#Chilling Tales For Dark Nights | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kamiversee · 2 months

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 45 || The Chilling Confession

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, fluff, dark themes, & semi-angst?

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 6.5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOU DRIFTED OFF to sleep trying to figure out what it is you wanted to do. Maybe you’ll just figure it out as you go from this point on.

After all, it seems as though it’s time for your final arc to take place.

By that, it’s meant that it’s time for you to tell Gojo you’ve completed the list, have him pay you one last time, and then, per his promise, use his help (if needed) to get with Choso.

There’s been so many highs and lows since this entire thing started. So many memories lay locked within your clouded mind. Between the love, passion, anger, and confusion, you think it would be best to allow the rest to flow naturally.

Will you question Gojo? Maybe, maybe not. You haven’t decided yet. Either way, he’s already told you that he had no plans on revealing the truth to you until years later so, there really is no point in asking him anything, is there?

Sure, you’ll remain confused but, confusion may be better than frustration. At least, for right now.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The warmth of the morning sun is what woke you up. Bright rays shined upon your face, making your eyes scrunch together just as they fluttered open.

The side of your face was pressed against a chest-- Nanami’s firm chest. Just as you woke up and angled your head up to his face, you noticed he was already awake, his eyes peering up at the ceiling. The blond seemed to deep in thought before you looked at him, your movement causing him to turn his attention to you.

A small smile was drawn across your lips, “Morning’.” You humed.

Nanami nods, “Good morning.” He replies, his voice deeper than the night prior due to the grogginess of slumber.

This sudden feeling of peace wrapped around you like a blanket as you thought to yourself for just a moment; you could get used to waking up like this.

“Sleep well?” Nanami asked.

His arm was around your waist and you didn’t bother trying to reposition yourself from laying halfway on top of him. “Yeah, you?” Your voice was just as soft as his and you wondered how the morning would play out.

He nodded again, “Slept’ fine.” Nanami says simply, “It’s nice feeling someone snuggling up against me in the middle of the night. It helped me rest.”

You chuckle, “Sorry if I was clingy in my sleep.” As you say that, you start moving to sit up.

The man shrugs, “I enjoyed it.”

One of your hands was against his chest as you sat up comfortably and Nanami’s grasp slid down to rest on your hip. You turned away from him for a moment, taking in the pleasant sight of his well-kept bedroom as the sunlight cascaded over the area.

Bright colors of the furniture made the light reflect and gave the entire room this beautiful golden hue. Truthfully, you could wake up here every day happily.

Nanami suddenly sighs, “Y’know… I’ve uh, I’ve never done this before.”

You blink and then turn your head to him, “This?”

“A one-night stand,” He clarifies.

Well, at least he knows this was a one-time thing…

You chuckle, “Typically, I’d be gone before you woke up.”

He hums, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” You shrug, “There’s less attachment when you just up and leave.”

Nanami nods, “Less attachments,” He echoes, almost as if he were noting this down in his head. “Yeah, that’s where I’m having difficulty.”

You raise a brow, “One night with me and you’re already attached?”

He chuckles, “Not exactly. I’m just not used to having sex and then parting from someone completely.”

“I see,” You murmur, “Well,” Your gaze grows somber all of a sudden as you trail the tip of your fingers up along his chest, “You’ll forget about me sooner or later.”

Nanami scoffs, “I won’t.”

You meet his eyes, “And why not?”

“I told you,” His other hand goes to yours and he rests his palm on top of where you’d been tracing his skin, “You’re my first one-night stand.”

You tilt your head, “Give it a few years maybe? You’ll forget all about this.”

Nanami’s eyes are full of seriousness, “I may not be attached but it’ll be pretty hard to forget the woman who used her career to get into my pants…”

Your eyes widen for a second, and then, you burst out laughing, “That’s my flirting tactic, sorry.”

Nanami smiles, “I’ve realized. Speaking of which,” He moves and sits up, “Did the sex give you the information you needed?”

You blink, “Uh…”

“I was supposed to show you how stressed I am,” Nanami recalls, smirking a bit, “Did I do that effectively?”

You flash a smile, “Yeah, you did that perfectly. This’ll totally help me get that job.”

He chuckles, “What is the job you’re looking to get again? You said it was something at our school?”

“Oh, it’s just an internship.” You say with a shrug.

“Right,” He nods, “Is this internship what you plan on doing forever or…?”

You laugh a bit. Something about this morning's conversation is making you oddly happier than expected, perhaps it was because you enjoyed discussing your future with someone, “No, of course not. It’s just all I can obtain right now,” You explain.

Nanami raises a brow, “So what’s your career goal?”

“Hmmm… Anything in therapy, I believe.” You explain simply.

He nods, “I could see you in that.”

His words make you smile all too hard, “Really?”

“Yes, of course,” Nanami replies quickly.

You giggle, “I’m glad someone can see me working in my dream field.”

“Mhm,” He hums, nodding a little, “Could’ see you as a sex therapist too.”

Your eyes widen, “A sex therapist? Me?”

“Yes you,” Nanami claims, a gentle scoff slipping past his lips, “I’m sure you’ve had enough experience to help others.”

“Did you just call me a whore again?” You ask, your tone flat.

He panics all over again, “N-No, I-”

You laugh at him, “I’m joking, relax. But it did seem like that was a fancy way to say I sleep around.”

“Well,” Nanami looks off to the side, raising a curious brow, “Do you?”

You grin, shamelessly accepting the truth of what you’ve done over the past few months, “I mean, my answer really depends on what you consider sleeping around.”

The man chuckles at your words, “I’ll take that as you telling me you don’t sleep around but you are very experienced.”

You shrug, “Yeah, something like that.”

“Right so,” Nanami lets out a yawn, bringing his fist up to his mouth for a moment to cover it. Then, he sighs, “Our whole interaction was, what exactly?”

You raise a brow, “Uh, for research purposes of course.”

He laughs a bit before moving to get out the bed, “Research purposes, she says.”

Your gaze follows him as he stretches his arms up over his head and then heads over to his bathroom, “It was for my study, remember?”

Nanami flicks on the bathroom light and then turns back to you, “For your study…” He repeats, clearly not believing you.

“Yup,” You hum with a smile as he then starts to approach you once more.

The man comes to the side of the bed you’re seated on and offers his hand to you, “So you’re telling me we had sex,” You take his hand and he helps you to get out of the bed and stand to your feet, “For your study?” He finishes.

You angle your head up to him and continue to smile innocently, “Yes sir.”

Nanami freezes for a moment, then he swallows, “First off, don’t call me that. Secondly, so you mean to tell me our entire interaction can be classified as… sex for business?”

He helps to walk you over to the bathroom, your hand held in his the entire time as you carefully take step after step. “I can’t call you sir? If you plan on being a CEO one day, you’ll have to get used to that, y’know…”

“It’s different when a woman like you says it,” Nanami claims. Meanwhile, you two make it to the bathroom and you move to lean against the counter as he goes to grab a spare toothbrush for you, “It hits my ears a bit differently.”

You scoff, “It turns you on, doesn’t it?”

Again, Nanami freezes. This time, he then clears his throat and finds a toothbrush, handing you the item afterward, “I didn’t say that…”

“You also didn’t say no,” You point out. “I mean, what’s gonna’ happen when you meet an attractive woman in business who calls you sir all day long?”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes at you, “That won’t happen.”

You raise a brow, “Are you saying you don’t think there are attractive women in business?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. What I’m saying is I know how to keep my composure in a work setting so,” He looks at you, “No woman is going to distract me by using that honorific.”

“And what about outside of the workplace?” You ask, tipping your head to the side.

He gazes at you for a moment and then shrugs, turning away, “That’s a bit different.”

“Uhuh, sure it is,” You say with a scoff as you look at the mirror in front of you, taking in your reflection for a second, “Anyways, what was the second thing you said? Did you say we had sex for business?” You ask with a laugh.

Nanami nods, “Yes, sex for business.”

“That’s an interesting phrase to put to it but, y’know what, it works. Sex for business; an act in which one sleeps with someone with the intent of gaining information or possibly status,” You define in a joking manner.

Your words make the blond laugh as he starts putting toothpaste on his toothbrush, “Wonderful way to describe it.”

“I know right?” You chuckle, moving to follow suit.

The two of you then brush your teeth in comfortable silence, the air peaceful between you both. After which, Nanami offers to make you breakfast but you turn him down, quickly reminding him that this was supposed to operate as a one-night stand and you’ve already overstayed your welcome.

To which he agreed, knowing deep down that even if this was a one-night stand and the two of you were to never cross paths again, he’d never forget his time spent with you. Not only because he enjoyed your company but also because, just as he stated, you were the first woman he’d done this with so, the memory would stick.

That, and he truly did like talking to you. You were different than the women he spoke to in his field of study. A woman of psychology who used that information to seduce him; how was he to ever let that information go?

It was a bittersweet moment to take you home. Nanami couldn’t stop his gaze from lingering on your features for a moment longer than intended and any words you uttered to him stuck in his mind so strongly.

Especially the final short conversation you had with him. By that point, you were in his vehicle and already at your apartment when you had wished Nanami the best. Perhaps it was you reflecting what you wished you had onto him but you truly hoped that he’d find a woman deserving of him.

And if not that, then he’d end up with someone who didn’t have as nearly as much drama in their life as you did.

To which he responded with, “I appreciate that but, if I care about a woman enough, trust me when I say, no amount of drama will keep me from pursuing her.”

You laughed at that, “Yeah? Well, what if she was a whore?”

Nanami stared dead into your eyes and didn’t hesitate to respond to that, “If I care enough, perhaps I’d capitalize off that.”

“Capitalize off of the woman you like being a whore?” You ask curiously.

He shrugs, “That could help in business.”

Your brows knit together, “How so?”

“Women have the ability to climb their way up in corporate situations by sometimes sleeping their way up,” Nanami explains, “So if I found a woman that just so happened to be a whore and I truly cared for her, well…” He shrugs, “I guess what I’m trying to say is; her being a whore wouldn’t matter.”

“Hah.” You hum, “Interesting.”

“Yeah, but,” Nanami shrugs, “The chances of me finding a seductress in business is zero to none.”

“And why is that?” You ask, raising a brow.

He chuckles, “I’ll have risen to the top by the time I find one so, what good would she do me?”

You begin to move to exit the car, “I mean, you never know…”

He blinks, “Never know what?”

“She could threaten your position,” Was the last thing you said regarding that topic to him.

Nanami hadn’t considered that. So, something about that final conversation really stuck with him. Never would he forget the woman that you are.

“I guess we’ll see,” He hums to you.

You nod, “Mhm, maybe I’ll hear about it in the news as some big business-ey scandal,” You say teasingly.

Nanami shakes his head, rolling his eyes at your words, “Yeah right. Go on upstairs now.”

You laugh, “Bye Kento.”

He meets your eyes one last time, “Bye darling.”

With your heart fluttering at the nickname, you finally exit the car and shut the door behind you, giving the man one last wave before heading upstairs to your apartment.

Unlike everyone else on the list, for some reason, Nanami just felt like one of the best interactions. From beginning to end, he gave you peace. Again, somewhere deep down inside you wished for a reality in which you could have prolonged the amount of time spent with him.

But even so, it was time to go back to your current reality-- the one in which you had a decision to make…

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You decided to spend that weekend coming to peace with what it is you were going to do. You could question Gojo about the list but somewhere deep down inside, it was as though you didn’t want to know the truth.

The thought of Gojo being an asshole all along really does bother you. It brings a sting to your heart. Especially since you’d already settled on forgiving him, to undo all you’ve been through with the man by interrogating him all over again just seems like you’re running in a circle, a path of drama with no end.

And that’s the very thing you no longer have the energy to do anymore. With the list complete, you want to experience what you wished you had for the past few months-- freedom.

No more of the blackmail. Finally would you be able to do things on your own without the restrictions of having a man you’d need to seduce.

So, after the weekend, you decided to text Gojo. You told yourself you weren’t going to ask him anything but who knows how that would actually play out? Either way, when you texted Gojo, you told him you had a surprise for him, that surprise being the completion of the list.

Using the excuse of a surprise was the only reason you were able to see him. After all, Gojo was very firm on no contact during your break from him. But of course, when you text him saying you need to see him and there’s a surprise, he agrees to such an event with no hesitation.

Leading to now, a moment that mirrors months ago as you stand at his apartment door, knocking against the wood and awaiting someone to open the door for you. It takes about a minute but the door is soon opened for you and you’re met with the sight of Gojo Satoru.

Fresh out of the shower, shirtless, water dripping and sliding down his body from his wet head of hair, and beautiful love-struck gaze lighting up at the sight of you-- Gojo stands there with a hand on the door, welcoming you in.

He couldn’t even get a greeting out before you entered his apartment and threw your arms around him. Gojo’s breath hitches like always and he could feel his heart skipping a beat in reaction to feeling your warmth against him.

Then, as he hugged you back and kicked the apartment door shut, you shifted your head to meet his eyes, “Hi Satoru,” You greeted.

His entire world, past, present, and future, he found in you within that moment. That sweet voice of yours, uttering his name after so long, such a honeyed tone leaving the beauty that is your lips, along with those eyes of yours that just gazed up at him so naturally.

Gojo found no anger, no regret, and no unhappiness in your eyes for once. Typically, when you looked at him, you always had one of those emotions reflected in your irises but as you stood wrapped in his arms now, you finally looked at peace.

The white-haired man couldn’t help the big gushing smile that spreads across his face, his heart just throbbing in his chest-- holy fuck he was so stupidly in love with you. Just a hug and a call of his name and he was already struggling to breathe or think properly.

Gojo tips his head to the side and you experience butterflies with how much love drips from his words to you, “Hi sweetheart,” He says so very simply, his hands shifting to hold your waist, “Miss me?”

For a moment, you just forget all that he’s done to you. Which is exactly why you couldn’t stand seeing him. Always would his touches, his looks, and his voice make you blind to everything he’s done.

You nod, “A little bit,” The way your voice grazes his ears makes him want to kiss you more than anything. If perfection were a person, in Gojo’s love-blinded mind, it would be you.

“Yeah?” Gojo’s smile widens, “Never’ thought I’d see the day…”

“Me neither but,” You shrug, “You’re the only person who gets on my nerves juust right.”

Your hands slide down from around his neck and you settle them on his arms. His body was moist from his recent shower but you didn’t care, his skin was soft and he smelled so good.

Gojo bit his lower lip for a second, “Am I?”

“That’s not a good thing, Satoru.” You tell him with a scoff.

The feeling of his fingers tracing small circles into your waist as if the motion comforts him was hard to ignore. His touch was so light but you couldn’t help but notice it. “I think that makes me special,” Gojo says with a little shrug.

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, my special pain in the ass.” You huff out.

His eyes won’t leave your face for even a moment as he tilts his head again, “Your special pain in the ass?”

You freeze, having not realized what you said, and steadily drag your gaze back to him, “I just meant like…” For just a second, you lose your words as you make eye contact with him.

Maybe it was because you’d seen Gojo under a negative light for so long but damn were those ocean-blue eyes of his one of the most beautiful sights. You nearly got lost in said sight as you looked at him.

“Like what, love?” Gojo whispered, “I mean, you didn’t say anything wrong. I am your special pain in the ass.”

You chuckle lightly, still dazed by the eye contact, “That’s not true, you’re a pain in the ass to a lot of people.”

He smiles, “That’s not true, people just don’t like me…”

“Maybe because you’re a pain in the ass?” You point out.

“Nah, I think I’m pretty great,” Gojo jokes with a shrug.

“You’re an idiot,” You hum.

His sights dip down to your lips, the urge strong. “I already corrected you on this before, I’m your idiot.”

“That’s so cheesy,” You comment, shaking your head but smiling.

Gojo sighs out your name and you swear your heart just leaps over three beats as he grips onto your waist and pulls your body closer to his.

Batting your eyelashes at him and the sudden seriousness in his gaze, you smile sheepishly, “Hm?”

“I love you so much,” Gojo claims. The words roll off his tongue far too easily and hold way too much affection for you to ever doubt such a thing. Maybe he does love you but, even so, it’s a twisted way of love.

You’re smiling but you never really know how to respond to that, “Do you?”

“I do,” He says quickly, “I swear to you I do.”

Your hands go to his face suddenly and you cup his cheeks in your palm, feeling gentle drops of water flick down onto your skin from his wet hair, “I wish I could believe you,” You whisper to the man.

He frowns a little, “I’m sorry I haven’t expressed it enough-”

“No that’s the thing,” Your voice is so calm and gentle that he just shuts up when you open your mouth, feeling like he’s hanging off the edge of each syllable that leaves your throat, “You express it through words but how can I believe you love me when you don’t express it through actions, Satoru?”

“I…” Gojo trails off. He knows that with him the conversation will always end up going in this direction so, he’s not surprised by you asking such questions.

“Did you blackmail me because you love me?” You murmur, “Or, do you love me because you blackmailed me? Help me understand why your words don’t align with your actions.”

Your sudden question had him at a loss for words. What is he supposed to say to that? How does he explain himself to you without revealing the god-forsaken truth of it all?

Gojo swallows hard, “You know I can’t answer that, sweetheart.”

A soft smile graces your face and you nod, “Of course you can’t…”

“I wish I could,” He whispers.

“Stop wishing, Satoru,” God every time you say his name he swears he stops breathing, “It’s over now so you can tell me.”

The man blinks, “What do you mean it’s over? What’s over?”

“The list,” You whisper, “I finished it.”

Those pretty white eyelashes of his bat in disbelief, “Y-You, what?”

“Friday night, I went to that nightclub, met Nanami, did my thing, and then slept with him,” You explain casually as if you didn’t just drop the fact that you finished the list.

Gojo doesn’t know what to say for a second. He’s just staring at you in disbelief. Then, just when you think he may get upset that you finished the list, the most relieved expression takes over his handsome features. Gojo Satoru appears as though he’s more at peace about it than you.

“You… You did it,” He whispers out in shock, “W-Was this your surprise?”

You nod, grinning a bit, “Mhm, I would’ve texted or called but uh…” You glance off to the side, “I kinda… sorta… I w-wanted to see you,” You stumble out.

Gojo’s eyebrows raise and then he brings his hands up over your own, turning his head to the side a bit so that he can kiss your palm, “So you really did miss me?”

For some reason, you get embarrassed by that fact and heat rushes to your face, “N-No…”

Gojo chuckles, “It’s okay to miss me, sweetheart.” He tells you, smiling against your skin before pressing another kiss into you, “It’s not a crime, love.”

You bring your eyes to his actions, finding it adorable the way his face is mushed in your hands and how he peppers your palm with small pecks, “We both know it should be.”

“A crime for us to feel things for each other?” Gojo asks.

“You love me and I should hate you,” You explain, “The feelings we have for each other are forbidden.”

He scoffs and the look in his eyes is stern, “Ask me if I care about it being forbidden?”

“You should,” You hum, “Satoru, you blackmailed me into clearing your debt,” That he doesn’t even have, but you don’t add that bit on just yet.

“Well,” Gojo sighs heavily and then draws your hands off his face, leaning down to you a bit, “Sometimes, sacrifices need to be made in exchange for one’s happiness.”

“Are you telling me that all this was for the greater good?” You quiz as you raise a curious brow.

“Something like that, yeah,” He shrugs.

Of course, none of that makes sense to you but you don’t have it in you to argue. Gojo then looks down at your neck, his gift to you still sitting there prettily. He wonders for a moment if you ever take it off.

“Satoru,” You call, breaking him from his thoughts, “Since it’s all over… Can you uh-,”

“No,” He cuts off, “I already told you, I can’t and I won’t tell you everything until years later if you still even care by then.”

You groan a little, “I want to understand it though. How am I to just move on from this without ever knowing why it was done to begin with-”

“I told you why,” Gojo interrupts yet again. There goes that wall of his he puts up, but after learning that his debt with Nanami was a lie, you’re unsure if he’s serious or not when he says, “I was bored.”

You scoff, “All this, just because you were bored? You tormented me, a woman you claim to love, out of boredom?”

He swallows, hard, “Yeah.”

He’s lying. It’s so obvious that he is but even so, his words sting you nonetheless. If you ask him what you really want to and tell him what Nanami told you, you’ll probably get the truth but, that’s exactly what you’re afraid of.

Shaking your head at him, you sigh, “You are many things Gojo Satoru,” You whisper as you bring a hand to his face once more, caressing his skin and watching how he struggles not to melt to your touch, “A good liar is not one of them. A decent actor, maybe. But,” Your brows push together, “How long will you pretend to be a bad person when I know that’s not what you are?”

Gojo doesn’t know what to do with himself when you see right through him like this. So, instead, he chuckles, “Until it’s safe to tell you the truth.”

“Where’s the danger in the truth?” You ask carefully, searching his eyes for the honesty, “Hm?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he goes a different direction with his response.

“The person I am around you now,” Gojo’s words leave his lips slowly, as if he’s carefully piecing them together, “Is not the person who fell in love with you. A-And, that person, that version of me… he… he’s done some pretty fucked up shit. Sure, the list and the blackmail are bad but…” He looks away, “I’ve done worse.”

You blink, “I-”

“For you,” Gojo adds on, “I’ve done worse, for you.”

That claim holds so much weight to it. Hell, it leads you to quick assumptions that scare you to think about, “Satoru…”

“Yes, love?” He responds, his eyes on yours calmly.

“Did you…” You swallow, “Did you hurt someone by any chance?”

Gojo doesn’t reply.

You blink, trying to calm the chill his lack of response gives you, “You can tell me, y’know.”

“I can’t actually,” He corrects.

“Satoru, are you like, some kinda crazy obsessive yandere?” You say jokingly, laughing at your own question and trying to lighten the sudden tension.

He doesn’t laugh though, which is genuinely scary. “I’m not crazy,” Gojo utters, his voice low and dark, “And yandere is a bit of a stretch.”

“So…” Your hand steadily leaves his face and the soft touches between the two of you are severed, “What about obsessive?”

Gojo glances to the side for a moment, “Define obsessive to me.”

“Well, obsessive is the nature of an obsession and an obsession is the filling of the mind of someone continuously and intrusively, so much so that it becomes troubling,” You define flawlessly, “If I’m interpreting this correctly… Satoru are you saying you’re obsessed with me?”

“If that’s the definition then,” His gaze drags over to your face and swirled in with his look of pure love is in fact this darkened shade of an obsession, “Yes, yes I am obsessed with you.”

You nod, not exactly wrapping your head around the gravity of his claims, “Right… And if that’s the case, is this obsession of yours what led you to hurt someone?”

“I never said I hurt anyone.” He murmurs. His voice is chillingly calm.

Your nerves are rising and goosebumps are decorating your skin unknowingly, “You never said you didn’t.”

“Why’re you asking me all these questions anyway?” Gojo asks suddenly, chuckling a bit as he tries to redirect the conversation, “Shouldn’t you be out with Choso right now confessing your love to him-”

“Don’t change the subject, Satoru.” You say, your voice firm and this slight shake heard through your words, “You just told me you’re fucking obsessed with me like some kinda’ stalker and implied that you’ve hurt someone because of it.”

Oh? You were… upset? Gojo has this weird feeling in his chest as he realizes that. His true red flags were becoming more and more transparent as the seconds passed but never does he show the white one hidden behind him.

“I mean,” He shrugs, as if it was no big deal, “What do you want me to say?”

Your face twists up in aggravation, “How about the truth?”

“Can’t do that, sweetheart. I feel like a broken record repeating that to you-”

“So am I supposed to just take all the info you just gave me and be happy with that?”

“Yes, actually,” Gojo shrugs, “Yes, you are.”

And just like that, you’re set off nicely, “Right so now I know that not only are you a blackmailer, you also have a screw loose which is why you blackmailed me in the first place because apparently, you don’t know the difference between love and a sick obsession.”

He laughs a bit, clearly not taking your emotions seriously, “That’s not-”

“And so, with this obsession of yours, you became so ridiculously infatuated with me and that’s what led to the creation of that list, right? Because you didn’t know how to talk to me like a sane human being, you took your obsession and used that to bring me down this dark path with you.”

“Sweetheart, I-”

“Now I’m in a position where I don’t know what to believe about you or who you are and I have to go the rest of my life not only not knowing the truth but also lying to Choso about this whole thing because there is absolutely no way he’ll still want to be with me if he finds out he was only ever a name on some list to check off.”

He just falls quiet, staring at your poor confused eyes. He really has taken you through a whirlwind of emotions, hasn’t he? It’s unfortunate that it had to be you in this position but, he knows he had no other choice.

“I mean,” Gojo’s voice is small now, “What did you think I meant when I said I'm sorry for loving you and that that’s what caused all this-”

“No, don’t give me that bullshit,” You spit out, “Love isn’t what caused this. You caused this, Satoru.”

