the damage. Such fine clothes do not need to exist. You wanted him. You wanted your lover. You did not care for much else. You wanted it off. You wanted to feel him. Skin to skin, the advent of bare worlds merging together in the flesh. 

"I've waited long enough," he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed his body closer to yours, his lips tantalizingly close to yours. The heat of his words sent a surge of desire coursing through you, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you both. “I can’t do it anymore.”

The raw hunger in his voice stirred something primal within you, awakening a need that mirrored his own. You found yourself responding to him with an urgency you couldn't deny, your body arching into his touch as you surrendered to the overwhelming passion that pulsed between you.

His hands moved with purpose, exploring every inch of your exposed skin with a reverence that made your breath catch in your throat. Fingers traced delicate patterns along your curves, sending electric currents dancing across your flesh and setting your nerve endings ablaze with sensation.

"I won't let anyone else have you," he vowed, his words a fierce declaration of possession as he claimed you as his own. There was a primal possessiveness in his touch, a certainty that you belonged to him and him alone, that sent a thrill of excitement racing through you. “No one, not any man. No one.”

In that moment, there was no room for doubt or hesitation, only the wild, untamed passion that burned between you. You surrendered yourself completely to him, giving in to the irresistible pull of desire that drew you together like moths to a flame.

As his lips crashed down on yours once more, sealing the union, that vow with a searing kiss. You knew that there was no turning back. You were his, body and soul, bound together in a love that defied reason and logic, a love that would endure for eternity.

As Sukuna's lips claimed yours in a fervent kiss, his hands continued their exploration of your exposed skin, tracing every curve and contour with an expert touch that left you trembling with anticipation. With each caress, he seemed to stoke the flames of desire within you, igniting a burning hunger that threatened to consume you entirely.

His touch was electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body and leaving you yearning for more. Fingers danced along the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing down to your collarbone before wandering lower, teasing the edges of your desire.

With a skillful motion, Sukuna's hands roamed lower still, tracing the outline of your hips before slipping beneath the fabric of your remaining clothing. His touch was bold and confident, fingers dancing lightly over the heated flesh of your thighs as he moved ever closer to the source of your need.

You gasped as his fingertips brushed against your most intimate parts, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. Each touch was like fire against your skin, igniting a wildfire of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely.

Sukuna's touch was relentless, brutish. You feel like you would burn at each motion. His fingers expertly coaxing forth the symphony of pleasure that lay dormant within you. With each stroke, each caress, he pushed you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy, his lips claiming yours in a heated kiss that mirrored the fervor of your desire.

As the intensity of his touch reached its peak, you felt yourself teetering on the brink of release. Moan after moan, your entire being was consumed by the flames of passion that raged between you. With a final, exquisite touch, Sukuna pushes you over the edge, sending you spiraling into the depths of pleasure as you surrender yourself completely to him.

Your reaction was one of pure ecstasy, a symphony of pleasure that swept through every fiber of your being. As Sukuna's skilled hands and lips worked their magic, you felt yourself unraveling, surrendering to the overwhelming tide of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely.

Every touch, every caress sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge of release.

When Sukuna finally pushed you over that edge, sending you spiraling into the depths of ecstasy, it was like nothing you had ever experienced before. You felt like you were seeing the stars for the first time.

The way he made you feel, the way his fingers played through your confines made you quiver, shake over and over. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last, until you were lost in a haze of pure bliss.

As the intensity of the moment began to ebb, Sukuna's voice cut through the haze of pleasure, his tone husky with desire. "You're mine," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. He bites against your neck. “Mine, mine. Forever mine.”

You let out a soft moan of contentment, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. His possessiveness could only ever make you even more pleasured.

"’kuna," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You felt broken against him, so deliciously broken. And he loved it. “I’m…gonna…gonna…ah!”

The air crackled with raw intensity as Sukuna's gaze bore into yours, his eyes dark with desire. "Say it," he demanded, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. “Say it, night flower.”

"I'm yours," you replied, your voice filled with a mixture of passion and submission. “I’m….oh…I’m yours! Yours!”

Sukuna's grip tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin with an almost painful urgency. "Louder, little one." he commanded, his voice tinged with a hint of dominance. “I don’t care if they hear us. Louder.”

"I'm yours!" you exclaimed, your voice rising with each word as you surrender yourself completely to him.

A fierce hunger burned in Sukuna's eyes as he claimed you once more, his touch rough and possessive as he took you to heights of pleasure you had never known before. Every movement was charged with an intensity that left you gasping for breath, his hands exploring every inch of your body with a relentless urgency that drove you to the brink of madness.

As the crescendo of passion reached its peak, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment. And then, with a cry that echoed through the room, you came undone in his arms, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling and spent in the aftermath of your shared release.

In that moment, there was no past, no future, only the present - a fleeting instant of pure, unadulterated bliss that bound you together in a timeless embrace.

And as you basked in the afterglow of your shared passion, you knew that this was where you belonged - in the arms of the one who had awakened the deepest desires within you.

Sukuna's lips curled into a smug smirk as he watched you, his eyes alight with satisfaction at having brought you to such heights of pleasure. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, a silent testament to the intensity of the moment.

"Was that everything you hoped for?" he asked, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

You could only nod in response, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your release. Words failed you in that moment, lost in the overwhelming sensation of being utterly and completely consumed by him.

Sukuna's smirk widened as he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his touch gentle now, a stark contrast to the rough intensity of moments before.

"You belong to me, night flower." he murmured against your skin, his words a promise and a vow all rolled into one. “You are mine to love, to have, to live, to breathe. To bow to. To yearn for. You are only mine.”

“Make it so.” You huff tenderly at your lover. “I am truly yours.”

As Sukuna's hands skillfully undid the fastenings of his pants, releasing his arousal, a surge of anticipation coursed through your veins like wildfire. The sight of him, his eyes ablaze with unbridled desire, set your heart thundering against your chest with an intensity that matched the rhythm of your racing breaths. In that electrifying moment, the confines of the room seemed to shrink, the air thick with the palpable tension of longing and need.

With a hunger so primal it bordered on desperation, you met his lips once more in a pulsing kiss, your bodies melding together in a fiery embrace.

The world dissolved into a blur of sensation as you drowned in the heady rush of his touch, every caress like a flame igniting your skin, sending ripples of pleasure cascading through your entire being. Each brush of his fingertips against your skin was a symphony of ecstasy, each stroke leaving you gasping for more.

Your hands moved with a frenzied urgency, exploring every inch of his body with a fevered passion. Fingers traced the contours of his form, memorizing every dip and curve as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating pull of desire.

There was no room for restraint in this tempest of passion, no need for words as your bodies spoke the language of lust and longing, entwined in a dance as old as time itself.

When you parted for air, Sukuna moved slightly and you watched as he towered before you, even in his kneeling position. His presence was overwhelming, commanding the entirety of the room. His figure exuded an aura of raw power, every sinew and muscle of his sculpted physique hinting at the strength that lay beneath. 

Your eyes trailed down his form, taking in the breadth of his shoulders and the defined lines of his torso. He was a towering figure, his height accentuated by the sheer magnitude of his presence. And as your gaze lingered on the bulge straining against the fabric of his pants, you couldn't help but marvel at the sheer size of him.

He was a man of undeniable stature, you had always known so. But to see him in full, to the bareness of his person – you found that he was possessing a primal magnetism that drew you in even more with an irresistible force. And as he moved closer, the intensity of his presence seemed to envelop you, filling the air with an electric charge that sent shivers down your spine.

In that moment, you were acutely aware of just how small you felt in comparison, and yet, there was an undeniable allure to his size, a primal instinct that stirred within you at the thought of being consumed by him entirely.

