#whoever does not love remains in death

[justana0kguy]

2024 JANUARY 05 Friday

"Beloved: This is the message you have heard from the beginning: we should love one another. Whoever does not love remains in death. Children, let us love not in word or speech but in deed and truth."

~ 1 John 3:11,14b,18

[moonlight-prose]

a request, if i may, of praising old man logan as he filfthly eats you out and it makes him combust the more you praise him? okay running away again

speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life

a/n: look at him taking off his glasses in absolute shock of this ask- no okay does old man logan have a praise kink? i would raise it higher and say every version of logan has a massive praise kink. this is a man who wants to know he's doing good in life. his love language is acts of service so he might get to hear a pretty thank you. also i'm not sorry for how feral this got. i have no explanation.

summary: he knew he loved you when your words begin to piece his heart back together. he knew he loved you when he flourishes at your praise. he knew he loved you when nothing in this world could matter but the sound of your voice telling him you love him too.

word count: 3k+

pairing: old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), praise kink, logan is obsessed, dirty talk via reader, he is so pretty when he blushes, manhandling, cumplay, cumeating, overstimulation, crying, he's needy in this one, angst, tortured soul of an old man, reverence, religious trauma + greek mythology hints.

He can feel the strings of fate pull tight around his broken heart. In a failed attempt to draw him back together. To piece together an organ that barely beat for him anymore. He might have felt it once, before it broke. Before it gnarled itself like the branches of a dying tree, one half twisting away from the other in a desperate attempt of survival.

He deemed it a useless part of his body until you came along. You with your smile that held enough cloying sweetness to choke him as he stood helpless. Silently begging for you to say his name. To bring him back to life.

Whatever horrors that plagued his mind—endless nightmares that promised nothing but anguish—suddenly came crashing to a halt at the sight of you. So pretty in your denim jeans and velvet top. An angel seated in the center of a bar that held more filth than you deserved to be near. Logan couldn’t fathom that luck struck him this hard.

Not when death had already claimed his soul; notched yet another tally in the endless wall of people that came before.

He felt the dirt pack under his nails as he clawed his way out of the grave he put himself in. Years spent alone—a man lost to the ravages of time—had turned him bitter. With rough edges and biting words that stung far more than he intended. How could he believe he deserved to live after he contributed so much to the endless pool of blood that tainted his soul? How was he allowed such softness after biting off bits of brutality his whole life?

Logan was pretty sure he survived on borrowed time that had already run out. He could feel death breathe down his neck as the days went on. A reminder that what little of his life remained would be spent suffering. And he found that accepting it was easier than battling against the will of God, or whoever toyed with his lifeline.

It was far easier to die than find a reason to live.

Until you said his name.

Softly. Sweetly. Reverence wrapped in a tight grasp of need.

You brought him back from the edge—took his hand and refused to take no for an answer. You and the safety of your touch; the promise in your kiss. You dragged him into a life he didn’t earn; one that almost tasted too sweet—too sour.

After near a decade of being buried beneath the dirt, he felt himself collapse above ground and suck in his first real gasp of fresh air. Alive, once more. Hell spit him out with a vow of love and who was he to argue against it.

His fingers dug into your plush thighs, tugging them open to see what lay between. He marveled at their softness, eyes wide and awestruck at the sight of you spread beneath him. You practically glowed in the dim light of the bedside table. Yellow, musty, yet angelic when it caressed your body with its heavenly touch.

He wondered if this was real life; your nails digging sharply into his shoulders gave him the answer.

"Logan," you sighed, voice high with need.

The strings pulled taught. A vice like hold that drew him to you.

Maybe that's what this unutterable feeling was. The gnawing pit at the bottom of his heart. A greed he'd never indulged before—too afraid of what it might ask for next. He wasn't a man who asked for much. Rather someone that found himself far too content with nothing. But tonight he found his lips forming the words of a false prayer that his mother taught him as a child.

Hail the angel in his bed. Hail every good fucking thing you brought into his life.

His teeth sunk into your thigh, body jolting at your responding moan. Fingers dug into his hair, tugging at the mussed locks with a high pitched whine. You were a needy little thing, but Logan found he desperately wanted to be needed.

He smiled laving his tongue over the tender spot, working his way up to where you dripped for him.

So slick. So perfect.

Saliva filled his mouth. "What do ya want baby?"

Your chest heaved; he could feel the heat of your body under his palms. "Your m-mouth Logan."

His eyes trailed along your brow covered in a sheen of sweat. The room was thick with the humid air of the outside world. But that didn't deter him from craving your skin near his. The pressure of your thighs around his head a welcome weight. If he sunk his teeth in where the curve of your leg met your hip he knew he could draw out that soft choking noise he longed to hear on days spent driving alone.

If he had his way he'd crawl into you to seek your serenity straight from the source. He'd never divulge about the ache that chewed him up on the inside, but Logan wondered if you knew. Could you tell how much he craved you? How much he couldn't live without you.

When your glittering eyes met his, the resolve he spent years building cracked like glass. You peered into him as if he was a stained glass window. A god you were more than happy to worship.

"You want me to lick this pretty pussy?" Fuck, he sounded drunk off your taste already.

His mouth hovered over your throbbing clit, your scent now filling his senses. Overwhelming him with what he wanted most. But he needed to hear it. The lilt of your begging; the soft echo of your need that washed over him like soothing river water.

He couldn't live without it.

"Yes," you sobbed, thigh twitching.

The string sliced his heart open, blood pooling onto the white bed sheets. Oh what a sweet death your love made. Oh...what a bittersweet way to go.

He'd die right now if you asked him to. Hand over his heart on a silver platter if you so wished it. Maybe that made him far too gone for his own good, but Logan couldn't remember a time in his life where he got this. Safety. The hope of love burning far too bright and far too hot for him to fly near it.

Yet there he was. Icarus happily soaring in your sun like glow.

"I got ya honey," he murmured. "Gonna take care of what's mine."

You nodded frantically—tears welling up in your eyes. "You take care of me Logan."

The breath in his chest stuttered, eyes dark as the words fell past your swollen lips. He wanted to explain why his cock twitched against his stomach. Why he now leaked into the sheet with heavy panted breaths. But every time he came up short with the words needed to form an answer.

"Yeah I do sweetheart," he breathed. "Don't I?"

"Uh-huh."

"Take care of what belongs to me."

There was no warning when his hands dragged you closer with a rough tug, mouth closing over your clit with a desperate suck. A cry wrenched from your mouth, sparks sharply traveling down your spine. He licked through your slick with a growl. Hands an unbreakable press against your thighs.

The sight of your body bowed, mouth open for small gasped breaths that never came, snapped something in his mind. He was an old man. Well past his years. But the taste of your pussy along his tongue brought back a ferocity he often tamped down in his younger age. He felt the feral want claw at his chest, and answered it with a broken snarl.

Swallowing down every drop you gave him, he plunged his tongue into your entrance, thrusting messily until a smear of your shiny slick began to coat his mouth. It covered his cheeks and clung to the hair of his beard. He'd clean it out later, taste you on his tongue until he was aching for another go. But for now he was preoccupied with the way you cried for him.

"Oh fuck!" Your thighs trembled over his shoulders, hips canting down to drag yourself along his tongue. "So good."

He shuddered, eyes rolling back at the sound of your praise. You caught it within seconds, lips pulling into a breathless smile that left him gasping for air. His teeth nipped at your thigh briefly as his hips ground into the mattress below.

"You like that baby?" you breathed, thumb smearing your own slick against his cheek.

Something hot washed over his body. A needy sick and twisted ache that he'd never indulged in before. He wanted to be a good man to you; longed to be needed. And fuck if you didn't give him everything.

You were his walking wet dream. His future handed off and wrapped in a neat little bow.

"L-Love your tongue Logan-" A high gasp tore from your throat when he dived back in. Slurping at your clit with a heady moan as you dragged him closer. "Taking care of me so well."

His hips canted down into the bed, fucking his cock along the warmth of his stomach, as you gushed into his mouth again. Eyes zeroed in on your face, pupils dilated as he growled into your flesh. You no longer could see the man you loved, but the feral side he tamped down during the day. The animal he longed to release in your presence.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum."

His arms looped around your thighs and with a sharp yank, he had his face buried deep enough to suffocate himself. You sobbed an incoherent version of his name. Nails clawed at his shoulders, but Logan could feel the pulse of your clit under his tongue.

He sucked it into his mouth with a grunt, rolling it along his tongue as you trembled with the oncoming shocks of an orgasm that threatened to destroy you.

Tears dripped down your cheeks and Logan felt the satisfying part of his heart begin to stitch itself back together. The strings were tight enough to numb his pain. To quell the flare of agony.

That used to be all he knew, all he counted on most days. When there was nothing left and he'd propped the shovel in the dirt—his grave open and waiting—he stumbled right into your arms. He found his reason for living.

Heat curled around his spine as you shook with the impending orgasm—the stimulation on your clit practically debilitating. He grunted into your soaked flesh, eyes narrowed as he chased the release that pulled his stomach taut. But this wasn't for him to indulge in; this wasn't his pleasure.

So with a throaty moan you felt reverberate along your body, he scraped his teeth along your clit and watched as your body went stiff.

"Logan!" you cried, fingers scrambling for purchase on any part of him you could reach.

You gushed into his awaiting mouth, praises of it's so good, you're so good falling upon his ears like the whimpered prayers of a devout worshiper thanking your god.

"Taste so fuckin' good," he mumbled, drunk on what you gave him.

He didn't care that you were jolting with each pass of his tongue along your pussy. He didn't care that you were shocked with overstimulation, small broken cries of his name muffled by the press of your thighs against his ears. He licked at you until he couldn't breathe. Buried his tongue into your twitching entrance and sucked out your cum with a happy hum.

"P-Please." You tugged at his hair, pulling him off you with a sob. "I-I can't anymore Logan."

"'M not fuckin' finished," he said, eyes glazed and face coated in your slick.

You made a mess of his face. The light catching along where you spilled into his mouth and along his throat. And still he wanted more. He'd spend hours between your thighs, burning your skin with his beard, if it meant he could divulge in your sweetness.

"It hurts-"

A grunt rumbled in his chest, his arms tugging you back even as your feet kicked along his back. "Just one more honey. Yeah?"

You shook your head. "B-But-"

"Thought you said it was good."

"It is."

"Then lemme be good for you." He wanted to tell you that the world went quiet between your thighs. That all his grief, all his pain, lessened when you sobbed his name.

He wanted to show you the string that looped his heart to yours—the only thing keeping him alive—and thank you for bringing him back from the dead. But words weren't his forte. Violence had become the only tenderness he knew and you didn't deserve the rough edges of an old man. You should have more.

But when you let him touch you like this—caress your skin and lick between your folds—he felt as if he was a man who finally was worthy of someone as precious as you. He could pretend he didn't bear the brunt of a fucked up soul.

The weight on his chest lifted when your tear filled gaze met his and you nodded. Small, barely there, but it was enough for him to seal his mouth back over you with a ragged moan. Your body shook as his tongue slid through the seam of your pussy. The tip nudging against your clit—careful to draw the pleasure from your body slowly.

He didn't want to give you pain. His heart wouldn't survive that. But he was a broken man; someone who begged for more even as his teeth sunk into what was already given.

You were his meal. His sacrament in the midnight hours until dawn broke across the darkened sky. You were the other half of his soul.

How could he not indulge in your sweetened tang until his tongue went stiff?

"I love you," you sighed, eyes rolled back when he sucked at your pussy, a wet low moan echoing in the air. "My p-perfect husband."

The cold press of his wedding band against your thigh drove him over the edge. You weren't officially married. Didn't have the backyard wedding with a preacher to match. But Logan had placed a ring on your finger near a year ago, sliding one over his own with the vow of forever cemented in his words.

Even if that didn't mean much in the eyes of a god who abandoned him near a century ago.

"Oh-"

Your head tipped back, mouth dropping open as his fingers dipped into your wet heat. Thrusting lazily until he found the spongey patch along your walls—driving the pad of his middle finger into it with a needy moan.

He knew it wouldn't take long for you to fly off the edge of a second release. That didn't make watching you climb to that peak any less satisfying. The sight appeased his soul. It gave him a chance to breathe; let him know that after so much bad—after so much pain—he could do something good. He could bring you to the edge of pleasure and drag you over again and again.

He could finally be the man you believed he was.

Not the animal they created.

"C'mon," he muttered. Eyes fixed on the shape of your breasts as your body curved off the bed. Hips dragging along his face with a stunted cry.

A wail bounced off the walls, piercing his eardrums with the symphony of your cries. His fingers rapidly pumped into you with a squelch that had heat burning his cheeks—lips pulling your throbbing clit into his mouth as you broke. The climax slammed into you; battering your already swollen pussy.

Logan could feel his cock swell at the sight.

"Fuckin' perfect," he grunted, teeth bared as he clambered to his knees and wrapped his fist soaked in your slick around his leaking cock. "'M gonna cum sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered open, fingers digging into his thigh. "Please. Wanna see it baby. Look so pretty when you cum Logan."

His chest tightened, body shaking while you watched in rapture as he fucked his fist rapidly. He wouldn't fucking last, could feel the burning consume his body, but something held him back. The string around his heart yanked him away from the edge, tearing a cry from his throat when his frustration peaked.

You could see it—the glimmer of need in his dark eyes. This wasn't the first time he longed for your words. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

So you spread your legs and sat up slowly—arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring his lips down to yours. A soft moan was muffled by your mouth; the peak of his release within reach. He could practically feel the tips of his fingers graze it.

"Cover my pussy baby," you mumbled into his mouth. "Be good for me and mark what's yours."

The growl came from the very bottom of his chest when he finally came. Your name was a bitten out snarl pressed to your mouth in an open mouth kiss as he spurted over his knuckles. He pumped his cock to milk every drop; eyes fixed on the way it covered the swollen lips of your pussy. Dripping down to your entrance that fluttered at the sight of his sweaty and crimson tinged face.

"I fuckin' love ya honey," he murmured, hand cupping your chin to drag your lips back to his. "Best thing that's happened in my life is you."

You smiled, thumbs pressing to his cheeks. "Love you too Logan."

Clutching you close, he felt the string go loose. The breath finally rushing back into his lungs at the sight of your eyes glowing with the kind of light that brought him back to the first day The night he met you in that shitty bar—alcohol the only thing on his mind until he saw you.

The night you spoke his name over his covered grave and dragged him back to life with a smile.

[jjk4isen]

ꗃ 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝟏𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐖.