“I…”

“You and this weird…” You take a step back from him suddenly, “Obsession.” The way you say that word lets him know you’re almost repulsed by hearing such a thing.

He sighs, “Sweets, listen-”

“Don’t.” You cut off, “Don’t call me that. D-Don’t call me anything.”

“Are you…” Gojo’s eyes narrow and he studies both your body language and your expression, “Does that information scare you?”

“What?” You scoff.

“Me being obsessed with you.” He clarifies.

Does he even hear himself right now? “You sound like a madman,” You say. Then, you take a deep breath and just shake all your thoughts away, “But, y’know what,” You throw your hands up in a shrug, “I’ll just pretend I never heard this.”

“I-”

“No, save it. I’ll just pretend I don’t know you’re absolutely fucking crazy a-and I’ll just uh, go confess my love to Choso,” You claim, nervously laughing at the whole thing.

Gojo’s confession to him being obsessed with you had driven you just about as crazy as him at this point. Any further with this conversation and you might actually lose your mind.

“So you do love him?” Gojo asks.

You simply shrug and scoff, turning to the nearby door, “I don’t know.”

Gojo moves and grabs a careful hold of your arm but it… it scares you. Genuine fear coursed through your veins and when you looked up at the white-haired man, for the first time ever, you were genuinely terrified.

“S-Satoru…” You whisper, voice trembling.

The man’s hold on you doesn’t let up and he steps closer to you, “Sweetheart, you know I’d never hurt you, right?”

God, he is really worrying you right now. “U-Uhm, yeah I think I know that b-but,” You glance down at his hand on your arm, “Can you let me go?”

Gojo does the opposite and pulls you closer to him, “Why are you looking at me like that?” He questions, his voice softening.

He must not have realized how intimidating he seemed right now. Perhaps you truly didn’t ever realize just how deep his love for you goes. “Like what?” You squeak out.

He tilts his head, “Like you’re… like you’re afraid of me.”

“Satoru,” Your voice is still shaky but you’re trying to keep yourself together, “An obsession like the one you have with me, i-it isn’t healthy.”

“Why not?” Gojo asks so innocently. He really didn’t understand the danger behind his own emotions.

“Because…” You stare back and forth between his left and right eyes, trying to calm yourself from being scared. It’s just Gojo, right? “Because, that, Satoru, that’s a crime.”

“To be obsessed with you is a crime?” He questions, innocence and ignorance reflected in his gaze.

You give him a little comforting smile, something about the situation is still unsettling but because it’s Gojo, it’s easier for you to just ignore the chill creeping up along your spine, “Just as loving me isn’t a crime, being obsessed with me is.”

Gojo blinks, “How?”

Your voice is so gentle with him that he honestly felt like a patient of therapy for a moment, “Because look at what it’s led to.”

He nods understandingly. Only you could ever be able to effectively explain the wrongs behind his emotions, “I see… But, I can’t just… stop this feeling.”

“I understand that,” You say, nodding a bit, “B-But, try uhm… try to control it, yeah?”

“Is that what you want me to do?” He asks.

Your brows furrow, “Satoru this isn’t for me, it’s for you.”

Gojo didn’t understand the concept behind that sentence. To him, he’s nothing more than a slave to you and whatever emotions you feel for him. From the moment you came to see him today, he felt his false persona chipping away up until he revealed to you his true feelings.

Gojo Satoru’s love for you did, in fact, run deeper than imagined. That’s part of the truth behind the situation and what he’s put you through but, he still can’t tell you everything. So, for now, you knowing this dark secret of his will have to do.

“Okay,” He hums.

You swallow and look down at his hand still on you, “Can uh… Can I go now?”

Gojo mimics you and looks down at his grasp. When had it grown so tight? Steadily, he loosens his grip on you and releases a sigh, he doesn’t even know what exactly came over him for a second, “Y-Yeah, sorry.”

You shrug, “It’s okay. Um, if or when I figure things out with Choso,” You look up at Gojo one last time, “I’ll let you know?”

“You’re not obligated to,” He hums.

You snicker, “I mean, you and I still have a journal to burn together so… We’ll have to see each other again regardless.”

Gojo raises a skeptical brow at you, “Why didn’t you bring it today?”

You freeze, “W-Well uhh…”

“You wanted an excuse to see me more than once, didn’t you?”

With a sheepish giggle, you nod, “Yeah, maybe.”

The man shakes his head and then his hands suddenly move to grab your face and pull you toward him again, “Sweetheart you can’t just say things like that and expect me not to lose my mind.”

You laugh at his dramatics, turning a blind eye to the major red flag he’s presenting through his obsession, “But it’s true, I could’ve brought it today but, I dunno’ I feel like the journal can be burned any day. It doesn’t have to be today.”

“Right…” Gojo hums.

You meet his eyes and he meets yours. Your faces are close to one another and it’s so obvious what he wants to do. “Satoru…” You whisper.

“Yes?” He replies.

“I know you wanna’ kiss me,” You tease.

“I do,” Gojo whines, he’s so desperate all of a sudden, “I really really want to.”

One more can’t hurt, right? A kiss to say bye, perhaps?

“Ask for it,” You whisper.

Gojo’s eyes lower, “Can I kiss you, my love?”

Yeah, in what world could you say no to that? You’re nodding before you even realize it, both of your eyes shutting gently as Gojo leans in and presses his lips to yours. As usual, a kiss from him is enough for you to blind yourself.

Who cares that he’s obsessed with you? How bad can that really be? Who cares that he blackmailed you, it’s over now, right? Everything’s going to be fine so who cares about any of that stuff anymore?

Gojo’s lips are soft, like always, against your own and his tongue is slow and tender to move into your mouth. He’s holding your face in his hands with zero intentions of letting you go and you simply melt into the loving feeling of his kisses.

If there’s one thing about this man you’ll never be able to get over…

It’s his kisses.

He can be obsessed with you, that’s fine.

You’re obsessed with the way he kisses you so, maybe… just maybe, Gojo was right that one night…

Maybe you and him are the same-- two broken people trying to figure out what to do with themselves and the emotions they experience.

In the end, what could go wrong?

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

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@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

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fragileheartbeats · 1 month

Text

⌗ 𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘐𝘈𝘍 𝘏𝘊 ⁝ 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 ( ♱ )

— 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘐, 𝘔𝘢𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘳, 𝘑𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘐, 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘉𝘢𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯, 𝘈𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘐𝘐, 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘐𝘐𝘐, 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳, 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥, 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘐𝘐 <3

˚꒰🌼꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐈 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑹 ─ ♕

Possessive Protector

Aegon would view his sister as a crucial part of his reign, an extension of his own power and influence. He would be intensely protective, viewing any threat to you as a threat to his realm. His love would be as fierce as his ambition, and he would go to great lengths to ensure your safety and happiness, often equating the two. He might call you "My Queen," elevating you above all others in title and in his heart. His demonstration of love would be grand gestures, like dedicating victories or conquests in your name. His obsession is less about controlling you and more about ensuring your safety and happiness, albeit in a way that places you within a golden cage. He would be intensely protective, using his power to shield you from any perceived threat. He would lavishing you with gifts and luxuries from across the Seven Kingdoms, Aegon makes sure you have everything you desire—except freedom.

As you walked through the gardens, Aegon's arm never left your side, his presence a towering fortress that no fear could penetrate. "All this," he gestured to the sprawling city beyond, "is yours, as much as I'm yours. Together, there is nothing we cannot conquer."

𝐌𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑹𝑼𝑬𝑳 ─ ⸸

Ruthless Dominator

Maegor's love would be terrifying in its intensity. He would see any perceived slight against you as a personal affront, worthy of his cruellest retribution. His way of showing love would be to remove any and all obstacles to your happiness—often permanently. He might refer to you as "My Heart," a term of endearment that suggests you are the only softness in his hardened world. His demonstrations of affection would be acts of protection and vengeance, ensuring you are untouchable and revered. He sees you as his alone, reacting violently to any perceived competition or dissent. His love is a suffocating force, controlling every aspect of your life. To Maegor, you are a possession, the only person he believes can understand him, yet someone he fears losing to the point of paranoia.

In the quiet of the night, Maegor whispered promises of undying loyalty and protection, his words a stark contrast to the tales of his ruthlessness. "You are mine," he growls, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "And those who dare even think to harm you will face my wrath," he vowed, a dark promise that chilled you to the bone yet filled you with a perverse sense of safety.

𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐈 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑰𝑺𝑬 ─ ✦

Benevolent Guardian

Jaehaerys's approach would be gentler, his love grounded in respect and a deep desire for your well-being. He would go to great lengths to ensure you have a voice and agency, rare for the times. He might call you "My Light," seeing you as the beacon that guides his rule. His love would be shown through acts of kindness and the creation of laws that protect and empower you. He would be your unwavering supporter, always seeking to resolve conflicts in your favor. Jaehaerys's love is subdued and patient, believing deeply in the power of his bond with you. He's protective in a way that seeks to uplift and support you, though he struggles with the idea of you wanting anything—or anyone—beyond him. He treat you with kindness and respect, always striving to ensure your happiness and fulfillment, yet subtly steering you away from any paths that lead away from him. He sees you as his partner in every aspect, the wisdom behind his throne, yet fears the thought of you not needing him as much as he needs you.

Under the vast sky, Jaehaerys took your hand, his touch gentle. "With you, I see a future bright with promise," he said, his voice full of hope. "Together, we will build a realm where love and justice prevail."

𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑹𝑶𝑮𝑼𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬 ─ 𖤐

Passionate Rebel

Daemon's love would be as fiery as his dragon. He would be impulsively protective, often acting first on his emotions. His term of endearment might be "My Flame," indicative of the burning intensity of his love. His way of showing affection would be through daring acts meant to impress you, sometimes bordering on recklessness. He would see you as his equal in spirit and adventure, always seeking to include you in his escapades. Daemon's obsession is wild and untamed, driven by a desire for your attention and adoration. He craves a partner in his adventures, sometimes at the cost of your own wishes or safety. He might keep secrets from you to "protect" you, believing that the end justifies the means.

As you soared above the clouds on dragonback, Daemon's laughter echoed through the sky. "With you, every risk is worth taking," he shouted over the roar of the wind, his eyes alight with wild love.

𝐁𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬 ─ ✿

Gentle Watcher

Baelon would be the type to show his love through constant, steadfast companionship. He would be protective but in a more reserved manner, always there to offer a supporting hand rather than leaping into battle. He might affectionately call you "My Blossom," seeing you as the rejuvenating force in his life. His demonstrations of love would be thoughtful gifts and gestures, each meant to remind you of his unwavering presence in your life. Baelon's obsession is quieter, more reflective. He deeply values your presence in his life, seeing you as a guiding light. His protection is more about ensuring your happiness and less about control. He treat you with tenderness and care, always attentive to your needs and desires, even if it means putting his own aside. He sees you as his sanctuary, the peace he turns to in a tumultuous world, yet fears the day you might find sanctuary elsewhere.

In the quiet sanctuary of your shared chambers, Baelon offered you a rare book, its pages filled with tales of legendary heroes. "To inspire us both," he said softly, his gaze warm with admiration and love, "for you are the truest hero in my eyes."

𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐈 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑨𝑫 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 ─ ✞

Paranoid Sovereign

In his youth, before madness took a strong grip, Aerys's love would have been passionate, marked by high highs and low lows. His affection could be overwhelming, suffused with an intensity that's both captivating and daunting. He would see you as his sanctuary, the only person he could trust, calling you "My Solace." His demonstrations of love would be lavish, yet erratic, reflecting his increasingly unpredictable nature. He would be extremely protective, seeing threats in shadows, often acting irrationally to safeguard you from real and imagined dangers. Initially tender and loving, his treatment becomes erratic, with moments of warmth punctuated by sudden, baseless accusations and demands for proof of your loyalty. He show his love through lavish gifts and public declarations of your importance to him, which slowly become attempts to isolate you from perceived threats.

Within the confines of the Red Keep, Aerys held you close, his gaze flickering with a mix of devotion and an edge of something darker. "You are the only light in a realm filled with snakes and shadows," he whispered, his touch both tender and possessive.

𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐈𝐈 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑮𝑮𝑨𝑹 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 ─ ＊

Desperate Dreamer

Viserys's love would be fraught with desperation and a deep-seated fear of loss. His affection would be possessive, driven by the fear of losing another pillar of his identity. Having faced so much hardship, he would cling to you as his one true claim to happiness, calling you "My Treasure." His way of showing love would be through promises of future grandeur, envisioning a life where you both reign supreme. His protective nature would stem from his paranoia of losing you, just as he lost everything else, leading to controlling behavior masked as concern.

In the dim light of your meager shelter, Viserys's fingers traced the lines of your face as if memorizing each detail. "Soon, we'll return to our home," he murmured with a fervor born of desperation, "and I'll crown you as my queen, my only love."

𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐑 | 𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬 ─ ♫

Melancholic Poet

Rhaegar's approach to love would be deeply emotional, tinged with melancholy and a sense of destiny. He would view you as his fated companion, calling you "My Muse." His demonstrations of love would be poetic and thoughtful, often expressed through song or written words. His protective nature would be subtle, more about ensuring your happiness and fulfillment, believing that your paths are inextricably linked by the stars themselves. He treat you with a gentle yet distant affection, often lost in his thoughts and prophecies, struggling to balance his visions with the reality of your relationship.

On the shores of the Quiet Isle, Rhaegar played his harp under the moonlight, the soft melody a testament to his undying affection. "In every life, in every world, I'd find you," he said, his voice low, "for our souls are bound by the music of the universe."

𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑵𝑬-𝑬𝒀𝑬 ─ 𓆸

Vengeful Warrior

Aemond's love would be fierce, marked by a warrior's intensity and a readiness to confront any challenge. He would refer to you as "My Victory," seeing your affection as the most significant triumph of his life. His way of showing love would be through acts of protection and a readiness to engage in battle for your honor. His possessiveness could manifest in jealousy, quick to perceive rivals for your affection as enemies to be vanquished. He treat you with a volatile mix of passion and jealousy, often viewing any attention you give to others as a challenge to his claim over you.

Amidst the ruins of a conquered castle, Aemond declared his undying loyalty to you, his single eye burning with a fervent promise. "To the ends of the earth, I'd fight to keep you safe," he vowed, his arm around you a steel band of protection as he whispered in your ear "I would die for you."

𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐈 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑼𝑺𝑼𝑹𝑷𝑬𝑹 ─ ☁︎

Broken Monarch

Aegon's obsession would be tied to his lack of love, seeing you as his whole world. He would call you "My World" or "My Crown," indicating both his affection and his aspirations where you are concerned. His love is demanding, expecting your loyalty and affection as his sister. His demonstrations of love would be grandiose, aimed at solidifying both his and your status. His protectiveness would stem from a desire to be loved, viewing threats to you as threats to himself, and he would not hesitate to use his resources to eliminate such threats. Through public displays of favor and privilege, making sure everyone knows of your special status, yet this often feels more like marking his territory than genuine affection. He treat you with a mix of indulgence and expectation, showering you with gifts and attention but always with the underlying demand for your undivided loyalty and love.

In the opulent halls of the Red Keep, Aegon placed a delicate crown upon your head, his gaze locked with yours. "Together, we are invincible," he proclaimed, "and I will let no one, nothing, stand in our way."

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

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house-of-lovin · 1 year

Text

protect her

Tara Carpenter x Detective!Reader

masterlist

Preview: "Tara wants to go to college, study, party, make mistakes, and maybe even find love – glancing back at you with that thought. She wanted to be a normal 20-year-old, doing 20-year-old things with her older… girlfriend? Tara didn’t know if she could call you that, but you shared enough sweet soft moments with her to consider you, hers. But she couldn’t do that if she had to look over her shoulder at every creak with a startle."

Warnings: suggestive themes, mentions of violence and mature language. slight scream vi spoilers. read at your own risk.

Note: Reader is around Sam's age, so like 25 or 26. Tara being a words of affirmation girlie. Thought this dynamic would be fun to write about. I'm incapable of writing shorter oneshots ig, so enjoy 6k+ words of whatever this is lol.

Word Count: 6.1k+

The honking of horns blowing through the cool night air was muffled when you pushed the glass door of the diner open. The chimes of the overhead bell rang alerting the room of your presence but barely anyone turned their heads – save for Sam Carpenter who smiled at you.

You shuddered away remnants of the chill air off your shoulders, stepping closer to the bartop; claiming your seat in the far corner pressed up against the wall. A mug is placed on the counter before you even finish hanging your jacket on the back of the chair.

You slide into the high-top seat as the brunette pours coffee into the mug with a carafe. “Still hot, wow, I must be special.”

“Yeah okay, hotshot. You just happened to make it in time for a new pot.” She rolls her eyes, and you hide your smirk behind the mug; taking a sip – ignoring the fact that you usually come in at this time.

“You on the clock?” She asks, leaning on her elbows atop the counter. She glances back briefly, making sure her snitch of a coworker wasn’t around to scold her for not doing her job.

It was still too early for the influx of drunk regulars and one-timers to come by, so really the only kinds of people in here were the ones who were getting off work too late to make dinner at home.

“Just got off, 16 hours. But got a new lead on a case that went cold a couple of months ago so I guess I’m doing a double. Just reviewing some notes now.” You sigh heavily, gesturing to the files and folders sprawled out on the table.

She chuckles, shaking her head. “You work too much. You need to take a break and focus on something else outside of work. When was the last time you did something just for you?”

You roll your eyes at her mocking tone, shooting back, “Oh yeah? You learn that from therapy?”

It was her turn to glower when you remind her of the doctor visits.

“Yeah, that’s usually the advice therapists love to give me before I actually open up – you know like they tell me to and suddenly they’re running for the hills, one by one.”

You snort, all too familiar with the tales of her doctor visits. It took a while for Sam to open up to you; trust came sparsely these days for the Carpenter. It wasn’t until one of your frequent visits turned into you having to step in and kick a rowdy group of drunkards who were harassing Sam of something along the lines of ‘Woodsboro’ and ‘Ghostface’. It was only when you threatened the group with jail time did they relent.

Sam knew she could trust you after you sent her an acknowledging nod when the group left and went back to minding your own business. The next time you visited, she opened up; about her past, her father, her hallucinations, the attacks and the trauma that came afterward. And, how she managed to land herself in the big city, which sprouted an overzealous rant about her strained relationship with her sister.

You knew how to read people well, it was a significant part of your job to be able to. So, you knew from the moment you laid eyes on her that there was a fire behind those dark eyes that she desperately tried to douse – you had interrogated and dealt with enough people to know what the glint meant.

You were honest to Sam that you had an inkling of suspicion about the darkness in her mind – you still accepted her despite knowing her dirty secret; that a part of her doesn’t feel bad for killing Richie and Amber, if anything it felt kinda good. Sam was confused as to why you, a cop, weren't locking her behind bars at the confession.

But, having dealt with the scum of the Earth, you can tell she was nothing like them.

It isn’t always easy to differentiate people between just good and bad, you told her when she asked.

A friendship blossomed between you two after that, bonding over similar traumas. Sam invited you to her apartment to meet her friends and sister – who all interrogated you, Mindy, most especially to make sure you weren’t secretly Ghostface. The girl had some skills in that department, you'll admit.

Coming to learn of your career and how surprisingly well Sam trusted you, the group lowered their walls bit by bit. They would never say it out loud but they felt way safer having you around.

“That’s why I don’t go to therapy.” You shrug, taking a sip of the steaming coffee; letting the heat warm your bones.

She snorts, pretending to be wiping the countertop when her coworker peeks her head out to look at you two. “You probably need it more than anyone else in this place.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” You mumble, as you flip through the evidence photos of a homicide you investigated five months ago. The pictures were gruesome, but it was just another day on the job for you. Maybe that’s why you and Sam got along more than expected.

Sam’s phone vibrates from her back pocket and she fishes it out, reading the text.

‘We got into some trouble, some help?’ it was Anika, no doubt being appointed to text Sam because the others didn't want to do it themselves.

“Dammit.” Sam sighs, already taking off her apron to leave.

“What’s up?” You raise a brow at her panicked expression.

“My sister and her friends got into some trouble. I need to get them. Crap! They’re all the way in the East Village.” She says reading the other incoming texts on her phone. “This is what I get for letting her go out.”

“Come on, I’ll drive you.” You say, already standing when Sam mentioned Tara. The thought of the brunette in trouble makes your heart stop for a moment.

“No, I can’t ask you to do that. You’re working.” She shakes her head in protest.

“Carpenter, it’s a 30-minute drive just to get to the East Village, get your ass permission to leave then meet me at my car. Acting like Danny wouldn’t have my ass if I just left you like this.” You mutter, acting indifferent – but it was true, her boyfriend would have your head on a stick if you ever left Sam high and dry, not that you would ever.

She nods, knowing she won’t win this one with you. You throw a $20 tip, slip on your jacket, and make your way back out into the cool fall air.

You lit a cigarette to pass time as you wait for Sam – leaning against your car, trying to ease the nervousness raging in you as you think of what kind of trouble Tara found herself in.

You and Tara are... complicated. You two haven't exactly slapped a label on it, all you know is you care about her more than you probably should.

Because of your close connection with Sam, and how much everyone secretly trusted you. You and Tara found yourselves growing closer to each other with each visit to their apartment.

Tara was weary about you at first introduction, ignoring that you were ridiculously attractive. She can still remember Mindy asking you to your face 'Where did Sam find you?' in a flirtatious tone. You just chuckled and explained how you met her sister, and Tara knew it was kind of wrong, but she couldn't help but be intrigued…

Then Sam started leaving you two alone in the apartment to run some errands. With not much to do, Tara decided to pop a horror movie in to watch with you – finding out you’ve never seen ‘Se7en’ after inquiring if your job was just like the movies.

A connection between you and Tara blossomed from those moments in that tiny NYC living room.

Suddenly she wasn't just your friend's little sister and man, is she magnetic.

She educates you on the joys of horror movies and you watch every single one, listening to her analysis of each scene; simply enjoying the serenity she brings out in you.

Tara is secretly glad you are older than her because sometimes it meant you’re so different, but that just means she can expose you to her interests, and vice versa. You never turned her down – no matter what it was.

On the slim chance you got off work early enough, you visited the diner to keep Sam company and do some work.

Sometimes though, when Sam would end mid-morning, you two would continue your talks at her apartment – sometimes with Danny, over whatever leftover diner food she would steal from her work for you three to munch on over beers and conversation.

Those would be the nights where you would pass out on their couch from drinking and Tara would finally come out of her room when Sam and Danny leave. She would tuck a blanket over your sleeping figure, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, taking the time to scan your features for any injuries. And in the mornings, when you were gathering your bearings from a night of drinks and bad choices, Tara would force you to sit down at their dining table and have breakfast with her. Scolding you for your irresponsible choices, but being grateful you were in front of her, nonetheless.

She worries for you with your job and all.

And as you find yourself giving into her request for morning coffee, stolen kisses, and conversation – you push away thoughts of being late to work as you find yourself grateful for similar musings the longer you stare at the pretty girl across from you.

“Wow, if people couldn’t tell you're a narc. They sure could now.” Sam takes the time to poke fun at you – pulling you out of your daydream. You look down at your figure; sporting a button-down shirt, trousers with your leather jacket on top and trusty leather boots on your feet.

You roll your eyes in realization and flick away the cigarette bud, yanking the car door open.

“It’s the work dress cod– just get in the damn car, Carpenter.”

– –

The usual thirty-minute drive instead took fifteen minutes as you pounded on the accelerator, flipped the sirens on, and dashed past other cars on the road as they cleared the way for you.

You arrive at the corner of a lower Manhattan intersection, the East Village was known for its bustling nightlife; you can see a mix of all ages of people wandering the street as they continue their bar crawl.

It was further down the road, where you can see six sullen-looking figures sitting on the curb of the sidewalk – a police officer standing above them.

Sam dashes out of the car before you can even finish parking. You see her run down the street and talk to the officer, getting in his face and the six others look at her panicked. You sigh, and make your way out of the car, strapping your badge to your belt – you’d need to use it soon, you’re sure.

Tara’s eyes immediately connect to you as soon as you climb out of the car. Before she can think about it, she’s standing up to meet you. “Ah ah, I said sit down! You better listen or I’ll throw you all in jail for the night.”

“You can’t do that!” Sam shouts, stepping closer to the police officer. You decided enough was enough when you saw the police officer resting his hand on his holster.

“All right, that’s enough.” You grasp Sam’s elbow, yanking her away from the police officer. The older Carpenter is slightly startled by the rough tug, but you push her behind you getting in between her and the policeman.

“I think we’re all good here officer, thank you.” You say with finality. You weren’t asking, you were telling and Tara’s inebriated mind is all hot and bothered.