And as he drew you into his embrace, you couldn't help but surrender yourself to the overwhelming sensation of being enveloped by his sheer magnitude, knowing that in his arms, you were safe and utterly, completely his.

As Sukuna stood before you, his presence looming large, you couldn't help but remark, "You're so... big."

A smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, his voice low and husky. "And you like that, don't you?" he teased, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks as you admitted, "Yes, I do."

Sukuna's smirk widened into a grin as he closed the distance between you, his arms enveloping you in a strong embrace. "Good." he murmured against your ear, his voice laced with desire. "Because I'm going to make you feel every inch of it."

As Sukuna positioned himself above you, a primal hunger burned in his eyes, mirroring the fierce desire coursing through your veins. With a rough urgency, he slid inside, the heat of your connection igniting a wildfire of sensation that threatened to consume you both. Your eyes locked in a fierce gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the raw passion that bound you together.

His thrusts were relentless, each movement driving you both closer to the edge of oblivion. With each powerful thrust, he claimed you as his own, his dominance asserting itself with every primal urge. Your body met his roughness as though a thunderous wave against a cliff. You surrendered to him, every touch igniting sparks of pleasure that sent shockwaves through your entire being.

Before you could react, Sukuna closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, his hands gripping your shoulders with a possessive strength that left no room for escape. His touch was rough, demanding, as he pinned you beneath him, a primal force of nature unleashed. In that moment, there was no denying the intensity of his desire, no escaping the magnetic pull of his dark desires.

The hard, unyielding surface undernearth burnt you as his thrusts pushed you against the tatami floor and over roughly. It was a sharp contrasted with the searing heat of his touch, heightening the sensations that coursed through your body. Your hands instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his hair as you returned his kiss with equal fervor.

As Sukuna positioned himself to bottom out, his eyes ablaze with hunger, he whispered huskily, "My darling wife, my little bride. My night flower.”

Your breath hitched as you met his intense gaze, feeling a surge of arousal coursing through you. "Yes, yes….y’r wi’e, ah, ah yo’r bri’e!" you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “M’ husb’d, my husba’d!”

With a primal growl, Sukuna claimed your lips in a battering kiss, his hands gripping your shoulders with possessive strength. "Good little wife." he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with desire. " I'm going to show you what it means to belong to me."

As Sukuna's desire intensified, so did his movements. With a growl of primal need, he increased the force of his thrusts, driving himself deeper into you with each powerful movement. Your body responded eagerly to his rough dominance, every thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You gasped at the intensity of his actions, your nails digging into his back as you surrendered yourself completely, honestly, truthfully, to the raw passion of the moment. "Mo’e," you moaned, your voice thick with desire. “Faster, fast’r…oh, oh!”

Sukuna's lips curled into a feral grin as he complied with your plea, his movements becoming even rougher, more primal. Each thrust was a declaration of his dominance, a reminder of the unbridled passion that burned between you.

With each thrust, Sukuna's control slipped further, consumed by the primal urge to possess you completely. His movements were primal, bordering on savage, as he claimed you as his own with each powerful thrust. The room echoed with the sound of your moans, a symphony of pleasure that filled the air as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating rhythm of his desire.

You arched your back, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as you sought to satisfy the insatiable hunger that burned between you. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, a whirlwind of sensation that threatened to engulf you both in its fiery embrace.

As Sukuna's primal desire surged, he growled against your ear, his voice thick with lust. "You feel so good, so tight around me," he rasped, his breath hot against your skin.

Your own voice was lost in a symphony of pleasure, your moans mingling with his as you surrendered to the primal rhythm of your bodies. "Hard’r!," you pleaded, your nails digging into his skin as you urged him on. “I’m feeling….I’m feel’ng… Please!, ‘on’t stop! ‘Kuna, ah!”

With a primal grunt, Sukuna complied, his thrusts becoming even more forceful, more desperate. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, building towards an inevitable climax that promised to consume you both in its fiery embrace. 

You were certain that you could no longer think. Not about propriety, or who ever could hear. It doesn’t matter. Only he did. He was your world. And you know you were his.

As the intensity of your pleasure peaked, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. "’m cloooose…" you gasped, your voice strained with the impending release. Tears flow through your face freely.  “‘Kuna, it…oh, oh!”

Sukuna's movements became even more relentless, driving you towards the brink with a primal urgency. He bites against your neck hard, causing you to mewl. 

 "Come for me," he growled, his voice rough with desire as he urged you on. “Come, little wife. You could do it. Give your husband one more.”

With a cry of ecstasy, you shattered into a million pieces, waves of pleasure crashing over you in an overwhelming crescendo. Your body trembled with the force of your release, every nerve ending ablaze with sensation as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure that consumed you.

But Sukuna wasn't far behind. With a feral roar, he followed you over the edge, his own release tearing through him with a savage intensity. You felt him pulse inside you, each throb of his hot release sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

As you both rode out the aftershocks of your shared climax, you collapsed into each other's arms, spent and sated. In that moment, there was no room for anything else but the raw, unbridled passion that bound you together. 

As you lay entwined in the aftermath of your passionate encounter, Sukuna held you close, his breath still ragged with desire. "I never want to be separated from you." he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. “Not in this lifetime, not the next. Never.”

You melted into his embrace, overwhelmed by the intensity of his declaration. "I don't ever want to be apart from you either." you murmured, your heart swelling with love.

Sukuna's arms tightened around you possessively, as if afraid to let you slip away. "Promise me you'll stay." he pleaded, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

You looked up into his eyes, seeing the depth of his love reflected in their depths. "I promise, my love." you vowed, sealing your commitment with a lingering kiss. “Now and forever.”

IT WAS TERRIFYING TO STAND BEFORE YOUR FATHER NOW. You and Sukuna knelt side by side in the grand hall, the tension thick in the air. Before you stood your father, Lord Isamu, and his brother, Hiramu, Sukuna’s own adoptive father — your uncle. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on you, it now feels real. But you had made your decision. It was time to face the consequences of your actions.

The grand hall, with its high ceilings and ornate decorations, seemed to close in around you. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of clothing or the distant murmur of servants. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a reminder of the enormity of what you were about to confess.

Sukuna's hand in yours was a small comfort, a reminder that you were not alone in this. His presence, solid and unwavering, gave you the strength to meet the stern gazes of the men before you. Lord Isamu, your father, looked weary, the lines on his face deepening with concern. Hiramu, Sukuna's father, wore a mixture of curiosity and amusement, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

"Father," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "we have come to confess something important."

Isamu’s eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle indication of anticipation His gaze, warm and reassuring, also held a hint of wariness as he studied you, as if trying to decipher the truth behind your words. It was a look you had seen before, often preceding moments of stern reprimand or heartfelt advice.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Despite the urge to look away, you met his gaze head-on, determined to convey the sincerity of your words. There was no turning back now; you and Sukuna had made your decision, and you were prepared to face the consequences, whatever they may be.

"Sukuna and I... we've... we've performed all the acts of marriage," you confessed, the words spilling from your lips in a rush. Each syllable hung in the air, heavy with implication, as you awaited your father's reaction.

For a moment, there was silence—a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch on indefinitely. Isamu's expression remained inscrutable, his features a mask of carefully controlled emotion. It was as if he were weighing your words, measuring them against some unseen standard of judgment.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. "Is that so?" he said, his voice deceptively calm. There was a sharpness to his tone, a subtle undercurrent of disapproval that sent a chill down your spine. It was a tone you knew all too well—a warning that you were treading on dangerous ground.

You felt a pang of guilt at the thought that it was disappointment in his eyes. Yet, beneath the veneer of reproach, there was something else—a flicker of understanding, perhaps, or even a trace of resignation. Isamu was a man of duty, bound by the traditions and obligations of his station, but he was also a father, with all the complexities and contradictions that entailed. You were his only child left. What should he let you suffer more? 