❝ you're not a curse, you have never been. you were my blessing and my salvation– the best thing that has ever happened to me. you cleared my skies and showed me how it was to love… and be loved. ❞

summary: when your entire village faced the king of curses' wrath, you were sure you'd be as good as food for him but life decides to weave the strings of fate and intertwine yours with the very person who tries to cut it short.

desc: 8.6k words, f!reader, sfw, angsty angst hehe, major character death, cannibalistic thoughts (sukuna is a cannibal after all), takes place in the heian era, true form sukuna, bit ooc bc we know his ass isn't capable of love, ! slightly gory parts!, this is canon bc i said so, kenjaku isn't known as kenjaku yet – he's still known as noritoshi kamo, yorozu mentioned, basically just me raw dogging the storyline during the heian era lol.

notes: this took way longer than it should but i battled like three burn out sessions to write this so lmao. also does anybody get the aot reference in the title? this might MIGHT have a part two if i can think of a good plot to mirror it. if you get the reference, you'll alr know what it's going to be titled :P

must be horrifying isn't it? being a mere human amongst sorcerers and curse users capable of destroying and killing— powerless among the powerful whose thirst for yet more power remain a bottomless pit of unquenchable desire.

in this state of the world, your life wasn't your own. it belonged to the people who were strong enough to kill you or considerate enough to spare you.

and among dangers looming throughout, one triumphs all. one whose name was even powerful enough to send curses back at just the mention of it.

ryomen sukuna. feared by curses and non curses alike. the ruthless evil entity who feeds off of humans. there is no doubt about him being the king of curses, capable of having any being in the palm of his hands.

including you.

your village faced the wrath of the king of curses himself, not a brick was intact nor a rock left unturned. and what's even worse? he didn't have any reason for his destruction. he just did it out of his sheer will.

perhaps you should consider yourself lucky to have your life spared, along with some other women and children. all the men were gone without traces — maybe for the better.

trapped in the basement of the castle’s kitchen, you await your fate to be eaten.

what was that you said before? lucky? no, you realise how horribly wrong you were. the wails and cries of terror as yet another person was dragged out of the small room was enough to ring in your ears forever.

the sudden quietness that followed soon after was enough to suffocate you.

the room was dark, wet and disgusting. it reeked of decomposed bodies and blood. nobody was fed well and even if one or two loaves of pitiful bread were thrown into the small cell, it wasn't nearly enough to feed a group of starving people.

at least the number keeps decreasing day by day.

you'd notice how the people who cried, begged or fought back were likely speeding up their deaths so you kept to yourself, waiting for your turn, even if it's just a while later.

after what you think was a couple of days came your turn. you had lost your perception of everything in this tiny suffocating room; you might as well be dead.

you heard some loud clanks of the metal door and suddenly, a harsh pull sends you essentially flying towards whoever was grabbing you.

“this is the last one” you heard a gruff voice say as a light shone inside. it felt like ages since you saw any sort of light, of warmth. in a way, you were relieved. your suffering must be finally coming to an end.

“its this one isn't it?” a low voice asks as they being a lamp closer to inspect you. your eyes were opened and after a long while, you saw again.

“why is she in such a weakly state?” the person holding the lamp grimaces at your sight. through your hazy vision, you could still make out the white hair, perfectly in place. they were beautiful.

“well that ain't my fault is it?” the big creature yanks your arm and you fall wherever it does.

suddenly shards of ice fill the room and the fire from the lamp is put out. in its place is a glowing icy caricature of the creature, holding you intact.

as terrifying as cursed techniques can be, they were also mesmerising. the beautiful fridgid sculpture leave you in awe; the rough hand holding your arm was now frozen and unmoving.

“now.” the icy person leans down, meeting your eye level, you hadn't realised the dim moonlight illuminating the ice crystals in the room “what shall we do with you?”

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

the next time you're concious enough to make out your surroundings, you find yourself in a small dimly lit room. it was heaven in comparision to the previous one.

you scrumble towards the small lamp and take in the warmth. you had no idea where you were, what happened or what would happen but for now, you were alive. barely, but alive still.

weakly, you sit on the floor— there isn't anywhere else to sit anyway. upon hugging your knees you notice an apparent bruse on your arm. the same place where you were grabbed, the memories come back slowly.

did the white haired person save you? could you maybe have a chance at life?

no, being in captivity by the king of curses himself tells you enough that you weren't going to make it out of here alive. well, it's not like you necessarily want to either. your home and the people in it were gone, some of whom you witnessed their end.

it's only fair for you to meet the same fate as them.

the sound of the door unlocking interrupts your thoughts, then in came the person with snow like hair.

“finish this” they hold out a tray of food and set it down next to you. you only lean away defensively.

without so much of another word, they make their way towards the door that is, until you decided to stop them.

“you saved me didn't you?” it had been a while since you even heard your own voice and you don't miss the way it sounded more resigned than it had ever been.

“do not be fooled. it is all in consideration for my master. finish the plate” with that they walk away, leaving you with even more questions than before.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

when the certain white haired person decides to show up, they look pleased with your health. well, it should come as a no surprise since they keep feeding you — overfeeding you in fact. and you know why.

fatten up the stock so that it's in top shape when it's time to consume it.

“follow me” they say, holding the door open.

obediently, you follow the person you owe your life to, for now anyway, and they lead you through alleys and stairways you had never seen before.

only sounds of footsteps and your exhausted huffs can be heard in the hallway filled with various markings on the wall. you don't even want to know what they mean.

“so… how do i call you?” you manage to ask, maybe if you try to get close to them, maybe they can help a second time.

don't kid yourself.

no reply comes and you feel heat rush to your cheeks from embarassment. but hey at least you tried.

your wandering eyes missed to see them stop before a certain door and you crash into them with a grunt. they must be well built because the impact did not faze them at all.

“sorry” you rub your nose that was sore from bumping your face into their back.

“i go by uraume. i am master sukuna's loyal servant. beyond this door is the garden and you are to take a walk twice a day to build up your stamina. i shall be checking on you daily.”

“why should i need to do that?”

“do as you are told. now go” they open the door for you.

beyond the door is a garden too beautiful to belong in the palace of such an abominable being. flowers of all kind adjourn each corner, flourishing in all their bloosoming glory.

the sky was as clear as can be, with the sun brightly shining as if it's wishing people a good day. the birds chirping and the gentle breeze that brushes through your hair reminds you of your home back in the village and your heart aches a little.

“thankyou” you turn back but uraume is now long gone.

gee must people be so cold around here?

you stroll along the garden, savoring your time outside in so long. how long has it been exactly? you couldn't recall. maybe you should ask uraume the next time they come around.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

only this time when uraume does show up, they don't lead you towards the garden. instead, you find yourself at the door of the king of curses’ throne room.

uraume doesn't say a word and only ushers you in.

is this doomsday? you recall the screams of fear from the people you used to share a home with. the look on their faces, their nails desperately clinging onto the prison bar while pleading for mercy — all of that for naught.

and the silence that followed.

it's possible that the well timed meals and the strolls you took in the beautiful garden was the mercy your people begged for but never got.

maybe you should be thankful you even got to have those.

“master is impatient. you should go in right this instant” uraume insists. something about their behaviour tells you if you don't do as told, you'd have a fate worse than what you could ever think of.

with all the courage you could muster, you unlock the door and take strides into it, as confident as you could make it seem.

the four armed monster looms in front of you, starting down at you as if you were only a mere bug.

perhaps you were — small and helpless, under the mercy of the predator who had seen you.

you bow politely, it seemed like it was the only appropriate thing to do.

sukuna thinks you're pathetic.

just a mere human and not worth his time. there was only a small reason as to why he hasn't had his way with you yet.

your flesh and blood.

to him, you smelled hauntingly sweet and hypnotisingly alluring. that was what drew him to your village in the first place — the hunt for the sweet scent that awakened all his senses, although he doesn't have any idea why.

sukuna is a curious being, he seeks to know the mysteries of the world — one of the reasons why he's so wise, adding to his strength.

so until he has his answers, he plans to keep you around. after that, he can enjoy your flesh however he wants.

just you standing mere feet away from him was enough to tempt him to bite you already. how would it feel to sink his teeth into your skin and have your blood flow down his throat? sukuna couldn't wait until he has the chance to do so.

“leave.” the monster only dismisses you after staring at you so intently, he might as well be staring deep into your soul.

you look up at him in confusion, why would he call you here without any particular reason?

“do your ears not work, human?” sukuna says, rather impatiently.

“lower your gaze and know your place, fool” he practically growls and you look away faster than the speed of light. one more bow and you're bolting out the door.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

your stay at the palace was a cycle of eating, sleeping and taking strolls. it was beginning to get monotonous, boring even. but its much better than facing the king of curses ever again.

you still had no idea why he called you to his throne room and honestly, you don't even want to find out why.

life wasn't so bad — the flowers were beautiful and smelled lovely, the meals were scrumptious and your sleep? well nightmares were inevitable but there were nights when you slept like a log.

and unbeknownst to you, a certain four eyed creature could be seen watching over you. no, observing you. its only right for him to observe his prey right?

it's not out of the goodness of his heart that when you whimper and cry out in your sleep because of a weak nightmare curse looming over your head, he kills it with only a tilt of his own. no, it's only because that curse deters your well being, hence your development to reach your full potential to be a perfect feast for him. nothing more.

weak human, you don't have the means to kill such a low grade curse or even see it. so why were you special? what makes you so different than the other filthy beings with no cursed techniques roaming the earth? sukuna still couldn't tell.

he's aware though — of your silent fear and unspoken resentment you have towards him. he's aware of your quivering soul whenever you sense his presence. he's aware of your desire to escape this place.

but he's also aware of how your smile becomes a little more genuine when you smell a particular flower in his garden. he's aware of how your eyes soften when you see the setting sun. he's aware of how you tried to get close to uraume and only get shut out. he's aware of you.

and that angers him to no end.

what infuriates him even more is how that pathetic servant thinks he can talk to you, and with such ease too. how dare he speak lowly of you? that's a direct insult to him isn't it?

‘you mean less than a concubine?’ sukuna scoffs at him for even comparing you to one.

so the next time he calls the council for a lecture, he doesn't even blink one of his four eyes when the said servant in question gets slashed by his formidable cursed technique.

the room grows thick with the smell of blood that was now splashed all over the carpets and tapestry hanging on the wall—a grueling task for the cleaners later.

“every tongue that rises against my prey shall fall.” the headless body of his once loyal servant serve as testimony to his words.

the palace may be big but rumours flew around: another servant ruthlessly executed by the monstrous beast. even the people under him weren't given an ounce of consideration.

is it a coincidence that it was the same person who cornered you just a day ago? you don't ponder.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

after the ruthless slaughter of your village and everything in it, it didn't take long for sukuna to find his next target.

it wasn't anything new to anybody at all that he was a bloodthirsty beast, revelling in chaos and ruin. one after another, his victims were crushed mindlessly and so easily, it made you sick how powerless other people are in comparison to him.

out of all his battles and countless destruction, one prominent opponent was the fujiwara clan.

they were an elite clan, taking pride in the strength of their squadrons. the world held its breath upon hearing of the battle, maybe they had the potential to rival the king of curses.

the outcome didn't change though. sukuna remained prevalent—bringing the sun, moon and stars at his feet. the five empty generals did not even measure upto him.

the battle must have been so agonising to the point where the authorities were willing to hold festivals in his honour, out of utter terror.

it was at this harvest festival where sukuna had encountered a certain shameless sorcerer who was on her way to be completely obsessed with him.

yorozu had only one goal: to alleviate sukuna's loneliness with her love — something she believed only she was capable of.

thus why she leeches onto him, much like a hick. perhaps sukuna doesn't see her as a threat or he deems her powerful enough, he didn't get rid of her, for now at least.

however, her dreams were short lived.

yorozu sits next to sukuna in his throne room, enticing him with gentle nudges of her exposed chest. her haori was united and her hair fell graciously past her shoulders all the way down her chest.

she only shrieks in horror as she stares at the uninterested man. “you look different… you are different!” she screams angrily.

sukuna only hums in response, deep in thought of how his little prey has been holding up. despite his festivities and celebrations, you were there in the back of his mind, like an itch that cannot be quite scratched.

she stares at him, stepping back further and further “it couldn't be…”

yorozu brings herself to her knees, looking up at sukuna desperately. “i have so much more to teach you about love and the ultimate strength and solitude that it brings!”

she rises, her eyes were erratic, anyone would be afraid of her outburst that was about to come. anyone but sukuna.

“im the one who will teach you about love. that is my purpose and my goal. now tell me, who is it that is taking away your loneliness?”

sukuna raises a brow. it's possibly the only time he indulges yorozu’s antics and also the last.

“i will find out who it is! it doesn't matter if i have to tear this palace apart” yorozu violently darts out the room in search of something, anything. to her, if it was powerful enough to move sukuna then she would have no trouble finding whatever it is.

and she doesn't. not because you're too powerful but rather because of the lack of it. you stuck out like a sore thumb with no cursed energy running through your body, weak and unarmed just strolling across the garden— like the pathetic human you are.

sukuna arrives at the scene, ever observing, ever thinking.

“that is not true love” yorozu mutters, her fists were clenched on her sides as her gaze burnt into you who was unknowing of the fury burning inside her.

“you're mistaken, sukuna. i will show you what real love looks like!” yorozu screams, making her way towards you who could only stare at her in fear, frozen in place.

it would take sukuna less than a blink of his eye to stop her but he was intrigued. what would he feel if you were to be killed? would he feel pain? anger? the beast always finds his answers so he waits.

and what was that about true love? does that woman think he was capable of it? with you, no less? she sees you, a mere human, as a threat so that must mean something.

yorozu lands on you, digging her nails into your skin, blood gushing out of it. sukuna admires the sight.

you scream in agony as she continue to scratch through you and into you with ease. a maniac expression forms on her face at your slowed breaths and now silent helpless whimpers.

but before you were completely gone, sukuna gets rid of her. you were too busy holding onto your life to tell how he did it but one blink was enough for her to be gone and another makes you realise you were caged in the arms of the four armed monster.

“interesting” you heard sukuna say, before your lashes flutter and your eyes close against your will.

sukuna holds your limp body in his arms protectively with calculated gentleness as if a slight jerk would hurt you. well, in your state, it would.

upon watching you get torn apart, sukuna realises he isn't as heartless as he deemed himself. it drives him angry. how could a being as weak as you would have the capability to move him? how could you inflict pain onto him when you're the one who's at his mercy? he scoffs at how ridiculous it is all.

but when his eyes land on you– your fragile body almost lifeless and bleeding, his only thought was towards your safety and not towards devouring you, albeit the sweet scent of your blood tempting him and calling out to him to drink it.

he stares at his hands tainted with the pretty crimson colour, glistening in the sun but it pales in comparison to the way your eyes were shut as if you were only asleep. sukuna sighs, alright then.

his reversed cursed technique flows through his body into your own, healing the deep tears and cuts. he only hopes you aren't too angry at him for waiting that long to step in.

your staggered breathing was replaced with slow even ones and your wounds disappeared as if they had never been there in the first place. a peaceful expression forms on your face and all of sukuna's eyes soften.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

the next time you awaken you find yourself in the comfort of your own room making you doubt if everything that happened was a vivid dream. and you would have believed that doubt if not for the person sitting in the corner of your room, his four arms folded into each other.

you flinch upon seeing him and sit straight up, a groan escapes you involuntarily from your sore body.

“you're awake, brat” his deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

you nod slightly, your eyes on anything besides him.

“how are you feeling?” this makes you jolt your head towards him because did he just ask about your well being? you would say you misheard but the frown and distaste on his face only confirms that he was, in fact, concerned about your condition somehow.

“im feeling alright” you say quietly, still a bit afraid of the man sitting in your room who could easily overpower you if he wanted.

“i should hope so. your weak body didn't take much to heal as easily injurable as it is” he sneers from the shadows that enveloped him.

“so it wasn't a dream?” your voice shook a little which doesn't go unnoticed.

“no. i have taken care of the matter. you may rest at ease” he rises to his feet, he looks way too big to feel safe around. you hug your blankets a little tighter. wait, when did you even have that many?

“do not fear. i do not intend to harm you.” two out of four eyes narrow at you and how scared of him you looked. sukuna doesn't like how that bothers him.

“how do i know that?” your eyes didn't meet him, rightfully so, if it was anyone else who questioned him, sukuna would waste no second getting rid of them altogether.

“it is i.” a viable answer – one that doesn't need any further explaination. sukuna maybe a merciless hard hearted being but he's also a man of his words. anyone who knows him would be aware of this fact.

“but i don't know you.”

he supposes you're right. in a way, nobody knows him. this was also why he remained so strong despite people and sorcerers alike sharpened themselves while fighting him. he did not have an opening to allow them to kill him.

“then you can start from this moment forward.”

“i don't want to.” for the first time, sukuna faces disappointment; but it's a different kind of disappointment. normally he would be discouraged at how nobody was able to stand a chance against him but now, he feels helpless. much like he was the prey and you're the predator.

“and your reason for that is?” ever so curious, he glowered at your body which had somehow become smaller amongst the sheets of blanket you're enveloped by.