“Like hell we are, these six were caught sneaking into a club underage, and this one.” He points to Sam, “is getting on my nerves. Now, it seems like I can add you to the list, ‘cause who the hell you think you are, buddy?”

You briefly glance a stern side-eye to Tara at ‘club and underage’, she immediately looks away.

“Detective Y/L/N from the 99th precinct.” You slide your jacket aside to flash him the badge on your waist.

”And, you must be… Officer Leroy. From 6th, huh.” Reading his name tag and badge.

“Think that’s supposed to mean something?” You see his eyes on your badge before glowering to meet your eyes. “I’ll arrest you too.”

The group breaks out into loud protests.

You chuckle knowingly, “How long you been in the force buddy?” You ask, not unaware of all of the eyes on you as you and the officer have a stare-off.

“Four months.” He answers confidently, pushing his shoulders up and back to appear taller.

“Hmm… see I had a feeling. ‘Cause, my buddy Rivers just got promoted to Captain six months ago over on the 6th precinct, which means he’s most likely your superior. I wonder what you’ll tell him as to what charge you picked us up for. ‘Cause well, he will see me.” You shrug, offering up that thought for him to think about.

“Oh better yet, I’d just love to see what you write down on that case report, Officer. Leroy.” Your tone was harsh now as you stepped in his face, intimidating him.

He was forced to take a step back as you got in his space, his features paling, it took a few seconds before he conceded. “Fine! Just get the hell out of here, and don’t let me see you again!”

Everyone let out a relieved sigh as you smirked at his submission; everyone immediately takes the chance to leave and Sam tries to tug on your arm but you were still staring the cop down. He put this hand on his fucking gun when Sam got in his face and anger was quickly rising in your veins – you were unmovable, even by rough force.

“Y/N it’s over, let’s go.” Sam tries again but she can feel your arm harden as your knuckles tighten into a fist. “Y/N, seriously.”

Tara sobered up by the time police charges was being thrown around and her worry about your protectiveness was increasing. Sam couldn’t even pull you away. Chad steps in when Sam asks for help to convince you to move. He puts a hand on your shoulder, whispering calming words, no doubt.

But nothing was working as you stood there, still unmovable. She wouldn’t be surprised if Chad threw you over his shoulder and dragged you away, even though you weren’t that much smaller than him. In your boots, you were nearly at his height and Tara had to strain her neck to try and meet your eyes.

It was only when Tara pulled away from Quinn and Mindy’s hold and stepped in front of you, putting a hand just above your chest that you blinked, glancing down at her. “Y/N, let’s go… please.”

When you tried to glance back up at the other officer, whose partner had seen the commotion and tried his own efforts in calming him; his patience thinning by the second – was when Tara’s grasp on your shirt firmed, making you look back at her own stern eyes.

"Let's. Go." Her tone left no room for argument. Warning you from doing something stupid and you clench your jaw, looking away from the uniformed officers.

“Fine…"

Everyone slowly releases a breath when your rigid posture relaxes. “I’m driving you home, let’s go.” You exclaim to the rest but look directly at Tara, “Especially you, Carpenter.”

You place a hand on the sliver of her back and Tara shivers not used to being this close to you in a while. Your hand keeps its place even as you both turn and Sam is immediately on her ass about sneaking into a club. You guide the bickering sisters to walk to the car, zoning out the familiar sounds of their argument.

“–ou’re lucky Y/N was at the diner, who knows what that creep would’ve done if we didn’t drive out here in time.” Your hand tightens, subtly bringing her closer to your side at Sam’s words, Tara glances over when you do.

“It was fine until you got there and started overreacting, Sam.” Tara rolls her eyes, way past just ‘over’ Sam’s overprotectiveness. The younger girl loved her sister, she did, but she didn’t want to live her life constantly looking over her shoulder.

Tara wants to go to college, study, party, make mistakes, and maybe even find love – glancing back at you with that thought. She wanted to be a normal 20-year-old, doing 20-year-old things with her older… girlfriend? Tara didn’t know if she could call you that, but you shared enough sweet soft moments with her to consider you, hers. But she couldn’t do that if she had to look over her shoulder at every creak with a startle.

Sam scoffed offended, “Are you kidding me right now?” And you sigh because you can feel a bigger fight brewing and you can hear the slurring in Tara’s words, not a good mix.

“Let’s get you all home first before we do this, okay?” You cut in when you see the car come closer into view. Fishing for your keys, you throw them at Sam making her catch them.

“Walk ahead and start the car for me, please?” You ask with a raised brow; tilting your head to gesture to Tara saying a wordless ‘i got her’. Sam relents, tightly gripping the keys and walked ahead.

Tara leans her head against your shoulder, grateful for the brief moment of seclusion as everyone else walks up ahead.

“Are you mad at me?” You glance down at her frown, before looking away.

“No. I’m not.”

“That wasn’t very convincing. If you’re mad you can tell me… cause then I can fix it.” You feel her run her hand up and down your back, under your jacket. It made a shiver run up your spine as she continued rubbing lines on the fabric of your shirt.

“I swear, I’m not mad. A little disappointed but no, not mad.”

Tara huffs, sliding her arm off your back when you reach the car; the talk cut short. You open the car door sitting Tara inside, it was a tight squeeze but she was small. You’d sit her on your lap if her sister wasn't here. Anika did sit on Mindy’s lap though with poor Chad in the middle seat and then Tara.

She squeezes your hand just before you shut the door.

Apparently, Ethan and Quinn elected not to go home and continue on with their night.

Sam is already sitting in the passenger seat by the time you closed Tara’s door. With a sigh, you pull your door open, sit behind the wheel and drive off to the Carpenter’s apartment.

– –

Sam hurriedly rushes everyone into the living room as soon she opens the door; making sure to quadruple lock it, twist the handle to make sure it's locked and look out the peephole. It was Sam’s routine whenever she got into their place.

“Come on, let’s go, sit down.” Sam waves at you all, walking to the kitchen to grab water for everyone.

You help Tara onto the far edge of the couch, sitting her beside Mindy, who sat beside Anika. Chad decided to choose a record to listen to get rid of the tense air.

You felt Tara pulling you down with her, “Let me sit on your lap.” She mutters only to you.

“We can’t,” You whisper in her ear, slightly shaking your head. You hear her huff when you refuse her and see the pout on her lips when you pulled back, slightly smiling at her adorableness.

You force yourself to walk away from the younger Carpenter; heart tugging firmly, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in your arms, especially after not knowing what kind of trouble she was in.

Instead, you make your way into the kitchen to help Sam with the water bottles and bread.

“Is this necessary, Sam?” You ask the brunette, who was frantically searching through the fridge on her knees.

“You kidding? Chad is literally just staring holes at the record player.” She rebuttals and you glance back at the younger boy in amusement.

With a chuckle, you say, “He’s just high as shit. He’ll come down soon, plus he’s here now, they all are. Just relax and take a deep breath, man.” You remind her in a serious tone, holding out a hand to hold all the water bottles she was passing off to you.

“I know, I know. I was just worried.” She follows your advice taking calming, deep breaths as you follow along with her.

“Your therapist would be so proud, Samantha.” You tease smugly as she scoffs, hitting your leg from her position on the floor – you kick her back.

“Can you make sure Tara drinks and eats something, and that she’s okay before going to bed?” Sam asks you in a hushed tone, although she didn’t need to. The other four were all too engrossed either in the music or the TV in the back.

“Why me?”

“She’s not ready to talk to me and I’m not either... and I just wanna sleep right now.” She admits with a plead behind her eyes and you nod with no hesitation.

“I'll make sure all of them make it to bed, don’t worry.” She nods appreciatively, then stands so you can both get back to the other four in the living room – tossing them some bread.

“Finish that whole bottle before going to sleep, I don’t care if you piss your pants while you do ‘em.” You say in a stern tone while throwing the bottles, then sitting on the armchair to Tara’s left.

Sam shares a look with you as she slips out of the room, wordlessly, leaving you with the other four. They watched TV for the next 20 minutes, glancing around as each of them got progressively tired the more time ticked on.

“Alright. I think it’s time to call it a night.” You call it.

The twins and Anika slowly got up, muttering goodbyes and promises of texting Tara once they’d made it home. You offered to drive them to their dorm but felt the silent conversation between the friends – as Tara got them to turn you down to get you to stay here with her.

You lean against the front door, watching as the trio made their way down the stairs until they were out of sight. As soon as you shut the door closed, you felt arms wrap around your midsection – making you turn around.

“I missed you,” Tara mutters against your chest making you chuckle when it slightly tickled.

You cup her jaw, making her look into your eyes. “I missed you too, baby.”

Tara melts at the term of endearment, grabbing your neck to pull you down for a long searing kiss. Lips slotted over one another as they found the familiar grooves of each other’s mouths. Only breaking apart when Tara confessed with a bated breath, “You looked so hot confronting that other cop.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm…” She mutters connecting her mouth to your neck, peppering wet kisses there. She can hear you sigh in satisfaction and it makes her hold on you tighten even more. But with great reluctance, you pulled away from Tara; who whimpered in protest.

“We can’t, babe.” You remind her, pointing with your head to Sam’s room.

She frowns, “then come to my room.” Problem solved. She smirked devilishly, tugging you toward her room; you refused.

“We still can’t. You’re drunk and I’m not taking advantage.” You whisper, only stepping close to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She groans letting her head drop to your shoulder as your hand played with her hair.

“I hate that you’re a goodie two shoes.” She mutters making you laugh.

You tilt her head up with the hand already in her hair – gaze intense as you whisper, “I can assure you, I am far from a goodie two shoes.”

And Tara thought she melted at the way your voice dropped an octave when you said that but she knew she melted when you leaned down, tugging her by the hair, to connect your lips.

It was barely a peck, all tender and fleeting.

When you pulled away, she smirked knowingly watching as your eyes traced a path from her lips to her eyes – your gaze all dark, lustful. When your eyes connect you dive into her with a hair-raising kiss; all hungry and pining.

The feeling of your tongue clashing against hers and sounds of soft moans sends time stopping like only you and her exist in this apartment together. But Tara knows it doesn’t really stop and she has to eventually pull away before she takes you in the hallway – right then and there.

“God, you drive me crazy,” Tara whispers against your lips.

“So do you… cause sneaking into a club, really?” You ask unimpressed and Tara immediately pulls back, groaning.

Snickering as you follow closely behind when she walks into her room, trying to get away from you.

“You’re a mood-killer.” She mutters sitting on her bed, arms crossed over her chest; sulking.

“And you’re gonna give me and Sam a heart attack soon.” You joke but it was true. Tara loved to prove her sister wrong; not like being told what to do. It grew a defiant attitude in her that loved to stir shit up just for the hell of it, and that landed her in some hot waters with her friends sometimes. She definitely made your blood pressure sky-rocket, sometimes too.

“Why?” Tara probes. You were always so elusive and mysterious – it came with your job and allure. She can barely get you to open up about your feelings most of the time, saying you prefer to show her than tell her. You definitely did, so this admission from you was new. It has Tara yearning to hear more words of affirmation from you.

“Do I have to spell it out for you? I care about you, dummy. I nearly caused multiple accidents just to get to you. I was going like 80 mph the whole time,” You admitted, scratching the back of your neck a little ashamed.

“You were really that worried?” She asks, looking up at you with a hopeful stare like she was surprised.

“Of course, I was Tara. I even used the siren lights.” You shake your head at the fact that she’s even asking.

She was smiling goofily as you walked closer to stand between her legs, taking both her hands in yours. “I worry for all of you. But you, well, I always worry for you 'cause I’m thinking about you all the time.” You confessed in a whisper in her dark room.

Tara bites her lip, staring up at you with an indecipherable look. “You’re the worst.” Was the words that left her mouth.

“What, why?” You ask laughing.

She lets go of your hands to fiddle with your shirt buttons, muttering, “‘Cause you’re standing here looking all good and saying all the right things, and you still won’t fuck me.”

“Oookay…” You chuckle, grabbing at her fingers trying to unbutton your shirt, “That’s enough from you tonight. Let’s get you to bed before you say anything else you might regret tomorrow.”

She huffed but allowed you to grab her some new clothes to help her change; still not fucking her, Tara complains. Your eyes never even strayed from hers, not even when she took her bra off to change shirts and batted her eyes seductively. When she was all ready, you helped her to bed; tucking her in.

“Stay with me?” She asks grabbing onto your shirt, then gripping tighter. “Please.”

“What about Sam?” You ask softly, pushing away some hair from her face.

“She’s probably already sleeping, if not, she’s gonna be in her room all night.” Tara reasons, fully tugging you on top of her.

You give in like you always do.

Work for you and classes for Tara have been a lot right now, not being able to find time alone. You were practically living at the police station with the crime surge in the city, working late nights and long hours. With Sam’s overprotectiveness, Tara can say goodbye to dates so she only really sees you when you come over with her sister. You take your jacket off, place it on the chair in the corner of her room and tug your boots off. Remembering you had a change of clothes here from when Tara ransacked your closet; you picked out a shirt and shorts before getting into bed beside the younger Carpenter.

She was on you in an instant, swinging a leg over your waist, shoving her face in your neck. You feel her exhale a calming breath, once she’d settled into a comfortable position on you. You reciprocate by wrapping a strong grip around her waist, cherishing the way her skin warmed yours and how the weight of her body felt perfect.

“Just stay with me until I fall asleep?” She asks you with such a vulnerable gaze that you would never dream of ever telling her no.

You nod, pressing a kiss to her lips, then forehead. “Of course, pretty girl. Goodnight.”

She smiles against your lips, whispering her own, “goodnight.”

As you hold Tara Carpenter in your arms, you find yourself fending off sleep, only ever being this relaxed around the girl. You squeeze her slightly, feeling grateful to be with her at this moment with all the craziness in your two’s lives. No worries of outside-world problems could break the cozy bubble you and Tara created. Without ever standing a chance, you lose the fight to sleep and easily fall off the precipice with her in your embrace.

– –

“Tara, do you have my nail polish – Oh this is cute.”

You spring up, the voice startling you from the most relaxed sleep you’ve ever had; the type that makes your entire body heavy and head foggy when you wake up. You were the lightest of sleepers, a pin drop could probably startle you awake, but never when you fell asleep beside Tara.

“What the fuck?” Tara grumbles against your side, peaking her head up to see Quinn watching you two in bed.

It took you a few seconds to realize where you were and instantly pale when you realize you never left the Carpenter Sister’s apartment, you never even made it out of Tara’s bed. You can feel the stream of sunlight coming in from Tara’s window and just know you had majorly fucked up.

“I just needed my nail polish but this is quite a sight, definitely a pleasant surprise.” She waves a hand toward you two, and you roll your eyes.

“Shit babe, Sam.” Tara places a hand on your arm. You check the watch strapped on your wrist for the time, 10:32 AM – making you leap out of her, oh so warm bed.

“Screw Sam, my Captain is gonna be on my ass until next year if I don’t get to work now. I was late about two hours ago.” Grumbling, you yanked Tara’s closet open and grabbed the spare trousers and button-down, you stowed in there.

"Can't say I blame your Captain." Quinn retorts, heavily eyeing you as you change your shorts into trousers.

Tara groans at the mess this morning has already been, flopping onto her back.

“Screw Sam, huh?” She appears, leaning on the threshold just behind Quinn, crossing her arms over her chest.

Your hands stall on the tie you were tying as you hear your friend’s voice, making you turn around.

“I guess that’s a no on the nail polish?” Tara glares at her roommate.

Quinn shrugs, still ogling as you changed before turning to leave the room. “Not a wasted trip though, nice catch Tara.” She winks at the brunette – holding a thumbs up.

The redhead just laughs, moving out of the way when Tara attempts to throw a pillow at her.

“Sam… I’d love to explain but I am so late for work right now.” You plead at the older sister.

Tara sat on her bed wordlessly, unsure of what Sam’s reaction is going to be – but ready to defend her relationship with you, regardless.

Sam chuckles shrugging lightly, “I already knew. Or well, I had a feeling, but this just confirms it.”

You and Tara look at each other at her confession, unsure if Sam’s words hold positive or negative connotations. Sam sees the eye-contact and laughs.

“I’m not mad, I promise. I was a little hurt that you didn’t tell me…” She pauses, “okay. I was really hurt when you guys didn’t tell me. But I realize I haven’t given Tara reason to trust me with anything about her life lately.”

That makes Tara’s head perk up at her sister’s admission. All she’s ever wanted was for Sam to trust her a little because trust went both ways in every type of relationship.

“And well, I guess I can’t think of anyone better to be with my sister than my cop friend. Especially after you came through for her last night. You were driving so fast, I thought I was gonna die.” Sam laughs a little but you’re still unconvinced.

When Sam realizes no one was still talking she chuckles again. “Guys, I’m serious!”

You cough clearing your throat, “Sorry Sam, it’s just that... I–uh,”

Tara decided to cut off your stammering, “We’re just surprised, Sam. We thought you'd be more upset. And that we were more subtle.” She admits, shooting you a look.

“You weren't. But, I thought a lot about what to say until I realized it was just you guys and I care about you two so much. You don’t think I noticed Tara being a lot happier than usual and you actually looking somewhat at peace?” She asks rhetorically, reading you and Tara to filth – your cheeks reddening, not being used to being at the other end of the ‘questioning’.

“I see how you look at each other. I know you’ll protect her.” That last sentence she says looking at you and it means the world to get her approval – something that you didn’t even know you wanted, you nod at her appreciatively.

Sam pushes herself off the doorframe, tapping on it. “Now come on, there’s breakfast in the kitchen, don't let it get cold. And Y/N, I don’t think you’re gonna make it to work today.” She winks, leaving you and Tara alone in the room.

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, unable to find words to describe what just transpired in the span of a few minutes. Then you hear a scoff bring you out of your reverie.

“What the hell was that,” Tara commented, getting up from the bed and closing the door before approaching you.

“I’m… not really sure. I can’t tell if I’m still asleep.” You mumble, grabbing at her cheeks to make sure you weren't in a dream. Tara whines against the pinching, swatting your hands away.

You laughed at her frown before leaning down to kiss her slightly chapped lips, all soft and slow. Tara pulls you closer by the neck, sighing against pressed mouths. A sweet moan escapes her mouth when you suck down hard on her lip, releasing it with a loud pop.

“You think I should call in sick today?” You whisper, running a gentle thumb to soothe her swollen lip.

Tara nods, eyes half-open still a little dazed from your kiss. When she gathers her bearings, she runs a hand down your half-done tie, tugging you closer. “Definitely.”

"You can tell me more about how worried you were and how fast you were driving too," She whispers against your mouth, using your tie as a leash.

"Are you turned on right now?"

"Kinda... can I drive with the sirens on?" She slides the question in like it was nothing.

"No."

"Buzzkill." She teases but pulls you on top when her back hits the mattress. “I’ll make you change your mind.”

You definitely forgot to make that phone call.

The rest of that morning was spent in between Tara’s sheets, you two hidden away from the world; ignoring the flurry of texts and calls from your work phone. Only leaving her room to grab some food and water, but getting caught in the crossfire of teasings from Tara's friends when they see the hickeys on your neck.

Tara merely strides past you, dressed in nothing but your button-down, stopping for a peck on the lips and grabbing the water from your hands before hiding back in her room to ignore her friends. You don’t miss the cheeky wink she tosses you and the grimace Sam lets out as she watches. Instead, you keep your head down and follow the smaller girl like a lost puppy, ignoring the other's whistles as you do.

And, when you make your way to your desk the next day, a mountain pile of shitty cases for the next month is stacked high as punishment.

You still find it hard to feel any remorse for the no-show.

It was definitely worth it.

– –

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter imagine #sam carpenter #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #jenna ortega

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familyvideostevie · 7 months

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come care about me

joel miller x reader a quiet evening at your house in Jackson with the man you call home | implied but unspecified age gap, domesticity, jackson au, joel is a flirt and a gossip [2.2k] a/n: my first attempt at joel! hope it's alright. read part 2 here! part 3 here! series masterlist here.

Jackson is quiet at this hour. The whole world is pretty quiet these days and sometimes it's more suffocating than peaceful. The white noise of life is so different -- you remember how car horns and humming power lines and the thrum of planes overhead used to remind you that you weren't alone. Now, most of the time, you're hoping you're alone. The snap of a twig or click of a safety or a muffled cough are signs of danger. But this town is safe. You know it, you feel it, but sometimes it catches up to you: how tiring it is to be on guard all the time. This is just how it is.

You hear little but your own footsteps as you head for home, hands tucked into your pockets and book wedged under your arm. The warmth of an evening spent at the town book club is still in your veins -- well, that and the finger of whiskey -- and it chases away your melancholy musings for the moment. Even better is the promise of what awaits you.

The porch light is on when you round the corner. You half expect Joel to be strumming away in his chair but there's no sign of him. Not unusual, not really, given that there's a chill in the air and Ellie was meant to come over for a movie night. Maybe she's still here and they're inside watching some shitty action flick on the couch. One or both of them always doze off before it's over. Regardless, you know he won't head to bed until you're home.

You ease open the door. The hallway smells like Ellie's favorite tea and slightly burnt bread but there's no splash of light from the TV, no clash of swords or quiet laughter.

It's dark in the house but that's not unusual either. "Took a few years to stop flicking light switches," Joel once told you. "Reckon it'll take a few more to get used to it again." He's the kind of man who would rather sit in the dark than chance disappointment.

"Joel?" you call. Your jacket goes on the hook next to his and you sit on the bench you dragged in last month for unlacing your boots, which will go next to his spare pair. He's undoubedlty still got his on, wherever he is. The tell-tale trail of belongings that often indicate the presence of a teenager is absent.

Your name echoes down the staircase followed by heavy, slightly uneven footsteps. Joel emerges into the hallway, guitar in hand. His hair is mussed like he's just thrown on the sweater he now wears and his expression softens at the sight of you, an ever-so-slight ease of his jaw and upturn of his mouth. It took you a while to learn how to spot it.

There are nights when you'll make a joke, tease him a little to try to get him to laugh. It's easier than it used to be but he likes to make you work for it. But tonight you're just glad to be home and you want to tell him so. He leans the guitar against the wall and beats you to it.

"Was gonna wait for you on the porch," he says. "Bit early to be back already." He's right. The after-discussion drinks will be going for at least another hour, thought the sun has been down for ages. You just shrug, fingers a little clumsy from the whiskey and the cold as you undo your laces.

"Wanted to come home," you say. His eyes crinkle at the corners and he crosses his arms, shoulder pressing into the wall above the guitar. Joel rarely takes, rarely reaches for what's in front of him even if he wants it, even if it's already his. It's a patience, a self discipline painfully constructed from years of survival and two rounds as a father mixed with the deep guilt he'll never allow himself to be rid of.

Point is, he'll wait for you to touch him. But that's okay. You've worked on your patience, too, and you've been doing this dance for a few years now. His arms will be open once you finish getting your damn shoes off.

"Ellie still here?" you ask. Joel's words are heavy with his drawl, heavier since being around Tommy, if Ellie is to be believed, his sentences clipped of unnecessary words and syllables. It seems that you've adopted some of his speech pattern. He'll never admit it but you think he likes it.

"You just missed her."

"I think she'd like this." You nudge the book on the bench beside you with your thigh. "I'll drop it by tomorrow. Movie night go good?"

Joel dips his chin, eyes on the floor. He shows you so much but there are some things he can't. The scabbing over wound between him and Ellie is often one of those things. "Was nice," he allows. "She n'Dina will be at dinner this weekend, she said."

You finally get your boots off and sigh, tossing them into the corner. The thud is loud enough to make you wince. "About time those girls graced us with their presence." You reach your arms above your head and stretch, joins popping and muscles sore from the sheer exertion of existing after the end of the world. Joel watches you.

"Alright," he says. He pushes off the wall with a groan. "C'mere."

It's the easiest thing in the world to walk into his embrace, socked feet soundless on the hardwood. You love Ellie like she's your own but her absence means that Joel will touch you more. He's a private man, reserved around people he knows and downright stony around those he doesn't even though the years in Jackson have softened him a great deal. He'll squeeze your hand, your shoulder, hover his palm on the small of your back as he moves around you, but that's it. He worries constantly that you'll wise up and realize he's too old, too boring, too mean, that people in town whisper the same behind your backs. Funny how in a time where you fight against fungus-powered flesh eaters, gossip still makes its rounds.

Still, you feel Joel's eyes on you in every room and you'd rather he worry about things like that than life and death beyond the walls. It's like your cells know he's near, a compass needle magnetized to the set of his shoulders and smell of wood glue and gunpowder. The rasp of his voice and his rough hands and the lines on his face. In the privacy of your home he's all yours.

"Hello," you say into his sweater. It's a new find, different from the threadbare button-ups and flannels he wears into the ground. His beard scratches against your skin and you sink into him, arms around his waist. He cradles the back of your head in one warm palm and holds you steady with the other on your back.