As you awaited his response, you couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were swirling in his mind. Was he disappointed in you? Angry? Or did he, in some small corner of his heart, understand the depth of your love for Sukuna, despite the circumstances?

Whatever the case, one thing was certain: the road ahead would not be easy. You had chosen to defy convention, to follow your heart in the face of overwhelming opposition. But as you looked into Isamu's eyes, you knew that you would face whatever challenges came your way, you would not forsake Sukuna. He was yours. He was your heart. He was your soul. Your husband. You would not forsake him, even if your father did.

Sukuna took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Ryomen Hiromi, the most noble of your blood, is my wife." he said clearly, his voice unwavering. "In every way that matters, we are husband and wife, my lord. I will not….I will not forsake my wife. Not even if you put me to death for it.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Ryomen Isamu sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping with the weight of the revelation. He felt a headache pulse through his head. The hubris of love between the youth. He could only wonder what it was like.

"This means the marriage with Koku cannot happen." he said, his voice tinged with weariness. The strain of the past weeks was evident in his eyes, the conflict between duty and his love for you tearing at him. “After all the work we put into it….”

“Father, I know that I….that I insisted on doing my duty.” You gulped as you held tighter to Sukuna’s hand. “But I cannot forsake my heart. I love Sukuna. I do. And my heart, it is stronger than anything else. I cannot live without it. And I cannot live without Sukuna. Please, father. I shall do anything you ask of me.”

“I too will do the same.” Sukuna added hastily as he held his head high in front of your father. He looks to you for a moment, before he returns his attention to his new father-in-law. “I am devoted to your daughter. Only to Hiromi. If there must be consequences, I will bear it with my wife, as she insists. We are yours to command, my lord.”

Hiramu laughed, breaking the tension with a hearty sound. "At least the kids are honest with us now, eh, brother?," he said, clapping Sukuna on the shoulder. He turned to you with a warm smile. "Welcome to the family, daughter-in-law."

You blushed at his words, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. Holding Sukuna's hand tightly, you looked up at your father. You let go of your husband’s hand and slowly lowered yourself to bow towards your uncle. “Thank you, father-in-law.”

Isamu's stern expression softened slightly, and he slowly nodded. “Well, what is there for me to do, brother? We have no choice….They have consummated marriage. It is known. It is done.”

“I shall try to be worthy of your trust, father-in-law.” Sukuna too humbled himself, bowing before your father, who sighed heavily at his act.“I will not let you down.”

“You best not.” Isamu retorts back, his words stern. “My daughter risks ruin, the clan risks war. There is much that costs us. You both followed your hearts more than your brain’s logics–”

"Now calm down, brother. You act like you aren’t happy that your daughter is happy." Hiramu said, snickering.

“She is my only child left, I am happy. But as clan leader, I simply cannot—”

Hiramu waved his elder brother off. "We'll deal with it. As long as Hiromi and Sukuna are happy. I don’t think anything is to be frowned upon.”

Isamu sighed, nodding resignedly at his younger brother’s words. “Perhaps your grandfather would be satisfied with a plausible marriage peace between your future children and Koku’s own children.”

“Or if there is a war—”

“Brother, we will not seek war just because our children wed.” Isamu sighed at his younger brother, who rolled his eyes. “There is more logic to Ankoku–dono than that.”

“We shall see.” Hiramu snickers bitterly. 

Tears welled in your eyes at his words, a flood of emotions overwhelming you. The fear, the uncertainty, and the relief all mingled together, leaving you momentarily speechless. Sukuna squeezed your hand, grounding you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your feelings.

"Thank you, father," you finally managed to say, your voice thick with emotion. "I know this isn't what we have planned, but I promise we'll make it work. We'll find a way to honor our families with the duties you endow on us now.”

Isamu nodded again, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You always were strong-willed, little one." he said softly. "I told you. I have always known you would find your own path."

Hiramu chuckled. "And it's a good path." he said, his eyes twinkling with pride. "No paths are bound, after all. The Ryomen will be stronger for this. Do not worry.”

As you knelt there, holding Sukuna's hand, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. The road ahead would be challenging, but you were not alone. With your family’s blessing, and Sukuna by your side, you were ready to face whatever came next. Nothing is hard now.

YOU ENJOYED THE PEACE IN SUKUNA’S ARMS. In the serene embrace of marital bliss, the world outside seemed to fade away as you and Sukuna basked in the warmth of each other's love. With every tender caress and whispered endearment, you found solace in the sanctuary of each other's arms. 

Your father and uncle's decision to delay the announcement of your marriage felt like a reprieve, a precious respite from the tumultuous currents of politics and conflict that swirled around you. In these quiet moments, you reveled in the simple joys of the companionship of your husband. In these slowly drifting days of joy, you happily yearned for finding refuge from the storm that raged beyond the confines of your shared quarters.

The prospect of a public declaration of your union loomed on the horizon, promising both joy and uncertainty. You do not know how the whole world will react. But for now, you were content to linger in this private cocoon of happiness, savoring each stolen moment together.

The world does not sleep in your bed. Your husband does. And you wanted to indulge into the privacy of your world as much as you could. You wanted to belong to each other before you did the world.

Wrapped in the soft glow of candlelight, you and Sukuna exchanged tender glances and gentle smiles, your hearts overflowing with love and gratitude. In each other's presence, you found strength and reassurance, a beacon of hope in a world fraught with uncertainty.

As you lay intertwined in a tangle of limbs and whispers, the outside world faded into obscurity, its worries and conflicts distant echoes in the hush of the night. Here, in the sacred space of your love, you found sanctuary from the chaos that threatened to engulf the world outside. And for a fleeting moment, all was right in the world.

As the moon cast its gentle glow upon the room, you lay beside Sukuna, his warmth a comforting presence beside you. Thoughts of the future danced through your minds, visions of a family together, of laughter and love filling the halls of your home.

As Sukuna's whispered desire lingered in the air, his voice carrying the weight of his affection and longing, you felt a blush tinge your cheeks, a telltale sign of the emotions stirring within you.

His words, filled with warmth and tenderness, ignited a spark of joy in your heart, the prospect of sharing in the joys of parenthood with him filling you with a sense of profound happiness.

“I should like a daughter.” He whispers to you in the dawn of moonlight, kissing your cheeks tenderly. “One that looks like you. With all your warmth and your beauty. I should be satisfied with spoiling a tender girl from you.”

"I would be happy with that." you confessed, your voice soft and filled with love, your heart overflowing with adoration for the man beside you. The thought of bringing a daughter into the world, a precious soul to cherish and nurture, filled you with a sense of purpose and fulfillment. “But I want her to look like you too.”

“We can have a few.”

You pouted at him. “But that shall take effort.”

He laughs, pinching your cheeks. “Who says I shan’t have the effort to make it possible?”

“Oh, you are so happy to enjoy being in bed with me so well.”

Your husband nudges his head against your head. “Is it too bad for a happy husband to indulge in his little wife?”

“No,” You can only sigh with that, letting him hold you closer. “I shall indulge my husband as he pleases.”

Sukuna had a small playful glint danced in his eyes, his smirk betraying a mischievousness that never failed to elicit a chuckle from you. “Then my little wife shall be spoiled as can be by my affections.”

“Hm…I shall let you do so.”

“Oh, you must or I shall be forceful with it.” He presses kisses across your neck, inciting giggles out of you. 

"But I should like a son. One that takes after you," you admitted to him, your voice laced with affectionate teasing, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. “With your sharp eyes and your impatience. Your cheeky nature. I shall like that so much.”

Sukuna's smirk widened into a playful grin as his fingers brushed against your loose locks, his touch sending a shiver of delight coursing through you. "You desire such a boy swaddling against your chest the way I do?" he teased, his voice tinged with amusement. “Oh, you shall like that won’t you?”