“because then… then i will grow to understand you. if i do understand you then that would mean id find out you have a heart. someone with a heart would never… would never…” your voice trails away and you look horrified by the memories flooding your mind.

“so i don't want to know you.” you muster up enough courage to stare into his eyes, all of his eyes and sukuna can feel your soul tremble.

he only watched silently as you fidget under his watchful gaze. great. he's at a loss by someone who's terrified of him, how much more could you hit a blow to his pride.

without a word, he steps out of your room and he could hear you exhale. he huffs in annoyance at how tense you are in his presence. and your words. they might as well be your cursed technique attacking him with every enunciation that came from your mouth.

and they were working.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

the world was somehow shifting. you couldn't exactly pinpoint where or how but it was.

“master has assigned you a new room that would be more comfortable for your stay” uraume says, standing in front of you in a polite stance. “please allow me to guide you there.”

if this is his attempt to make you forget about all the destruction he caused, for whatever reason, it was futile. he was irredeemable.

your thoughts might have been apparant on your face because uraume continues, “master says he does not have an ulterior motive. he simply wants you to be comfortable.”

since when did that beast care about other people's comfort except for his own?

“fine then, show me” if he offered, then there's no problem in accepting. heck maybe you should be taking advantage of his hospitality and ask for whatever you desire. he has put you on death's row and wiped of everyone you knew after all.

you were led to a room that was closer to the main area of the palace, a stark contrast to the basement of the kitchen — where you started from.

pieces of beautiful art were decorating each corner, finest tapestry hanging from the walls, and the curtains? they were of the best material you had ever known. no doubt, this was a room that exceeded even your dreams.

uraume opened the closet revealing kimonos of various kinds, from silk to linen to satin— every kind was there. “i was not aware of your taste so i assorted various kinds.”

you were amazed at the room, the materials – everything but these measly riches don't bring lives back and the monster certainly wasn't capable of any empathy so the words saying he has no ulterior motive were nothing but empty to you.

“what? have i been promoted from prey to concubine now?” the word alone makes you sick to your stomach but it's the only explanation that makes sense.

“you are very wrong. master does not keep concubines. it is only an extension of his kindness.” you laugh, sukuna? kindness? please.

four eyes narrowed at your bitter laugh, sukuna stands in the doorway, each of his two arms folded in each other. he has lost count of how much disrespect he tolerates from you but strangely, it does not give him a drive to kill, only annoyance.

a brow raises when you turn around after being aware of his presence and your laugh, as mocking as it was, dropped into a frown.

seeing how speechless you are, he huffs. from out of nowhere, he conjures up a bow and an arrow to go along with it. sukuna moves stealthily, one step and he's already next to you.

the bow and arrow are shoved into your hands “i have heard you are exceptionally good with these” sukuna says, his voice was low and calculating – if you hadn't known better, you'd say it quivered a little.

he wasn't wrong though, you had to hone some sort of hunting skill for food. life wasn't kind and you learnt it the hard way. nevertheless you felt safer with some kind of weapon you were familiar with, even though they won't be of much help against a sorcerer.

“master’s very own bow and arrow” uraume interrupted, their face had an expression of shock you had never seen on them before. there was an engraving on them– the same mark that sukuna had on his body.

“why give me this?” you ask and receive no answer. not because sukuna doesn't want to answer you, he simply doesn't have a reason. he just wanted you to have it. it felt natural. he'll be damned before he ever admits that to you or even to himself.

“what if i use it on you?” you press on, clutching onto the wooden weapon tightly. “what if i wanted to fire this at you?”

“i would let you.”

it caught you by surprise. why? you want to ask but you also didn't want to hear his reason. you don't want to know him. the little barrier you had put between you both is the only thing giving you leverage against such a vicious being, you couldn't afford to have it break down.

taking a quick abrupt step back, you line the end of the arrow to the bowstring and pull on it with an expert ease, aiming it at sukuna. uraume was about to step in but sukuna waves them off. as if the most feared curse user couldn't defend himself.

he could already have you breathing your last breath in a mere second if he wanted to but of course, he doesn't. he just stands there unmoving. his lack of response to your threat made you all the more aggravated.

“aren't you going to stop me?”

“no. proceed with whatever you intend to do, i shall not stop you.” sukuna's folded arms fell to his sides, giving you an open target for his heart.

now you should be firing your arrow with no hesitation right? you have hunted down countless moving targets from as small as a bird to something as big as a deer.

and they were running while you manage to hit a bullseye – every single time. so now this unmoving big target within just a few meters would be a piece of cake. it's your chance to end the tyranny of his wicked rule and him altogether– a chance that had not been granted to anyone who stands against him.

but your hands wouldn't move. they wouldn't let go of the string to propel the arrow towards him. they were frozen in place. you would have doubted uraume’s technique being in play but no signs of ice crystals found themselves anywhere near.

sukuna waits and you wonder if he was ever this patient.

your hands tremble, slowly letting your form down. why couldn't you just do it?

“human–”

sukuna's words were cut short by a swift arrow flying towards him. he didn't make a move to avoid it.

your trembling hands were now perfectly stable holding the bow. your breathing was calm, collected even. if anyone were to see you now, they'd wonder who the beast is. empty eyes deadpan at your target.

sukuna stares back, his cheek bleeding from the graze of the arrow. unlike your soul-less face, a satisfactory smile creeps onto sukuna's. “you didn't miss, did you? you aimed here on purpose.” his hands caress the small wound in awe.

“next time i wont.”

“as i have said, i will not stop you.”

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

the new room was comfortable, all your needs were tended to and your conduct exceeded your desires. you were treated equal to a queen, if you knew how.

and uraume, sukuna's loyal servant, was now your own. they were still very distant though, not speaking more than they needed to. not like you really minded anyway.

uraume was there to observe. they were under strict orders to keep you safe and also report your daily status to sukuna. you weren't exactly aware of this part but there's no harm done so by logic, there wasn't a problem with it either.

sukuna finds the corner of his mouth twitch when uraume mentioned that you sang obnoxiously loud because you thought nobody was around. he'd have loved to hear that himself.

the amusing brief about you was however rudely interrupted by a strange person brave enough to march directly into the throne room unannounced.

“you're from the kamo clan aren't you? have you come to die a meaningful death?” sukuna's thirst for battle heightened upon seeing a sorcerer from one of the three main clans in jujutsu. maybe finally, he can have a strong opponent and enjoy the fight without having it end too early.

but the man only chuckles “no, i have come here to negotiate with the almighty king of curses himself”

sukuna frowns, now staring at him unamused “you do not have anything worth a value to me. fight or die a pathetic death.”

“i will do neither of those.” noritoshi kamo, stands face to face with sukuna without a hint of fear in his eyes and that makes sukuna curious. just what kind of offer does he have to be so bold?

“prove that you are worth my time you filthy scum” sukuna glowers at the man, getting more and more impatient by the second.

“how about that prey? how is your little prey doing?” kamo smirks and it's enough to tempt sukuna to cut through his skull but no, he refrains because anything that involves you, sukuna doesn't take it lightly.

“speak up or i’ll have you slashed.” sukuna remarks impatiently.

“it would be a shame to have her taken away from you isn't it?” the old man sneers.

the next thing he knows is his ragged breath and a sharp pain across his chest, kamo falls to his knees. sukuna’s technique had manifested a cut through his chest, although not deep enough to end him. with blood oozing out of the fresh cut and his mouth, he still has the courage to glare at the four eyed creature.

“you must not value your life” sukuna says nonchalantly, leaning against one of his hand, the grotesque sight was nothing new to him at all.

“your reign is coming to an end isn't it?” kamo laughs, although it comes out through splutters of blood. “no matter how powerful you are, you are not immortal sukuna, you still won't defeat death!”

as if sukuna is one to fear death. sukuna only sighs, revelling in the bloodied state of his intimidator.

“and your little human toy won't either” that earns a reaction from him. sukuna's eyes narrow at the pitiful man fighting for his life.

“what are you suggesting?”

“what if i tell you– that there is a way for you to be immortal? and that it's possible to find her in every lifetime?”

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

everyone who knows sukuna knows that he does not get hurt. or yet, there's nobody who's strong enough to hurt him. generation upon generation, sorcerers have teamed up to get rid of him but with no luck. not even one of them could land a hit on the ferocious being.

all the more reason for you to be speechless when he returns with a huge hole in his stomach, bleeding continuously.

it was during your stroll that you saw him staggering over to his room.

okay maybe that was a lie. maybe you'd heard that a very prominent sorcerer in the jujutsu society had challenged him. you didn't know much about that world but it was enough to worry you, even if sukuna was undefeated.

so maybe that worry brings you into a situation where he arrived just while you were taking a stroll in the garden. you definitely didn't purposely take longer to watch the birds fly back to their nest in hopes of making sure sukuna returns. definitely not.

that's also NOT why you're knocking on his door boldly.

the door opens, revealing a confused sukuna. your eyes dart down to his injury but it seems the blood had stopped, still looking nasty regardless.

you wince just by looking at it but sukuna interrupts your unwarranted examination. “eyes here human. what do you want?”

for someone who's supposed to be prey, you're bold because in the next moment, you find yourself pushing through the door and asking him to sit down.

yes. you— a mere human, barged through his room and asked him to sit. when he doesn't comply, you walk up to him, pulling on one of his hands, guiding him towards his chair and sat him down. and strangely, no hint of protest came from him – not even a grunt or a growl.

with familiar ease, you call in uraume and ask for an emergency kit. they hesitate but comply regardless.

your expert hands slowly disinfect the wound and start stitching it up, not even sparing a glance at the man who just watches you and lets you do whatever you want to him.

“where have you garnered skills to do this?” sukuna asks mid stitch and it's only then that you realised he hasn't done so much as flinch. you could imagine how painful it would've been for a normal human but apparently this counts for nothing to him.

“when you're desperate enough, you just know” the last string goes through his flesh and you tie a knot, snapping the thread off. your movements slow when you realise you're touching him– skin and all, with your own.

your eyes lock when you search for his and they stare back. this time, you don't see a vicious brute but in its place, you see the eyes of a man. and not just any man, if you allowed your thoughts to wander you'd say it was the same look of a man capable of love.

but you don't – you look away. and sukuna's could feel a slight pull in his chest.

“human.”

“i have a name”

“human.”

the disregard for your name only makes you roll your eyes in annoyance. the man only chuckles at the sight.

“you do realise i can heal myself?”

a pause. of course how could you forget? reversed cursed technique they call it? all these magical powers granted to them made no sense to you at all. you only stare at the wall dumbfounded as sukuna downright laughs at your humiliated expression.

“why didn't you stop me then?” your grumble only amuses him further.

“perhaps because i wanted you to acknowledge how foolish you are?” his tone was teasing and not a hint of malicious intent was within it. a smile creeps on your lips and sukuna could swear his heart rate accelerated.

“i could show it to you if you're curious” your wide eyes give him all the confirmation he needed. sukuna rises on his feet, the prior horrid injury long forgotten.

“you could… take off the bandages. if they aren't effective anyway since you can heal” you shrug, trying to brush off your wholly service that was in fact not required in the first place.

“i rather they stay.” his hands graze them gently and you could swear he smiled at the pitiful mounts of cotton plastered on his abdomen.

“come. allow me to show you what im capable of.” he offers you a hand, out of the many he has and his shoulder slumps in relief when you take it without any protest.

he takes you outside and leads you towards your favourite spot in the garden. you don't let yourself wonder if it's a coincidence or not.

“see that fruit?” he gestures to a ripe apple hanging on its tree – super red and just the perfect size.

“yeah want about it?” you tilt your head towards him curiously making sukuna more enthusiastic to show you his perfectly crafted technique.

an invisible slash cuts the single fruit out of the tree, making it fall. it was barely noticeable and you'd think it fell on its own if not for the perfect slices it has all while it landed in the palm of your hands.

your wide eyed gaze only delights the man responsible for it. you take one slice off and admire the precision “you did this?? no way!”

sukuna heaves his chest proudly. strangely, your adulation to his antic gives him so much more satisfaction than wiping out an entire village.

“wait till you see this” sukuna takes a step back, his lips quirking up into a tight smirk upon seeing your expectant expression.

he places his hands together and gestures up signs that were not familiar to you. “fuga « open »” his low voice chants while fire manifests into the palm of his hands. he moulds the flames skillfully as it takes the shape of an arrow – a fire arrow.

and you're left with your mouth agape, he was truly terrifying. such bright flames don't even burn him but instead falls into his command.

sukuna likes the way you stare at him in wonder and was tempted to tell you that he created this very technique in honour of you and your bold decision in grazing his cheek with your arrow but for now, he holds his tongue and lets you admire as long as you want.

when the flames burn away, you're still in a haze— staring at the man in front of you with diluted pupils: one might think you're in love.

as sukuna focuses his eyes into your own, he's certain he could see into your soul which grows a little more familiar to him everytime he sees you. no it's not how he feels the familiar terror in someone's soul when they tremble in fear of him just as he was about to take their life.

it's not the same shudder of fear he used to feel when he's around you. this time, it's inviting. he feels he could be stripped of his technique and just be a normal being if it meant he could submerge himself in it.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

sukuna used to anticipate how he would die. he wanted to meet someone who would be strong enough to give him a formidable death fit for the most evil being to tread the world. news of fresh generation of strong sorcerers would excite him.

but the moment he knew he was entranced by you, that prior excitement was now replaced by fear. not fear for his death but rather, for yours. if anything were to happen to him, who would protect you?

it doesn't help how his enemies were catching hints on his possible weakness now. it all started with that damn bastard from the kamo clan, whom sukuna swears to kill. him and everybody else that could pose as a threat to you, he swears he will kill them all.

a little part of him also starts to fear for his own end. he fears that no matter how long he lives, he might think he doesn't have enough time with you. how could he when you're here, showing the sides or the world he never knew existed? the same world you weaved with every gentle word you say, no matter how insignificant.

sukuna can't get enough of the small smiles that were appearing more frequently when he reaches out to hold your tiny hand in his big ones.

he can't get enough of your soft snores when you're asleep in his chest– no more nightmares haunting your sleep because as long as he's around, any curse would have to fight him to get to you. no curse was bold enough to do so.

and mostly, he can't get enough of your small gentle strokes across his face. your touch was feather light and curious but so so loving that even when your hands were about to be pulled away, his own grabs them and makes them stay.

sukuna has nothing at all to base it off of, but if he had to name what he's feeling right now, it would be along the lines of complete devotion to you – in other words, he suspects it's the feeling these weak humans and yozoru keep preaching about: love.

and he's not denying it– not to himself at least or he can't. during his recent battles, he observes himself ending it as quick as possible.

instead of luxuriating in the thrill of battle, he finds himself rushing to kill his opponent – to end it as quick as it was humanely possible because every second he spends away from you is a second wasted.

he was becoming more precise and ruthless now that he has something to protect.

that's why even when you ask about his murder streak and if he could lessen it, he just ruffles your hair and tells you not to worry.

any sorcerer who has gotten close enough to land their sights on you were brutally tortured until they give up on their life altogether.

however, life can be funny at times. his own fear for your well being is possibly responsible for the curse that now latches onto you, consuming and draining the life out of you and sukuna's forced to watch as you slowly became a husk of who you used to be. so really, it's not funny at all.

he feels helpless and he is. none of the cursed techniques he has could exorcise the curse blooming inside you and spreading through your veins.

he has been warned before and he didn't care. he never fathomed to ever find someone to love so he traded his soul for his fervent reign – a binding vow: any being whose soul remotely gets near his own would ruin itself without any means for its resurrection.

another condition of the vow was for him to forget about it only after it was too late. at the time the vow was made, sukuna had thought, no, he'd known he lucked out by a power at the price of such a feeble condition but now… now he knows how gut wrenchingly wrong he was.

sukuna slumps in defeat at the sight of your weak body fighting itself. all his four hands encased one of yours as he listens to your staggering breaths that slowly becomes more faint than the last.

for the first time, no matter how tainted his hands were of from the numerous people he murdered in cold blood, sukuna finds himself praying; not for salvation or forgiveness but for your suffering to be placed onto him instead.

he has just found happiness with you, and in you, had just started to learn how to love someone so much that all his wicked ways were something he wished he never did. he had been stupid and arrogant – too arrogant. he was sure the heaven and whole generations of people he killed were now laughing at him drowning in his own misery. how the tables have turned on him and humbled him.