"Howdy," he mutters because he knows it'll make you laugh. It does. You match your inhales to his and any remaining tension from the day leaks out of both of you. "Do y'wanna to sit on the porch or go to bed? You hungry?"

His knuckles trace your spine as you shake your head. "Astrid had Seth make sandwiches. So, bed. Too cold to be on the porch."

"S'not that cold," he retorts. You roll your eyes and pull away from his embrace to look at him. His hair could do with a trim, the silver strands falling into his eyes. Your own hair has greys here and there by now, a byproduct of the times. Nearly everyone born Before has some. It's damn stressful to be alive. Joel often grumbles that you're too young for that kind of shit, not far enough from twenty for such visible signs of age.

"I've got gossip for you." That gets his eyebrows to raise.

"Do you now?" He releases you and grabs the guitar, gesturing for you to head upstairs first. "Should'a led with that."

Joel Miller is a lot of things, some of them better than others, but one of your favorites is that he's become a gossip. Maybe he was Before, too. Small-town life and safety and a teenager of his own and you have turned his eye back towards the business of other folks. Information gatherin', he calls it. Important to know what's going on.

But really he's just nosy. Good thing you are, too. It's basically the only reason you go to book club. If you actually wanted to talk about books you'd do it with the teenager living out back -- and you do -- since she's a bigger reader and miles smarter than anyone else in town.

The stairs creak like they always do. Joel has put away the laundry that you finished this morning and despite his inclination towards darkness, has left on the lamp in the bedroom. He sets the guitar back in its stand and sits in the armchair to unlace his boots, grunting a bit as he goes.

"Jesse's mother brought a new batch of whiskey for after the discussion. Caused some loose lips, I think. I hope she did it on purpose because it was worth it."

You eye the book on Joel's side of the bed. Something about...woodworking? Typical.

"Whiskey, huh?" he drawls from behind you. "Could smell it on your breath," he says. You look up and he startles you a bit by appearing in your space and tilting your chin up with two fingers. Joel presses his lips to yours firmly, tongue dipping into your exhale for just a moment before he pulls back. "Can taste it, too."

He's gone before you can lean into him. You sit down heavily on the bed. Whiskey aside, Joel's touch, his kiss, his attention always make you feel a little overwhelmed. And he knows it. You hadn't even heard him creep over to you.

"Asshole," you mutter.

"Say somethin'?" He's wandered to the closet to shuck off his jeans and sweater.

"Remember Scott?" you ask instead. "Short, got that scar across his face."

"I might be old but my memory is fine," he grumbles. "Patrolled with him last month."

"Well, he's been with Duy, that guy who works the gardens, for almost half a year, right? But according to Wendy, as of yesterday, Scott's not living in the house on Spring Street anymore. She saw him moving into a split level on Crescent."

Joel whistles through his teeth. You watch him slide into flannel pants, catch flashes of his tanned skin and your palms ache to touch him.

"You think it has to do with...what was his name? The other guy Scott's with sometimes? Phil? Peter?"

"Patrick. Yeah, that's what I thought too. Something must've been happening there." You tuck one leg under you on the bed. "What was that about a fine memory?"

He ignores you. "Never did like him much," he says. "He talks a lot." He reappears from the closet in his pants that belonged to some other man long dead, his chest bare despite the cool evening. He's a furnace, this man. You barely need layers to sleep in as the seasons change so long as he's next to you, all solid warmth and muscle. He tosses you the shirt you like to sleep in. It smells like what passes for detergent these days.

"You don't like anyone much," you tease as you unfurl your leg. It's not true, not really. Joel likes a few people a great deal and tolerates everyone else just fine. He's respected not only for being Maria's brother-in-law but for the way he can fix things, for his calm head on patrol. Children in town adore him and Ellie's friends used to revere him like a god, or so she tells you. You didn't know him before Jackson but you know enough about what happened twenty years ago, four years ago, and everything in between. You know that it made him hard but hollow. You know that that dear girl in the back shed brought him back to life and now that they're on the mend, you can see even more pieces of who he was.

You know that you've helped, too.

"I like you plenty," he says. He stands between your knees and frames your face with his hands. The callused pad of his thumb drags over your lower lip as you just stare at each other for a few moments. You press your palm to his stomach, nails sliding through the thatch of hair that leads down under the band of his pants. His abdomen contracts and his nostrils flare.

You give him a grin. "I like you plenty, too, Joel Miller." There isn't much more to it. He's probably your favorite person on this god-forsaken planet.

"Get outta these damn clothes," he grumbles around a small smile of his own. He tugs at the shirt in your hand.

You wiggle your eyebrows at him. "Oh, so we can f--"

Joel steps back and heads for the bathroom, leaving you behind with a dramatic sigh. "So we can go to sleep."

Laughter spills out of you as you head for the closet. "Whatever you say."

"You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"

The end of the world isn't so bad.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot

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breelandwalker · 7 months

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Podcasts for Spooky Season

It's that time of year again! The leaves are turning, the pumpkins are ripening, and with the increasing chill in the air comes a craving for chills of a different kind. If you're looking for some great audio horror this season, here are some podcasts you might enjoy. Check them out on your favorite podcast app!

(Please feel free to add your favorites in the notes!)

Fictional Frights

Chilling Tales For Dark Nights

Knifepoint Horror

Pseudopod

Scary Stories Told In The Dark

The No-Sleep Podcast

Real Life Is Terrifying

And That's Why We Drink

Be. Scared

Disturbed

Morbid

Scared To Death

Tales From The Break Room

History & Folklore

A Scary State

Freaky Folklore

Frightful

Lore

One Strange Thing

Southern Gothic

The Cryptid Keeper (back catalog)

Horror Movies

Alone In The Dark

Copulators Die First (back catalog)

Queerdo Babes Trom The Horror Pod-O-Rama

Ruined!

Classic Horror Tales

Horror Hill

Readings by The H.P Lovecraft Literary Podcast

The HorrorBabble Podcast

You can also visit Librivox for free public domain audiobooks, including MANY collections of classic scary stories, including a fantastic rendition of Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow."

#halloween #scary stories #horror #horror movies #podcasts #audiobooks #audio horror #spooky season

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yoongis-property · 9 months

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SEONGHWA FIC RECS

last update: 07.31.2023

m- mature , f- fluff , a- angst , c- crack/humor, ☆- personal favorite

e2l- enemies to lovers, s2l- strangers to lovers, f2l- friends to lovers, bf2l- best friends to lovers, cf2l- childhood friends to lovers, fwb2l- friends with benefits to lovers, ex2l- exes to lovers, i2l- idiots to lovers

MASTERLIST

⇢ A DIRTY LITTLE SECRET by @hwa-whiskers (fuckboy!sh, roommate!au, a, m)

❝ Having a crush on your roommate who was the fuckboy of your university was bad enough, but what gets worse is when he brings other women home and you secretly masturbated upon hearing them that night, wishing it were you instead. But how will it unfold when Seonghwa finds out? ❞

⇢ A KNIGHT`S TALE by @kitten4sannie (dragon shifter!sh, knight!reader, fantasy!au, light a, m)

❝ a knight is ordered by the king to save the princess from a fearsome dragon. this, of course, is a common fairy tale with a predictable ending — but what happens when there’s more to the story than meets the eye? ❞

⇢ ADDICTING KITTEN by @tenelkadjowrites (m, f, light a)

❝ When your car breaks down and your phone is dead, you are stranded alone on the way home. However, when Seonghwa, the intimidating figure you see at the club often, comes by and offers you a ride, you cannot help but feel as if you might be walking into the lion’s den. ❞

⇢ AEMULUS by @sluttywonwoo (academic rival!au, fake dating!au, m, f)

❝ park seonghwa is in no position to ask you for a favor. but being underqualified for something has never stopped him before. ❞

⇢ AMAZING GRACE by @yoongiseesawmp3 (f, a, m)

❝ you’re spending the summer at home after finishing school and you somehow get dragged into handling the baby nursery at church for the next two months. the only thing sweeter than the babies is your co-worker, park seonghwa. ❞

⇢ CHEAT CODES by @serendipityunho (m, a, college!au)

❝ "This party's boring, wanna get out of here?", may have perhaps led you to make the biggest mistake of your life by sleeping with your best friend's other best friend, your best friend who happens to be in love with you. ❞

⇢ COMPANY by @atinyidea (hogwarts!au, f)

❝ “not many people would willingly choose my company” ❞

⇢ DAYDREAMING by @sluttywoozi (established relationship, f, m, ☆)

❝ Seonghwa gets a bit... distracted while working on his legos. ❞

pt. 2

⇢ DO NOT DISTURB by @hwasdvlly (established relationship, idol!au, f)

❝ its just a chill live stream, but something happens along the way ❞

⇢ DUNE by @hongism (biker!sh, m)

❝ Your excursions with Seonghwa are never anything holy despite how sacred the time shared between you feels at times. ❞

⇢ ESSENCE by @whatudowhennooneseesyou (siren!sh, m, dark themes)

❝ A siren rescues you from the plunder of a shipwreck, you're grateful for his mercy in letting you live. But at what cost? ❞

⇢ EVERYDAY AT THE BUS STOP by @tenelkadjowrites (f, m, s2l)

❝ your crush on fellow passenger, Seonghwa, changes into something new the day the bus breaks down. ❞

⇢ FIRST TIME by @ateezmakemeweep (established relationship, a, f, m)

❝ Seonghwa's been away for far too long and all you want to do is cuddle. Or so you think. ❞

⇢ GANG AU by @fantastic-bby (gang!au, a, m)

❝ Seonghwa would never get on his knees for anyone… but you’re not just anyone to him. ❞

⇢ GENTLE by @cheollipop (hybrid!au, m, f) feat. wooyoung

❝ desperate and whiny, your heat pheromones triggered wooyoung's feral instincts, forcing seonghwa to step in and teach him how to treat you properly. ❞

⇢ GROUPIE LOVE by @kitten4sannie (guitarist!sh, m)

❝ you'd do anything for your favorite guitarist. ❞

⇢ HOW YOU GET THE GIRL by @starrysvn (ex2l, f, light a)

❝ say it's been a long six months and you were too afraid to tell her what you want. and that's how it works, that's how you get the girl. and then you say; i want you for worse or for better, i would wait for ever and ever, broke your heart, i'll put it back together, i would wait for ever and ever. ❞

⇢ IN YOUR HANDS by @kitten4sannie (vampire!au, m) kinda feat. mingi

❝ you meet someone that excites you again. ❞

⇢ JASMINE & BISCUITS by @daybreakx (hogwarts!au, f)

❝ You knew good things didn’t happen overnight. No matter how magical Hogwarts was, or how many problems a potion or a spell could solve, things didn’t work that way, especially when it came to feelings and relationships. ❞

⇢ LITTLE GREEN EYED MONSTER by @hee0soo (established relationship, light a, f)

❝ Studying with your boyfriend does not have a happy ending ❞

⇢ ME OR THE PS5 by @tohokuu (established relationship, a, m)

❝ you hated black fridays. not because of the great sales, but because your boyfriend, seonghwa had finally gotten the time and money to buy himself a ps5. the long-awaited gaming console he had been gushing to you about forever.. ❞

⇢ MILKY WAY by @ad0rechuu (sm!au, idol!reader, f, a) feat. san & mingi

❝ It’s not everyday that your friends childhood friend turns out to be the girl that you literally have a fan account for, but for Seonghwa, San and Mingi it’s become a reality. being able to get close to your bias is great! even if she does have a raging crush on someone else… ❞

unfinished!

⇢ MR. & MRS. PARK by @baekhvuns (mafia!au, a, m, light f)

❝ In which the task of killing your enemy is abruptly put on pause when you discover their cute little secret. ❞

⇢ ONE QUESTION by @tenelkadjowrites (established relationship, m) feat. mingi

❝ I was wondering how long it was into the friendship before the two of you realized that you want to sleep together?” ❞

⇢ PIRATE!SEONGHWA by @ateezmakemeweep (kinda e2l, a, f, ☆)

❝ “is she alive?" "i don't know." "well check if she's breathing, you scalawag!" "wooyoung, i told you a million times not to talk like that!” "we're pirates, san, how can i no-"

the sound of you choking stops the boy's from bickering, eight pairs of eyes intently watching as salt water comes up from your lungs and spills down your chin. ❞

⇢ PLAYING NICE by @sa-honey (fake dating!au, e2l, a, f, m)

❝ when your date for your sister`s wedding at the last minute you`re left desperate for a replacement. An unlikely volunteer steps up and offers to fill the place. ❞

⇢ PLAYING WITH FIRE by @ateezmakemeweep (f, m, age gap, ☆)

❝ you first met park eunbi during your first year of college, when she walked through your dorm room with a smile on her face and her parents by her side - or, more notably to you, her incredibly handsome father.

that’s all he ever was to you though - your friend’s hot dad who you only ever saw a few times a year. but when you find yourself around him more and more often, your attraction growing and his eyes lingering, you suddenly find yourself in a situation you know is wrong but can’t seem to pull yourself out of. ❞

⇢ PROPERLY by @tenelkadjowrites (m, f, bf2l)

❝ Nervous about running into your ex at a party, your best friend Seonghwa has devised a plan to pretend that you are dating him. However, in acting as if you are together, the friendship begins to change course. ❞

⇢ READ FOR ME by @pirateprincessblog (best friend's father!sh, m, a, light f)

❝ you promised your friend. you asked for forgiveness and gave a promise that you wouldn't even look her father's way. it isn't your fault that you suck at keeping promises. ❞

⇢ SLEEP-TALKER by @mingigoo (vacation!au, one bed trope, m)

❝ When you and you friends decide on a trip tot he beach for spring break, you get stuck rooming with the man you „hate“ the most. The line between love and hate is as thin as ice, and you were about to break it. ❞

⇢ SO OBLIVIOUS by @xxsanshinexx (fake fiance!au, f2l, f)

❝ “Seonghwa I need you to pretend to be my fiancé for the weekend.” Was the words that left your mouth as you burst through the door of your best friends apartment. ❞

⇢ SOME KIND OF DISASTER by @daybreakx (vacation!au, ex2l, a, f)

❝ San’s house was big enough to hold the seven people in the group comfortably. It was spacious and luxurious, and although abandoned for most of the year, it was kept in good shape. This wasn’t the first time you went to the beach house, it had become a tradition to go together every summer.. ❞

⇢ SUGAR RUSH by @sluttywoozi (baker!sh, s2l, f, light m)

❝ Bakery owner Seonghwa is sweet on you. ❞

⇢ THE BEST FRIENDS CODE by @tenelkadjowrites (m, bf2l) feat. hongjoong

❝ Hongjoong swears up and down that if you don’t touch each other, it won’t ruin the friendship...and what is the harm in blowing off some steam? ❞

seonghwa is in part 2 and part 3

⇢ THE SEAT NEXT TO HIS by @oldloveatz (college!au, f)

❝ you’ve had the biggest crush on your friend seonghwa, and either he was oblivious and only saw you as a friend, or he was really good at hiding his truest feelings. ❞

⇢ THE TROUBLE WITH ROOMMATES by @anyamaris (m, roommate!au)

❝ "Y/n!!" You hear your name being called and you sigh, pulling off your headset. Should have gotten noise cancelling, you think and lean back in your chair.. ❞

⇢ UNDER THE LIGHTS by @mimikookie (vampire!sh, established relationship, f, m, light a)

❝ To Seonghwa, you're the most stunning person in his lifetime. He's so committed to you that he gifts you something very precious for your anniversary. ❞

⇢ WALLFLOWER by @tenelkadjowrites (nerd!sh, coworker!au, m, f, ☆)

❝ Having not given much thought about your nerdy coworker, Seonghwa, all of that changes when you hear a rumor about his sexual prowess in bed. ❞

⇢ WEREWOLF!SEONGHWA MEETING HIS MATE by @you-did-well-moon (werewolf!sh, f, light a)

❝ You walked at a leisurely pace as the grass of the damp forest floor swayed and danced with you, seemingly reaching out to you by gently curling over the edges of your boots. An easy smile tugged at your lips at the comfort the forest brought to you. ❞

please like or reblog, it helps a lot :)

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doumadono · 5 months

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Warnings: violence, viking!Dabi, viking!Shoto, earl!Endeavor, viking!Hawks, viking!Natsuo, fem!reader, viking themes, smut (deflowering, p in v, blood)

Summary: as you reconcile with Touya, the dynamics between you two intensify, and with his departure alongside Shoto and Hawks, you find yourself grappling with the profound implications of Touya's gift, navigating a new chapter in your life

Word count: circa 8.1k

A/N: if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know ♥

KVITRAVN - MHA VIKING AU • MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER • NEXT CHAPTER

ACT IV - IN THE VEIL OF DARKNESS

Several days had slipped by.

Touya, consumed by the impending expedition, had become an elusive figure in your world. The anticipation of the journey ahead, alongside his youngest brother Shoto, Hawks, and a group of warriors, left little room for casual conversations. The Great Hall bore witness to his unwavering focus as he meticulously prepared, sharpening his weapons with an intensity that hinted at the challenges that lay ahead.

In the midst of the preparations, you frequently encountered Touya in the hall. His presence was undeniable, a brooding silhouette engrossed in the art of perfecting his sword and axe. The air around him crackled with an energy that mirrored the impending adventure.

Yet, despite the shared space and the fleeting glimpses, there was a palpable silence between you two. Whenever your paths crossed, he would promptly withdraw, leaving unspoken words hanging in the air.

In the meantime, Shoto, on the other hand, endeavored to draw nearer to you, under the impression that you harbored an interest in him. However, you gracefully declined each of his advances. Yet, in the face of his advances, you maintained a graceful poise, politely but firmly declining each of his attempts.

The evening was bathed in a cold, biting chill, the kind that seeped into the bones. As the sky painted itself in hues of indigo and ebony, you found yourself entrusted with a task that seemed simple on the surface but proved to be more challenging than expected.

The warriors' clothes, worn and stained from battles past, awaited a thorough cleansing. The Great Hall had called upon you to fetch water from the bay, two heavy pails that seemed determined to resist your every attempt to carry them. Wrapped in a thick fur that clung to your shoulders, you ventured into the frosty night, a lone figure navigating the shadows.

The bay was a silent expanse, its waters reflecting the pale light of the moon. The air was crisp, filled with the briny scent of the sea. With each step, the crunch of frost-coated grass beneath your boots echoed in the stillness of the night.

As you reached the bay, the water shimmered in the moonlight, a tranquil contrast to the arduous task ahead. The pails, when filled, felt like anchors, their weight digging into your weary arms. The wind whispered tales of distant lands, carrying with it a numbing cold that penetrated through layers of clothing.

The journey back to the Great Hall became a battle against the elements. The fur draped around your shoulders provided little solace against the biting wind, and the weight of the water-laden pails seemed to increase with every step. Your breath formed delicate clouds in the frigid air as you pressed forward, determination masking the discomfort.

The Great Hall loomed in the distance, its warm glow promising respite from the harsh elements. With each step, the anticipation of a crackling fire and the warmth of shelter spurred you on.

As you struggled with the weight of the water-filled pails, a smooth, male voice sliced through the cold. The offer of help hung in the air, a surprising interruption to your solitary struggle. Instinctively, you refused, a reflex born of independence and perhaps a hint of pride.

Yet, within moments, the burden was lifted from your frozen hands. Bewilderment etched across your face, you slowly raised your head to find the source of assistance. A shock coursed through you as your eyes met those of Touya, draped in a thick, black bear fur.

Silence lingered for a moment before you managed a nod, acknowledging his unspoken gesture of aid. The air crackled with unspoken tension as the pails now rested in Touya's capable hands. The night seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the exchange of words that hung in the chilly air.

You suddenly uttered, your voice measured, "I appreciate the help, but I had it under control."

A chuckle escaped Touya's lips, warm against the icy backdrop. "Sure looked like it," he remarked, a teasing glint in his turquise eyes. Touya's gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Sensing your reluctance, he ventured, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

You nodded, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air. The memory of Touya witnessing to Shoto's unexpected kiss, cast a shadow over the present.

Touya, breaking the awkward silence, continued, "Listen, about that night…" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I should have said something. I should have…"

You interrupted, your voice a mix of reluctance and honesty, "It's in the past, Touya. Water under the bridge. And just so you know, I didn't want that. Your brother was drunk."

"I avoided talking to you," he confessed, his voice tinged with bitterness, "because I thought you were into Shoto. I thought he'd be better for you in so many ways than I could ever be, Y/N."

His words halted you in your tracks, and you turned to face him, your expression a mix of surprise and bitterness. "Why say it now?" you asked, your tone edged with a bitter curiosity.

Touya sighed. "Because I need you to know the truth. I need you to understand why I've been distant. My scars, my fucked-up character — I didn't think I was enough for you. I thought I was saving you from someone like me. Not to mention I brought you here against your will."

The truth hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, the silence between you was almost suffocating. Lowering your head, you took a deep breath before opening up to him, "Despite all that, Touya, you've always been kind to me. You've seemed to genuinely care, and I appreciate all the little gestures."

A hint of surprise flickered in Touya's eyes, and you continued, "Even tonight, when you helped me with the pails, it didn't go unnoticed. And about your scars, both physical and mental — I don't mind. They don't define you." You paused, reflecting on a specific memory, "Remember the night we kissed? I felt comfortable, Touya. Despite the circumstances, I felt a connection. Your scars never mattered to me then, and they don't now. And I have no idea why you like me. I'm nothing but a thrall."

Touya's frown deepened as the word "thrall" escaped your lips. "Don't say that," he hissed, a hint of intensity in his voice.

You chuckled bitterly, "But it's the truth. I'm just a slave to you and your family. After these months, I've gotten used to it, even if it's still hard to be polite at times when people treat me like a piece of meat."

The weight of your words hung in the air, and Touya gently placed the pails on the ground. Cupping your face in his gloved hands, the soft touch of thick leather against your reddened cheeks felt surprisingly comforting. "Don't ever call yourself that," he insisted, his eyes searching yours. "You're not just a thrall to me. You're… you."

You met his gaze, a mix of confusion and gratitude in your eyes.

Touya continued, his voice softer now, "Around you, I don't have to pretend. I don't have to be someone I never was, you know? Only with you, I feel like I can be myself fully."

His words lingered in the cold night air, a vulnerable admission that cut through the complexities of your situation. The touch of his gloved hands on your face, an unexpected tenderness, conveyed a depth of emotion that defied the roles you both found yourselves in.

In that moment, beneath the moonlit sky, Touya, for the first time, allowed himself to be seen, and you, in turn, found solace in the unexpected warmth of his touch.

Silence settled between you and Touya, a quiet understanding born from the unspoken exchange. You nodded, acknowledging his words, and without further discussion, you both resumed the journey back to the Great Hall.

The moon cast its gentle glow on the path ahead as you walked side by side. The rhythmic sound of boots on frost-coated ground echoed in the stillness.

As you approached the Great Hall, the door creaked open, and you both stepped inside, the warmth enveloping you like a familiar embrace. The pails were set down, and the flickering light of the hearth danced on the walls.

"Thanks, Touya. I appreciate the help," gratitude filled your voice as you thanked him for his assistance.

A small, genuine smile curved on his lips as he removed his gloves and fur. "It's no problem. Let me know where you want these," he gestured to the pails.

"The backroom," you replied, "Hilda and the other girls are there. We're doing laundry tonight."

With a nod, Touya complied, carrying the pails to the backroom.

As he entered, Hilda and the other thralls, caught off guard by the unexpected guest, momentarily stood up, bowing respectfully.

Touya, however, remained polite and offered his assistance. "Let me help you with that."

Hilda, blinking in surprise, tried to dissuade him. "Prince Touya, this is not a task befitting of your status. We can handle it."

Touya chuckled, a genuine warmth in his keen eyes. "I'm here to help. No need to treat me any differently. What can I do?"

Hilda reluctantly assigned him a task, and soon, the room buzzed with activity. Touya, alongside you and the other thralls, engaged in the laundry work. The atmosphere, once laden with tension, now hummed with a shared sense of purpose.

Conversations flowed naturally as you worked, the rhythmic splash of water and the occasional laughter blending into a harmonious melody. Touya, despite his royal status, interacted with the thralls on a personal level, breaking down the barriers that society had imposed.

As the laundry was washed and the room filled with the scent of soap and clean linen, Touya continued to lend a helping hand. Together with Hilda, he assisted in hanging the freshly laundered clothes, ensuring they would dry efficiently.

However, unbeknownst to all of you, a pair of sharp turquoise eyes observed the scene from a concealed vantage point. The eyes lingered on the group, absorbing the unexpected sight of Touya, a heir, engaging in the everyday tasks alongside thralls.