You couldn't help but laugh at his jest, swatting his hand playfully as a blush colored your cheeks. "Oh, you are insufferable, my love." you chided, though the fondness in your voice betrayed your true feelings. “All too much.”

In moments like these, surrounded by Sukuna's playful banter and affectionate teasing, you found yourself falling even deeper in love with the man who held your heart. The thought of starting a family together filled you with a sense of purpose, a shared dream that bound you together even more tightly.

Sukuna's playful smirk softened into a tender smile as he gazed at you, his eyes alight with affection. "Only because I love you, little wife." he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “My only night flower.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the warmth of his love enveloping you like a gentle embrace. Despite the teasing banter, there was an undeniable depth to Sukuna's affection, a steadfast devotion that anchored you to him in a bond that transcended words.

"I love you too," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Sukuna's embrace and the soft glow of the moonlight, you felt a sense of completeness wash over you, as if all the pieces of your soul had finally found their rightful place. “More than you know.”

As the night wore on, you both drifted into a peaceful slumber, the rhythm of each other's breathing a comforting lullaby. In each other's arms, you found safety and serenity, the worries of the world fading into insignificance.

But the tranquility was short-lived. Abruptly, you were jolted awake by urgent shouts and the clamor of weapons clashing. Your uncle's voice pierced through the darkness, his words heavy with urgency.

“Rouse from your bed, make haste!”

“What has happened?” You pondered as you scrambled to your feet, with your husband’s help.

"The Fujiwara are attacking." he exclaimed clearly, with no hesitation.

Sukuna mumbles. "They never intended to keep the peace. They intended a distraction.”

Hiramu shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter now. There’s a lot to be done.”

“What must we do, uncle?” You whispered to him, your brows furrowing.

“Kill.” Hiramu uttered with tension. “In the way a Ryomen knows how.“

In an instant, the peace you had cherished was shattered, replaced by the harsh reality of war. With a sense of dread knotting in your stomach, you looked at Sukuna who nodded back at you resolutely. Your uncle led the way, his voice ringing through the compound. There was no way back. There was only kill, or be killed.

THERE WAS NO TIME TO WORRY ABOUT YOUR PROPRIETY. Emerging from the confines of your residence, still clad in the elegant folds of your inside kimono, you stepped outside hand in hand with your husband, Sukuna. The air crackled with tension, and the acrid scent of battle hung heavy in the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of cherry blossoms that drifted on the breeze.

As chaos erupted outside, the once serene courtyard transformed into a battleground, the urgent clangor of battle reverberating through the air like a thunderous symphony. The sounds of metal meeting metal, of shouted commands and desperate pleas, filled the space around you, drowning out all other noise.

With a sense of grim determination, you and Sukuna rushed forward alongside your uncle, your footsteps quick and purposeful. The courtyard was a hive of activity, clan members standing shoulder to shoulder, their faces set in expressions of fierce resolve as they channeled their cursed energy to create a protective dome shield against the relentless onslaught of the Fujiwara attacks.

Amidst the chaos, voices rose in a cacophony of sound, some screaming encouragement and rallying cries, while others spat curses and insults at their adversaries. The air crackled with a palpable tension, each member of the clan fully immersed in the gravity of the situation, their commitment to defending their home and their loved ones unwavering.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as you took in the scene before you, the tableau of bravery and sacrifice etched into the very fabric of your being. With every beat of your heart, you felt the weight of responsibility pressing down upon you, urging you to stand tall and fight for what you believed in.

With Sukuna's hand clasped tightly in yours, you steeled yourself for the battle ahead, drawing strength from the unwavering support of your loved ones. Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, united in your determination to protect everything you held dear.

With determination etched into your features, you turned to Sukuna, your eyes meeting him with unwavering resolve. "I'll go and release cursed energy to reinforce the shield," you declared, your voice firm despite the tremor of fear that lingered in the depths of your being.

“You go with uncle Hiramu. There’s so many sectors of the manor that remain unshielded. They need you more than I do right now.”

Sukuna's gaze softened with concern, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "And I'll go and fight in areas the shield can't reach," he vowed, his voice resolute as he met your eyes with unwavering determination. “Be safe, wife.”

You nodded in silent agreement, a silent understanding passing between you as you shared a brief, tender kiss. In that fleeting moment, you conveyed a wealth of unspoken promises and emotions, a silent vow to stand together against the tide of adversity.

With one final, lingering glance, you and Sukuna parted ways, the weight of the impending battle heavy on your shoulders. Each determined to do your part in the raging conflict that threatened to consume your home, you rushed towards your respective duties, the urgency of the moment propelling you forward.

As you sprinted towards your kin, your body thrummed with an electrifying surge of cursed energy, its power coursing through your veins like a raging torrent. Every step forward was fueled by a fierce determination to protect those you loved, to stand firm against the tide of adversity that threatened to overwhelm you.

Your kin turned to you, their eyes alight with a mixture of hope and desperation as you approached, the aura of your cursed energy pulsating around you like a halo of light. With a determined focus, you joined your palms together, the air crackling with anticipation as the energy around you intensified, thickening against the encroaching darkness.

As you unleashed the full force of your cursed energy, a blinding white light erupted from your palms, enveloping those around you in a protective barrier of pulsating energy.

With each passing moment, the barrier expanded, its formidable strength pushing back against the relentless onslaught of the Fujiwara attacks, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos that raged around you.

“Be careful, Hiromi–sama!” One of your kinsfolk says to you, his strained voice echoing across the courtyard to you. 

"I will," you called back, your voice firm with resolve. With a final wave, you turned back to face the fray, your focus fully on the task at hand.

As you continued to channel your cursed energy, the strain of maintaining the protective barrier began to take its toll on your body. Beads of sweat formed on your brow as you poured every ounce of your strength into the effort, the weight of responsibility pressing down upon you like a heavy burden. You knew this cannot be kept up for too long.

You can give as much as your cursed energy as much as you can, but the other kinsfolk would not last. If you don’t have them, the barriers would fall.

As the chaos of battle unfolded around you, your voice rang out with commanding authority, cutting through the clamor like a clarion call. With a fierce determination burning in your eyes, you singled out one of the guards amidst the fray, his sword gripped tightly in his hand.

"You!" you shouted, your voice echoing across the courtyard with a commanding force. "Rally all the women and children towards the tunnels. Alert an evacuation now!"

The urgency in your tone left no room for hesitation as you issued your orders, your gaze unwavering as you met the guard's eyes. Every word was imbued with a sense of purpose, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Around you, the chaos of battle continued to rage, but amidst the turmoil, your voice served as a beacon of clarity and direction. With swift efficiency, the guard nodded in acknowledgment of your command, his movements quick and decisive as he set about carrying out your orders.

As you turned back, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination, a scene of horror unfolded before your eyes. One by one, your kinsfolk fell to the merciless onslaught, their cries of pain and desperation echoing in the air like a haunting melody of despair.

Shock and disbelief washed over you as you watched in horror, your gaze fixed on the figure responsible for the carnage. It was your own mother, Akiko, her features twisted with a madness that chilled you to the bone.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to comprehend the betrayal unfolding before you, the realization of her treachery cutting deep like a dagger to the heart.

The protective barrier you had worked so tirelessly to maintain began to falter, the cursed energy of the Fujiwara merging and multiplying with each passing moment. As the shield came crashing down, a sense of dread settled over you like a suffocating blanket, the full weight of the impending doom bearing down upon you like a relentless storm.

In the chaos and confusion that ensued, you found yourself paralyzed with shock, your mind reeling as you tried to make sense of the nightmare unfolding before you. The once tranquil grounds of Ryomen Manor were now engulfed in a maelstrom of violence and destruction, the air thick with the stench of death and decay.