“kuna..” your barely audible voice mades him lean closer to your face, one of his large hands coming up to caress your face delicately.

“human. save your energy” sukuna scolds but his tone was not demanding by any means. it was desperate, desperate for just one more second of you.

a faint smile ghosts your almost now deathly pale face “it's not your fault.” you manage to cough out through staggering breaths.

sukuna's world might as well stop. it was his fault, everything was his fault. from the moment he caught a whiff of your sweet sweet blood to when he looked at you as nothing but prey to the moment when you became the sole reason for his existence, it was all his doing. he has taken you and tangled you amidst the string of despair.

his head shakes in denial, no words coming out of both his two mouths. so much to say, so many ways to say it but nothing.

but you know, the four pupils staring at you take the form of hearts, and that tells you everything. it could be just an illusion you'd heard people speak of on the verge of death but it's enough for you.

your sweet blood slowly looses its essence as you close your eyes, the last light inside you leisurely fading away.

“oi human” sukuna calls but there was no response.

“answer me” a plea.

still no answer as your hand slowly goes limp in his own. there was silence and nothing. so much of nothing that was unfamiliar in the otherwise air of curiousity that always surrounded you.

“human.” sukuna's voice wavers as his hands come to cup your too peaceful face. he searches for any signs of life but he finds none. before he knew it, a drop of water landed on your clueless yet beautiful features, then another and another.

the monster was crying. not just crying – he wept.

his entire body shakes as he lets out his pain, holding onto you desperately as if that would bring you back.

“human” he dries away his own tears on your face and brushes away the hair that dared hide even a portion of it.

“you're not a curse. you have never been. you were my blessing, my salvation. you are the best thing that have ever happened to me. you cleared my skies and showed me how it was to love… and be loved.”

sukuna trembled in grief at your loss. the king of curses– reduced to a man in love.

perhaps he wasn't the cannibal here. perhaps you were the one who slowly teared him apart and consumed his very being– merging yourself into his core without him even realising it.

but one thing he knows for sure is that if he were to do it again, he'd let himself be devoured entirely by you. over and over again. to be loved is to be consumed and he's offering himself to you, flesh and bones on a silver platter.

“until next time, my love.” he leans in and places a fragile kiss onto your forehead and that's the first and last time he has a taste of you.

with the last drop of your blood running dry and the absence of the warmth that made you, you; sukuna finds his answer – the reason why your blood tasted so sweet was because he was made to crave it. something he could quench his thirst with but never getting the chance to do so; a punishment perfectly fit for him.

“your deal. i shall agree to it on a condition” sukuna glowers at kamo who only smirks with an ‘i told you so’ written all over his face. sukuna would have slashed him to bits if it weren't for the agreement he agreed to take up on.

“i shall trade my soul to become a curse only if i get reincarnated exactly a thousand years from now” sukuna proposes, no, commands. it is said that a soul is reincarnated only once every thousand years and he wants to make sure he finds you in the next lifetime. maybe then, he'll have enough time with you and if he's lucky enough, be able to love you without bounds.

“that could be arranged” kamo quirks his head in a way sukuna despises. “but she'll have no memory of you. you're proceeding with this knowledge, yes?”

sukuna only narrows his eyes and ignores his question “that is not all. erase her existence from the minds of everyone besides me. generations hence, no one shall know who she is. her name shall be removed from every mouth that speaks of my reign.”

kamo smiles lazily “your soul is not worth that much sukuna”. the man strolls freely in the room, not minding the looming presence of the king of curses. “however, a binding vow could be arranged.”

great. another binding vow. but if that means he'll meet you in a thousand years time, he'll vow as many times as required.

“the grounds of the vow is as follows: you shall be reincarnated only if there appears a vessel suitable to withstand you.” kamo proposes. “your fingers will be cut and hidden in vast areas across the world and you shall only succeed in full reincarnation if you find them and consume them, all while being suppressed by the vessel.”

sukuna frowns and kamo only laughs “do you agree to the vow knowing all the risk it carries?”

conditions and regulations were a pain but nothing could stop a man desperate enough to give up his soul twice. “very well” sukuna agrees.

and that is how the heian era and sukuna's legacy came to an end; sealing himself – and the memories of you only he carries with him – into his twenty fingers, each of which turned into cursed objects scattered far and wide like pieces of puzzle waiting until the time comes for it to fit itself together again.

[coddda]

Light's relationship with his father is such a heartbreaking multi-faceted tragedy to me I hate it so so so much.

Soichiro loves his son so much, and while he's certainly not a perfect father I know that he cares deeply about Light. He wants to prove Light's innocence so badly but he can't let go of the underlying doubt that he might really be Kira and it gnaws at him. He does not know that from the very beginning he was being used by Light, whether it was to obtain information about the investigation, or to get to L, or to strengthen the foundations of his own lie that he wasn't Kira, this entire time he was simply another resource. He'll hang onto this doubt for years, even after L is dead, even if he doesn't express it in the latter half of the series, until he himself is on his deathbed, with what he believes to be undeniable proof that Light isn't Kira. (It's a lie, of course.) He dies happy, but it's on the foundations of blissful ignorance. His own son brought him here, brought him to the point where he had to sacrifice half of his own remaining life span, to his own death march, and was still trying to use him even now to kill someone else, but he doesn't know that. Soichiro said that what was evil was the power to kill others, and that whoever used it was cursed. Light was that cursed man, of course, and he tried to bring that curse onto Soichiro too by making him kill in his last moments. Soichiro was happy regardless, because he didn't know. He'll never know. (In the manga/anime at least. More on that later).

Light loves his father but it's not enough to turn him away from the terrible decisions he's made, if anything it only fuels them. His idea of "justice" is a twisted model of what he parroted from Soichiro, and he uses his father as another pawn (and a powerful one at that) in his plans. If he can prove that Kira is justice then perhaps his father will no longer call Kira, and therefore Light, evil, so he just needs to ensure that Kira becomes justice, right? It's Light's own actions that land his own father in the hospital for a stress-induced heart attack and yet he says only a few minutes later that he's the happiest he's ever been in his entire life. Even after Soichiro denounces Kira by calling him evil, even after he calls the Death Note's power evil, even after he unknowingly tells Light that he is cursed. When Soichiro dies Light is too deep in his own plans to actually properly process the fact that his own father is dying past what it means for his goals, but at the same time he still cares enough that after the fact he'll genuinely cry, only to brush it all away later. (Personally, I don't have a single doubt in my mind that Light's crying in that scene was genuine and I Will die on this hill). Soichiro had unknowingly denounced Light one last time just before his death, openly relieved that he "wasn't Kira after all", which also reveals that he has had doubts about Light this entire time, even after L died. By the time he's caught at the Yellow Box Warehouse Light will have denounced his father too, seeing him as someone who was made to be a fool, someone who was naive, even, too earnest for his own good. He won't realize that part of this description of his father might have applied to Light himself, back when this all started. Light takes after his father so much in so many ways already, so why not in this way too?

Ough. And honestly the other adaptations never miss out on this tragedy either, and I love them for that. (spoilers for the musical and 2006 live action movies I guess?)

In the musical we see Soichiro express his doubts and conflicts about who to believe, Light or L, if the son he raised really is a murderer, if everything he knows about him is just a lie. Like, there's an entire song about this, and you can tell how torn he is about it all, how badly he wants Light to be innocent but about how he also needs to face the truth no matter what it is, but at the end of it all he doesn't even get the answers he wants. At the end of the musical the only thing he finds is two corpses, Light's and L's, with no answers. No last words, no closure, only dead ends and a dead son and a grieving daughter. It's so awful I hate it here.

And the live action movie is fucking Insane. Like, wow. Okay. (Spoiler for the ending of Death Note The Last Name I guess) In the 2006 movies/novels Light writes Soichiro's name in the Death Note himself, and it's such an inconcievable move that it leaves even Misa shocked; Light tries to make Soichiro give him the Death Note for the last part of his plans, seeing his death as a "necessary sacrifice" (insert tangent essay about why I think 2006 live action movie Light is actually the most "coldhearted" Light Yagami, despite how infamous anime Light is). It doesn't work, and Soichiro does end up finding out that Light is Kira this time, and they have a confrontation, but he doesn't even sound truly hateful towards Light for it. He Never seems to outright hate Light for it, even after Light calls the whole confrontation a waste of time and instead tries to continue killing with the piece of the notebook in his watch, even after he tries to get Ryuk to kill everyone. When Ryuk inevitably writes Light's name and he collapses, Soichiro still reaches out for him and holds onto him as he's dying. Light literally dies in Soichiro's arms, still looking for the validation that he was right, that this wasn't all for nothing, that he was doing the good thing, trying to make Soichiro understand that he was trying to enact justice based on what he learned from him in the first place. Soichiro not only learns but sees for himself what his son has become, and Light dies in his arms leaving no closure for either of them. Soichiro will announce Light's death in L Change the WorLd on the news without saying his name, saying instead that it is only Kira who is dead, even though he and Light are one in the same. Sachiko and Sayu will never get to know the full truth about what happened to Light, instead Soichiro will lie and instead tell them: "Light was killed by Kira."

And then holy Shit the jdrama. If I write about it here this post is gonna literally double in length and also I don't really wanna spoil it but. Man. Man. If you watched it you know. Holy Shit dude I Cried.

It's the fact that, canonically, Soichiro will die oblivious to what Light has done, but even in the instances where he does find out, it doesn't make it any better, and it doesn't make him love Light any less, it just gives him more to grieve.

It's the fact that there isn't a single universe where Light doesn't use his father for his own gain, whether to gain information, or to try and control him with the Death Note, or make him write in the Death Note himself, and not a single time will he realize just how far he's strayed from Soichiro's ideals, and not a single time will he not forsake him for it by the end of the story.

It's the fact that, despite everything, Light will always refers to Soichiro as "dad/my dad" (informal) rather than "father/my father", even after he has been "denounced" (and this is true in every language that Death Note has been translated in, as far as I could find. Man, isn't that so cool! :) <- Through tears).

Anyways that's what I've been thinking of how's your guys' days going

[witheredgardenparty]

In Sets of Threes

Read on AO3 (AO3 Account)

Aventurine x g/n Reader

He thinks sometimes that he might be resentful. (or, the one where you are a little too kind.)

Warnings: yandere dynamics, soft yandere, Aventurine's backstory and use of real name, all of the warnings that come with his backstory (if you know, you know), we do not linger on it but it is there, gambling, suicidal ideology, stalking, unreliable narrator, attempted mind games, Reader is hurt (not by violence), implied past abuse against Reader (ambiguous situation), Reader might be manipulative but we cannot trust the narrator... but what if?!, 'came back wrong' trope except the death is metaphorical, L*igi G*lvani

Word Count: 3.4k

Kakavasha is born a single grain of sand. A sliver of chromium quartzite among infinite others. Small, but no less important in the grander design of the desert. A piece of a whole.

He is born into love.

A shattering tears hearth from home. A grain becomes a grit becomes an irritation. He struggles and struggles and struggles until time and effort wear him down into something shining. Into something with edges. Anything deemed unnecessary, dispensable, is whittled away. He is left a remnant of carved facets and mirrored surfaces. What remains is worth showing off. Worth selling.

Whoever he once was dies with a number and a brand. A single bet leaves a corpse’s mouth, and something else takes his place. Wrath drapes his skin like a coat. Spite props the skeleton upright. Grief keeps the blood pumping.

Aventurine wins the bet, of course. He always does. Blood stained rags make way for bespoke suits. Calloused hands are protected in ink dyed lamb leather. He adorns himself in gold bands and bright colors.

(With great irony, he covers himself in peacock feathers. He means it as a warning, as an omen, but the intent is lost on his marks entirely. They mistake it for opulence or charm. Anyone who would have remembered the significance is no longer watching.)

Observers call it ‘indulgence’, but he knows better. Only the nature of his chains have changed.

In games of chance, there is no tolerance for error. He learns to hide the tremor. He is trained to suppress the flinch. The ever growing familiarity of sneering faces is met with a radiant smile.

He hates that it becomes second nature to him.

He hates the rot he lets fester inside himself.

He hates the way you look at him even more.

...please continue on AO3. (Requires an Account)

[cod-dump]

You’re written about eldritch Ghost before so may I submit this idea: Everyone else is a normal human, except for Graves. Graves might be a god or some being of immense power, it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that his shadows are dead people he’s brought back (could be becouse he liked them or just needed bodies) and Shepherd held the one way to get rid of him. This would be at least Gravesprice, if not more.

But what ends up happening is one of the 141 is fatally shot, and Graves goes, “hey, if I bring him back, that’s a great courting gift.” So Graves brings back whoever also most perfectly. Almost. Their personality is the same and the look almost the same. It’s just that they still have the corpse parlor (that’s why the shadows always covered themselves up. So no one could see that), and Graves is preening as he presents whoever back to Price.

The Perfect Gift

PriceGraves

___

Death is forever... well, that’s something mortals believe. To Graves it’s business and easily bypassed.

It could be temporary if he chose to treat it as such. Humans were easy to work with, easy to manipulate in that manner. But still, they are unpredictable, it’s what he loves about them, why he chose to stay. 

To him, the ultimate show of his love is giving life again to the dead. His Shadows were given life again and he would never let them die as long as they remain loyal. This is their gift, their immortality. 

Shepherd was entertaining for the most part. He didn’t truly understand what Graves was or that Graves was some necromancer in a modern, southern twist. He just understood that Graves got things done and had fun doing it. He didn't know the how or why, he knew enough about Graves not to ask.

Shepherd just pointed and Graves followed. A dog with a bone, and each mission had a bone for him. 

Shepherd pointed and Hassan was on the other side and Graves was ready to hunt. But Shepherd felt it was necessary to get others involved. His Shadows failing once was his reason, never minding the fact those ‘dead’ Shadows were alive once. They were ashamed of their failure and Graves respected their desire to prove themselves. 

Shepherd involving others would get in the way of that. 

Graves found it insulting. He was more than capable of correcting this. His Shadows messed up? They can learn, they can do this. But Shepherd didn't listen and Graves debated on whether this relationship would work anymore. He did what Shepherd said for fun, entertainment, and to grow his Shadows. His army. His fucked up family.

But then he met 141 and decided it wasn’t an offense on Shepherd’s part. He found them entertaining, like he did Shepherd. And he liked their captain. Really liked him. Graves wasn’t going to step away now, so he agreed to play nice with them. He wanted to get to know Captain John Price. 

In a way, they were the same. He cared about his people. Viciously. Graves heavily respected that, admired it even. Price thought like him, moved like him. He was mortal, human, but he walked like he owned the streets, owned the battlefield. Graves was hypnotized and wanted to show Price that they were, indeed, the same.

But after Las Almas? Price refused to see any resemblance or humor any of Graves insanity.

Graves had regretted his actions, following Shepherd so blindly because he trusted the man to show the way to a fun time. It led to 141, to Price, but Graves found his bone in Los Vaqueros’ base. Now he had to build up 141’s trust again, piece by piece.

Graves had felt the power surge in the ground and couldn't resist. He gladly threw the colonel and his people out of the way in order to get to it. He hadn't considered 141's fierce loyalty, hadn't thought Alejandro had gained it in the relatively short period he had worked with them. That was Graves' mistake, the relationships he cherished suffered as a result.