Hilda's gratitude was expressed through a gentle rub on Touya's shoulder. "Thank you, Touya."

He responded with a nod and a warm smile. "Anytime," he said sincerely. "You can always ask me for help if needed. I will do my best to assist."

The evening continued with the familiar sounds and scents of the kitchen. Pots clanged, and the aroma of simmering dishes wafted through the air as you busied yourself preparing supper for the earl Endeavor, his sons, and the departing warriors, including Hawks. The flickering flames in the hearth cast a warm glow over the room, but a sense of unease lingered within you.

Touya's presence had offered a respite from the isolation you often felt, but the worry about his well-being persisted. The failed attempt to gather information from Shoto had left you in the dark, and the unanswered questions weighed heavily on your mind.

Hilda, noticing your distraction, scolded you for bringing the young prince into the fold of daily duties like laundry. "You shouldn't involve the prince in such matters," she chided, her tone firm.

You listened to her admonishment, understanding the societal implications of your actions, yet you couldn't help but defend Touya. "He genuinely wanted to help. It's more than I can say for some others."

As the night unfolded, you focused on the task at hand, serving the prepared supper to the earl and his sons, hoping that the meal would provide a momentary respite from the weight of unanswered questions and the complexities of the world you found yourself entangled in.

Amidst the clatter of cutlery and the hum of conversation at the dinner table, your keen observational skills didn't fail to pick up on the subtle glances exchanged between Shoto and Hawks. They sat on opposite sides of the table, but a series of shared looks and silent nods hinted at some unspoken understanding. Though you couldn't quite discern the nature of their exchange, a feeling of unease settled within you.

Despite the undercurrent of mystery, your attention occasionally wavered as you found yourself caught in the interplay of glances with Touya. Whenever your eyes met his, a warmth spread across your cheeks, and a shy smile played on your lips. Touya's nods and the subtle touch of his hand when you refilled his cup with mead sent a flutter through your heart.

The atmosphere at the table, fraught with a mix of hidden agendas and unspoken emotions, contrasted sharply with the routine of serving and replenishing dishes.

The night unfolded in a flurry of activity. After the supper, you and the other thralls diligently cleaned the main chamber, ensuring every dish and piece of cutlery sparkled in the soft glow of candlelight. The earl Endeavor and his sons retired for the night, and as the main chamber returned to a state of quiet, the rhythmic sound of washing dishes and the occasional hum of conversation among the thralls echoed through the longhouse.

After the tasks were complete, and the main chamber restored to its usual order, you took a quick bath to wash away the remnants of the day. As you made your way back to your shared room, wrapped in a simple linen robe, you unexpectedly crossed paths with Touya in the hallway.

"Touya," you greeted him, a mixture of surprise on your face as you tightened the robe around your figure. "You startled me!"

He flashed a confident smile. "Hey Y/N. I was hoping I'd run into you before I leave tomorrow morning."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on your lips. "And what brings you seeking my company, my lord?"

"Well, it gets lonely in those grand chambers," he mused.

You couldn't help but laugh at his audacity. "Are you implying I'm your solution to loneliness, my lord?"

Touya's grin widened, and he nodded. "I guess so, yes. Plus, I can't resist the chance to spend more time with someone as captivating as you."

You rolled your eyes, but a playful glint danced in them. "You're quite the charmer, aren't you?"

"Only with the ones who matter."

After a moment of consideration, you nodded. "Alright. I'll stay with you tonight."

The warmth of Touya's chamber enveloped you as soon as you stepped in alongside him, the crackling fire from a fireplace casting a gentle glow.

You tightened the robe around you, feeling a sense of comfort and vulnerability in this shared space. The flickering shadows played on the walls, creating a dance of light and shadow.

With a graceful movement, Touya began to unbutton his white shirt. The flickering firelight highlighted the contours of his physique as he revealed the toned lines beneath the fabric. He folded the shirt with a practiced ease and placed it gently on a nearby chair, the white contrasting with the rich hues of the room.

As he laid on bed, Touya's eyes met yours, a silent invitation lingering in the air. He reached out, pulling you closer, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his scarred chest. The touch was both gentle and reassuring, a gesture that spoke of a shared vulnerability beneath the layers of status and circumstance.

You nestled against Touya, resting your head on his chest, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall as he breathed.

As the quiet moments passed, the inevitable topic of Touya's departure hung in the air like a lingering shadow. You couldn't shake the feeling of sadness that settled in your chest, and the words weighed heavily on your tongue. "Touya," you began, your voice soft but filled with genuine concern, "I can't help but worry about what might happen when you leave. Shoto… He's unpredictable, and I'm afraid he might try to hurt you."

Touya's expression softened, and he let out a gentle chuckle. "You're worried about me, huh?" he said, his eyes meeting yours as he tilted your head by catching your face between his thumb and forefinger.

You nodded, the worry etched on your face. "I've seen the tension between you two, and with the things that have happened, I can't help but be concerned."

Touya's hand found yours, his touch reassuring. "Listen, Y/N," he said, his tone gentle, "I appreciate your concern, but you don't need to worry about me. Shoto and I have our differences, yes, but I can handle myself. Plus, I've got a knack for avoiding trouble." A small smile played on his lips as he continued, "And here you are, worried about your own captor, how amusing."

You blinked, a mix of surprise and confusion in your eyes. "I just don't want anything bad to happen," you admitted. "Despite everything, you've been kind to me, and I don't want to see you hurt. Is it so hard to understand?"

"I appreciate that, I really do," he said. "But you don't need to worry about me. Focus on yourself, okay? Things will work out, and I'll find a way to handle Shoto. Just take care of yourself in the meantime when I'm gone."

Then, with a gentle lean, Touya bridged the remaining distance, capturing your lips in a slow and passionate kiss. The world outside faded away as the warmth of the moment enveloped you. His lips moved with a tenderness against yours.

As the kiss lingered, it held the promise of both solace and anticipation, a silent affirmation that in the midst of uncertainties, there existed moments of connection that could be cherished.

Touya's kiss was intense, a fervent embrace that drew you closer, your bodies molding together seamlessly. A pleasant buzz filled his mind as your lips danced with his, and he felt the alluring weight of your leg draped over his muscular thigh. With a smooth motion, his hand descended, fingers curving to grip the soft flesh of your exposed thighs.

In response, your nimble fingers wove through his white hair, eliciting a soft groan from Touya. A sudden, sharp tug sent a gasp escaping his lips.

Impatience guided his hands as he skillfully unraveled your robe, allowing it to slide off your shoulders, revealing the supple skin beneath. The sight before him left him breathless. "Y/N," he whispered, the words barely parting his lips, "You're so beautiful."

Mounting him fully with newfound confidence, you recognized there was no reason for shame. As the realization washed over you, you deliberately shed your robe, letting it fall to the side, baring your body completely to his keen gaze. Your lips were gently caught between your teeth as his calloused hands found their place on your hips, a slow ascent following the contours of your waist, finally reaching your breasts. His touch was tender, cupping them lightly.

You captured Touya's bottom lip between your teeth, the kiss deepening as you almost drew blood. The resulting pain elicited a loud moan from him, prompting him to assert control - he swiftly shifted, flipping you onto your back, pinning you to the furs beneath with the weight of his hips and his hands firmly securing yours above your head.

A soft grunt escaped you, followed by a whimper that sent a jolt of desire straight to his cock; it was alreadyt tenting in his dark pants.

Touya's mouth found its way to your neck, where he suckled with a fervor that left an angry mark, destined to be a bruise by tomorrow. Your arms instinctively curled around his neck, and you gasped softly, welcoming the pleasant weight of his dominance and the enveloping warmth that surrounded you in the charged intimacy of the moment.

Touya emitted a gruff sound; the truth was, he hadn't been with a woman in years, and the enticing warmth of your body, coupled with your deference and moans, was stirring a primal desire within him. With practiced skill, he unbuttoned his pants with one hand, letting them slide down his muscular thighs. In a swift motion, he kicked them off, unveiling his well-endowed shaft that. A gasp escaped him as the room's air enveloped his throbbing member, causing it to pulsate involuntarily.

Soft, breathy sounds emanated from your lips now as Dabi moved his hips against yours, his throbbing cock damp and solid against the gentle skin of your hip. You responded by wrapping your legs around his firm waist, pressing against him in a mutual, fervent embrace.

"Y/N," Touya murmured, his voice a low, lustful cadence. He descended down your body, nestling his face between the soft contours of your breasts. Warm breath, coming in soft pants, caressed your skin, sending shivers through you. His touch worked its magic; your nipples hardened under his skillful exploration. Touya took one into his mouth, suckling softly, the flat of his tongue tracing a tantalizing pattern again and again.

Firmly gripping the sides of his head, you filled his ears with the symphony of moans, the sounds now unceasing. Your movements became more fervent, heels digging into his firm ass as you squirmed against him.

Touya emitted a gruff, almost winded grunt, his desire evident. His fingers ventured southward, sliding between your thighs.

You sighed as his coarsed fingers touched your soft folds, finding them heated and slick, just for him.

Whispering soft words in a language Touya couldn't comprehend, you gently tugged on his hair, bringing him closer to seal your lips in an open-mouthed kiss. The exchange of tongues was a dance, each movement syncing seamlessly. Touya, guided by your touch, positioned himself at your entrance, teasingly rubbing his cock along your wet folds.

A whimper escaped you, only to be stifled by Touya's loose hair that fell to the side, playfully tickling your face and finding its way into your mouth, causing laughter to bubble between you. As he rested his weight on your body, Touya applied gentle pressure to the front of your neck with his free hand, a delicate squeeze accompanying the sensation. Simultaneously, he drove his rigid cock inside your willing body.

"Touya!" A cry of his name escaped your lips as you endeavored to relax, attempting to minimize the inevitable discomfort of the initial contact. Despite your efforts, the pain was unmistakable, casting a shadow over the shared intensity of the moment.

Lowering his head, Touya pressed a tender kiss to your temple, his lips brushing against your skin. His voice, laced with reassurance, urged you to take a deep breath.

Your eyes widened, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as Touya fully immersed himself within you. Your hands instinctively fisted in the furs around your head as you arched your back.

Touya, grunting at the sensation of tightness enveloping his cock, propped himself up over your form, holding still for a brief moment. As your gaze met his scarred face, lips parted and breath quickened, you smiled softly.

Touya's hand remained at your throat as he initiated a deliberate rhythm, pulling almost entirely away before plunging back in. With each of his controlled thrusts, a soft, breathy noise escaped you, spurring him on. His focus shifted to your flushed cheeks and pert breasts, rising and falling in tandem with your breath. Droplets of sweat traced paths between his shoulder blades and dotted his forehead, a single bead descending from the tip of his nose to splash onto your belly, prompting a gasp from you.

He paused in his movements, fully immersed within your wetness, savoring the intimate stillness that enveloped both of you.

Your hands sought purchase, gripping his thighs and tracing your nails over the taut muscles.

Touya, attuned to your desires, comprehended the silent cue. With a gentle release, he withdrew his hand from your throat and enveloped you in the shelter of his powerful arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

A soft whine escaped you at the subtle shift in angle, and as your moan caressed his ear, Touya withdrew, only to return with an impactful force, spreading your pussy wide with his cock. The intensity of the thrust nearly compelled a scream from you, your fingers trailing up his sweat-slicked, scarred back in response.

Touya emitted a low groan as he felt the clenching warmth of your pussy around him. Pulling back, he thrust into you with unrestrained force, over and over again. His teeth found the red mark he had imprinted earlier on the junction of your neck and shoulder, and his body moved with a raw intensity against yours. Your moans, a symphony of passion, intensified the desire pooling hotly in his belly. "Fuck, Y/N," Touya gasped loudly though gritted teeth.

One of your petite hands clutched his thigh, the fingernails like slivers of hot metal leaving an impression on his skin. The other hand wove into his long, white hair, a firm grip offering a delightful blend of sweet pain to complement the intense pleasure of your velvety, gummy walls embracing his pulsating cock. The sounds of his hips colliding with the backs of your pale thighs, his grunts and groans, and the whimpers escaping your lips were the only sounds to fill the chamber, creating a sensual symphony that left Touya buzzing from head to toe.

The fusion of your arousal and bloo, the lingering traces of your virginity, a gift offered to Touya, had become so intense that it now adorned the insides of your thighs and the front of his abdomen, covering the vertical strip of white hair running from his belly button to his groin in slickness. The wet, squelching noises echoed softly as he withdrew and thrust forcefully back into you.

Touya seized your tender lips with his own, engaging in a fervent kiss. His teeth grazed your tongue and the corners of your mouth. Another sharp pull on his white strands forced his mouth from yours, and as you gazed into his turquoise eyes, you let out a tiny gasp. "T-Touya…"

The vice-like grip of your soft walls around his dick prompted a strangled moan to escape Touya, his eyes briefly shutting in response. When they reopened, your back had arched, pressing your breasts firmly against his scarred chest. Your head tossed back, and the hold you had on his hair had loosened. A moment of suspended breath passed before it was replaced by a whimper.

Touya emitted a drawn-out, deep moan, his brow furrowing as you fluttered around his rigid shaft, coating it in a palpable surge of wetness mingled with traces of blood. The sensation sent shivers down his spine, and he sensed himself edging closer to the brink of his own release.

"Touya," you breathed, touching his cheek softly.

He sighed, surrendering to the sensation as he kept moving, albeit at a slower pace.

"Touya," you asserted, gripping his throat firmly, eliciting a raspy breath from him.

His climax engulfed him hard, prompting a whine akin to a wounded animal as he thrust into you with every ounce of intensity, releasing his essence into your yielding pussy.

Your hand descended to press against his chest, and he rode the waves of pleasure, his head dropping forward, lost in the overwhelming sensations, his mind devoid of coherent thoughts. "Fuck," he snorted. "Oh, fucking shit."

Your hurried breaths slowly brought him back to the present, grounding his focus. Tenderly, he draped his form over yours, planting wet kisses along the side of your face, his flaccid cock still nestled inside your folds. As your legs eased down to the bed, your fingers traced gentle patterns across the skin of Touya's muscular back.

Once your breathing had steadied, and the sheen of sweat on Dabi's body had mostly evaporated, he rolled off you onto his side.

You reached up, pushing a few stray strands of mussed hair away from Touya's face, tucking into his arms afterwards.

Touya cradled you, his arms providing a secure embrace, and he sighed, the lure of sleep tugging at the edges of his awareness. Pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head, he murmured, "I didn't hurt you, right?"

You nestled closer, content, and mumbled, "I'm more than good, Touya."

Touya held you close to his chest, his strong arms wrapped securely around you, and he gently rubbed your shoulders. "Thank you," he said, the words soft and sincere.

With a slight frown, you looked up at him. "Why are you thanking me?" you asked, curiosity etched in your gaze.

Touya met your eyes and explained, "You're the first woman I've been with in many years, and I want you to know it wasn't just about… you know, getting laid. It just felt like the right thing to do, to be that intimately close with you."

You fell quiet for a while, tracing patterns on his chest and abdomen with your fingertips. Eventually, you responded, your voice soft and sweet, "Did I let you down with how inexperienced I am?"

Touya's head shook, the gentle curve of a smile on his lips. "No, not at all. It was perfect. You were perfect. I appreciate you letting me claim you as mine."

You blinked, propping yourself up on his chest, curiosity in your eyes. "What does it mean, being yours?"

Touya met your gaze and explained while wrapping a strand of your hair around his forefinger, "It means I want you to be my woman, but only if you reciprocate my feelings."

A blush crept across your cheeks as you reevaluated everything that had transpired between the two of you — from the day he took you captive after the tragic events in your village to bringing you to his settlement and making you a thrall. Despite the lingering anger and sorrow in your soul, you couldn't deny the undeniable spark in your heart whenever you were close to him, whenever his eyes met yours.

After careful contemplation, you silently agreed, the unspoken understanding settling between you two as you gave him a slight nod.

Touya, his grip gentle yet firm, pulled you to him by your chin, sealing the moment with a kiss on your lips. "You're a free woman from now on."

As he released you, you sat up, eyes glistening with a mixture of emotions. With a quiver in your voice, you asked him, "What does this mean?"

He met your gaze, sincerity in his eyes, and replied, "It means you're free, no longer bound as a thrall. You have your own choices now, including whether you want to stay in Skjaldvargr or not."

A chill coursed through your veins as Touya's words sank in — unfamiliar and unsettling, the concept of freedom felt surreal. Blinking in disbelief, you grappled with the weight of this unexpected liberation. It was as if a door to an uncertain future had swung wide open, leaving you standing at the threshold, torn between the familiarity of captivity and the uncharted territory of choice.

Despite the cold tendrils of fear that coiled within you, an overwhelming wave of gratitude and an odd sense of vulnerability washed over. You hesitated for a moment, then, as if propelled by the uncertainty of newfound freedom, you hugged yourself to Touya. Tears spilled into the crook of his neck, a mixture of relief, gratitude, and an acknowledgment of the tangled emotions within.

Amidst your tears, you confessed, "I want to stay. I don't really have anywhere to go, and, strangely, I've grown fond of Skjaldvargr." The admission carried the weight of your complicated journey, a fusion of sorrow, attachment, and an unexpected connection with the people and places you had come to know.

Touya nodded affirmatively. "Well then, you'll stay here. My chambers are now yours, and you are an outright member of the settlement and my woman," he declared.

Shivers of worry coursed through you as you voiced your concerns about how Touya's father and brothers might react to the unconventional decision of freeing a thrall and choosing to be with her. Your apprehension deepened as you acknowledged your own perceived lack of talents, admitting, "I'm just a mere woman, and I don't really have many skills… I can sing and play a harp, but…"

Touya, smiling softly, gently pulled you close and silenced your self-deprecating words with a kiss. As he broke the kiss, he whispered, "Don't worry about that. I'll make it work." His reassurance lingered in the air, a promise that he intended to navigate the challenges ahead and carve a path for the two of you, regardless of the judgments and expectations that might come from his family. Touya, holding you close, looked into your eyes with a tender gaze. "I see way past the talents and appearance," he admitted softly. "What captivated me was your unaware gentleness, the way you carry yourself, and the kindness that emanates from you. That's what truly matters to me."

"Thank you, Touya Endeavorson," you whispered, kissing his jawline.

He chuckled softly, the sound a soothing lullaby, and soon, the gentle rhythm of sleep claimed both of you.

The next day, as the sun hung very low on the horizon, the warriors gathered for the final meeting with the earl.

Dabi, reluctantly torn from your peaceful slumber, pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder before gently tucking you into thick furs. He left the chamber, heading to meet his father.

In the meeting room, Shoto was already present, exchanging a cold smile with his eldest brother. Hawks and the other warriors formed a solemn assembly, awaiting the earl's words.

Natsuo stood nearby, eager to hear what their father had to say and to bid farewell to his brothers.

Endeavor's stern voice echoed through the hall as he issued orders to his sons. "Shoto, Touya, you depart soon. Ensure everything is in order for the journey. You have no time to waste."

Shoto, attempting to be the epitome of politeness, spoke up. "Father, may I suggest we also check the provisions and inspect the gear to ensure nothing is overlooked for the journey?"

Endeavor's gaze shifted to Shoto, a brief nod acknowledging the suggestion. "Very well, Shoto. Attend to the provisions and gear. Dabi, focus on the horses and make sure they are in prime condition. You leave nothing to chance."

Dabi, ever the stoic one, simply nodded in acknowledgment, the weight of his father's expectations settling on his shoulders.

The preparations for the journey became a meticulous dance under Endeavor's watchful eye, each son fulfilling their assigned tasks with a sense of duty ingrained in them by years of training and discipline.

Dabi meticulously checked each horse, ensuring they were in optimal health and prepared for the upcoming journey.

As he worked, Natsuo approached him, a note of concern in his voice. "Be careful, Touya," Natsuo said, his eyes reflecting worry.

Dabi, giving his brother a brief nod, adjusted the long, thick, black fur draping over his shoulders. "I'll. And you, keep your eyes open and make sure everyone is safe and nothing bad happens, understood?"

Natsuo chuckled at the protective tone of his elder brother. "Understood, Touya. Just don't go doing anything reckless."

Dabi flashed a small smirk, a mixture of confidence and assurance. "Reckless? Me? Never." Despite the banter, a hint of camaraderie lingered in their exchange, a silent understanding between the brothers in the face of the impending challenges.

Natsuo ruffled Dabi's stallion's mane, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I hope father knows what he is doing, sending you to a land we've never been to before."

Dabi, continuing to attend to the horses, looked up at his brother. "Apparently, he does. The journey doesn't seem as tough as it sounds," he assured.

As Dabi continued with the preparations for the journey, he turned to Natsuo and asked, "Take good care of Y/N while we're away, will you?"

Natsuo, puzzled by the mention of a name of their thrall, furrowed his brows. "Y/N? Why?"

Dabi smirked and explained, "I freed her. She's my woman now."

Natsuo blinked, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face. He smirked smugly, poking his older brother's shoulder. "Well, well, has my brother fallen in love with a woman!?" The revelation caught him off guard, but Natsuo couldn't resist teasing his brother about his newfound connection.

Dabi, his usually stoic expression now tinged with a mix of vulnerability and anger, confirmed, "Yes, Natsuo. I fell in love with her. Any problem with that?"

Natsuo shook his head, a reassuring smile on his face. "No problem, Touya. I'll protect her. You don't have to worry about that. Focus on the trip, and I'll handle things here on your behalf."

A sense of gratitude flickered in Dabi's eyes as he nodded, appreciating the support and understanding from his younger brother.

Touya gracefully mounted his stallion, and Shoto did the same.

As they prepared to depart, Endeavor emerged from the Great Hall. "Bring back as much as you can, and scout around," he ordered, his gaze piercing.

Shoto, ever the dutiful son, assured his father sweetly, "Everything you said will be done, my lord."

They departed in unison, the rhythmic sound of hooves echoing through the settlement.

The horses moved one by one, a procession of warriors embarking on a mission of importance. As they rode, the figures of warriors and their leaders gradually vanished on the horizon, blending with the imposing mountains in the distance.

Dabi, throwing a final glance back at the settlement, silently offered a prayer to their gods for success on the mission. The vast expanse swallowed them, leaving behind the familiar and venturing into the unknown.

You awoke alone in Touya's bed, the furs enveloping you in a warm embrace. Stretching languidly, you shifted, and a blush tinged your cheeks as you became aware of the remnants of wetness and slick covering your inner thighs. With a mix of shyness and self-consciousness, you decided to freshen up.

After cleaning yourself and running a brush through your hair, you prepared for the day. As a free woman with newfound autonomy, uncertainty lingered in your choices. Unsure of what to do, you settled on paying a visit to Hilda.

On your way to your friend, you were unexpectedly intercepted by the earl himself. Endeavor, a commanding presence, stopped you in your tracks. "Come with me, Y/N," he requested, his tone leaving little room for refusal. "I wish to talk to you."

Curiosity and a hint of apprehension danced in your eyes as you followed the earl, the path veering away from your original destination, leaving you to wonder what discussions awaited in the halls of the settlement's leader.

Endeavor, seated on his imposing throne, gestured for you to take a seat on the smaller throne positioned on his left side. Hesitantly, you complied with his request.

Endeavor's stern expression softened slightly as he began to speak. "Touya informed me of what transpired," he stated, and a blush instantly covered your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty coursing through you.

The earl continued, his gaze unwavering. "He freed you. I do not condone such actions, especially considering your status. You are not of royal blood, but as long as you make my son happy, I am inclined to respect that."

You nodded, a mixture of relief and nervousness settling within you. "I assure you, earl Endeavor, my intentions are pure. I mean no harm."

Endeavor, though maintaining his stern demeanor, seemed to consider your words. "Very well," Endeavor declared after a moment. "In such circumstances, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask the thralls, Hilda, or even me or Natsuo. If you prove your worth, maybe I'll look at you more kindly."

You promised not to be a bother but a valuable asset for the settlement. As the conversation progressed, you gathered the courage to pose a more personal question. "My lord, would you have anything against me fully embracing the worship of your gods?"

Endeavor's initial shock was evident, but after a moment, he smiled at you, nodding in acknowledgment. The acceptance of your desire to align with their religious practices hinted at a potential bridge between your newfound freedom and the intricate dynamics of the settlement. The unspoken understanding between you and the earl carried the potential for a more harmonious coexistence, provided you could prove your dedication and commitment to the settlement's values.

"You wish to step away from your Christian God and embrace our gods?" he asked.

In response, you nodded, meeting his gaze with determination. "Yes, earl Endeavor. I want to embrace the beliefs of this settlement, to become part of the community and honor the gods that are revered here. The day my village was raided, it felt as though my God had abandoned me," you expressed, the weight of that moment etched in the somber tone of your words.