With a heavy heart, you realized that the battle was lost before it had even begun. As the cursed energy of the Fujiwara swept over the manor like a tidal wave of darkness, you knew that there was little hope of survival in the face of such overwhelming odds.

You stumbled backward, disbelief etched on your face as you locked eyes with your mother, Fujiwara Akiko, amidst the chaos. "You…... how could you?" Your voice quivered with a mixture of hurt and betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of her actions.

Akiko's gaze bore into yours, devoid of any remorse or empathy, her expression twisted into a cruel sneer. "Oh little foolish girl." she hissed, her voice dripping with malice. "You were always too weak, too sentimental. You have no place in the new order I am creating."

Tears welled in your eyes as her words cut through you like a knife, the realization of her betrayal striking you like a physical blow.

"But... why?" you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

A bitter laugh escaped Akiko's lips, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Why, you ask? Because power is all that matters, my dear. And I will stop at nothing to seize it, even if it means sacrificing everything I once held dear."

As the shock of betrayal rooted you to the spot, you watched in horror as your mother, consumed by madness and darkness, charged towards you with lethal intent. The air crackled with tension, each heartbeat echoing in your ears like a drumbeat of impending doom.

Just as despair threatened to consume you, a sudden rush of movement caught your attention. With a sense of surreal relief, you saw Sukuna appear beside you, his presence a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. Without hesitation, he unleashed his devastating technique, Cleave, with a swift and powerful strike aimed at your mother.

Time seemed to slow as the force of Sukuna's attack collided with your mother, the impact sending shockwaves rippling through the air. You watched in awe as the sheer power of the technique tore through the darkness that had consumed her, dispersing it like a veil lifted by the wind.

As your mother staggered back, her form wavering and flickering like a candle flame on the verge of extinguishment, he sent another wave of Cleave towards her. Finally, she fell dead. She was a traitor. And he would not forgive her.

You stare at the lifeless corpse of your mother, your pupils shaking. Sukuna rushed to you and held you. You looked at him, in a state of delirium as everything burned around you in intense flame.

“S-she…”

“It’s okay.”

“Where’s father?” You asked him frantically, “Uncle Hiramu?”

“They’re on their way here, night flower. Do not worry.” He whispers to you. “They are keeping the Fujiwara at bay, so the others may leave.”

“Then….”

“We must fight here.”

As the once tranquil grounds of Ryomen Manor erupted into chaos, the air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the sounds of battle. The double heron banner of the Ryomen clan, a symbol of pride and honor, burned amidst the turmoil, its flames a grim reminder of the devastation that had befallen the once-proud estate.

You and Sukuna stood side by side, your backs against each other as you faced wave after wave of attackers. With each strike of your enemies, your resolve only grew stronger, fueled by a fierce determination to defend your home and protect your loved ones.

As the battle raged on, the air thick with the stench of smoke and the cries of the wounded, you stood amidst the chaos, a beacon of power amidst the turmoil. With a fierce determination burning in your eyes, you reached out with your mind, tapping into the primal forces of nature at your command. 

Eyes turning purple, your gaze turns narrow.

Hunger. Anger. Bitterness. Cruelty. Hatred.

You do not know what you were right at that moment.

 But one by one, you longed for more bloody hands. 

More and more until nothing was left, until nothing was there.

With a forceful command, you summoned torrents of water from nearby sources, the liquid crashing down upon the raging inferno with a deafening roar. The flames hissed and sputtered as they were doused by the relentless onslaught, steam rising into the air as the inferno was quenched.

But your control over the water was not gentle; it was a violent deluge, tearing through the flames with a ferocity that left nothing but charred remains in its wake.

Meanwhile, gusts of wind whipped through the battlefield at your command, their force amplified to hurricane-like proportions. The wind howled and shrieked as it tore through the air, sending debris and bodies hurtling through the air like ragdolls.

Your enemies were caught off guard, their movements hampered by the violent gusts that buffeted them from all sides. Limbs were torn asunder, screams of agony drowned out by the relentless roar of the wind.

The scene was gruesome, a tableau of chaos and destruction wrought by the sheer power of your manipulation. The ground beneath your feet trembled with the force of the elements, the air thick with the taste of blood and the metallic tang of fear. But amidst the carnage, you stood resolute, a force of nature in your own right, your power unchecked and untamed.

As the battle raged on, you continued to wield the elements with ruthless efficiency, your every movement a testament to the raw power at your command.

With each torrent of water and gust of wind, you pushed back against the encroaching darkness, fighting tooth and nail to defend Ryomen Manor from its relentless onslaught.

Beside you, Sukuna became a whirlwind of destruction, his every movement a lethal dance amidst the chaos of battle. With Cleave, he unleashed devastation upon the enemy ranks, each slash a precise and calculated strike that cut through flesh and bone with merciless efficiency.

The air around him seemed to crackle with the energy of his fury, his movements fluid and deadly as he carved a path of destruction through the opposing forces.

With each swing of Cleave, Sukuna left a trail of carnage in his wake, mutilated bodies falling in his shadow as he moved with unparalleled precision and ferocity. His attacks were swift and relentless, each strike finding its mark with deadly accuracy.

It was as if he was a mad man as he clubbed one man after another — as he brutalized one after another. He drowned in blood, he drowned in vengeance. He was a beast.

As the battle raged on, hand-to-hand combat merged seamlessly with the elemental onslaught, the clash of cursed energy bursts through each and every stone.

The roar of brutality, the cannibalistic nature of survival danced in vicious harmony,  in a cacophony of chaos and destruction. Amidst the din of battle, Sukuna's presence was a constant, a beacon of strength and determination amidst the turmoil.

Together, you and Sukuna fought as one, your movements synchronized as you danced upon the battlefield. With each strike and each spell, you pushed back against the encroaching darkness, your combined efforts a force to be reckoned with amidst the chaos of war.

As the chaos of battle raged around you, your uncle Hiramu finally arrived, bloodied and broken, a grim expression etched upon his weary face. He threw his broken sword, grunting as he picked up another one from a mutilated corpse. From the way he looked, it did not seem promising. The whole world had turned into madness.

“You brats shouldn’t be here anymore!” Your uncle says with a voice hoarse with exhaustion. “Everyone else has fled! You both need to go, now!”

But you objected, your resolve unwavering even in the face of adversity. "A Ryomen stands his ground, no matter what, uncle." you insisted, your voice ringing with determination. “Hida cannot fall. Not in our hands.”

Hiramu's gaze softened, a mixture of pride and sadness in his eyes as he regarded you. "And what is there left to stand for if a Ryomen is dead?" he countered, his voice tinged with resignation. "Sometimes, little girl, survival is the only victory worth fighting for."

Turning to Sukuna with eyes full of emotion. “Be a good son for once, hm? Your old father here needs you to do as he asks.” Sukuna's expression wavered, torn between loyalty to his adoptive father and his desire to protect you. “Go. Now."

“Uncle—”

After a moment of internal struggle, Sukuna took your hand, his decision made. You looked at him, your face shattered into grief at what he intended to do. 

With a heavy heart, he looked to his adoptive father “Don’t you die yet, you old geezer. I swear, if you die—”

Hiramu snickered at Sukuna's words, a bitter smile playing upon his lips. “Have trust in your father, brat. I’ll live to see my first grandchild!" he admitted, his tone laced with grim determination. He smacks his son’s head. "But for now, escape. Go! Take her! I’ll hold them off!”

As you scream for Sukuna to put you down. Over and over as you fight against him, as your throat grows weary and pained, he will not relent. Not as the sounds of battle continued to echo behind you, a cacophony of clashing steel and crackling magic filling the air. With each step, the weight of your uncle's sacrifice hung heavy upon your heart as you screamed for him. 