So he ended his affiliation with Shepherd, his first start towards rebuilding what he had destroyed. 

It was a small start.  

He wanted things to go back to what it was, the warmness and familiarity. Price didn’t look at him the same. Firmly business. It was business before, of course, but Price was more relaxed, more trusting. He barely could contain his anger, his hate. It made Graves uneasy. He will fix this, make Price like him again. 

A gift, a perfect gift. The fix to it all. But where to get such a gift?

He couldn't purposely orchestrate this, it would result only false trust. If Price learned the truth, it would mean nothing. No Graves knew this was a game of patience. He had to wait, play nice, and try to win back Price. Graves was nothing if not patient.

"Go crawl back in the shadows, creepy bastard," Soap's glare was cold, colder than the arctic.

Fixing what he had broke wasn't simple, but he knew where to start. Ghost and Soap. Ghost wouldn't talk to him. Every time Graves approached the man would turn and ignore him. It was childish, somewhat adorable. Graves decided to leave small, material gifts for him.

Collector's knives, nice clothes, soft material for his mask repairs.

There wasn't any visible results, but Ghost never rejected the gifts. Graves could see a relationship form in the future. Maybe Ghost could be a Shadow? He would be perfect for it. Graves couldn't help himself, really, he loved growing his strange family.

Soap was... not as approachable.

He was snappy, already tried to throw punches at him despite knowing very well that Graves wasn't human. He blew up that tank he was in and witnessed him crawl out in a shadowy mass. Yet he still showed no fear. Of course, there was a possibility Soap didn't actually see him, or didn't see enough to believe it.

Graves can't help but like him and feel shame for throwing away his trust the way he did. This wasn't something easily repaired, Soap held onto the betrayal differently than the rest. It was personal, he took Graves' actions personally. He couldn't understand why Graves did what he did, would never understand the power Graves felt.

Soap believed Graves was lucky, disbelieved anything he saw that day.

Graves could set the record straight, but he didn't believe it would do any good on what he was trying to fix. Proving to Soap that he was a otherworldly being? One that played with death and things that the mere mortal human mind wasn't capable of seeing? It wouldn't help, so he left it be.

Gaz was the least of his concern. He acted aggressive because of what Graves did to his team, his friends. Ghost showing less aggression had a similar affect on the man, making Graves wonder if he would be willing to drop things if Soap did.

He already accepted Graves' gifts, the offers to pay for food and other expenses. Or he was just willing to drain Graves of money for the sake of using him as a way to get back at him for Soap's sake. If so Graves respected that.

Price saw his efforts, not saying anything on it. He was focused on business, on Makarov. Graves believed they had a connection before and wondered if he ached over it. Graves certainly did.

"I can find him. Bring you his head."

"Phillip."

A warning. He was allowed to assist, not turn this into Graves' chance to prove himself. Graves would bring Price Makarov's head on a silver platter with bouquet of the most expensive, gorgeous flowers this world could provide. But he wouldn't let him, or perhaps he, too, didn't think Graves was capable of it. That he also saw him as just an eccentric human.

Graves let Price have it his way. He'll be compliant, roll over when he told him to. He didn't like listening to Shepherd's every command if he didn't foresee a clear reward as a result. For Price he'll do whatever he wants for however long.

But... he wished he wasn't so quick to just submit. He would've been quick enough that way.

"This is my fault... fuck."

Makarov killed Soap. Shot him in the head. Graves felt strange staring at the man's corpse. He would comfort Price if he would allow him but he didn't want to cross any boundaries to see if he would.

Ghost was wrecked. Upset wasn't even close to describe what he was feeling. He reminded Graves of a bomb, unstable. A slight jostle and it would blow up. He would rip apart the stars to fix this, Graves could tell. A hole was in his heart and he was near feral because of it.

Gaz was in shock, denying it up until he saw Soap on the table. He's seen the dead before, been the reason why someone was dead. He's lost colleagues, this wasn't his first time losing someone close to him. But he acted like it was, like he just lost his best friend, someone he never expected to lose.

And Price? He blamed himself. He was dead on his feet, not really hearing anything anyone was saying to him. He was just staring at Soap, at his failure to protect him.

Graves knew then what he had to do.

They had left after seeing him. He was to be cremated and they wanted to be shitfaced that night. Graves knew it was the opportune moment. He'll fix things. He's already tried to kill Soap, so bringing him back as a Shadow would have to be the perfect apology. Right?

"May I have a moment alone, gentlemen?"

The morticians nodded and left. Just like that. Graves waited until the door shut before he approached Soap. He was grey, cold, and the hole in his head wasn't looking too good.

"We're good after this, yea?"

Graves breathed life back into his Shadows. He called their soul back to their body while also giving a piece of himself. They are reborn with past memories but new strengths. He was sure Soap would appreciate it.

Soap's eyes snapped open, the color of life returning to them as he sat up with a gasp. He was breathing heavily, surely reliving those final moments with Makarov. He scrambled off the metal table and fell to the floor, standing while being ready to fight.

Shadows always came back this way: Ready to kill.

"What- What the fuck!?"

"Easy, Soap. You're safe. You're alive."

Soap stared at Graves, trying to understand what he had said. He felt a connection to him, as he did all his Shadows. That piece he gave them, a sense of knowing who he was and what he did for them. And what had happened to them.

Soap stared at Graves in horror, arms dropping as he leaned on the table with a heavy breath.

"No... no fucking way..."

"It is, actually. I came prepared, have some nice clothes for ya."

Soap kept quiet, hand going up to his head. When his fingers found the hole he jerked his hand away and gagged. Graves would have to do something about that. He's stitched limbs together before, but what do you do about a hole in someone's head? He's normally torn skin and stitched over bullet wounds on other Shadows.

But the head? He's always avoided major head injuries for a reason.

He had to coax Soap to put the sweats on after convincing him to put on underwear. He felt like he was dressing a toddler considering he wasn't very cooperative. Soap managed to get the shirt on, at least, hugging his torso as he finished.

"Why?"

"Hm? You can't walk around naked, Soap. It's indecent."

He wasn't in the mood for jokes, didn't even have the energy to be angry at him for making one.

"Why did you bring me back?"

His voice was soft, cracked some as he spoke. He was so confused, like all Shadows are after their rebirth.

"Well, wouldn't be the same without you."

It was genuine and Soap broke some. Graves caught him as his knees gave out, holding the man in his arms as he cried. It would've been peaceful, Graves would've taken all the time needed to help Soap understand, to properly apologize. But the morticians returned and fucking screamed.

And now he had to explain everything to everyone, not in his own pace.

"Johnny!?"

Ghost had ran in first and froze when he saw Soap was alive but didn't completely look it. He stared at Soap in stunned silence, eyes so wide Graves thought they would pop. Gaz was no better, he ran in, skidded to a stop when he saw Soap, and had to grab onto Ghost for support.

Price came in and Graves was surprised that the man fainted at the sight of Soap standing, corpse-like but alive. Graves blamed the morticians for complicating things. They just had to run in and scream. Now Graves felt like things were messier than what they needed to be.

But he was confident. This was the right move to making things right.

[frost-queen]

Falling leaves (Reader x Prince Zuko)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic  , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 , @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers  , @merlieve   , @queen-of-books  , @glimmering-darling-dolly  ,@denkisclown   , @wildieflower  ,@meyocoko   , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr  , @swampthing07  , @melsunshine   , @panhoeofmanyfandoms  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat ,@rosecentury  ,  @imagines-by-her  ,  @evilcr0ne  , @vviolynn   , @niktwazny303  ,@avada-kedavra-bitch-187  , @markive-m , @sweetheartlizzie07

Summary: Lu Ten and you used to be engaged untill the news fell upon you of his death. After Lu Ten's death, grow Zuko and you closer. Eventually falling for each other, but remaining too guilty in honour of Lu Ten. Yet a simple nudge of Iroh eases Zuko in the right direction.

Anxiously you were pacing around in your room. Unable to sleep. Barely even attempted to go to bed when you had such a heavy weight on you. Something was occurring. You could sense it. Ever since Lu Ten has been called out to war, you’ve had nothing but restless sleep. Yet this was different. Mostly you could call asleep at some point.

Now you simply couldn’t. Afraid that if you might go to sleep, you might miss something of importance. There hadn’t been recent notes from him for days now as it started to worry you. Pacing around as your thumb rested between your teeth. Trying, hoping there would be news from him.

Yet deep down, you feared that if you might receive news, it wouldn’t be the best news. Your feet having walked countless steps. Simply going back and forth. It had become a routine, you would do mindlessly. Feet never seeming to tire out.

The candles were almost burned out. But a little stomp with the smallest of flames. Their nature light having dimmed the room. Anxiety rose as you so hoped there wouldn’t be any news. Hoping that Lu Ten was alright and would return from war. If not for the sake of you, then for the sake of his father Iroh. Countless more steps you did. Not once tired.

The sound of sudden knock on the door made you stop. Staring still at that cold door. Swallowing nervously, you blinked rapidly to keep your emotions down. – “Yes.” – you spoke watching as the door opened. You had expected an officer, a soldier, anyone but not him. Iroh came in sight as he pushed the door further open. His gaze kept on the ground. It was enough.

You inhaled deep with a shiver, lip trembling. Iroh entered, closing the door behind him. – “Y/n…” – he started unable to lift his gaze up to you. You noticed a piece of parchment in his hand, slightly hidden behind his back. – “I…my son…” – he said finally lifting his gaze up to you. Eyes glossy with hidden tears.

You bowed your head to him, pressing your lips together to silence your cry. Iroh noticed how you haven’t even prepared to go to bed. Still in full attire as if you had been waiting for any news. Iroh moved his hand with the letter in it, trembling to the front. – “My son…” – he repeated too much of a burden to speak the words. You went down on your knees, laying down, bowing the lowest to him. Iroh sniffled touched by your gesture of respect.

“My deepest apologies to you Y/n.” – Iroh spoke as it made you lift your head up. – “You lost a son.” – you replied not wanting him to apologize to you. There was no need for him to apologize to you. Not while he was grieving so much of his son. – “You lost a love.” – he answered, moving his hands togethers to bow at you. Getting up, you walked up to him. Cherishing your hands under his to lift him up.

Make him stand up straight once more. – “I bow to you.” – you friendly scolded him with a saddened smile. Iroh smiled faintly back at you. He then retired to his own quarters to grief for his son whoever he pleased. The moment he left, you felt yourself unbalance. Wobbly on your feet as it made you bump against the cabinet.

Hand brought up to your mouth, to deafen out your sobs. For your fiancé Lu Ten had lost his life in battle. The shock finally entering your body like an explosion. Shaking you to your core as it made every fibre in you tremble. Tremble as you let out a scream of agony. Scream so loud it died out to grasp for air followed by loud sobs and cries.

The very ground from underneath your feet caved away. For that night and many more nights they would be sleepless. The news of Lu Ten’s passing roamed quickly through the palace. The ceremony in honour of Lu Ten came three days later. Giving Iroh the time to grief alone and in silence. Lu Ten’s ceremony was peaceful. Iroh sat down. Three more empty chairs beside him.

You stood upright to his right. Hands folded together. Many of those who came to pay their respects, only had eyes for Iroh and his grief. Bowing to him without a word. You didn’t need the attention as you were but Lu Ten’s to be bride.

Prince Zuko paid his respects to Lu Ten. He then paused in front of his uncle. Bowing to him as well. For a moment he was about to move on, till he decided to stay. Iroh’s gaze slowly going up as he noticed Zuko had lingered. No one else took the time to linger. – “When my studies weren’t going well and father was unhappy.” – Zuko began looking humble at the ground. 

“Lu Ten gave me this.” – Iroh’s gaze went down to Zuko’s hand. Clearly holding something hidden in his palm. – “He won it for finishing first in his officers class. He said it should belong to someone  destined to do great things.” – Zuko continued as Iroh recognized it. – “It gave me strength.” – Zuko spoke with clarity. With a soft breath, he knelt down, taking his uncle’s hand to place the medal in his hand.

Zuko rose once more. – “Lu Ten didn’t needed it.” – he spoke looking back at his uncle. – “Because he was the strongest person I knew.” – Zuko finished with a caring smile. His uncle closed his hand on the medal, blinking a few tears away. Zuko then surprisingly turned to you. Holding his hands together to give you a bow.

It made you blink surprised as he was the first person to acknowledge your pain too. – “He loved you very much Y/n.” – Zuko said to you before coming to sit next to his uncle. Showing his gratitude and support to his uncle in his grieving. After the ceremony, you excused yourself from everyone. Heading up to the balcony. Arms resting on the railing as you let the breeze blow your tears away.

You didn’t notice someone approaching till you felt a presence near you. – “Prince Zuko.” – you said surprised, turning to bow at him. Zuko held his hand up with a sheepish smile. – “Please Y/n.” – he said not wanting you to threat him so stiffly as all the others did. With a simple nod, you accepted it. – “What you did for your uncle was very warmly.” – you told him gazing at the view. Zuko came resting his arms on the railing beside you.

“I am sorry not one of them acknowledged your pain, Y/n.” – Zuko said with sympathy. – “It is quite alright.” – you replied in a soft tone. – “It is not.” – Zuko answered with fierceness. – “You loved Lu Ten. You have every right to be threated with respect.” – you could see that he was getting a bit worked up over it. It made you chuckle a bit.

Zuko curled up a smile as well from seeing you light up. – “Thank you.” – you whispered out, feeling as if your heart was lighter. Zuko moved his hand to his chest, bowing to you. You turned back to the scenery, breathing deep. – “I shall leave you now…” – Zuko began with a gesture, already turning his posture away. – “Please!” – you called out making him stop his action. – “Stay.” – you finished sweetly, not wanting to be alone.

Zuko moved back beside you, remaining quiet as he enjoyed the scenery with you. He stayed with you until it grew too cold. Zuko led you back inside, for you to seek out warmth once more. Zuko bowed his head when he had guided you up to your quarters. You bend through your knees to curtsy at him. Zuko kept smiling at you as you closed the door on him. Surprisingly that night you slept well. The moment your head hit the pillow, you dreamed off.

As the sun rose once more, were you greeted by Prince Zuko once more. Waiting for you in the hallways to join you. Give you comfort and set your mind of your grief. It was nice to share more than tears. Zuko and you started to share small talk. Speak about the most simplest of things to get your minds off it. There was still time for grieving, but there were also moments of joy.

As the leaves changed Zuko and you grew closer to each other. Having spend so many time together it was almost impossible to not share a moment together a day. Zuko was once again waiting for you. – “Y/n there you are!” – he exclaimed, taking your hand to pull you along. – “Zuko do you not have studies?” – you questioned. – “Finished early.” – he breathed out, tugging more on you to hurry up.

You raised your eyebrow questionable up to him. Zuko placed his hand on yours that he was still holding. – “Oh come on Y/n. You know what an excellent student I am.” – he let out, making you laugh loud. Zuko led you outside to the pond. – “You should not neglect your studies. Your sister does not.” – you told him.

Zuko groaned soft. – “Can we please not talk about Azula.” – he answered with a bothered expression. – “Alright.” – you gave in moving your hand up. In the pond was a little family of turtle duck as you awed at them. – “Would you like to feed them?” – Zuko proposed already revealing some bread. You looked at him, how clearly he had foreseen this. Zuko shrugged his shoulders, giving you a piece of bread.

You started breaking it into smaller bits, tossing it into the pond. The turtle ducks swam over to it, nibbling on the bread. One of the little one’s bit at the bread, using a bit too much force as he dipped down, head first in the water. It made you laugh soft at how cute that looked. Hearing you laugh made Zuko smile. You started to throw more bread in the pond as Zuko kept giving you crumbled bread to toss.