The earl, after a moment of contemplation, surprised you with a geniune smile. He nodded, a gesture of acknowledgment. "Very well. If it brings you closer to this community and my son, then I will respect your choice. The gods, after all, have their own ways." Endeavor considered your newfound interest in embracing the local beliefs and, after a moment, spoke decisively, "I will take you to our seer. She will impart the knowledge you seek. Eventually, you may find yourself visiting Uppsala, a vital religious, economic, and political center in Svealand."

Your eyes lit up with interest at the prospect, and you nodded eagerly, fully intrigued by the idea of exploring such a significant place. Curiosity guiding your words, you asked, "Will I be able to go there once Touya returns?"

Endeavor, after a brief pause, agreed, "Yes, once Touya is back, we can arrange for your visit to Uppsala. It will be an enlightening experience for you."

You nodded at Endeavor, absorbing the significance of the upcoming journey into the settlement's beliefs and practices.

As you settled into the smaller throne, Endeavor looked up at you, a question lingering in his eyes. "Do you know where you're sitting?" he asked.

You replied hesitantly, "Obviously, it's a throne, my lord."

He chuckled, confirming your observation. "Indeed, it is a throne, but it holds a particular importance. This is reserved for the earl's wife, the queen of the settlement."

Your gaze shifted, and you asked cautiously, "Where is your wife then, my lord?"

Endeavor's expression softened, carrying a weight of sorrow. "She passed away after giving birth to Shoto, my youngest son."

You remained silent, acknowledging the gravity of the loss. "I'm so sorry for your family's loss," you expressed.

Endeavor waved his hand dismissively, as if to sweep away the weight of the past. "This is what the gods had prepared for her," he said, a touch of acceptance in his voice. "I miss her wisdom every day." He then looked at you, his gaze steady. "I let you sit here because, eventually, this place will belong to you."

You blinked, shocked by the unexpected revelation. "To me?" you asked, seeking more details. "I-I don't understand, my lord…"

Endeavor nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Yes." Endeavor leaned in, his voice lowered as he shared a revelation with you. "Since you are my eldest son's woman, it is likely that Touya will want to marry you one day." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. "And I have already chosen Touya as my legitimate heir. Once I am gone, he will take over the throne."

You were shocked by the revelation, and you whispered in response, "But from what I observed, I was fully convinced you would want Shoto to inherit the throne, my lord…"

Endeavor sighed, a mixture of regret and remorse in his eyes. He began to share the mistakes of his past, confessing to an attempt on Touya's life when he was a child, influenced by the wrong people. The consequence was the multitude of scars that adorned Touya's body, a lasting mark from a hot, boiling tar. "After all these years," Endeavor continued, "and witnessing Touya's growth, even though it was much harder for him due to his past and vulnerabilities, I have come to the conclusion that there is no other candidate for the throne than my eldest son. Shoto is full of passion, yes, but he is also very unsorted, having too many ideas and never fully indulging in anything but quick, meaningless affairs." The earl's admission offered a glimpse into the complexities of his decisions, revealing the burdens of the past and the intricate dynamics within the royal family.

As the revelation unfolded, a mix of emotions churned within you. The realization that Touya would be as shocked as you, having believed all along that his father saw him merely as a warrior, added a layer of complexity to the unfolding dynamics within the royal family.

You turned to Endeavor, the weight of the situation settling in, and expressed, "Whatever you decide, I will condone, my lord."

Endeavor's response was a smile, a gesture that softened his stern features. His rough, huge hand reached out, gently caressing your blushed cheek. "I think I'm starting to understand what Touya sees in you," he admitted. "You remind me a lot of my wife. You're very kind, and you seem to carry a wisdom I might not comprehend." Endeavor's gaze held a mixture of seriousness and earnestness as he spoke, "I ask you to be good to Touya. He deserves the world I couldn't provide him with."

The horses moved steadily through the wilderness, Dabi and Shoto riding side by side. The rhythmic sound of hooves on the earth beneath echoed in the quiet expanse around them. Hawks and the other warriors trailed at a distance, granting the brothers a semblance of privacy.

Shoto, breaking the silence, turned to his older brother. "So, how is it to possess a thrall?" he inquired, a curious glint in his mismatched eyes.

Dabi, eyes fixed on the distant horizon, remained silent.

The younger brother, ever probing, continued with a wry tone, "Is she better than the whore you laid with before?"

Dabi's jaw clenched, and for a moment, he maintained his stoic composure. However, the barb proved to be too much, and he finally snapped back at Shoto, his tone sharp and cold, "Watch your tongue, Shoto. She's not just a possession, and you will treat her with respect." The intensity in his words mirrored the protective edge that had developed over the time he spent with you.

Shoto chuckled dismissively. "Why would I respect a thrall? She's nothing but our slave."

"I freed her," Touya retorted sharply, his voice carrying a harsh edge. "So she's not your slave anymore."

Shoto, not entirely convinced by his brother's words, chuckled again. However, when he caught the stern gaze from Touya, he groaned in frustration, relenting but not without adding a snarky, awfully bad comment under his breath. "Oh, brother, you've fallen so low that you bedded a thrall and freed her just because she was good in bed and made doe-eyes at you. Pathetic."

Touya, his patience wearing thin, warned Shoto sharply, "Don't say anything more about Y/N. I won't hesitate to hurt you, Shoto."

Shoto, unfazed and ever mocking, responded with a smirk, "Hurt me? Come on, Touya, you're just defending your little pet. I didn't know you could get so attached to a mere thrall."

Touya's jaw clenched, his restraint visibly tested by his younger brother's taunts.

Their exchange was abruptly interrupted by a loud howling in the distance, a haunting sound that echoed through the wilderness. The mournful cry carried an eerie resonance, adding an ominous atmosphere to the already tense scene between the brothers. As the sun began its descent down the horizon, casting long shadows and painting the sky with hues of orange and red, the howling persisted.

"Wolves," Touya said carefully, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "We should set up camp here. It's too risky to ride further."

Shoto, involuntarily agreeing with Touya, nodded in acknowledgment.

As the camp took shape, Touya decided to rest in his tent. Lying on the furs, he closed his eyes, allowing the sounds of nature and the quietness of the night to envelop him. The occasional chatter of their warriors echoed in the background. Touya's thoughts drifted to you, and as he drifted into sleep, he envisioned you through the canvas of his imagination.

heathen wolves: @queenkhepri @indignant-alpaca @misafiryanki @roast-toast @within-eyesight @crystalwolfblog @haseki-huricihan @violet-forgetmenot @dagger-dragger @smartspot

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vampyrsm · 3 months

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‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER TWENTY | AMANOZAKO

‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale continues with wandering souls in the middle of the night, joining together to discuss the name of one who has the gift of immortality. Another comes knocking at the door of the King and Queen, and a chance of redemption is offered to the one who started it all.

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 10.5k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, female reader, violence, blood, cannibalism, suggestive at the end.

Grasping hands and goading words, all muffled by the water that rushes over your head. It burns at your nose, and pools at the back of your throat until you’re forced to cough in an attempt to breathe. Their hands don’t relent and the water never stops, you can feel your lungs tightening and tightening—

You find yourself sitting up in the darkness of your bedroom, the futon beneath you crumpled by your restless sleep. You can feel the warmth of Sukuna at your side, a reassurance that you know he’s real and there. You weren’t locked away in a cell to rot until they came and played with you, tortured you for information they didn’t truly need.

A glance at Sukuna confirms that he wasn’t roused by your nightmare, only his chest rising and falling steadily. It should comfort you, but instead, you can only focus on the phantom hold of hands on your ankles, the pressure of fingertips against your shoulders to hold you down to the table.

You slip from the safety of your bed, careful again to not disturb Sukuna. It was no surprise he was as exhausted as you were, he most likely didn’t sleep in the time you were away.

The room you had been moved into was in a different wing of the estate, the other bedrooms had only doors that led to the outside with small slatted holes in the wall to serve as windows—all to keep the wind from the mountains out as best it could. But this room had a beautifully made window, rounded and covered with only a sliding shoji door-like cover.

Your fingers move the cover just slightly, enough for you to peer outwards. You find yourself looking directly into the courtyard you had walked by a handful of times, the pebbled floor is coated in snow as it always was and a number of snowflakes have started to drift onto the wooden walkways.

It looked serene in the moonlight, with no trees to block the moon from stroking its fingers along the snow. It was enough to drown out the nightmare blaring in the back of your mind, enough to ignore the feeling of ghastly fingers still wrapped around your limbs. You were free, no longer tethered and powerless in a cell that smelled like stale air and piss.

A chilling curl of wind brushes against your cheek, biting at the blood that nestled beneath your skin. It would be enough to have someone retreating into the warmth of their bed, to wrap themselves up in the arms of the one who would protect them against the harshness of the outside world. Instead, it has you relishing in the feeling. The cold has your skin dappled with gooseflesh, your lungs tightening at the frigidity of it as it rolls along the exposed flesh of your neck.

Something crunching has your eyes opening once again, glancing out into the courtyard to search for the source of the sound. Immediately, you’re met with glossier silk wrapped around a feminine body. Their hair as dark as the night sky above spills down their back, unbound and unattended. Smoke billows around her face, her lips unpainted and parted to breathe the grey cloud into the sky.

Beneath the smoke, you meet eyes of green. Kenjaku.

Her head tilts when you maintain eye contact, the silver Kiseru in her hand glints in the moonlight with the movement of her wrist. It burns brightly at the tip before it dims once again, and that same breath of ghastly grey leaves her lips—and this time you can see her lips curl into a feline smile. Her body shifts slightly, and then with slow and deliberate steps, she begins to traverse along the wooden engawa, protected by the roof above.

She grows closer and closer with each step, the next gust of wind has the smoke travelling your way and it stings at the back of your throat. Her cursed energy is no better, it batters against your skin and demands entry. It strokes along your features, along the length of your jaw and the scar barely hidden by the dishevelled haori you were drowning in. It makes your lip curl.

Without a glance backwards to Sukuna, you shift the window to be closed once again before leaving the bedroom. The hallways are deserted and silent, not even a flicker of a flame to guide you towards the beacon of cursed energy that continues to stroke at your own even through the walls surrounding you.

It reminded you of a serpent, curling and curling before it tightens—constricting until its prey gives in. Until there was no hope left. Kenjaku was something worse than a snake, however, she was intelligent. Conniving. A strategist who could have the world in the palm of her hand if she so wished it. And that alone has the hairs on the back of your neck rising in warning; she was not to be trusted. Ever.

The door leading to the courtyard opens with a muted slide of wood on wood, the bristling cold latches onto your exposed ankles and tightens around your throat.

“Little lamb.” A honeyed voice comes from the right of the door, with Kenjaku leaning against the wooden beam supporting the roof above. “Or should I now also call you the Queen of Curses? Do you demand the same level of respect as that of your beloved?”

Her eyes glint with mirth at the glare you send her way, opting to not speak—you step out into the cold. The frozen wood beneath the soles of your feet is enough to finally force you to draw in a deep breath to try and temper the shocking chill that shoots through your body. Kenjaku thankfully says nothing at the fact you were no doubt exposing yourself to frostbite just to speak with her.

Moving along the wooden walkway, Kenjaku finds herself next to you easily enough. Each of her steps in time with your own, one arm crossed over her chest whilst the other continues to hold the Kiseru just inches from her face when she takes another long deep drag of the tobacco.

“What keeps your mind awake so late at night?” Kenjaku asks, her head turned just enough for you to catch the green of her eyes when she side-eyes you. Her words are probing, an underlying question of ‘What weakness have you procured in your time away?’

“My father’s death.” You half-lie. It’s not the truth of what had woken you up in the first place but it certainly plays at the back of your mind. The smell of his broken and rotten flesh would forever be imprinted on your mind, and the final moments you shared with him before he died—it didn’t fill you with the sense of relief you were longing for.

You can see Kenjaku’s lips turn upwards out of the corner of your eye, no doubt finding joy in the fact you were once again speaking with her on the matter of your father. After all, she’s the reason why you had fought Sukuna so closely to death and why everything had happened afterwards.

“Hm, and why does it still bother you? He was never alive to begin with.” Her words have you sharply looking towards her; she knew your father was kept as a cursed spirit. “Oh, don’t look so scandalised. When you’re as old as I am, you’ll understand the importance of having eyes on the most important people in the world.”

Kenjaku’s words take the tone of a condescending manner as if she were a mother speaking to a child who had no idea how the world worked. Perhaps that was partly true, you had no idea just how vast and intense the world was beyond your enclosed childhood. You’d appreciate her advice if it weren’t for the smirk on her lips and the air of superiority that follows when she tilts her chin just slightly upwards.

“His death doesn’t bother me. I have no feelings about it.” You direct your gaze out into the courtyard, the flurry of snow beginning to pick up once again with darker clouds starting to blow over to hide the moon. “I feel nothing for any of the people I killed.”

“Why should you feel something? People should be seen as stepping stones, a way to advance your own power.” Kenjaku shrugs with her words, eyes closing with another inhale of the smoking pipe in her hand. “Consider it a good thing you feel nothing. No doubt you would’ve driven yourself to madness with the guilt that comes with killing another.”

“The lack of emotion is maddening.” You murmur. You didn’t want to feel guilty, or sad, you just didn’t have anything to process following the death of your uncle and father. There should be something there, and yet it’s as if the dark void in the centre of your soul had opened wider to absorb everything and anything you could feel.

Kenjaku laughs at your words, a melodious laugh. “You don’t lack emotion, you’re simply processing it differently. Sukuna notices it too, why else do you think he was so quick to shoo me away last night?”

When you offer nothing but a glance towards Kenjaku, she comes to a stop at the edge of the Engawa, looking at the grand seat that would house Sukuna if he were ever to hold court.

“He sees the same chaos within you as I do. You had entered that place a lamb, and emerged not a wolf—but a beast that would cause children to wet their beds at night. It’s not that you have no emotions anymore, it’s rather you have only one way of processing those emotions. When you take the life of another.”

The tobacco crackles in the pipe when she takes another drag, her eyes set on the scene before her. “It’s why the ghosts of your tormentors haunt even your dreams.”

“How did you know about that?” You furrow your eyebrows, and Kenjaku only grins at your words.

“I know more than you ever could about the human mind. Consider it my speciality. I know the look of someone plagued by nightmares, you’re not going to be able to keep those hidden from Sukuna by the way.” She turns to face you finally, “The only way forward now is bloodshed.”

“The Emperor, you want him dead also.” Kenjaku smiles a little more wryly this time, reaching a hand forward to brush the cold tips of her fingers along your cheek. You don’t flinch away.

“Not the Emperor, but the one who whispers in his ear.” Your eyebrows furrow at her words—the one who whispers in his ear? An advisor perhaps? His wife? You knew the Empress had a say in some matters, but it was rare for a woman to have any say in what a man was to do with his country. “Worry not about the specifics, we’ll fight that battle when we get there.”

Her hand curves along your jaw, brushing the collar of your haori to the side just enough to peek at the marred flesh of your shoulder. “Tell me about the fight with Sugawara, the Six Eyes.” Her hand drops after her words, eyes reawakened with interest at what was to be said.

“...I didn’t kill him.” You admit, waiting to see the surprise written across Kenjaku’s face but instead, her impassive smile remains in place.

“I know.” She turns to face the courtyard, standing next to you at the edge of the wooden walkway. “A user of the Six Eyes simply doesn’t die, the natural scales of power would’ve tipped over.”

Your eyebrows come together in contemplation of her words; she knew a lot more about Sugawara than you assumed she would. As far as you knew, no one knew much about Six Eyes or even the clan he came from—only that they did exist and lived somewhere in Japan, hidden away. No wonder Sukuna kept her around, she wasn’t just strong with her technique but she was a wealth of information.

When you don’t speak, Kenjaku continues. “But even with his… immortality. How did you get close enough to crush his eyes?”

“Our cursed energy isn't compatible. Whatever he uses to protect himself, isn’t really a shield. It slows down time or has a similar effect. And with my own cursed energy being similar…”

“They cancel each other out.” Kenjaku finishes for you before she grins. “I see, that’s quite something. I’ve had my own issues with Sugawara in the past, each time he was the one who won. His strength is something that only the Gods possess… and yet you could touch him, crush his power.”

Her voice grows breathy as if she was relishing in the fact Sugawara had been vanquished—or at the very least, incapacitated. Her history with Sugawara was no doubt deep, deeper than you could ever realise. She had her own issues with Sugawara, meaning she had fought Sugawara in the past… and lost. Repeatedly. Perhaps that’s why she was so surprised to see someone who came from nothing, who is nothing, defeat him.

“Sugawara was only the start. The Emperor still lives.” And that grin on Kenjaku’s face grows malicious at your words.

“Yes. An Emperor who has been stroked by the brush of heavenly principles, and at his side is a woman older than any of us combined. An old croon who will be quite upset with you putting a timer on her impending death.”

What? You didn’t know you did such a thing, you’ve never met an older woman, never mind someone who was close enough to Sugawara that his disappearance would lead to her death. “But I didn’t—”

“Of course, you didn’t know. It’s actually a good thing, it forces her out of hiding. A perfect opportunity for us to take her.” Kenjaku turns to face you, her eyes drifting momentarily to the side before she meets your gaze. “Our next target is not the Emperor. It’s Tengen.”

You open your mouth to speak before a cold chill brushes against your back. “Kenjaku. I hope you’re not whispering your nonsensical ideas to Master Sukuna’s wife.”

“Uraume. What a pleasure it is to be in your presence. How’s the dog?”

You turn to glance at Uraume, their features are deepened into a frown that sends another frosty chill to race down your spine. You hadn’t even heard them arrive, or even the approach of their cursed energy—was it being masked? Hidden away? …and what dog?

“Alive.” Uraume glares at Kenjaku when she laughs in return before their gaze flicks to you. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“I can go where I please.” Your words come out clippier than you’d like, and Uraume only narrows their gaze at you.

“Of course. But it’s against Master Sukuna’s orders.”

Their words spark an immediate flame in your chest. Orders. Orders to be kept within the confines of your own room, to be locked away when you had regained your freedom. Your nostrils flare and you feel the prickle of a surge of cursed energy just beneath your skin—squirming, wanting to lash out.

It makes Kenjaku huff out a laugh, even if she takes several paces away from the growing frost at Uraume’s feet in retaliation.

“I don’t take orders. Not from Sukuna, and certainly not from you.”

Uraume’s jaw ticks in annoyance, and their hands that were hidden within the confines of their attire drop down to reveal individual patches of ice forming in sheets along their skin. “You will respect—”

“Uraume, that’s enough.” His words are deep, a barely there snarl that has Uraume’s face dropping from the frown into mortification. You hadn’t even heard him approach, hadn’t even noticed Kenjaku had vanished entirely from sight. “And here I thought you were on strict orders to deal with an issue on the other side of the temple.”

“Yes, Master Sukuna. However, I didn’t think it was wise to allow Kenjaku to speak with your wife unaccompanied.” Uraume at this point was already in a deep bow, an apology for disobeying his direct orders. You almost want to laugh.

Sukuna is quiet for a moment, a heartbeat of a second that has you itching to glance over your shoulder at him— “Leave us.” comes his command instead, and it’s hardly passed by his lips before Uraume disappears in a flush of chilled air.

As soon as they’re out of range, you notice they fall back into that murky almost-hidden state of hiding their cursed energy. Whatever was on the other side of the temple was to be kept secret.

“Sneaking out again?” Sukuna’s voice isn’t accusatory, yet his words still twist your stomach. When you turn to look up at him, his face is like stone. Cold and unforgiving, eyes narrowed and sharp despite having only just woken up in the middle of the night.

“No, I couldn’t sleep.” You admit, and it feels like defeat. You half expect Sukuna to turn his nose up at the idea of you falling victim to something as trivial as nightmares. But when warm hands curl long fingers around your arms, you’re victim to the gentle pull that Sukuna gives you until you fall into his chest. He breathes you in then, his nose buried into the top of your head.

His chest is warm against your cheek, the bareness of it such a stark difference to the icy background of the outside world. It’s only natural for your arms to find their place beneath his, your fingertips pressing desperately into the skin of his back. You can hardly reach around him, and yet you try. You try to lose yourself in the feeling that is Sukuna holding you; as it was as rare as it was unusual.

“It’ll only fester if you keep it to yourself.” His words rumble against your ear, and he presses his cheek to the top of your head once he continues, “I would say I don’t care about trivial things, I don’t—but your mind clouds my own.”

“And you need your mind clear.” You move to dislodge yourself from his chest, to push away and allow him the clarity he’s asking for—

“Did you become stupid in your time away?” This time, his words are a growl and his eyes meet your own when you snap your head up. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m telling you that your nightmares, your thoughts, they are as if they’re my own—and they anger me. Until I can’t tell what is my anger and what is your own.”

A hand comes up to grasp at your jaw, unforgiving fingers sinking into your cheeks to hold you in place when he meets your gaze head-on. “What I’m trying to tell you is that you need not run to the shadows and find solace in people like Kenjaku—I will listen to you.”

In any other normal circumstance, you would ask why. Why would someone care for another so deeply that they’d listen to their burdens and shoulder them as if they were their own? But you have no need to ask when it comes to Sukuna, you can feel his reason. It curls delightfully in your stomach, strokes its dark claws along your heart and tugs at the strings of your soul.

So instead, you gently wrap your hand around the wrist attached to the hand still holding your face. It’s such a minuscule touch, a minor brush of your fingers against the band of black ink there and it has Sukuna visibly softening—which was more of just the red in his eye turning from molten rock to the same shade of red that paints the trees red in autumn.

He comes to you like a moth to a flame; his lips find yours as if they were meant to be forever joined. It’s not as hungry as the kisses you had shared in the past, a simple press of the lips that oozes an intimacy shared between two souls. And when he breaks away, Sukuna is wearing a smile that spells nothing but trouble.

“You upset Uraume enough to almost destroy this half of the temple.” His forehead presses against your own, a bump that causes a smile to break out on your own face.

“I didn’t mean to. They’re just under the impression that you order me about.”

“Oh? And I don’t?” His smile grows into a grin.

“No. And you never will.” Your words push a chuckle from his mouth before he lays another kiss against your lips, then your cheek before he stands back up to his full height.

“Perhaps I made a mistake giving you all this power. It’s clearly gone to your head.” His eyebrow raises when your smile turns dangerous. “After all, you’ve never won a fight against me.”

“Ah, does that determine who wears the crown and has servants kissing their feet?” You muse, “I see no crown and I see no servants. Perhaps I was the one who made a mistake in thinking you were the King of Curses.”

Sukuna’s nostrils flare in amusement, the glint of his canines in the moonlight makes him look truly like the monster they portray him as. Yet you see beneath it all, you can see the playful gleam in his eye and can feel the care in the way he still holds you close to him. He may be a monster, but he was no monster to you—this was a man who would rip and tear the world apart if it meant to protect his own.

“You’ve grown bolder. I hope you haven’t forgotten that I like it when my women fight back—”

“It makes the skin saltier. Oh, I know.”

Sukuna laughs, loud and mesmerising to listen to—and to watch. The way his face lights up with delight at meeting his own match, how it exposes the wrinkles of his forehead and creases the tattoos that mark his face. He looked so human when he laughed, so alive.

“As much as I would love to put you into your place, I think it can wait for another time.” His arms move you easily enough, tucking you into his side and pushing you alongside. “You cannot avoid sleeping by picking fights with Uraume and Kenjaku.”

“Kenjaku surprisingly had much insight to offer. She told me more about Sugawara and another. One she wishes to capture.” You sneak a glance at Sukuna, but he spares you no glance at your words. “Tengen. Do you know who that is?”

“Of course I do. Tengen is well known for her barriers, they’re near-impossible to break—and they say she’s immortal.”

“Truly?” Immortality. You’ve never heard of such a thing being actually achievable, it was something sought after, as it’s human nature to simply wish to put a stop to the inevitable end that comes for everyone.

“So they say. I’ve heard whispers of the ritual she undergoes to secure her immortality; she absorbs vessels suited for her needs.” Sukuna pauses at the entryway into the building, glancing over your head towards the snowy courtyard with an expression you could only pin as contemplation. “Kenjaku must have a reason for wanting her.”

“Perhaps she’s looking for the secret to immortality too.” It would make sense, you reason with yourself, Kenjaku is a woman who no doubt wants to be the one at the end of it all—alive, and at the top of the food chain.

“Kenjaku doesn’t have a need for immortality, she can achieve that all on her own.” Sukuna shakes his head before glancing down at you. “Don’t listen to what she might be whispering in your ear, it’ll never be for your benefit. Only her own. Do not play into her hands.”