You caught a glimpse of Ryomen Hiramu, standing tall amidst the chaos once more. He grins at you, waving his sword. Tears fell as easily as his enemies did. His sword was all you could see through the flames, flashing in the dim light against the belly of a Fujiwara one after another. But as one fell, another came and they surrounded your uncle soon enough. Until it was all disappearing, until he was gone from your reach. Until there was nothing.

With a heavy heart, you tore your gaze away from the battlefield, focusing instead on the path ahead. Beside you, Sukuna remained silent, his hand tight around yours as you navigated the maze-like corridors of Ryomen Manor.

You thought of your father, you wondered where he was. You wondered about Masaomi, who had gone missing as the attack went through the compound. You could not fight back the tears as they came. Not even if you wanted to. 

The air around you crackled with tension as you pressed forward, each step bringing you closer to safety and yet further from the home you had always known.

Though the way ahead was uncertain, you clung to the hope that your uncle Hiramu's sacrifice had bought you—the chance to live to fight another day. Even if you didn’t want to. Even if you didn’t think to. 

As you and Sukuna finally emerged from the chaos of battle, the cool night air washed over you like a balm, a stark contrast to the heat and violence you had left behind. With one last glance back at the manor, now engulfed in flames and shadows, you and Sukuna turned away, leaving behind the echoes of a life once lived as you set out on a new path, together.

It was then from the bitter dusk did the first drops of rain begin to fall. From afar, it had cast a somber veil over the charred remnants of Ryomen Manor. The cool droplets mingled with the tears that streamed down your cheeks, their gentle patter against the scorched earth a mournful lament for all that had been lost.

Sukuna knelt beside you, his expression one of uncertainty and helplessness as he watched you wrap your weary arms around your shaking legs. He didn't know what to say, nor did he know how to dry your tears. All he could do was offer his silent presence, a steady anchor amidst the storm of emotions that threatened to engulf you both.

The rain continued to pour, harsher and harsher — a relentless downpour that mirrored the torrent of grief and sorrow that threatened to consume you. With each passing moment, Sukuna felt the weight of your pain pressing down upon him, a burden he couldn't bear but refused to abandon.

In that eve of the year 953, in Hida Province,

The proud Ryomen Clan of old, ancient blood;

Had all but fallen to the hands of Fujiwara's cruelty.

Of the Ryomen’s main bloodline remained two.

Husband and wife, Ryomen Hiromi and Sukuna.

facts about this chapter

this was entirely a chapter i saw from the beginning happening. the destruction of the ryomen is something i believe is the reason sukuna is the only ryomen we know.

this chapter took me the longest to write than any other of the series thus far. this was also the most emotionally taxing to write. so i had to come back and write some fluff and then drink matcha to calm down.

hiromi and sukuna's marriage was a last minute addition after my beta reading friend suggested that the idea of their marriage have consequence. but since it was never announce, only the ryomen know.

the fujiwara planned that they were going to destroy the ryomen the moment sukuna defeated koku. they think that koku being humiliated was the whole clan being humiliated. moreover, there's bitterness with the 'lowly' marriage of fujiwara akiko. this was a correction to the fujiwara.

masaomi is just the same age as koku, akimu and suzaku. masaomi was akimu's childhood playmate. and by extention, hiromi's own playmate. upon the death of akimu, hiromi became the focus his loyalty. hiromi considers him a friend.

heian culture doesn't really have a strict conduct of marriage, except in the in the nature of the noble's blood. if the marriage was ever announced, people would view hiromi to have married down even if sukuna took the ryomen name. because hiromi has noble blood and sukuna does not.

isamu and hiramu already knew that hiromi and sukuna would end up getting together because they knew too well that they were too in love to let go of each other. they already had contingency plans, if that happened. they knew that the kids being happy mattered more.

akiko is obsessed with power. and it was her end. i always wondered what i could do with her and her wanting. but its quite easy to see too that she's a victim of her family's own culture. if she had broken free from that, she would have ended up not dying.

hiromi's power introduced here is called 'heaven's bounty' which allows hiromi control of the surrounding and nature itself for a limited amount of time. she combines this with hand to hand because she doesn't know how long her cursed energy could last.

hiramu doesn't have that strong of a cursed energy, but he makes up for it with his strength. which has been noted since 'the night we met' when they first met sukuna.

fujiwara ankoku in a way is inspired by zenin naobito but worse. he'd commit to the destruction of his own family. blood and innocents to have satisfaction and revenge. i think he'd get even worse with time passing by.

with ryomen manor burned to the ground, the whole of hida is under occupation by the fujiwara. hiromi and sukuna are wanted alive by the fujiwara, the rest of the ryomen and their retainers have bounty in their heads, but to death

the ryomen family tree looks like this

lord ryomen - his wife

|

isamu hiramu

m. | (adoptive)

akiko sukuna

|

akimu hiromi

the fujiwara family goes like this

fujiwara ankoku - his wife

|

lord fujiwara akiko

| |

koku akimu hiromi (married) sukuna

[liyue-harbour]

rainy streets & cigarette tips

sunday x reader. sunday smokes here. this takes place some time after jade sends him off with wise words and a deal (YALL MY SUNDAY BRAINROT GETS WORSE EVERYDAY UUEEEE😭)

summary: you find sunday in a quiet alley in penacony, where he’s hiding from the chaos of the dreamscape. as the rain falls harder, sunday suggests leaving the alley for somewhere else, leading you both through the streets of penacony.

the first thing you noticed was the rain. it's wasn't the hard, dramatic kind of storm that soaked you to the bone in an instant. it was soft, steady, the kind that crept up on you until you realised your clothes were damp and the air was colder than it should've been. the neon lights reflected off the wet pavement, turning the streets into rivers of colour. penacony always felt alive, buzzing like it could shake itself apart at any moment.

you weren't sure why you ended up in that alley, but then again, you never really did when it came to finding sunday. he had a way of being exactly where you didn't expect him, but always where you needed him.

tonight, he was leaning against the wall, half-hidden in the shadows. his cigarette glowed faintly in the dim light, the ember flaring and fading like a heartbeat. the rain didn't seem to bother him. he just stood there, his shoulders relaxed, hood tucked neatly around his neck like he wasn't standing in a damp, grimy alley in the middle of the dreamscape.

"lost again?" he asked, not even looking up as you stepped closer.

"looking for you, actually," you shot back, crossing your arms.

his lips twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. "well, you found me. congratulations."

you rolled your eyes, leaning against the wall opposite him. the alley smelled like rain on hot metal, with a faint undercurrent of grease and smoke from the food stalls nearby. the faint thump of bass from a club down the street echoed through the narrow space, mixing with the sound of water dripping from the eaves.

"do you always hide out in places like this?" you asked, watching as he took another slow drag of his cigarette.

sunday shrugs, exhaling smoke that curled lazily into the air. "sometimes. better than being in the middle of all that." he gestured vaguely toward the street, where people moved in a chaotic stream under the flashing lights.

"you don't strike me as the hiding type."

"and you don't strike me as the following type," he countered, amber eyes flicking toward you.

you smirked. "maybe i'm full of surprises."

for a moment, neither of you said anything. the rain was picking up, the drops heavier now, tapping against the pavement and the metal pipes lining the alley walls. you watched as the puddle near your feet rippled with each drop, the neon lights above turning it into a kaleidoscope of colour.

"have you ever thought about leaving penacony?" you asked suddenly.

sunday's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. he didn't answer right away, just flicked ash from his cigarette and let it fall into the puddle. "sometimes," he said finally. "but leaving doesn't mean anything if you don't know where you're going."

you tilted your head, considering that. "isn't anywhere better than here?"