 “Neglecting your studies for low life pets?” – A sharp voice came through making you gasp. – “What do you want Azula!” – Zuko said firm standing in front of you. – “Oh zuzu you humour me.” – Azula responded with a sneer. – “Perhaps you should keep feeding stupid ducks, for I’ll be sure to out do you soon enough… oh wait. I already did.” – she finished with a devilish chuckle. Zuko got tense as he wanted to have a go at her, but you stopped him.

Knowing Azula wasn’t worth it. – “Right have our cousin’s hand me down keep you tamed Zuzu.” – Azula mocked making you clench your jaw. – “Do not speak about Y/n like that!” – Zuko called out. It only seemed to amuse Azula more. – “I shall speak to her how I like!” – Azula shouted back, readying herself. Zuko’s eyes widened when he saw his sister create fire. Sending it towards the two of you.

Zuko wrapped his arms around you, pushing you to the side as he dove with you to the ground. Azula’s fire blowing over your heads. Azula laughed manically before taking her leave. – “Are… are you alright Y/n?” – Zuko questioned, lifting his head up as he suddenly noticed how close he was to your face. You nodded with a soft hum staring with wide eyes at him. Zuko’s eyes flicked briefly down to your lips as did yours.

Heart pounding louder as your eyes got drawn to his lips once more. Wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. For over the past few months that you had been spending more with him, you started to fall in love with Zuko. The sound of your heart beating got overwhelming as in this moment you wanted him to kiss you. The thought seemed to have crossed his mind as well. He moved his head a bit down, already tilting it to the side, slowly closing his eyes.

You felt his breath tickle your lips, anticipating the kiss. – “I…I shouldn’t.” – Zuko said pulling himself away. You got up as well, nodding. – “We shouldn’t.” – you responded, feeling guilty. Guilty for betraying Lu Ten. Zuko helped you up to your feet as you didn’t speak a word. Leaving in separate ways, too ashamed for ruining the memory of Lu Ten.

Zuko made his way into the palace, sighing deep. – “Nephew!” – Iroh’s stern voice came through, startling Zuko. – “Uncle.” – he spoke surprised. – “Were you just outside with Y/n?” – he asked. – “No…yes… I mean…” – Zuko stuttered out not sure how to respond to this. Zuko exhaled deep. – “I know I spend too much time with her and I am sorry for it uncle. I won’t let it happen again.”

Iroh furrowed his brows.  – “And why would you want to do that?” – he questioned again. – “Because…” – Zuko started trying to make it obvious without hurting his uncle’s feelings. Iroh picked up on it, chuckling deep. – “If you worry about me do not. I see how the two of you are around each other. You smile more nephew. I like to see you more smile.” – Iroh said with a nudge at Zuko.

“I…I don’t understand uncle.” – Zuko responded confused. Iroh chuckled once more, laying a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. – “If you worry about me do not. I would want nothing more than my favourite nephew to be happy with Y/n.” – he teased him. – “I am your only nephew.” – Zuko joked making Iroh laugh loud. – “Go on.” – Iroh gave Zuko another nudge back in the direction of the gardens. Zuko smiled, hugging his uncle before running back outside to look for you.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[scribbling-dragon]

as promised,, here's the few headcanons I've currently got bouncing around in my docs/notes!

- BigB was slightly changed by his time in the mesa. not changed in the same way other people have been by the Games, but just enough to be noticeable. his feet don't make a sound, even when other's do. when he walks over sand, or snow, or freshly turned dirt, he leaves no footprints behind, as though he was never there in the first place. When you turn your head away from him, enough that you can barely see him from the corner of your eye, he changes. his limbs are out of proportion and nothing seems Quite Right. when you look back, everything is normal. there is no hole in the mesa.

- martyns a fucken cat. half of the time he looks as though he's just walked through the worst rainstorm in the world, even if it's currently sunny.

- do not approach the secret keeper just before dawn. It does things then that are only barely veiled beneath the darkness. if you look closely, you may see Its assistant (though perhaps that "assisstant" is the true mastermind).

- no-one's wounds are healing. they may eventually stop bleeding, so the players do not die of blood loss (a slow, creeping death may bring with it lots of dread, but it leaves a sour aftertaste for whoever consumes it), but the wounds remain gaping open.

- leading on from the previous one: martyn may have died, but some are secretly jealous that he is no longer walking around with open wounds. others are simply glad that they do not have to try and find an unmarred piece of skin to look at while they talk to him anymore.

- their secret tasks are each given to them in a small book, one that they must keep on their person at all times. with these books came personalised little holders for each player, so they can have it resting at their hip for easy access. these "book holsters" are just large enough for the book and nothing else. these holsters cannot be burned or damaged or destroyed in any way. whoever made them must have known the players well, with all the small hints to their personality within the design.

- skizz was the first to discover that you could additionally customise the book holsters, as he was doodling "Love Island" onto it to see if the alliance name would stick. it did, and others began writing their own alliance names on it, sitting and customising their holsters together so they could all match.

- jimmys "book holster" has a rather unique design compared to everyone else's. his holster is visibly falling apart, deteriorating throughout the day. only once he manages to complete his task does his holster get restored to its original condition, though with gold stitching highlighting where it has been pieced back together. he does not know what will happen if his holster falls apart completely (he's not sure he wants to know).

[ghostofhyuck]

Gang AU Series 7

Mafia Boss! Park Jisung x Wife! Reader

Summary: “Do you even know who you married?”

cw: mentions of violence, death, murder, and blood. Jisung is a bit insane here but that’s what makes him hot though. 

AN: I can’t take this seriously because I’m using Andy instead of Jisung IJBOL. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were shaking. Hands cold yet tightly gripping on the gun. You stood there in darkness, silence devouring you and your husband. 

“What? Come on, shoot me,” his deep voice echoed through the void. From the dim light of the kitchen, you can see his sinister smile, teasing, with a smirk on his lips. Nevermind that he’s covered with the blood of whoever he slaughtered, all you knew was that the person standing in front of you is not the person you married. 

“I’m waiting, you know that?” Jisung smiled, even leaning forward, resting his forehead at the tip of the gun. He stares at you cold, and you swore that he became a monster. 

In a minute of silence, no one moved. You couldn’t help but to lightly push the gun forward to him, and yet he remained unfazed. He’s only staring at your soul, waiting for your next move. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and in a split second, you dropped onto your knees. Your hands still holding the gun, as you tried to catch your breath. You can’t. You just can’t imagine ending the life of your lover. You couldn’t. Not when your love for him is too strong despite the betrayal that he just did. 

Jisung kneels in front of you, his hands grabbing your wrist and snatching the gun away from you. You watched him observe the gun, smiling, “You don’t even know how to load a gun.” he said, placing it at the top of the kitchen counter. 

He glances at you, slightly caressing your cheeks and you couldn’t help but flinch at his touch. “I knew you couldn’t do it,” he whispered to you and you don’t know if he was disappointed by your actions or he was relieved

“I’m sorry Andy…I’m really sorry,” you cried. Tears started to flow only for him to swipe it gently. 

“It’s okay love, I understand why,” he assured, but in a split second, you saw how his expression darkened. “Now tell me what happened here while I was gone.” 

You could only stare, trying to recall earlier events. 

 You didn’t expect that police officers would show up at the footsteps of your door on a random Tuesday afternoon. 

“Is Park Jisung home?” the female police officer asked immediately, you raised an eyebrow. 

“I think you got the wrong address,” you answered. 

“You’re yn ln right?” she asked, and you only nod. “Well then, I guess your husband hid his identity from you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Can we come in for a minute?” 

Onto the next few hours, you didn’t expect to be interrogated by them. They asked you about your husband, where did you meet him and do you even know what he does in his job. They kept on pushing you for answers but you were clueless about the accusations. 

You told them your truth. You met Jisung at a club in Seoul, he introduced himself as “Andy Park” and said he just got home from studying abroad. You two immediately hit off. Went several dates and became exclusive after a few months. A year into being together and you agreed to marry him. You felt like there’s no need to take things longer since you can see your future with Jisung. He was serious and was loyal to you. You two never fought and had a healthy relationship.

You two have been married for almost five years now. You two promised to focus on each other’s careers, that’s why both of you are childless. You know that Jisung works as a businessman, specifically on human resources, while you’re a freelance digital artist. 

You never suspected Jisung to be working for an underground gang. You were clueless. You told them that numerous times but they were sceptical. You explained that he does arrive home late but you thought that just him being workaholic. You convinced them that you’re innocent, not even knowing that your husband’s real name is ‘Park Jisung.’

“Do you know Prosecutor Seo?” the officer asked. You shake your head.

She gave you a picture of a man in his fifties along with your husband. They seemed to be having a serious conversation. The picture was angled as if someone was watching them from afar.

“I told you many times, I never meddled with my husband’s career. I don’t know him and his affiliations with Andy,” you told them with a serious tone. 

The officers both glanced at each other. The lady lets out a sigh, grabbing another photo of a crime scene. 

“A few weeks earlier, Mr. Kim, a mayoral candidate, was found dead in his hotel room. We suspected that it was a hitman who did it, since there’s no signs of forced entry,” she explained. You only become quiet as she explains it to you slowly. 

“During investigation, we found out that Prosecutor Seo was behind the murder, but in order to not get his hands dirty, he hired Park Jisung to assassinate Mr. Kim.” 

Hearing those words felt as if something heavy crashed onto you. Suddenly everything became blurry to you and you were frozen. You couldn’t believe it. How is it that that shy and sweet husband of yours is behind a murder case. You tried to grab the glass of water but due to your shaky hands, you dropped it, startling the two. 

“I’m sorry…it m-might’ve slipped,” you stuttered. You tried to stand up to get a tissue but the male officer stood up first. 

“This must be a lot to take,” the female officer said with a weary tone. “I’m sorry you have to discover this way.”

“Are you going to arrest him?” you asked instead.

“No,” the officer sternly said. “We were ordered to take Park Jisung out.”

“N-no! You mean —”

“An order from the higher up,” she explained. “I’m sorry but your husband was too stupid for killing an influential man.” 

You only became quiet. You don’t know what to do. You feel defeated, betrayed, and worried by the fate of your husband. You felt overwhelmed by the revelations told to you. You didn’t even notice that tears are starting to stream down your eyes. You couldn’t help but to bite onto your fingernails, a thing that you do when you’re anxious — 

“But don’t worry, we can help you. We know how hard it is to understand things, but I hope you understand that your husband is a criminal,” she said to you with a serious tone. 

“How?” you asked, defeated. 

She only became quiet, placing a gun in front of you. 

“So that’s why you have a gun,” Jisung nonchalantly said. Grabbing the gun once again. “Got to give them kudos for giving you an illegal gun too.” 

“Andy…” you muttered. 

“No more ‘love’? I understand,” he chuckles. Jisung turns around and looks at you, who's sitting at the chair.

Jisung couldn’t help but feel guilty for hiding his identity to you. But it was for the best. He was afraid of scaring you off, that you might think of him as a dangerous man. But Jisung knows that his works aren’t ethical either. He also knew how much you would worry about his work and career if you knew. The underground scene is dangerous and illegal, but Jisung finds solace in that place. It’s no different to their government and leaders. At some point, all of them went running through gang members and bosses for illegal activities. 

And to think that the police officer forced you to kill him was hypocritical. They weren’t any different from him. 

“Look, I’m sorry for hiding this from you,” he said sincerely. “I just don’t want you to be involved with my career, it’s risky and I don’t want to put you in any danger.” 

Part of him was afraid that you turned your back on him. He’s afraid of you leaving him after revealing his true identity. He knows how ruthless and cold he can be, and it’s that side of him that he promises to not show to you. 

“And what!? You’ll continue hiding it from me until you die!?” you shouted, but you were only welcomed by Jisung’s hands on your shoulders. 

“No! It’s just — I fucked up. No, my men fucked up,” Jisung tried to explained. “Goddamn, if only they were more careful with their actions, then this wouldn’t happen.”

“What did you do?” you asked slowly, eyes darting at the bloodstained shirt of his. 

“Just a small punishment for being stupid, it’s not your concern,” Jisung smiles. “I went home like this on purpose because I know what’s going to happen.” 

You only became quiet. Jisung glances at the cupboard, and points at it. “I have eyes everywhere love, I got to be sure you’re safe.” 

“So you knew?”

“Always one step ahead from them,” he smirks. “Now love, I’m going to be honest with you.” 

Jisung gently removes his hands from your shoulders and places them on your hands. Something that he does to make you feel safe. “I know that you’re overwhelmed with everything, and you are having a hard time trusting me too. I’m sorry, and as much as I want to explain everything to you, we are running out of time.” 

You only stared at him for a minute. That assured Jisung that you’re listening. “Any minute now, they might return to our place and take it upon themselves if you fail to kill me. Now, they might also do the same with you.” 

“They told me they will not touch me,” you explained. 

“We can’t be sure about that,” Jisung rebutted. “Now, are you with me? Chenle’s waiting for us at the port. A boat going to Hong Kong is waiting for us. We can start new, hide ourselves from the world, and maybe…” he kisses your forehead fondly. “Have kids now. You don’t have to worry about anything, just trust me in this one please yn.” 

You looked at Jisung, and finally, saw the man that you married. The man that you exchanged vows with and promised you to put your safety against any things.

You thought that you were a fool for marrying him early due to the revelations earlier, but you know that your heart is telling you something else. As you caressed Jisung’s cheeks, you couldn’t help but to smile bitterly as you nod. You saw how Jisung’s eyes lightened up and how his hands squeezed your cheeks. 

“I know that you wouldn’t put me in danger, love,” you whispered to him. 

“Of course I won’t. God, I love you so much,” he confesses. Pulling you for another kiss once again. You couldn’t help but to kiss him back. Eager and longing, as if you two haven’t seen each other for a decade. 

“Pack light okay? Just important things that you need, we need to leave before midnight,” Jisung told you as you two broke the kiss.

You only nod, watching him grab your hands once again, gently squeezing it. That’s when you noticed the sudden change of his expression. 

“Where’s your ring?” he asked. 

“Oh! I placed it on my jewelry box —”

“Good,” he said in a serious tone. “From now on, don’t you ever remove it from you.”

[argisthebulwark]

We Can Get Lost, You & Me

summary: Scenarios that make them say please. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Vilkas, Miraak, Farkas, Brynjolf warnings: canon typical mention of blood/injury and death, sexually suggestive content. minors should not read or interact.

Vilkas says it through gritted teeth. Every inch of his body is screaming for him to close the distance between you - it’s a couple measly steps, after all. Only a few steps keep him from kissing you but he refrains. He refuses to lose this little game you’ve been playing for weeks; dancing around each other, flirty comments and touches meant to get under the others skin, the constant heat simmering heat between you. It’s as exciting as it is infuriating.  “Please.” He finally breaks, fists clenched on the arms of his chair. Your little laugh makes his blood boil when you climb into his lap, hands combing through his hair to tilt his head back. He relishes your fingers trailing over his jaw and the victorious smile on your lips.  “Does this mean I won?” You tease, though he’s too distracted to be annoyed. It’s so easy to slide his hands over your hips and draw you in, to finally indulge in what he’s wanted for too long. 

Miraak is not one to plead - he only says it when he is broken, when he is on the verge of death and has nothing left but you. When his eyes are wide and terrified, ink stained fingers grasping your armor as the world tilts around you. Your blade rests at his throat just as the prophecy described. Whoever foretold your future did not expect you to hesitate, to look into those deep green eyes and feel your heart wrench.  “Please, Dragonborn.” Miraak pants, blood staining the front of his robes. “Allow me one more chance.” “Why should I trust you?” In your heart you know that it is fruitless, your blade never sought to kill him. The only wounds you’ve left are superficial, a warning that you are as strong as him.  “You shouldn’t.” Miraak admits, each breath bringing your blade dangerously close to his skin. “Look into your heart, Dragonborn. Please, allow me a chance to earn your trust.”