His words are serious. Scorning almost. As if he’s already disappointed that you went out of your way to speak to her without anyone there to monitor the words that may come from Kenjaku’s mouth. So all you can do is nod, and it’s enough to satisfy the man before you as he turns to open the door. You follow after him through the dark hallways, only guided by Sukuna who finds his way back to the bedroom easily enough.

The door slides open, and naturally it would be you following after Sukuna once he steps foot inside. Instead, he holds it open for you, and you stop in your tracks. He wasn’t planning on returning to bed tonight.

As if sensing your train of thought, Sukuna glances your way. “I have something I need to deal with.” It’s a flimsy excuse, one that holds far too many unanswered questions and it must show on your face because Sukuna quickly begins to scowl. “Rest.”

With no room to argue against the hissed tone he takes with you, you’re forced to step into the confines of the bedroom. You turn to glare at him, a look he hasn’t had his way in some time. “And why can’t I come with you?”

“Because you need to rest.” His fingers curl around the door as if to close it in your face. “Tomorrow. I’ll explain tomorrow.”

And with that, the door finally does slide closed in your face. Sukuna doesn’t linger on the other side of the door, trusting you enough to abide by his request to rest, as his heavy footfall takes him further and further away until you’re left in the usual silence that comes with the dead of night. Your fingers twitch at your side, yearning to rip open the door and follow after Sukuna despite his wishes.

But the last time you didn’t listen to his words of staying put, you put yourself in immediate danger. Your body still aches in places from the torture you endured, even with the injuries and scars that had faded with the help of Sukuna, you found no desire to endanger yourself. So instead you find yourself wandering to the futon, the bed was a mess from where Sukuna had no doubt ripped off the covers in realisation you had slipped away in the night again.

Your heart squeezes at the thought, the thought that he may have been worried you were gone. Again. He hadn’t spoken much about what it felt like to lose you, only that he knew he wouldn’t ever leave you in the hands of your enemy. His actions, however, were a different story. It was as if he was making up for the time away, his hands wandered and squeezed—and he held you more.

A sigh is forced from your lungs, eyes closing momentarily. You find yourself naturally seeking out the other half of your soul, the part of you that was shrouded in the darkest part of a man whom you found yourself entirely too fond of. But instead, you’re met with that same murky feeling that washes over his energy, and the more you prod at it, the quicker you realise it was a barrier.

Someone had put up a barrier to protect, or hide, whatever was within the barrier. Your nose scrunches at that, just what could they be hiding from you? Kenjaku had seemed to know about it too, with the comment she had offhandedly given to Uraume. A dog. That’s what Kenjaku had said, but Sukuna wasn’t the type to keep pets… at least, not animal ones.

Something sinister slithers up your spine, and your stomach drops at the thought of Sukuna finding his fun with another woman; a human pet. It makes your blood burn, bubbling and boiling until you can hear it bashing against your ears with each thrum of your heart. You’d never felt jealousy in your life, at least not of this magnitude. You never felt jealous when your first husband had found concubines to satisfy his ‘male needs’. You had only felt jealousy in the form of envy; you wanted to be strong like your father, to rule over an army… to be respected.

You overlook the futon, deciding to step away and rest beside the unlit Irori. The wood and charcoal are long since cold, no warmth to curl around your frozen toes. Your hand rises, and there in the centre of your palm cradled by your flesh is a flame; it flickers and grows brighter the more you focus on it. It no longer seeks to consume you whole, instead, it sits there, waiting for instruction.

It leaps from your hand and into the sunken hearth, relighting the wood until there’s a growing fire in front of you. It flickers, shadows dancing until the flame bursts upwards — much too high for a hearth fire, the flames hiss and spit, shifting from orange to blue. The heat laps at your exposed flesh, ash spitting from the hearth stings against your still outstretched hand.

Your mind is clouded with too many thoughts; thoughts of replacement. It conflicts with that bound part of your soul, two voices whispering two different things—one demands you trust Sukuna and the other hisses that you can’t trust anyone. The second voice sounds much too like your father, that it has you blinking away the darkness that shrouded your eyes only to find your hand blistering before you.

Pulling back your hand from the bright flame, the fire immediately dies back down until it is nothing more than a gentle flame. Your hand sizzles still, flesh bubbling and popping before your very eyes—but you find yourself unable to feel the pain, a numbness immediately washing over. Skin regrows over exposed bone and singed nerves knot back together as if nothing had happened.

Instead of following the orders of resting, you sit there by the hearth for the remainder of the night—thinking, prodding at the barrier that at times pushes back against you.

Morning came quickly, the rising sun washing away the settled snow and brushing away the icy clouds of wind. Sukuna did not return at any point during the night, nor did anyone come to the bedroom with intentions of keeping you there—so you left.

Dressed in a black long-sleeved Furisode that must’ve been procured at some point in your absence, you assume by Uraume, you wander the halls. You still feel the barrier along the east side of the building, barring you from seeing inside. You wonder if the creator of said barrier knows you’re aware of its existence, you’ve never encountered a barrier before and whilst Sukuna had an extensive library; barriers weren’t often the topic.

You’re unsure of how long you meander through the halls, not until you find yourself standing at a junction. One direction leads towards the throne room, and the other leads to the entrance. You still can’t pinpoint Sukuna’s location, no doubt he’s still behind the barrier that had been created to keep you out. His throne room would be empty—did it now also count as your own? Could you sit on the seat made up of bones and belong there?

There’s no denying the thought is appealing, the power that comes with sitting atop a throne composed of human bones… and so you turn your attention towards the throne room, set on pushing the limits of your newfound position at Sukuna's side.

Except you freeze in place. There’s a knocking behind you, on the large wooden entrance doors. You remain silent, waiting to see if it was just the wind—and there’s another knock. Light, almost non-existent, and you’d otherwise ignore it if you didn’t feel an odd amount of cursed energy beyond the door.

With tentative steps, you grow closer and closer to the entrance until you tug on the heavy wood. It opens with a gust of wind, a creak of wood and you have to squint at the brightness of the outside world… standing before you is something you had thought was nothing but a terrible nightmare.

In the direct sunlight, standing before you is something born from your own fear, from the darkness and loneliness of being locked in a closet all those months ago. Its skin is still twisted and waterlogged, and sunken eyes that stare back at you in what might just be intrigue. Your fingers twitch at the door, urging you to slam the door closed in the face of the cursed spirit that seemed to follow you all the way into the mountains.

But you stop when its hand comes up to its own face, pushing away flesh with a wet shlick sound, you wait to see your own face staring back at you. However, you’re met with odd-matched eyes, blinking and widening alongside your own. The cursed spirit continues to transform before you, shifting out of the nightmare you had thought up until it—she stands before you.

Her hair is silvery in the sunlight, glinting with a bluish hue that wouldn’t be found on anyone other than a curse. She’s shorter than yourself, completely naked, and you make quick notes of the various scars across her body—they were more like very faint lines of stitching, so unnoticeable in comparison to Kenjaku’s forehead stitch.

Then her mouth splits into a wide grin, all white teeth and it’s unnerving. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Who are you?” You’ve only encountered a few curses in the past, and only one of them was capable of complete human speech. The one before you speaks as if she were the same as you—a human.

Her grin drops, lips coming together in a pout that looks far too friendly for someone whose cursed energy is enough to have sweat gathering on the back of your neck. You watch as she tilts her head to the side, long silver hair falling from her shoulders.

“I don’t know—I have no name.” She then shrugs, unperturbed by the fact she’s nameless, seemingly born into a world with no idea of who she is or what she can do. “You should name me. You’re the one who created me, after all.”

You blink in surprise, eyebrows raising at the way her eyes snap to your own with a glint that further unnerves you. “I didn’t—”

“Oh, but you did!” She steps closer, and you’re forced to remain in place when she invades your space. Her hand raises just to the side of your face, fingers brushing against the edge of your furisode. “You were so scared. You were terrified of people, of the ones who trapped you and fed you nothing but scraps. You feared men and monsters. You made me.”

“What are you? You’re not like the others—”

“You.” She grins once again, her fingers twitch out of your peripheral vision before she drops it and takes a step backwards. “Or whatever part of your soul shattered that day. So, my name?”

Your soul. You were unaware a part of it had already broken so early on. Shattered and torn away in the darkness of a closet fit for supplies—and this curse, a woman, born from that hatred and fear that you had accumulated for those women… for Sukuna. That would make her the part of your soul that was untouched by Sukuna, unbound and free to do whatever it may like—a true soul.

“Masato.” You watch the name register with the curse, her eyebrows drawn together before she begins to smile. “Your name is Masato.” Masato laughs surprisingly, a jingle bell of a laugh and her eyes close momentarily. “You have a sense of humour. Masato—a true person, you know I’m not human, right?”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the curse in front of you, her words are goading—like a child wanting to make fun of someone. So instead, you step to the side. “Come inside. Do you not feel the cold?”

Masato doesn’t hesitate to step inside, shaking her head at your question with a curious look on her face as she looks over the barren halls. They were sparsely decorated, no doubt a choice made by Sukuna—he kept his most prized pieces of art in the library, hidden and protected.

“I have no feeling in my body. It’s just a husk.” Masato comments absentmindedly, fiddling with the frayed ends of a rope that once connected to a bell somewhere deeper in the temple. “Is that why you wear clothes? To stop yourself from getting cold?”

“Among other reasons.” You can’t deny that this curse before you is no different than that of a child, with questions of the simplest of things. It was smart enough to understand human speech, and it was quick to adapt to its surroundings—did others like Masato exist? Created from other human’s fears? “One of those reasons is that you can’t run around naked. So, come with me.”

Masato follows behind you when you retreat the way you had come, finding your way back to the bedroom. Sukuna was still absent, and you wondered if he could pick up on the sudden spike of cursed energy that was following you around the temple. It was so vastly different from your own, Masato’s cursed energy was cruel and cold… like death itself.

You watch as Masato invades your personal space, eyes darting back and forth as if she is seeing a bedroom for the first time—and you realise, she is. She doesn’t touch anything however, her hand always just inches away from touching the surface of something. Determining she’s not a threat, not yet anyway, you make your way towards the chest that had been filled with fabrics and silks at some point in your absence.

“It smells of fear in here.” Masato comments from somewhere behind you, and you glance over your shoulder to see her standing at the end of your shared bed. You spare a glance at the ruffled sheets, still ruined from Sukuna waking up to find you ‘missing’. Did it smell of his fear?

You didn’t want to know, nor did you want to inform Masato about Sukuna’s possible fear. So instead, you pull a spare pair of Hakama trousers you had previously worn for training as well as a wide-sleeved kimono. You turn to hand them to Masato when your blood runs cold, her fingers are hovering just above your blade.

“Don’t!” Your raised voice is enough to have Masato staring at you with wide eyes, her hand retracting out of instinct. “Do not touch that sword. It’ll kill you.”

Despite the warning, that seemed to draw Masato’s attention even more. Her mismatched eyes of blue and grey darted back to the sword, widening as if she could see the amount of cursed energy stored within—and what it was capable of doing.

“It’s yours?” Masato questions, her fingers twitching at her sides. You move towards her, thrusting the clothing in front of her in hopes of drawing her attention away from the sword.

“Yes. Now please, get dressed.” You watch as Masato glances down at the clothes, a second passes where she just scrunches up her nose in distaste—and then glances back at the sword. So you shove them against her front, enough to startle her into taking a few steps back and taking the clothes from your hand. “Now.”

Masato looks at you for a moment, truly looks at you. You no longer see the facade of a curse pretending to be a living human there, only empty eyes and a bottomless pit of a heart. There’s no humanity there, nothing but a creature who thrives off of fear and hate—and then she grins, a deathly grin. She says nothing when she turns away, seemingly busying herself with figuring out how to appropriately dress herself in the garments you’ve given her.

You exhale the breath you were holding, shoulders relaxing just enough for you to release the tension in your back. Your own eyes find themselves resting on your sword, it seemed to draw Masato’s attention a little too much. Was it because she could see it had the ability to slice deeper than flesh and bone? That it could slice at the very soul itself? You have no idea, maybe she herself could resonate with something to do with the soul.

Like calls to like.

It buzzes at your touch, and the tips of your fingers glide along the unsharpened edge of the blade until you find the tuft of black hair at the hilt. It fits in the palm of your hand as if it were born there, your fingers mould around the woven hilt easily enough that you don’t quite realise you’ve lifted it free from the stand and holding it in front of yourself.

Not until Masato appears next to you.

“Do you know what the soul looks like in order to cut it?” Her words are no longer tinged with dripping sarcasm, instead, it’s genuine curiosity that paints her. You can’t draw your gaze away from the sword however, its steel blade glinting in the stream of sunlight that brushes the room in a gentle warmth.

“Of course.” You admit, your eyes blink once and it’s like a candle flickering into existence; everything around you buzzes to life. “You must know the shape of your own soul in order to see others.”

Masato goes quiet at your words, quiet enough that you finally drag your gaze over to her. And instead of looking at the blade, she’s staring directly at you with what could only be described as wonder. Her lips are slightly parted and pupils wide, it’s a little unsettling—even more so when her face splits into a smile.

“I can see yours too.” Her head tilts, eyes drifting downwards until they settle at your heart. “It’s so twisted and broken, and yet it’s perfect. As it was meant to be.”

Her hand rises from beneath the sleeves of her kimono, and you can’t help but notice she seems lost in thought; staring directly at you, at your soul. The air thrums with her cursed energy, barbed and twisted as if it were to touch you then you’d be snagged along and turned inside out. Even without the physical contact, you can feel the pull on your own soul, her cursed energy curls and fluxes before it pools at the tips of her fingers—just centimetres away from your chest.

Your hand wraps around her wrist, snatching her hand away just in time. Masato startles at the touch, her eyes darting to where you hold her wrist hostage. “Never touch my soul. Ever.”

Masato looks more like a rabbit in the maw of a wolf than a curse being held by her creator, her eyes are wide and lips turned downwards in a shocked frown. Her skin is cold beneath your fingers, like ice, and her pulse doesn’t quicken where your thumb presses into her wrist—not human. Lesser than.

You release her wrist when she blinks away the surprise in her eyes, instead her features start to twist in what might be her first experience of anger. You don’t spare her a second glance, instead turning and walking out of the room with only a call of her name over your shoulder; a command for her to follow.

She does.

She follows you through the corridors, blending into your shadow; unseen and unheard. You follow the path you had set out for yourself just earlier, turning right instead of left—towards the throne room. The doors open with a shove, and it’s unsurprising to find the room completely empty of any people.

The pools of blood are unmoving, their screams absent without the presence of their tormentor. You pay no mind to Masato when you make your way towards the steps, traversing up them until you reach the top of the dais. The throne is much larger up close, each of the bones had been melded together with an intense amount of heat. Sukuna’s own fire.

It’s cold beneath your touch, seeping through the thick layers of your furisode. Even the throne itself buzzes to life under your touch, the residuals of the souls tied to it reeling in surprise. You cast your gaze over the quiet throne room, it was much larger than your typical throne room. The Emperor himself didn’t have something so grand as this, and it definitely wasn’t as grotesque.

Your gaze drifts to Masato finally, she lingers at the bottom of the stairs. Knowing she shouldn’t take a step closer to you, or the throne you sit upon. Good. You can’t imagine Sukuna’s reaction if he were to find a cursed spirit lingering around his seat of power.

Speaking of. Your eyes cast towards the far wall, there’s a standalone door there that leads to the east side of the temple. You can no longer sense the barrier, its murkiness evaporated and you’re met with signatures belonging to four different people. You account for Uraume, Kenjaku, Sukuna and finally…

You can’t keep the frown off of your face. Yorozu. Maybe this time you’ll finally bring your imagination to life; rip her asunder and listen to her scream for days on end. The sword in your lap grows heavy with anticipation, would she scream for mercy or beg for death? You’ll find out. You’re certain of that much.

A tug at your own soul has your spine straightening, shoulders squaring—Sukuna pushes through the doors first, his eyes snap to you first with what might be thinly veiled amusement before his face twists in disgust at the lingering cursed energy. All four of his eyes are suddenly aimed at Masato, and you can see her freeze under Sukuna’s scrutiny.

He doesn’t move a muscle, leaving Kenjaku to step around his hulking figure and her face breaks out into a wide grin with a muffled laugh that she tries to suppress in the sleeve of her kimono. Her eyes are latched onto you, watching you sit on a throne much too large for yourself.

“It would seem the lamb has found her backbone.” Kenjaku chides, earning a sharp-eyed glare from Uraume who lingers just in the shadow of Sukuna. You, however, don’t take your eyes off Sukuna—waiting, watching.

“It would also seem that she’s captured a stray.” Sukuna finally moves, taking strides forward until he’s just a foot away from Masato. The curse visibly shrinks in his presence, or perhaps that was her cursed energy—it bubbles beneath her skin before she actually grows smaller. How strange.

Sukuna just sneers at the curse, deeming it unworthy of his attention for any longer before he sets his sights back on you. He prowls up the steps of the dais slowly, a predator approaching the throne of another. Your eyes track his movements flawlessly, even catching when he glimpses downwards to the blade sitting idly in your lap.

“If you wanted a throne, I would’ve had one made for you too.” His eyebrows raise in amusement once he’s just a step away, even when he’s on lower ground he still looks down at you. “This one is too big for you.”

“It fits fine.” You reply, perhaps a little too snippy as Sukuna’s amused smile drops instantly. “Bring her here.”

Sukuna stares down at you for a long moment, his nostrils flaring and the top set of his arms crossed over his chest. The whole situation must be new to him; to have someone ordering him around… and to find himself wanting to obey that command. He glances over his shoulder, nodding to Uraume who vanishes before anyone can blink.

You can see Kenjaku slinking around the room with an air of mirth, her eyes are locked onto Sukuna until finally she’s within reaching distance of Masato. Her eyes are sharp and narrowed, inspecting the cursed spirit in front of her. “And who are you?”

“Masato.” She replies, eyes hesitantly glancing up towards you and you almost want to wince at the wolfish grin that spreads across Kenjaku’s face in realisation at the fact Masato seems to look to you for guidance.

“Oh, how wonderful. I’m sure great things will come from this partnership.” Kenjaku steps away from Masato with that, her eyes drifting up to you with a clear look in her eye that she’ll be wanting to hear more of how Masato came to be.

There’s a chill that rolls through the room, and everyone shifts their attention towards the door once again. Uraume stands quietly, their fingers curled into the matted mess of hair belonging to none other than Yorozu—her clothes are tattered and torn, bloodied and barely hiding the new wounds covering her body. Even from here, you can tell that it’s Sukuna’s handiwork.

Her hands slap against the cold stone floor when Uraume forces her forward. Sukuna shifts at your side, standing with all of his arms crossed across his chest and head turned towards Yorozu. You had expected him to force you from his throne, to have you perched in his lap or even kneel at his feet for daring to sit upon it without his permission—

Yorozu lifts her head finally, eyes dragging along the stairs until she finds you sitting there instead of Sukuna. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and her bloodied lips part in shock—it seems even she can see how odd it was for Sukuna to not demand his seat of power back. Instead, giving it over to someone else. An equal; his wife. It would seem Yorozu finally realises Sukuna had meant it when he called you his wife, someone whom he shared his space with willingly… as her shocked expression morphs into a neutral look.

A look of acceptance.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” Sukuna sneers, upper lip turned up in disgust when he sees Yorozu shift her gaze to him instead. “After all that pitiful yapping like the mutt you are… you’re awfully quiet now.”

Yorozu doesn’t give Sukuna the satisfaction of showing her hurt at his words, instead, her eyes shift back towards you and there’s distaste in her eye; maybe even a little regret, for she was the one who dug her own grave with her insatiable jealousy. Your fingers trace along the hilt pattern of the sword in your lap, it calls for you to lift it and cut true.

However…

“Why did you do it?” You ask instead, relaxing against the spinal column of the throne behind you. Your question seems to catch everyone’s attention, even Kenjaku raises her eyebrows before schooling her expression once again.

“What?” Her voice is harsh, a forced whisper to help her voice carry up the steps and to your ears. You wonder if the barrier was also there to keep her screams quiet.

“Why did you inform the Shogun of my whereabouts?” You can feel bile in your throat at the mere mention of his title, a title he did not deserve—one you had stripped away from him. “Was it all because of envy? Because of love?”

Yorozu’s mask crumbles at your hissed words, a poison that strikes exactly where you want it; her heart. You can’t help the smile that lifts your lips momentarily before you temper it. Love, of course, she thought she did it for something as fickle as love—for something she would’ve never received from a man like Sukuna.

Sukuna himself seems amused at the expression on Yorozu’s face, his head tilted in condescension yet he doesn’t speak, he waits to see if you’ll strike. After all, she was your welcome-home gift. Kenjaku on the other hand can’t seem to hold in her amusement, as she hides her laughter behind the sleeve of her kimono, fox-like eyes gleaming with terrible intentions.

“Oh my, what a sweet thing. To sell out another woman in hopes of warming the bed for the King of Curses.” Kenjaku goads, earning a mean-spirited grin from Sukuna in return. “I do wonder what’s to come for the would-be usurper.”

What’s to come, indeed. The thought has your mind drifting, that darkness that coils so tightly in your chest unspooling itself to slither along your bones and settle at your shoulders; whispering obscenities and punishments it thought fitting for Yorozu. Flashes of red, sticky and dark, blood that sticks to your hands and body matter that finds itself under your nails.

It wanted you to claw her apart, piece by piece, whilst she screamed at the top of her lungs for mercy. It wanted her to suffer, just as you did. If not more. It wanted you to paint your skin in her crimson blood, it wanted you to feast on her bones and wear her fingers as souvenirs. It wanted you to break her, to shatter her heart and force her to endure that heartbreak in perpetuity.

But you find it’s your own soul that yearns to have your teeth sinking into the fleshy muscle of her heart, to have the very thing she thought would beat solely for Sukuna in what she thought was love… A smile spreads across your lips at the thought, eyes flitting to Sukuna momentarily to find him already looking directly at you.

His eyebrow arches, a silent question; what will you do?

“I’ll give you one shot.” The room freezes at your words. Sukuna’s eyebrows furrowed together and you can see the protest building on his tongue. “You have one chance to kill me, and take my place.”

Yorozu seems speechless at your command, even more so when Uraume steps away to allow Yorozu the room she may need to hit her target. She watches as you stand up from the throne, katana in one hand and only the fabric of your Furisode there to offer a weak armour.

But that seems to be all the time Yorozu needs to make her choice, she’s pushing herself up onto her feet with new blood dripping from her wounds and staining her skin further. Her hand is out at her side in an instant, the pull of cursed energy pooling in the palm of her hand and you can only watch in feigned surprise at how strong she actually was; you had an idea of her power.

No doubt if she was weak, Sukuna would’ve killed her in an instant.

A black mass of something liquid starts to form in the air just beside her palm before a short dagger takes form. Her fingers are wrapped around it in an instant and you think you see Sukuna shift out of your peripheral when Yorozu raises the arm up to bend over her shoulder before throwing the dagger directly at you. It soars through the air before anyone can blink, and you stagger a step back.

The black liquid of a blade sits snug in your chest, buried against the torn muscles of your heart.

You’ve never experienced a pain quite like it; a pain that was there but also absent. A type of pain that was so overwhelming, that your brain was trying to rapidly recover and numb you to the spreading feeling of your heart tearing with each attempt to beat around the blade lodged in the thick muscles. You can taste the copper on your tongue, can feel it wetting the roof of your mouth and choking up the back of your throat until you inevitably cough.

Surprisingly, it’s Kenjaku who takes the first step up the raised dais in an attempt to reach you first. Her face looks aged almost in her worry, the line on her forehead is more prominent when her eyebrows draw together in concern, but she stops before she can take another step up towards you.

“It’s always the heart people go for.” You splutter with a wet laugh, your fingers wrap around the inky liquid of the blade handle. It pulses under your fingers, Yorozu’s own cursed energy fighting against yours before you pull the blade free from your chest.

Blood spurts from the gaping hole, drenching the black material of the silk on your body. You watch the realisation draw across Yorozu’s face, she didn’t know you could heal your own body. The skin and muscle pull together quickly, remodelled before she can so much as blink—and when she does blink, you’re gone from the spot at the top of the dais.

“It’s the brain you need to aim for.” Your words are warm against her ear, and she visibly flinches at the proximity. “Remember that for your next life.”

Her words, if they were to be her final ones, are garbled with a wet choking sound. The blade she used in an attempt to kill you slides easily along her throat, deep enough that she had only a few agonising seconds before she bled out. Her hands come up fruitlessly to her throat, eyes wide and searching the room but all she finds are malicious grins beaming down upon her.