"not always."

his tone was flat, but there was something in it— something sharp, like a memory he didn't want to share. you decided not to push him. instead, you let the silence stretch out, the sound of the rain filling the space between you.

"let's go," he said, voice low but firm.

"where?"

"anywhere that's not here."

sunday grabs your wrist, and you follow him without question as he led the way out of the alley. the streets were quieter now, most people having taken shelter from the rain. the dreamscape felt different like this— less alive, maybe, but more open.

"do you think you'll ever stop running?" you asked as you walked, glancing down at the hand sunday wrapped around your wrist.

he glanced back at you, his expression thoughtful. "not running, not anymore. just... moving."

you nodded, the answer feeling right somehow. the two of you kept walking, the rain soaking through your clothes, but neither of you seemed to mind it. it wasn't about the destination. it never was.

© liyue-harbour 2024 | masterlist

[vivsinkpot]

Hi, Vivienne! I am trying to write a story with a four-person rock band, but I am having a lot of trouble writing about how they converse/interact with each other when writing their songs. They are all in the same room coming up with the music, but I can't figure out how they would talk to each other. Any advice on this?

Thanks!

Mic Drops & Mood Swings: Bringing Your Band’s Songwriting to Life

First of all I want to extend a huge thanks to you for sending in my very first inbox request — you made my day! 🎉 I absolutely love answering questions and diving into all the creative stuff you’re curious about, so please don’t be shy. If you’ve got a burning writing question, story idea, or just want some advice, slide into my inbox anytime. Can’t wait to hear from more of you! 💌✨

Songwriting scenes can be super powerful because they reveal not just the creative process, but the personalities, tensions, and bonds within a band. When writing how band members interact while creating songs, consider these key points:

1. Showcase Individual Roles & Strengths

Each member brings something unique—whether it’s lyrics, melodies, rhythms, or ideas. Portray how they naturally take on these roles. For example, one might be the lyricist, another the melody maker, while another focuses on arrangement or beats. Their strengths shape how they communicate and collaborate.

Example:

Jax tapped out a beat on the drum pad while Mira hummed a melody. “This chorus needs your voice to lift it,” Jax said, nodding at Mira. She smiled, fingers ready on the keys.

2. Use Dialogue to Reveal Personality

Songwriting sessions often bubble with playful teasing, frustration, encouragement, or inspiration. Use realistic, casual dialogue to capture this — like interruptions, unfinished ideas, disagreements about style or direction, and moments of “aha!” discovery. This makes the scene feel lived-in and dynamic.

Example:

“That lyric’s too cheesy,” Leo teased, smirking. “No, it’s poetic!” Eva shot back, rolling her eyes.“Alright, how about we rewrite it together?”

3. Highlight Creative Tension & Compromise

Bands rarely agree on everything. Conflicts—whether subtle or heated—add depth. Maybe one wants to keep a song raw, another wants it polished. Showing their negotiation, occasional stubbornness, or compromise mirrors real-life artistic struggles.

Example:

“I want it raw, unpolished,” said Ash. “But we need something radio-friendly,” replied Sam. They stared at each other, then Sam grinned, “Okay, raw energy with a catchy hook?”

4. Describe the Atmosphere & Setting

Whether it’s a cramped garage, a cozy studio, or a sunlit living room, set the scene with sensory details — guitars tuning, coffee cups clinking, scribbled notes, late-night fatigue. This grounds readers in the space where creation happens, which is equally as important to break up dialogue.

Example:

The cramped basement smelled of old pizza boxes and sweat. Strings hummed under trembling fingers as sunlight filtered through dusty blinds.

5. Incorporate Nonverbal Communication

Bandmates often understand each other without words—exchanging glances, nods, riffs played quietly under breath, or smiles at a good line. These moments show trust and connection, or sometimes frustration and distance.

Example:

Without a word, Nina raised an eyebrow, and Max grinned back, fingers flying over the guitar strings.

6. Show Progress in Small Steps

Songwriting is rarely instant magic. Portray the gradual build—messing with chords, repeated lines, scraps of lyrics on napkins, reworking a chorus. This process mirrors real life and makes the final song feel earned.

Example:

The chorus still felt off. They rewrote the second line for the fifth time, laughter mixing with frustration.

7. Tie the Song to Emotions & Relationships

Songs often reflect what’s going on between band members or in their personal lives. Use the songwriting process to subtly explore these emotional undercurrents — unspoken feelings, unresolved tension, shared dreams.

Example:

As the melody swelled, so did the unspoken tension between them — notes filled with everything they couldn’t say aloud.

In conclusion…remember, while dialogue is a fantastic way to reveal character and drive the songwriting scene, don’t forget to balance it with unspoken moments—glances, gestures, silences, and the small details in the room. These quieter beats add depth, showing the emotions beneath the words and the unique connections (or tensions) between bandmates. It’s in the space between the lines that a scene truly comes alive.

By layering personalities, conflicts, and atmosphere, your songwriting scenes will come alive and reveal the heart of the band, not just their music.

[turtlecleric]

13 with Leo, please?

13. "Shhhh, come here."

-

Someone is here.

Someone is here, in this godforsaken room with you. Crouching over you, huge and imposing - but that doesn't even matter. What matters is that someone is here. Silhouetted by the light spilling in from the hallway like an honest to God angel. They're here, pushing your greasy hair away from your eyes, speaking to you in a low tone that sounds like rushing water in your ears.

It's nice. The water. Soothing in a way you haven't felt in a long, long time. Much better than the ringing silence that you're used to. It feels... familiar, too. Like an echo from a dream, or a memory of a memory.

You want to see who it is, but everything is blurry. The light is too bright, as well. Even with this person blocking most of it, it's too much. You'd missed the light, wanted so badly to have it before now, but... it hurts.

You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing instead on the water. Wait, not water. A voice. A voice that, suddenly, you remember.

"Leo?"

You haven't spoken in so long, it's almost jarring to do so again. The rushing water quiets, and you feel him gingerly cup your jaw with his hand, the pad of his thumb brushing across your cheek. It feels... warm.

That's strange. It never felt warm before, did it? No. No, he was always oddly cool. Right?

"Yeah." His voice splits down the middle. Rasps in a way you've never heard before. But you can at least make out the words now. No more rushing, just the ringing. Still dark, but this time it's your choice. The same, but different. "Yeah, it's me. I've got you, okay? I'm taking you home."

Home?

"That's right," he whispers. Another split down the middle, like the crack in the cement that you sometimes run your fingers along, feather-light, back and forth, to keep yourself occupied. To feel something other than the cold. Your fingers twitch now, spreading along the ground. Reaching, searching for that crack. Before you find it, too-warm hands shift beneath you, and then you're being lifted.

"Leo," you whimper, still reaching. It's important. Isn't it? The crack. There's a reason that it's... important... You can't remember. Why does that scare you? Why weren't you scared before? Panic sparks, an undercurrent running just below the exhausted confusion that covers you like a blanket. Throat tight, tasting ash and copper, you try again. "Leo-"

"Shhhh, come here." He presses his forehead to yours, holding you a bit closer. "It's okay. I've got you."

That's not- not what you were- but it's... so, so nice. Being held. Feeling the warmth seep into your skin where the two of you touch. You falter, whatever goal you'd been trying to achieve lost like smoke in the wind. Your fingers reach for his plastron now, seeking the little indents there, and something about the way his breath hitches makes you want to apologize.

He moves, then. Rhythmic and fast and careful all at once. There's more rushing water, but you're...

Smoke in the wind. Floating under the current. It's... nice.

You hope this is real.

[h3artw0rms]

I made a Silco Spotify playlist

This playlist is... Well... it’s about Silco. It’s his journey in four acts that captures his rise, fall, and everything in between. It's more like a character study.