Farkas looks at you with stars in his eyes, cheeks flushed and an easy smile on his face. He’s so gentle when he holds your face, kissing you until you feel dizzy. He’s so warm and close, all your senses dominated by him. Sunlight peeks through the hastily shut curtains alerting you that you’re late but here you sit, sluggishly untangling your limbs from his.  “Please don’t go.” He murmurs into your skin between kisses, eager hands exploring every curve of you. “You don’t have to leave, not yet.”  “I do have to leave.” You insist, though it’s far too easy to fall back into bed with him. Strong arms are around you before you can blink, lips trailing up your shoulder to your throat as he smothers you in kisses.  “Stay with me, please.” Farkas insists. Against your better judgment, you do. 

Brynjolf, who learned so long ago to shove his needs aside for the sake of others. The man who doesn't dare ask for a thing if it doesn't benefit the Guild, begs for one more day. Hell, he'd take another minute. His tears have dried, muscles sore from sobbing and pleading with whatever god bothers to listen to him. None answered, so his pleas are solely for you. "Please, love. Don't do this to me." He mumbles, stumbling through the snow. Mercer hadn't even bothered to bring your body back, leaving Brynjolf with a long trek. "Don't leave me." A senseless little spark of home remains in his heart - you cannot be dead. Surely he would have felt it. "Please, just come back. We'll figure it all out. I'm almost there, I'll get you home safe. Just hold on a little longer for me."

[lovelyney]

─────DATING THEM !! SUMERU WOMEN─────

CHARACTERS: candace, collei, dehya, layla, nilou

SCENT: headcanons

WARNINGS: none! ♡♡

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯2023 !! #©LOVELYNEY

꒱₊˚ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐂𝐄 !! 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐎𝐖

𖠵𝟎𝟏: Your girlfriend, guardian and bodyguard combined into one 😭 We all know she’s known for her mom-like attitude. . . Well, that applies to you too !!

𖠵𝟎𝟐: She isn’t necessarily protective or possessive over you, because she knows you’re well capable o handling yourself, dangerous situation or not. She just likes to keep an eye on whoever you’re chatting too make sure they don’t try anything.

𖠵𝟎𝟑: A lot of the kids in Aura Village see you two as their older siblings or their parents !! She thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.

𖠵𝟎𝟒: She likes to tease that you two are the parents of Cyno, Alhaitham, and Dehya, LMAO. Cause you are, lowkey. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟓: Doesn’t take too kindly to people abusing you, physically or verbally.

𖠵𝟎𝟔: Her trust in you is unwavering, so she doesn’t get jealous very often if at all. However, she’ll always willing to step in if some desperate idiot won’t leave you alone.

𖠵𝟎𝟕: If she sees you getting shy because of her, she will use that to her advantage and tease you ‹/3

𖠵𝟎𝟖: Calls you “honey/hon,” “darling,” “(my) love,” and “qamari.” (Which is “my moon” in arabic!)

❝Hm? Ah, welcome back, darling. . . You’re back from your commissions awfully early; I haven’t even finished lunch yet. . . Oh dear, what’s with the cloudy expression? Has something happened? Sit down, my love, you’ve exhausted yourself enough for the day. . . I’ll brew you some rose tea and you can tell me what you wish. Does that sound good?❞

𖠵𝟎𝟗: Always gives you a gentle yet stern lecture whenever you get yourself injured; she can’t find it in her to remain upset with you ‹/3

𖠵𝟏𝟎: One of the most loveliest people you can go to if you’re feeling upset in any way. She offers the best advice and will always let you rest in her arms.

𖠵𝟏𝟏: Always gives you a forehead kiss before seeing you off somewhere (:

𖠵𝟏𝟐: If she overhears someone raising their voice at you in aggression, she’ll walk over and give them a death glare almost immediately shutting them up.

𖠵𝟏𝟑: Always priorities your safety and well-being. For example, if she sees you’re working yourself into a panic when you’re talking with someone, she’ll excuse the two of you and take somewhere quieter and calm you down.

𖠵𝟏𝟒: Arguments are incredibly rare between the two of you; she’s very patient and always tries to see your view of things.

𖠵𝟏𝟓: On the nights you’re more overworked/stressed, she’ll hum you quietly to sleep.

𖠵𝟏𝟔: Quite the romantic! she loves to keep you on your toes, hehe.

꒱₊˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐈 !! 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇

𖠵𝟎𝟎: AN ANGEL !1!1 MY ANGEL !1! I LOVE HER SO MUCH 😡

𖠵𝟎𝟏: It took quite some time for Tighnari to convince her to confess to you ): She was scared and insecure because of her lack of experience ‹/3

when you two did start dating, Tighnari gave you a very stern glare as a warning. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟐: She was a little scared of initiating affection because of her Eleazar. However, with the amount of patience and kindness you showed her, she warmed up overtime !! ‹3

𖠵𝟎𝟑: (↑) And afterwards, she absolutely loves showing and giving you affection !! Her love language isn’t exactly touch, but she still loves giving you small actions of love !! (:

𖠵𝟎𝟒: Her love language is definitely gift giving !! She loves to craft and/or make you things !! Whether that be stuffed animals, clothes, food, etc. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟓: Tighnari likes to ask if you can tag along with her on some of the more tedious expeditions because he trusts you to take care of her.

pushing aside his first initial protectiveness, Tighnari also saw to it that he took you under his wing as well. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟔: (↑) Despite lacking a romantic relationship himself, he gives her relatively genuine advice when it comes to you !! He can tell how serious she is about you and vice versa ‹3

𖠵𝟎𝟕: “Love/lovebug,” “sweetheart,” and “(my) sunshine.”

❝Good morning, lovebug! I hope you slept okay! Um, I know you’ve been struggling to eat recently so—so I made you some breakfast! I remember you telling me how much you loved my cooking when we first met, s—so please, eat up! I’ll even make you more if you’d like!❞

𖠵𝟎𝟖: Writes about you to Amber !1! You can’t hear or see her, but the outrider is fangirling all the way over in Monstandt, LMAO.

𖠵𝟎𝟗: Really wants you to take you on a vacation to Monstandt so that you can meet all her friends there !! )): ‹33

𖠵𝟏𝟎: Gets really bad panic attacks whenever you get yourself seriously injured 😭 Tighnari has to calm her down when they’re taking care of you.

she will stay by your side to the moment you’re in there to the point you exit )):

𖠵𝟏𝟏: Flower-picking and picnics are two common occurrences when it comes to the two of you !!

𖠵𝟏𝟐: (↑) One of her favorite things to do is braid together flower crowns with you !! She always makes sure hers as the prettiest flowers so it matches your beauty ‹3

𖠵𝟏𝟑: She loves resting with you because it puts her mind to ease but she’s always too shy to ask if you can sleep with her.

𖠵𝟏𝟒: Always tries to bring you back the prettiest flowers from her expeditions. If not flowers, than something among the lines of a pretty rock or jewel she came across on.

𖠵𝟏𝟓: Is trying to actively work on her confidence so she doesn’t hesitant when showing you affection !! )):

꒱₊˚ 𝐃𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐀 !! 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄-𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄

𖠵𝟎𝟏: Mom girlfriend #02 ‼️‼️🫶

𖠵𝟎𝟐: A little similar to Candace, she’s a tad bit more on the protective side, though. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟑: (↑) Don’t let that distract you from the fact that she only wants the best for you !! She always tells you how much you mean to her and how devastated she’d be if something happened to you.

𖠵𝟎𝟒: Always makes sure you’re well protected whenever you go out (especially if she’s not with you) because of her line of work; she hates that you have a target on your back because of her.

𖠵𝟎𝟓: As I mentioned, she’s protective. So, if she sees someone actively hurting or making you uncomfortable, she wastes no time stepping in and setting things straight.

would go to extreme lengths to protect you !! even if you protest against it, she sets a goal for herself, that, as your girlfriend, she has to protect you no matter the cost😡😡

𖠵𝟎𝟔: A lot of people are surprised to see her actively showing you PDA in public because they thought she’d be too “cutthroat” for it; boy, were they wrong. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟕: Likes to have a hand on you one way or another whenever you’re sitting together. On your leg, waist, arm, etc. . . It’s just her way of showing you that she’s with you no matter what’s said.

𖠵𝟎𝟖: “Baby/babe,” “dear,” “(little) lamb,” and “(my) warrior.”

❝Ah, welcome back, little lamb. Woah! There’s practically steam blowing out of your ears. . . Sit down, babe take a deep breath, will you? What happened? Some guy hasn’t been leaving you alone lately? Really. . . Lamb, do you remember the last place you saw him? I can guarantee he won’t ever lay a finger on you ever again.❞

𖠵𝟎𝟗: You are one of things that calm her down almost instantly.

𖠵𝟏𝟎: Your smile is one the things she lives to protect !1!1!1 She absolutely hates seeing you upset over something or someone.

𖠵𝟏𝟏: If it’s because of an argument you two had or something she’s said, she’s already thinking of a way to make things right when she walks away.

𖠵𝟏𝟐: When she protected Dunyunzard, she always liked to talk about you to her !! The girl was absolutely thrilled to meet you when she did.

𖠵𝟏𝟑: Takes you out on the most adventurous dates !! It’s almost never boring when you’re with her.

𖠵𝟏𝟒: She once overheard someone say that she dated you for the mora and she had to physically hold herself back from beating the hell out of them.

𖠵𝟏𝟓: If you’re doing some kind of training with her she’ll stop the second she recognizes you getting exhausted. She hates seeing you overworked.

𖠵𝟏𝟔: (↑) And if you’re traveling with her and she sees you starting to drag your feet, she’ll immediately pick you up and won’t take no for an answer.

𖠵𝟏𝟕: Talks about you to others like a proud mom.

𖠵𝟏𝟖: When she first introduced you to the guys, a few of them actually ogled and attempted to flirt with you. She found it nothing short of amusing.

꒱₊˚ 𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐀 !! 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

𖠵𝟎𝟏: She has the sleep schedule of a struggling college student, so good luck trying to get her to sleep ‹/3

𖠵𝟎𝟐: Nobody really knows how you two got together ?? They think you’re really cute together, nonetheless. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟑: You’re really the only one that can successfully drag her bed; she can’t resist your cuddles, especially when she’s sleepy. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟒: If you notice her research is piling up, you’ll offer to help her out with what you can; she’ll always gratefully accept ‹3

𖠵𝟎𝟓: She’s somehow always thinking of you. . . If she sees something that reminds you of her, she’ll be like: “oh. . . (NAME) would love something like this.”

𖠵𝟎𝟔: She always gets so flustered whenever someone brings up your relationship because she isn’t used to social interaction. save her pls 💔💔

𖠵𝟎𝟕: Calls you “starlight/star,” “moonlight/moon,” and “lovely.”

❝Starlight? Um, are—are you by chance busy at the moment? I—I can come back later if you aren’t! Nono! It’s. . . it’s not because I need your assistance. It’s just. . . I was wondering if you’d like to visit the new cafe that opened? I—I know we haven’t had much time for dates lately be. . . because of work, and I. . . I feel really bad.❞

𖠵𝟎𝟖: You can tell when she’s really getting tired because she starts clinging to you.

𖠵𝟎𝟗: More than once she’s fallen asleep while cuddling you. your body warmth isn’t something she can resist easily.

𖠵𝟏𝟎: When she finds herself slipping, she thinks of you to get herself through !!

𖠵𝟏𝟏: She doesn’t get jealous, but she’ll always cling to you more if someone won’t leave you alone.

𖠵𝟏𝟐: Whines whenever you leave to get up before her ☹️

𖠵𝟏𝟑: Let’s say you leave her little cute posted notes to encourage her with her work; she keeps literally all of them.

꒱₊˚ 𝐍𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐔 !! 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

𖠵𝟎𝟏: I imagine Nilou being one of sweetest people in all of Sumeru, and that’s definitely amped if you’re dating her.

𖠵𝟎𝟐: You’re support for her when she’s dancing is one of the things she keeps dear to her heart. Knowing you’re supporting her, she feels like she can dance the night away. (Dah da dah da let’s dance the night away.💃)

𖠵𝟎𝟑: Her eyes will light up like stars if you were to ever ask her to teach you how to dance.

𖠵𝟎𝟒: Returning to the mention of being supportive, she’s also incredibly supportive of your endeavors. That is if it doesn’t include you injuring yourself or putting yourself in harm’s way. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟓: A golden retriever girlfriend !! She loves any kind of affection you give her and welcomes it no matter the place.

𖠵𝟎𝟔: “Darling,” “flower,” “my love,” “light of my life” and “lotus.”

❝My love! I just found out some exciting news! The Zubayr Theater is holding a ballroom dance in honor of their anniversary! Would you please do the honors of accompanying me to it? ❞

𖠵𝟎𝟕: A lot of people in the theater like to joke that you two act like parents to the smaller kids.

𖠵𝟎𝟖: “I dedicate this dance to my wonderful lover, (NAME)!”

𖠵𝟎𝟗: You two are talked about a lot within gossiping girls because they wish they had a relationship likes you.

𖠵𝟏𝟎: Bringing her small snacks and drinks during her rehearsals so she doesn’t overexert herself.

𖠵𝟏𝟏: This might not as a surprise, but she loves dancing with you !!

𖠵𝟏𝟐: Since she’s normally a peacemaker, she hates fighting with you with a passion.

𖠵𝟏𝟑: (↑) She also hates seeing you upset and/or said. It shatters her heart into a million pieces and she’ll do all she can to make you feel you better.

FLORIST’S NOTE: OK OK! AFTER 1394394 YEARS, I FINALLY DID MY GIRLIE POPS <//3 now, i’m going to add Kaveh to the Sumeru boys and then i’ll get to work on the fontaine chars <33 i’d like to mention that college has started for me and i have work, so forgive me for the slow updates.

[k-dokja]

Hello, I’m not sure if you’re still writing for Kim dokja or not. If you are pls drop anything for him. I love how you write him.

🤥 I really need to catch up with the webtoon again.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Of what?” Dokja looks over at you, blinking from his momentary confusion. The light of recognition shines in his eyes before you have the chance to answer. He glances away, a small smile is on his lips. “Ah, death you mean? I suppose everyone does.”

“You don’t act like it,” you sigh and he has the decency to look sheepish.

Dokja forces a smile, he’s never quite good at it. “I always knew I’d come back,” he explains, “there are the chances that something would go wrong, of course, but everything has gone smoothly so far and… you're looking at me like that again."

"Like what?" You swallow nervously, looking away from him again.

"Like I'm breaking your heart," he reaches out to take your hand into his own. His fingers, once warm and soft, now feel cold and callused when they hold you. "You know it's not my intention—"

A sigh escapes your lips when you meet his eyes again. You don't know which expression you're making, but it makes his face fall. "It's not about intention," you squeeze his hand back, "you can mean well and hurt people anyway, you know that."

"...I know," he lifts your hand up to his lips, brushing over the back of your hand for the slightest of kiss, "but I have to. Whoever gave me these powers, they did it for a reason and I intend to see the end of this story."

You smile, eyes downcast, "Is all of this only a story for you?"

His eyes flash. That distant gleam in his eyes takes him away from the conversation for a moment before he returns to you again. "...I don't know," Dokja admits, "but if it is a story, then it's the best one there is because you're here."

It's impossible for you to hold back your laughter, not when he's being this earnest for once. "Dying has made you a romantic."

"Nonsense," Dokja barely stops his lips from forming a smirk. "It's you who brought that out in me."

"Mhm, keep all that flattery to your audiences," you lean over to kiss him on the cheek. His breath hitches and his skin warms under your lips. The way he stills from that simple affection reminds you that he remains the man you fell in love with even behind the bravado.

Your sweet, devoted Dokja.

"It's not flattery..."

[shakingparadigm]

(this is copy-pasted from a ramble I had in sleepy's dms like months ago so please forgive the inconsistent grammar/punctuation etc!)

till's feelings are akin to an edelweiss, persevering despite the horrid conditions and all the forces that should have brought it down. it's around the same meaning as the clematis flower. both flowers are defined by their ability to bloom in harsh conditions, which mirror the behavior of loving and finding meaning within each other amidst an inhumane society. edelweiss are more associated with devotion though, and in My Clematis the clematis is seen as a source of hope and strength. mizisua and till to mizi are symbolized by flowers because they have (or, well, had) hope. their feelings bloomed as a result of an extremely human response to seeking some sense of companionship, connection, some belonging in such a strange and otherworldly civilization where it's incredibly easy to feel used and alone. which is why it interests me that even though he has this same desire, ivan's love is symbolized not by an earthy, organic piece of life, but by pieces of cosmos, falling stars. meteor showers are ivan's signature. (putting on my pretentious cap because once again I am going to apply meaning to something that probably isn't that deep)

Ivan is incapable (quite a strong word for it, but it's their words, not mine) of feeling proper human emotion, that much is stated in the patreon posts regarding his character. Why? I have no idea. I theorize it to be his harsh and ruthless upbringing that caused him to close himself off completely in order to protect himself. it started off very early too. or maybe ivan just had no concept of proper human emotion in general. I imagine that while he was growing up, there wasn't exactly any room for the humans he was surrounded with to exhibit any emotion lest they were targeted or punished somehow. Or maybe he was just born that way. anyway it's established that ivan is different from the other humans in this way, that's a similarity he shares with only one other character: Luka (Luka actually does have a stated reason as to why he seems so artificial however). It's why Ivan just goes limp in the grasp of the alien that held him over the edge, despite tears welling in his eyes he remains emotionally vacant and quiet. This moment is his first sight of the meteor shower. Ivan associates meteor showers with very significant experiences in his life (mainly near-death experiences according to the posts). Perhaps those meteor showers gave him some sort of relief, too, an escape from the hell he was living in. maybe he was just fascinated by them, the way they were so far beyond his reach yet burned so brilliantly. just like Till. he saw till's incredible resolve, his refusal to back down and remain passive. Ivan goes through the motions of his "life" doing whatever it is someone wants him to do. they want to sell him? okay. they want to throw him off a building? okay. sing this song, enter this competition, behave and pose for the picture. okay. But Till would rather be beat over and over again than to have his autonomy taken away. He doesn't even sing the songs he's assigned for the competition, he writes his own. His individuality is a blazing, passionate thing that's only bolstered by his natural talent. And to once again refer to the posts: Ivan is deeply fascinated by those who have qualities that he lacks. When he saw Till pick himself up off the ground, he saw stars in him. He saw the blazing fire, the brightness, the fascinating qualities that were far beyond his grasp, something he could only ever admire and hold onto in his hardest moments, but never to hold.

There's also the fact that meteor showers are fleeting. They're beautiful, ethereal spectacles, but they don't last. They're not meant to be held gently in your hands and cultivated like a flower. They appear in bursts of light and leave a lasting impression on whoever sees them, but eventually they disappear. Just like Till leaves Ivan behind, the palm of his hand disappearing from Ivan's grasp, his departure leaving a lasting impression. Ivan knows what they have together will not last, he knows Till's heart belongs elsewhere, yet he clings onto the imagery of the meteor shower because it's all he has. Even if Till doesn't love him back, he's the sole reason Ivan is able to feel to this extent at all. It's a blessing and a curse, so even if it hurts, Ivan continues to hold on. He even includes meteor showers during his performance in ROUND 3, sparkling gloves seemingly made of stardust reaching out to them as he desperately sings to his very own star. VIVINOS and QMENG said themselves that Ivan was persistent. He holds no anger towards Till's feelings for Mizi, he won't drive a wall between them because he respects Till's feelings and Mizi as a person, but he won't let go, either. Falling stars are fleeting, but the impact they leave behind? Not so fleeting at all. That feeling could last forever if it truly meant something to someone.

[edenianprincess]

INTRO !!      ❤︎ ׄ                                               Jealousy Jealousy .ᐟ

A jealous Bi-Han can’t be good, let’s see his natural reaction to someone flirting with you. Content warning: None.

Bi-Han’s jealousy isn’t from self-doubt, he is too arrogant to see failure within him, getting out of him even an ounce of insecurity is nearly impossible. However, people should know better than to play with his most sensible and yet biggest nerve that is his ego. He'll take it as an attack on his honor if he sees someone with clear ulterior motive trying to take away the one thing he has the most pride for, you.

While he is slightly overprotective, as it is the very first time for him to fall that hard for someone and is clearly inexperienced to romantic relationships, he is rational enough to neither be paranoid or controlling of whoever approaches you, but for those fools trying to interfere between his couple, may Liu Kang bless them.

When he sees someone with ambiguous intentions (which seems ambiguous to you but not for Bi-Han) talking to you he doesn't make his presence known immediately and stays silent, but you can clearly see his anger slowly taking over him as a deep frown appears over his watchful eyes which holds a 'So you have chosen death' look to the one causing his anger. If they don’t pay attention because they are too indulged in his partner's pretty eyes, you'll find a protective hand wrapping itself around your waist and an angry boyfriend by your side. It should be clear to anyone that when Bi-Han displays physical affection to the public's eyes, it means a warning that someone is close to his limits.

If everyone is lucky, the troublemaker will leave you and Bi-Han alone, if not, it might escalate quickly. Bi-Han will tell them to back off with a not-so-subtle threat, that would get anyone run away quickly in a second. But, Bi-Han is ready to take action if this ‘pathetic idiot’ tries to touch you or tells you vulgar words, remember what he did to Johnny in his mansion when he touched him? It’s the same here, the person is flying across the place with bruises that will need a long time to heal. And Bi-Han will end with another threat before leaving the place angrily with you.

Reassure him isn’t as easy as to make him jealous, it will take time but you’ll resolve his anger. Just be close to him and listen to his rambling about how idiotic that person was, then cut him off with an unexpected kiss that’ll make him stop talking. Suddenly he loses his words and remains silent, which gives you the time to tell him how you only have eyes on him and no else, how you love everything about him that makes him unique from the rest.

He doesn’t doubt your love, but it does put him in a slightly better mood when you tell him this, hearing lovely speeches from you always does even it’s hard to admit. He confirms your words and continue rambling on whether or not the person was bold or oblivious to the fact you were clearly his already, moreover on how disrespectful were they to you, his love, the spouse of the Grandmaster of one of the deadliest and most glorious clan in all the realms.

“Are you going to brood all day or you’ll let me demonstrate that I only love you?”

He thinks about your words for a second only, despite that he has to swallow his pride, he prefers to bath in your affection than to think more about someone who doesn’t deserve his care. And that’s how you tame a jealous Bi-Han.

‘𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓔𝐍𝐃  Please don’t copy/translate and don’t reblog if you’re a yand3r3 blog/reblog account, or you’ll be blocked. Besides that, likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated. 

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Honkai Star Rail A/B/O: Bonding

Characters: Blade, Jing Yuan, Welt, and Luocha as Alphas.

CW: omegaverse

A/N: Did you say more a/b/o? No? Too late! >:P

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Blade

Least likely to bond and or it takes a loooooong period of time before he claims and bonds with his omega due to many factors.

His ultimate goal is to one day die and bonding with someone could get in the way with that even if he desperately wants to. There’s also the fact that with his death his partner could suffer from the loss through their broken bond and he doesn’t wish to cause them distress.

He’d have to have a ton of trust, love, and a desire to live for his partner to even consider bonding with them. Once he does bond with them, though his goal remains the same, he sticks by their side till the bitter end.

His bond mark is on their left shoulder as it’s his favorite spot to bite as it’s relatively easy to access from behind or from in front.

Renews his claim during his ruts or if his omega needs reassurance he plans to stay with them for as long as possible.

Will indulge his omega if they wish to try to claim him too though he prefers to be the one doing the biting.

Jing Yuan

Another one that takes sometime to solidify their bond with their omega.

This isn’t due to his fear of leaving them behind like Blade but rather some worry of his omega leaving before him. Long lived species like himself will of course outlive their shorter lived partners and while as an Alpha he might be able to bond with as many omegas as he wishes with little consequence that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

He’s lost many precious to him, both long and short lived, so he wants to be sure that whoever he’s choosing to bond with will stay for as long as possible.

Once he’s sure in his decision he doesn’t hesitate to bond with his partner. His bond mark is on the middle back of their neck since it was his favorite spot to nip and tease.

He doesn’t renew his claim often but he does playfully nip it like he used to when he first became their partner.

Encourages his omega to claim him too and to renew the marks they leave behind regularly.

Welt

Takes a bit longer to decide to bond with his partner due to the fact he needs them to know his past and about his son. Once he trusts them with that information and they accept it he might still hesitate to form a bond.

It isn’t due to a lack of trust, obviously, but he’s still a bit insecure about his age. He’s not getting any younger and he does worry about leaving before his omega and leaving them with the fallout of that broken bond. But once he properly discusses it with his partner and knows that this is truly something they want he’ll go through with it with a warm smile.

Places his bond on the back of their neck as well as it can be hidden away by their clothes to be a bit discrete. Gets flustered when his omega claims him back but loves knowing they want him back.

Luocha

I’d say he’s either the fastest to bond with his omega because he knows what he wants or he chooses not to bond with them at all.

He of course discusses it with his omega during their courting letting them know early on he’d like to bond at some point though he does let them know that if they don’t wish to bond with him it wouldn’t change anything.

He knows he’s not the most stable of Alphas with his constant traveling but he knows what he wants and is willing to provide for them regardless of what they choose.

If they allow him to bond with them he’ll be over the moon. He chooses to bite the right side as that’s where he tends to tuck his head when he basks in their scent.

Open to letting his omega claim him though he’ll tease them a bit for wanting to do so.

[orphicrose]

The co-host (Alastor x femreader) II

< >

Summary: You are Alastors Co host in life, perhaps more. But are separated by a sudden death. When you are finally reunited in the under world, it is up to Alastor to figure out why you don’t remember him.

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

Alastor had arrived in hell a few years after you, completely unaware that you ended up in the same place. You both saw each other as saints, i guess that's what love does to you.  If only you had more time to truly know each other. His last years weren't as dignified as yours. And neither was his death. 

All through your sickness, he was by your side. Cooking for you, entertaining you, helping out with rent. Your mother would have, but she lived in another state, and had very little money to come visit you or support you. So Alastor did.  But when your body decided enough was enough, you took a toll for the worse. You were gone within days, with him still by your side. Willing to do anything to see your eyes full of life just one more time. It truly broke him as a person. But no one would ever know. 

He sent out a broadcast to honor your name, all of your frequent listeners shedding a tear over the loss. Because it truly was a loss. Spreading kind words like "she's in a better place now", if only they knew. 

Then there was Alastor. In the end, everyone was glad the world had ridded such a monster. No one knew it when he died, but they did when the remains of those who had gone missing was uncovered. Some argue they deserved it, some argue it was an act of evil. 

It had been a few weeks since the encounter with Satan. Y/N didn't have much of a choice, her soul was his. Now she had to do his dirty work. You see, Satan's a busy man. Being the keeper of the wraith ring, and having the people of earth call on him frequently for deals. He couldn't keep up with all of it. So, he gave some of that responsibility to Y/n. Someone who can claim souls and grant wishes from the desperate and needy. Of course the souls still belonged to him, she was just the messenger. With this comes the ability to travel to the mortal realm, and fear of other sinners when you are being called the sacrificer. Within days, Y/n rose the ranks as an overlord who owned a large territory. Unspeakable amounts of power being given to this singular soul was a lot to take in, but she didn't have a choice.

The business was now up and running, "The slaughter house". Satan being the CEO, of course. Y/N being the manager, and other souls of Satan being his laborers who dealt with mundane things like paper work. The pay wasn't too bad though. This operation being set up in hell also gave other sinners the opportunity to sell their soul to Satan in return for a high paying job. Its a bit extreme, but it gets very desperate in hell. I'm sure you can imagine. 

Y/n's name was lost, now being called the demon of sacrifice. It was incredibly de-humanizing, and she hated it. Only using her power when absolutely necessary or when business required it. But it wasn't all bad, she had a better accommodation, a steady cash flow, a lot of useful contacts and very little conflict with other demons. It was also incredibly lonely. Because of the fear around her name, very few people were willing to befriend her. 

Then, on top of that, was the pain of her memories from life. Knowing that all if this is ultimately her fault. All because she just wanted power. How was she to carry on. Then it hit her, she has the power to do what she pleases. She can be whoever she wants to be down here, and to start this she needed to forget everything that haunted her.

Alastor landed in hell four years after y/n, after being shot in between the eyes. Not many know how his rise to power happened, but it was merely overnight. Tormenting the citizens of hell, kidnapping powerful overlords that few would dare to mess with, and giving a new reason for sinners to fear for their lives. The radio demon was born, and it didn't take long before his radio broadcasts displayed what had happened to his unfortunate victims. No one was safe.

"Miss l/n! Todays demand for Satan is big today, I don't think we will be able to get through all of them" a small, fishlike demon ran up to her, struggling to keep up with her pace through the corridors. 

"Its late, imp. I will deal with them tomorrow. Prioritize the simpler requests, none of that fame or millionaire shit." Y/n bit back, eager to leave.

"But ma'am, The sin of wraith isn't very happy with how the number of souls are dropping"

"uh huh, uh huh. I'll see you tomorrow, imp" The door slammed in his face, and the handle was too high for him to reach. 

"I'm not an imp" He mumbles under his breath, watching the overlord walk away in the windows of the door. 

Y/n had a coffee date with one of her closest friends, Zestial. One of the few overlords who still had his head attached to him. They had arranged to talk about the affects of the new tormentor, needing a plan to put their people at ease and to protect the skin on the bac of their necks. Usually, she'd have someone accompany her. But this occasion was far too private.

The night had progressed fast, the crimson sky darkened and street lamps struggled to do their job and lighten the streets. Y/n was almost at her destination when she noted a faint buzzing sound in the back of her head. It definitely wasn't there before. She stopped at the end of an alley she had just walked through, and assessed her surroundings. No one, not a soul in sight. Behind her, again no one. A strange feeling made its way into her throat, as if her body sensed danger. The sound getting louder, louder. Street lights seemingly struggling even more, and eventually going out. One by one. The street was pitch black within seconds. Y/n couldn't do anything but remain in their position, against the wall of the alley. 

A small, voodoo doll like creature ran passed the entrance of the alley. Paying her no attention, and laughing as he went. He was barely audible as the static became more insufferable in her ears. But she knew something was after her, she just prayed to lucifer that it wasn't who she thought it was.

"Not even going to try and run, dear?" The static stopped, the voice sounding like it was in the air. Having no body attached to it. Then he materialized seemingly from the shadows. His slim body accompanied by a tailored red suit, and an eerie smile refraining his face from showing any sort of emotion. The radio demon. He was here. Her face was barely visible in the darkness he had created, only the glowing from her eyes was an indication of life. 

"Come on, give me a chase. Make this interesting. I'll give you a head start" He taunted, slowly getting closer. Leaning his cane at his side, making it hard for y/n to get out. 

"No? I guess this will be the easiest kill yet" His smile widened a the seams of his mouth, being pulled by an invisible string like a doll. His form followed in lead, being hoisted up and enlarged to intimidate his prey. 

"Don't touch me freak." Y/N finally spoke, kicking his cane over and materializing into the ground. Becoming nothing more than a shadow that cant be touched. He watched at she disappeared into the night, almost in disbelief. He's heard that voice before. But it can't be, there's no way she is down here. She can't be. His smile never faltered, and he decided to leave this chase for another day. Street light finally flickered back on, and everything remained as it was before. Other than Alastor's new knowledge. Their story wasn't over yet.