Act 1: Dreams of Freedom (Song 1-15)

This is Silco in his idealist phase. He and Vander? Brothers in arms, ready to free Zaun from Piltover’s grip. It’s all about hope, ambition, and the kind of camaraderie that makes betrayal hit even harder later. Think melancholic indie vibes, bittersweet anthems, and a lot of “we’re gonna change the world” energy.

This act feels like standing at the edge of something great, fueled by hope and belief in a brighter future. The songs are bittersweet, with an undercurrent of yearning. It’s Silco and Vander, side by side, dreaming of a free Zaun. You can feel the weight of their shared ideals and the brotherhood that binds them. There’s ambition, camaraderie, and the promise of change. But there’s also a lingering fragility, a hint of the storm to come.

Recommended tracks:

Heroes - David Bowie

Blackbird - Alter Bridge

Brother - Kodaline

Nothing to No One - Gin Wigmore

Act 2: Betrayal and Ruin (Song 16-30)

Ouch. Vander stabs Silco (literally) in the back, and our guy starts spiraling. This act is about pain, anger, and a growing hunger for revenge. The songs here are dark, emotionally raw, and just a little unhinged. You’ll feel Silco’s heartbreak and the fire it fuels.

This is the act where everything breaks. The vibe is dark and emotionally heavy, like the moment you realize the person you trusted most has turned against you. It’s about drowning in betrayal, losing everything you believed in, and trying to claw your way out of the wreckage. Each track feels like a dagger to the heart, leaving a scar that never truly heals. Just like Silco's.

Recommended tracks:

Where did you Sleep Last Night - Nirvana

Snuff - Slipknot

Excite Vilify - Fizzy Black

Act 3: Transformation and Resolve (Song 31-45)

This is Silco 2.0. Betrayed but not broken, he becomes the ruler Zaun needs. It’s all about power, sacrifice, and doing whatever it takes to get the job done.

This is where Silco rebuilds himself, but not as the man he was, as someone stronger, colder, and more determined. The songs capture his inner conflict, the echoes of his past, and the ruthless resolve that defines his future. There’s a mix of regret and ambition here, as Silco accepts the sacrifices he must make to rise above the ruins.

Recommended tracks:

Dirty Paws - Of Monsters and Men

Wrong - Depeche Mode

Medicine - Daughter (very much recommend this one!)

I am Dust - Gary Numan

Act 4: Power and Legacy (Song 46- 60)

The Silco we know and fear. He’s ruthless, confident, and the master of Zaun’s underworld. This act is filled with brooding anthems and tracks that scream “power comes at a price.” It’s dark, dramatic, and unapologetically bold, just like Silco.

It feels like stepping into the shadows of Zaun itself, dangerous, brooding, and commanding. The songs exude power, control, and an air of inevitability, as Silco cements his role as Zaun’s leader. But underneath the strength, there’s a sense of weight, the burden of sacrifice, the cost of ambition, and the ghosts of what could have been.

Recommended tracks:

Seven Devils - Florence+ The Machine

Blood in the Water - Joanna Jones

Errasuriz - Kiltro

Shallow - Porcupine Tree

If you have any questions, why did I choose a certain song or whatever, feel free to reach out! I hope you like the playlist 👀✨

[jokeringcutio]

Reader x Stepdad William Afton (Drabble)

AN: You got me there, ANON. All right, here's a very QUICK drabble for you, because I COULDN'T RESIST. MATURE THEMES/NO EXPLICIT SMUT. Just a happy family dinner (well....)

Also, I am overwhelmed with prompt requests and I love them, so do keep 'em coming. But if you want to help me out for reaching my goal to save up to commission a celebratory piece of artwork for this tumblr (as we've almost reached 1000 mutuals following this account :3 ) please feel free to donate me a little something on Ko-fi ♡ ︎.

based on this in my inbox: [ See Reaction to the post here x ]

The clink of silverware against porcelain punctuated the silence, a staccato rhythm that seemed to echo in the cavern of your chest. Across from you, William’s hands were steady as he cut into his steak, but there was something about the tightness in his jaw, the way his blue eyes didn't quite meet yours, that whispered secrets.

"Sweetheart," your mother's voice sliced through the tension like the knife in William's hand through meat, "it's time we talked about a paternity test."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, a wild, frantic thing eager to escape. You swallowed hard, the mashed potatoes on your tongue now tasting like ash.

"Whoever the father is... he deserves to know," she continued, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling beneath her words.

"Of course," you agreed, the word brittle on your lips. Your gaze flickered unintentionally to William, then quickly away, fearing what might be revealed in a single glance.

He cleared his throat, a sound that rumbled deep and low, a prelude to the storm you knew brewed within him.

"It's only fair," he said, but his voice was a masterclass in control, every syllable measured, every intonation practiced.

"You can ring up the boys... see if they're willing." She was all practicality, all motherly concern, not an inkling of suspicion clouding her features. If only she knew…

"Right," you breathed out, the lie sour and heavy in your mouth.

In your bedroom, Evan's chest rose and fell with the innocent trust of sleep. Unaware. Untouched by the deceit that hung thick in the air. The door ajar, otherwise he wouldn’t sleep if he didn’t hear that you were near. As if somehow, your tiny son was aware that he had been born in a house full of dark secrets and possible danger.

Your fingers curled around your glass, the cool surface grounding you. Water, while your parents were drinking wine. Wasn’t your mom still trying for a baby? Had she finally given up now that she saw how it was to be between diapers and the soreness of giving milk?

William's gaze flitted toward the open door where your son lay oblivious to the grown-up games played at his expense.

"Will do it tomorrow," you promised, your voice a whisper of determination laced with dread.

"Good girl," your mother smiled, contentment lighting up her face. But in William's eyes, the reflection of a different kind of pride—a dark, devouring satisfaction—flickered and then died.

You pushed your plate away, appetite lost. While inside your thoughts careened like a runaway train, you tried to remain your compose. Look and act normal. But what would happen when the truth came out? What would happen when the masks fell away?

What would William do?

Because in all honesty, it wasn’t your mom and her feelings you were worried about the most any longer. She had proven time after time again to be there for you, no matter what lies had been told about you. Her two-goody-shoes daughter, suddenly a wild partying animal who had gone and get laid whilst drunk – even if she bought it she faithfully helped take care of you and your newborn son. She was so – so darn sweet! Like an angel sent from the blessed sky. If she’d forgiven you this, then you wouldn’t doubt she would forgive you the truth.

But…

Could you bear her disappointment? Right now? Could you see her so crestfallen and betrayed? Did you want to break that dam and wait whilst pain raked through you both – a pain that only time could mend?

Beside you, William scraped his throat, his thick fingers scraping past your thigh underneath the table. The horny beast. Even now he couldn’t stop touching you.

Shouldn’t he be working on one of his new robot animals? Like that yellow bunny suit he was making to resemble your favorite plushie? With the only difference that it was ten times bigger and build for him to wear?

You tried not to glance at your stepfather, not even when his fingers reassuringly squeezed your already bruised thigh. You gritted your teeth at the soreness – thanks to his latest bout of fucking, of course. The man took his chances whenever he could.

No, the real problem here was your stepfather. William was a tall, strong and dangerous man. His mind worked in ways that only left you guessing. And you had no doubt that he had hurt others in the past before to get exactly what he wanted.

If you wanted to play this game, you had to play it right.

Silently, you vowed to protect Evan from the shadows that lurked behind William's aviator glasses, from the manipulations that twisted beneath his agreeable facade. You would stand between your son and the man who wore danger like a second skin.

"Let's finish up here," your mother suggested, unaware of the battle lines being drawn right before her eyes.

"Indeed," William agreed, and his smile was a predator's grin, hidden in plain sight.

The baby slept on, his dreams untainted by the turmoil that swirled just beyond his reach.