With a crack of her knees on the floor, Yorozu crumbles under the loss of blood and you take your time to step around her. Standing before her when her head tilts back lazily, uncaring for the deep throat laceration that continues to pour blood with each languid beat of her heart. You smile at her when she meets your eyes, you can see her fighting to see if you’d curse her into the next life but your grin only grows brighter.

And then finally, her eyes dull and the light leaves. Her body falls unceremoniously at your feet, blood pooling beneath your bare feet and soaking the ends of your heavy kimono. You don’t turn at the heavy footfall of Sukuna as he takes his steps down the dais until he’s just behind you, the warmth he emanates wraps around you instantly.

“Uraume.” You address the otherwise silent monk, their head snapping up to meet your gaze. There’s no longer a look of contempt, instead, you can see respect there. “Keep her heart. Flay the rest.”

You wait to see if Uraume flicks their eyes up to Sukuna for confirmation, but instead, they just bow their head deeply before leaning down to grasp at Yorozu’s still-warm body, then disappearing in a gust of icy wind. There’s a clipping of wooden shoes on stone that has your gaze drifting to the side to see Kenjaku approaching you with a smile.

Her gaze sweeps the bloody floor quickly before she then raises her eyes to yours, “Bodies always make quite a mess. Yet you make it look like an art, you’re fascinating.”

“Leave us.” Sukuna commands, his voice is a deep rich tone that has the hairs standing up on the back of your neck. “And take the curse with you. I don’t care what you do with her.”

“Don’t kill Masato.” You say as quickly as Kenjaku’s face lights up with ideas no doubt that would lead to Masato’s demise. “Figure out her technique. Maybe make use of it.”

Kenjaku bows her body in a short dip, her smile hidden by the shadow of her hair. “As you wish.” And then she’s turning, herding Masato out of the room with hushed whispers of something about a village of people not too far away.

And then the throne room was empty once again, except for the rightful King of the throne sitting just a few feet behind you. Sukuna says nothing when you turn to face him, yet you can’t help the soft smile that takes over your face at the shining pride in his eye when he looks down at you. One hand smooths up along your arm, rubbing the soft silk between his battle-worn fingers before he rests his hand on the side of your neck.

Another hand smooths up your front until it rests over your heart, your blood soaks his skin and yet he shows no discomfort—only a relief that your heart still beats in your chest, healthy and alive.

“I felt that knife in your chest as if it were my own.” He admits, an odd look on his face. “It was… strange. I could feel the pain blooming, the beat of my own heart was painful.”

Your own hand skirts up along the bare expanse of his stomach, smile broadening momentarily when the mouth there grins at the contact. Then your hand finds its place over his heart, nestled between the thick muscles of his pectorals.

“I hope I didn’t scare you too much.” You grin when he rolls his eyes, using his available hands to tug you closer until you are pressed to his front.

“I’ve never known fear.” His hand is gentle when it strokes along your scalp, careful to not disturb your hair too much. “Not until you appeared. You’ve ruined me.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes and laugh, and you feel a warmth in your stomach at the salacious grin Sukuna throws your way. He doesn’t mean ruin in a terrible way—he means you have ruined him for life, you have changed something inside of him forever and no doubt that will come to bite him in the future.

But for now, you can see he doesn’t care for the possible repercussions of allowing himself to feel fear for another human being. The hand carding through your hair drifts back down towards your throat, his thumb pressing daringly against the column of it to feel you swallow weakly against the pressure.

“Now, what did I tell you about putting yourself into idiotic situations?” Sukuna growls, the low purr of his words has blossoming heat curling in your gut.

“I don’t think I remember.” Your words earn you a smirk, and Sukuna leans in closer until his nose bumps against your own.

“No?”

“No.” You whisper when he tilts his chin just enough to let his lips brush along your own teasingly.

“Perhaps a reminder is in order.” The hand at your throat tightens slightly, his hand large enough to nearly wrap around the entirety of your throat.

“I think I’ll need a little more than that.”

And Sukuna laughs lowly, a type of laugh that would scare anyone who it was aimed at. Instead, it has you smiling along with him, his canines flashing dimly in the waning firelight of the various lanterns littered around the room.

It only takes another nudge of your nose against his to have him leaning in, the kiss he gives you is all-consuming. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time in a while. The impact of your decision to let Yorozu have a chance at cutting your life short had hit Sukuna hard. His lips move with a ferociousness that has you struggling to keep up, his tongue already pressing in and invading your mouth.

His hand slips from your throat and up to your jaw, pressing thick fingers into your cheeks until you’re forced to open your mouth when he pulls away. He smiles at the look on your face, no doubt quite the mess from just a kiss—

“On your knees.”

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#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader

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sounderotica · 2 months

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In this article, we provide you with an in-depth overview of our Sound Erotica story, The Confession Of A Hooker. Join us as we delve into a gripping account of a woman’s harrowing experience as she recounts her ordeal as a captive.

Confessions from the Edge of Desire

In the world of adult experiences, the lines between pleasure and peril can sometimes blur. This is a story, a raw and unfiltered confession, of one such instance. As a professional in the adult industry, I’ve had my fair share of experiences, but nothing compares to this harrowing encounter. It’s a tale that delves deep into the dark corners of abduction, bondage, and the complex dynamics of domination and submission.

The Nightmare Begins

It started like any other night, but it soon turned into something out of a nightmare. Waking up in a cold, confined space, I found myself naked and helpless, my wrists and ankles bound. The chill in the air was nothing compared to the fear that gripped me. Then, they appeared – a man and a woman, my captors. They were the embodiment of control, imposing rules and claiming ownership over me. I was no longer a person; I was an object for their twisted desires.

The Rules of Confinement

They introduced me to “room number three,” a place where restraints and “adult fun equipment” were the norm. The room was a testament to their mastery over bondage and submission. The rules were simple yet terrifying: obey or face severe consequences. As a professional, I was no stranger to role-play, but this was no game – it was a real-life horror.

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celiastjamesoscar · 10 months

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Umbrella Paradox

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: When visiting a local cafe shop late one night, you meet the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, but you get off on the wrong foot.

Warnings: murder accusations, mention of drug use, light swearing, slight dark humor (my first time writing something ever)

Word count: 5.5k

Read pt 2 here

The streets of New York City were desolate at this hour: few and far patrons wandered into the small coffee shop. A faint chill was in the air, but not enough to make one wear a jacket. The type of chill someone can breathe in and feel in their bones. The kind of chill that anyone from the Midwest would recognize, the tell-tale signs that a storm was coming. From the way the trees rustled to the smell of the air and even to how the local dogs, who were ordinarily quiet, began to bark and growl, all signs pointed towards that of a storm.

Even though it's known as “The City That Never Sleeps,” the city seemed peaceful to the woman who worked the shop. Today had been one of the busiest days; the order for cappuccinos never ended, and Sam was ready for it to end. For the past hour and a half, however, the coffee shop had been a ghost town, the only souls that haunted the shop were Sam and one of her coworkers who just sat in the back, waiting for their shift to end. Within the four walls of solitude, a quietness quickly disappeared as Sam heard the loud cracks of thunder. As if Mother Nature had flipped a switch, a downpour of rain seemed to swallow the small shop.

As dusk hours dragged on, the little hand on the clock crawled towards 1, and the bell above the door dinged. The words “What can I get for you?” were already leaving her lips before she looked up, but she felt like the world had shifted when she saw the woman before her.

The woman in front of Sam was close to her height; maybe even taller-it was hard for Sam to tell-and she had a scar on her left eye. It went an inch or two above her eyebrow and was three inches below her eye. She wore a black uniform resembling an EMT: buttoned-up collared shirt with two chest pockets, military creases, and tactical pants. As she approached the counter, Sam took in the top of her uniform: she had a small badge on her left collarbone that said ‘emergency medical technician’ with the symbol of Caduceus on it. On her right, read the name ‘Y/N.’ Across her shoulder, she carried a red bag that had a white Caduceus symbol stitched on it. She also had a walkie-talkie hooked onto her belt and held an umbrella.

“Espresso and potato soup.” The woman said as she stood before Sam. She had a dry tone, almost as if she was irritated that Sam had asked her what she wanted.

“Hot or cold?” Sam gently asked as she studied the woman: she had bags under her eyes and wore a stressed expression.

“What?” The woman responded with the same dry tone.

“Your drink. Do you want it hot or cold?” Sam repeated herself, losing the gentle tone and speaking with a slightly irritated one instead.

The woman asked irritatedly, “Why would I want a cold coffee? That defeats the purpose.” Sam had to fight herself not to roll her eyes at the comment and instead added up the total.

“Okay, that will be $8.75,” Sam said as she watched Y/N dig around her pockets for her wallet. Eventually, the woman pulled out her money along with three quarters and paid Sam before walking off to sit in the corner of the shop, taking off her bag and placing her umbrella on the floor. Sam placed the order for the woman and went to count the money but soon found out she was two dollars short.

“Miss, you are short two dollars,” Sam spoke with gentleness in her voice even though she could not understand why but quickly regarded it once the woman mumbled something under her breath and threw the two dollars onto the counter. Sam scoffed at the woman’s actions but began making her coffee.

As Sam finished making the coffee, her coworker brought up the soup and placed it by Sam, sparing a glance at the woman in the corner, “Just think, a little over an hour to go,” they said with a smile as they disappeared quickly into the kitchen. "It’s going to be the longest hour of my life,” Sam thought as she grabbed the soup and coffee and walked toward the woman.

“Here’s your soup and coffee. Enjoy,” Sam said as she placed the items in front of the woman, who said nothing in return. Minutes seemed like hours as the woman ate her soup and drank her coffee, and Sam was bored. The only thing on her mind was the downpour outside and the woman in the corner, though she would never admit that to herself. Y/N had been the only customer in the past–Sam quickly glanced at the clock–two hours. Out of boredom, Sam began wiping down tables, preparing for closing even though the shop closed in thirty minutes.

As if snapping out of a daydream, the woman quickly noted Sam’s action and finished her meal and drink. She got up, placed the bowl on the counter, and discarded her coffee cup. She set three dollars on the counter, spared Sam a smile–if one could call it–grabbed her umbrella, and quickly left the shop. As Y/N left the shop, a small group of teenage girls walked in, all a bit drunk, but Y/N wouldn’t tell on them.

She began walking down the street, holding the umbrella close to her as the rain continued its assault on the city. “It hasn’t rained in a month, and of course, it decides to piss it down the night I work 12 hours.” Y/N mumbler under her breath, walking a quarter of a mile back to the station. As she approached the station, she noticed something was missing. “Fuck me; I left my bag.” She grumbled as she began her saunter back to the coffee shop.

Just as she began her walk, she started thinking about the woman in the cafe. Y/N would be lying if she said she didn’t find the woman attractive. She had tan skin that was undoubtedly smooth and beautiful brown eyes that one could get lost in if they weren’t careful, but she also had a guarded nature. She felt terrible for how she treated the woman; Y/N had had a rough day at work, the calls for emergencies never seemed to end, and she let it affect her mood. She was usually delightful, but the long shift had gotten to her, and she seemed to have taken it out on the poor woman. The alluring woman plagued Y/N’s mind; she subconsciously quickened her pace, hoping to make it back in time before closing to apologize to the woman.

After Y/N had left the shop, Sam stopped cleaning the tables and walked over to the counter. She smiled at the tip and happily collected it as the doorbell rang again. “I’ll be with you in just a minute,” Sam said as she made eye contact with one of the girls in the group before grabbing the bowl and taking it into the kitchen. As she left, however, she heard the faintest of a whisper, but it was there, “murderer.”

Sam has not been a stranger to the accusations from strangers since the Woodsboro murders. It seems once a week; the shop gets a patron who throws around the word “murderer” while Sam is working. At first, it bothered Sam, she would cry on her breaks and smoke more cigarettes than usual, but after a while, she became immune to it all. She acted like nothing bothered her when she was with Tara, as she didn’t want her baby sister to worry about her. But that’s all Tara did.

Tara noticed the subtle details: Sam would have puffy eyes and smudged mascara, things that would go unnoticed by the average eye but not to Tara. Then more significant things began to happen; Sam’s mood would change on a dime, she started to smell like cigarettes more often, and she had bags under her eyes. Of course, Tara rebelled against her sister, just like any typical freshman in college would do against their parents. Tara only acted out as a way to push Sam away from her. Tara’s entire life, people have left her: her dad, her sister, and her mom, who has been absent most of her life. She wanted to prove she was the problem: Tara was why everyone she loved left her. In her mind, Tara believed she didn’t deserve love and was too much to deal with, so she pushed Sam away.

But once Sam started coming home with her work clothes covered in coffee or cherry coke, Tara began to behave herself. She would order pizza before Sam’s shift would end and have a movie ready to play when she got home. Sometimes, if she felt adventurous and brave enough, she would cook a meal for the two of them. Once, she tried cooking one of Sam’s favorite meals but almost burnt down the apartment. Neither talked about it; instead just laughed over their Chinese takeout about the disaster. Tara never asked Sam about her job, as she figured it would only add to her sister’s guilt: having her little sister worry about her when she was already struggling enough to get over the trauma of Woodsboro. Instead, Tara simply showed her care for Sam through little acts they preferred. Asking each other if they were okay without words was how close they were. Sam might have gone for five years, but their bond will always be everlasting: no amount of time will ever shake their love for each other.

Sam prepared to face the inevitable and walked towards the counter, “what can I get you girls?” she asked with a polite tone and forced smile.

The girls gave Sam an unimpressed look as they pretended to look at the menu. “Let’s see here, ummmm…can I please get a latte? No, actually, how about an americano? Wait! No, I would like a mocha, please!” One of the girls stated as she twirled her hand around her finger, pretending to play dumb just to irritate Sam. Sam knew that this was going to end badly for herself, but the best she could do was force a smile, not like she’s been doing that her whole life.

After getting all their orders—which took a millennium—Sam eventually got to make their coffees. With complaints and loud sighs, the girls sat down at one of the tables Sam had just finished clearing, as the cleaning supplies were still on it. In one single motion, the girl who played dumb backhanded all the supplies off the table, crying out an “oops” as she sat down while the other girls laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up in a minute,” Sam uttered with a clenched jaw. As Sam finished talking, the doorbell chimed, but she didn’t have it in her to turn around, afraid that the girls were stalking her movements and they would see the frustration on her face, knowing they were getting to her.

“Oh, I wasn’t planning on worrying about it. I know that you know how to clean up a stain or two,” the Karen Smith wanna-be stated with an all-too-knowing smirk while twirling her hair. “How’d you do it anyway? Get away with all those murders?” She asked as she outstretched her arms when she said ‘All those murders.’

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sam voiced through gritted teeth-she didn’t have the patience to deal with this right now.

“Oh, okay then!” The girl exclaimed with a jeering expression as she bounced around in her seat before speaking more seriously, “I just thought you were that Loomis girl who murdered six of her friends and tried to kill her sister.”

Sam spoke in a tired but hardened tone, “Look, girl, I have no idea what you are trying to get at, but-” “Excuse me, may I get a pot of coffee, please?” A gentle voice interrupted Sam. She had half a mind to give the person a piece of her mind for interrupting her, but when she turned around, and the words died on her tongue. It was the woman from earlier, but this time she wore a radiant expression, and a cheeky smile rested upon her face. She rested her elbows on the countertop, leaning forward a bit.

“Yeah, just a minute,” responded Sam as she brought the coffees over to the girls. When she handed Karen wannabe her coffee, her hand “accidentally” bumped Sam’s, causing the piping hot liquid to land all over Sam, ruining her top. “Omg, I am sorry!” Even though she did not attempt to help, the girl exclaimed, “Please don’t murder Ms. Ghostface; it was seriously an accident!” At this, the girls laughed, and Sam even heard a snicker come from behind her. And sure enough, Y/N had a mischief smirk even though her eyes were choleric.

“I’m getting your cup of coffee now,” Sam sighed as she took off her apron and threw it on the counter.

“A pot of coffee, not a cup,” the woman stated as Sam gave her a puzzled look, “preferably your hottest pot as well.” Sam rolled her eyes at the statement but went and got the fresh pot of coffee her coworker had made for themselves.

Sam returned and handed the woman the pot; she didn’t bother questioning what she needed an entire pot for; as long as Sam was left alone, she didn’t care.

“Thank you-” Y/N glanced at the nametag on the coffee-stained apron, “-Sam.” She gently smiled as she spoke before swiftly approaching the group of girls.

Watching in amusement and pure curiosity, Sam stared with bewilderment as the woman threw the coffee onto the group of girls, their shrieks and screams echoing throughout the cafe. “Omg, I didn’t mean to do that!” Y/N expressed with a cheerful laugh as one of the girls started crying because her ‘perfect hair was ruined!’

“I’m going to sue your ass!” Karen wannabe shouted, standing up to wipe the coffee off her clothing.

“On what grounds? You are trespassing on private property!” Y/N laughed as she pointed towards the clock; it was fifteen past two. “Now leave before I call the cops and say that you’re refusing to leave,” with that, the girls quickly left the shop, but not without Karen wannabe scoffing at Y/N and flipping Sam off.

Y/N had placed the coffee pot on the counter and was preparing to ask Sam a question before Sam interrupted her by laughing. It wasn’t a tiny laugh; no, it was the type of laughter that has one doubled over holding their stomach type. Caught off guard by Sam’s laughter, Y/N quickly joined in.

Consequently, the coworker came up to see what the laughter was about but quickly disregarded it, said goodbye, and left. Drying the tears from her eyes as her laughter died, Sam looked around before speaking, “Thank you for that. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was no problem, and besides, I kinda had fun doing it. Is that bad?” Y/N questioned with a worrisome look as she made eye contact with Sam.

“No, it’s not. They deserved it.” Sam joked as she looked around the shop. “I need to close up, but seriously, thank you.”

Y/N nodded as Sam walked off to the supply closet. When she returned, she found that Y/N had already begun cleaning up the mess she had made and the spilled cleaning supplies the girls had knocked over. “You don’t have to do that. I’m not holding you hostage here,” Sam joked as she walked over to the table Y/N was cleaning.

“I know, I just feel bad about this,” Y/N voiced with a sigh and waved her arm around the messy table. “I should have handled it better.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sam explained, “those girls were assholes, and they deserved a lot worse,” she finished with a laugh.

Y/N smiled at Sam, “I know. I’m Y/N, by the way,” she said as she extended her hand. Sam smiles as her eyes crinkle and accepts her hand.

“I’m Sam, but you already know that,” she replies as she slides her hand into hers. The sparks that Y/N feels when their palms connect causes her to flinch and take a deep breath momentarily. Y/N notices how Sam’s eyes snap up at hers, telling Y/N that maybe she felt it too. If Sam saw how Y/N’s eyes smiled for her and her palms began to sweat, she didn’t say it. And if Y/N noticed how Sam’s spine got the faintest chill causing her to stand up straighter, Sam was glad she didn’t say anything.

Sam pulled her hand back out of shock, her eyes darting around the room, looking everywhere but Y/N’s radiant smile. “Well then,” Sam coughed out, “we should finish up closing.” Y/N nodded in agreement, tapping her foot as she cleaned off the tables.

Occasionally, her eyes drift over to Sam, who was also cleaning tables on the other side of the cafe. It felt as though Sam was trying to put distance between herself and the EMT. It felt like she was suffocating just being near the woman; it drove her mad with anger and happiness simultaneously.

Fifteen minutes had passed before they finally finished cleaning up and preparing to lock the front doors when they realized it was still raining. “It is pissing it down out there,” Y/N stated, looking out the window. She had her umbrella in hand and her long-forgotten medical bag over her shoulder, getting ready to leave the shop before she turned to Sam, “Would you like me to walk you home?” She asked with the gentlest tone Sam had ever heard, and it almost brought a tear to her eyes. A stranger she had just met was willingly being friendly to her after hearing accusations of her being a “murderer.” She had half a mind to run in the other direction; ordinary people were never this nice to her.

“I would like that, if you don’t mind,” Sam uttered, afraid her voice would break if she spoke any louder. She was used to the cruel ways of the world now-she expected the worst but never prayed for the best. Even after all the harsh years she has dealt with, this moment with Y/N seemed to compensate for her torture.

“Let us begin our adventure then.” Y/N proclaimed as she stepped outside the door and opened her umbrella. She held the umbrella over both of them as Sam locked up the front door and pulled Sam into her side, “I don’t want you to get soaked,” Y/N expressed with a cheeky grin and loving eyes. If Sam noticed the red tint on the other woman’s face, she kept it to herself.

Sam informed her that it’s about a half-mile walk. It would take Y/N almost a mile out of her way, but she just nodded and said that’s fine. She didn’t care how long she had to walk, as she couldn’t muster a complaint with Sam by her side.

They walked the first block in complete silence; the only sound they could hear was the rain pelting down on the umbrella before Y/N spoke up, “Why were those girls accusing you of murder?” She felt Sam automatically tense up and suck in a deep breath, and it sent a dagger into her own heart.

“It’s complicated, and I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam sighed, looking down at the ground as she spoke, “Not right now, at least.”

“Okay,” Y/N said with a loving tone; it made Sam want to strangle her. Sam hated how one word made heat creep up her neck and warm her body despite the cold weather. She hated the way one stranger made her feel more loved and appreciated than anyone in her entire life ever had. And above all else, she hated how Y/N smiled at her like she was the only person in the world. Like her life meant something other than being the daughter of a serial killer.

“Why’d you do that?” Sam asked after a few beats of silence.

“Mhm? Do what?” Y/N questioned as she looked at Sam.

“Throw the coffee on those girls.”

“Oh, I did it for the shiggles,” Y/N admitted with a shrug of her shoulders and a cheeky smile.

“‘Shiggles? What does that mean?” Sam couldn’t help but laugh as the question left her lips.

“Shits and giggles, my dear Watson,” Y/N said with the same cheeky grin plastered on her face, and it took everything in Sam to look away for fear of doing something she might come to regret.

“So, were you an asshole to me earlier for the shiggles? Or was that all an act?” Sam asked as she bumped her shoulders into Y/N, slightly causing the woman to fall out from under the umbrella shelter.

“Hey! Watch it, lady! This is a vintage Prada shirt that the devil himself wore when he fought Meryl Streep!” Y/N exclaimed as she wiped the rain off of the left side of her face when she returned under the umbrella. She then wiped her hand off Sam’s clothes, earning herself a small elbow to the side.

Sam laughed at the woman’s words and actions, “have you ever seen that movie?” Sam questioned.

“No, I have not,” Y/N stated with a very serious expression but a playful manner in her eyes. Sam could not believe that this was the same woman she met earlier. “Is it bad that I think she’s kinda hot?”

“Who? Anne Hathaway, Meryl Streep, or Emily Blunt?”

“Ummm, yes?” Y/N said with her eyebrow raised like she could not believe Sam had asked her that question.

Sam’s head fell back with laughter at Y/N’s response, and Y/N swore it sounded like angels were singing. “I hate you.” Sam joked with the kindest tone Y/N had ever heard.

“Nothing about my response is funny, Sam!” Y/N exclaimed with a smile followed by frantic hand movements, “Yes to all three women, no matter the context, it's just yes!”

“Hey, I’m not disagreeing with you.”

“Mhmm, you better not be,” Y/N replied as she nudged her shoulder against Sam’s, but not hard enough to knock Sam out from under the umbrella.

“But seriously though, why were you being an asshole earlier?” Sam questioned, hoping to get an actual response out of the woman this time.

“I had a bad day at work. Too many kids shooting fireworks at each other leaving them with not enough fingers,” Y/N said as she brought her hand close to Sam’s face and began wiggling them in front of her. Sam laughed and gently pushed the EMT’s hand down, letting her hand linger for a few seconds too long before she dropped it back down by her side.

“People are still shooting off fireworks? July 4th was a couple of weeks ago,” Sam stated, shaking her head as she hoped it would get rid of warm cheeks.

“Dude, crackheads are crazy. They will blow each other’s fingers off with fireworks until mid-November.” Y/N laughed, “The first call I got today was some dude who was high on PCP, for your information, who had tried to use a firework to launch himself onto the moon!”

Sam couldn’t help but join Y/N’s laughter; she found it somewhat morbid that the woman handled such a scene with mild humor. “How do you find this stuff funny?” Sam questioned with a look of amusement.

“Perks of the job; cool uniforms followed suit by dark humor,” Y/N stated as she sent a wink Sam’s way along with some playful finger guns. If Sam noticed Y/N’s eyes peaking at her lips, she didn’t mention it. “I do want to apologize for the way I treated you earlier. I was being an asshole. Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

“Yeah, you kinda were, but you’ve made up for it,” Sam said with a lighthearted smile.

Y/N just smiled at Sam in return but quickly felt her heart flutter at Sam’s smile. She had seen Sam smile their entire walk, but for the first time, Y/N had seen her smile.

It wasn’t like the forced smile she saw when she had first met the woman; no, it was a different smile. Y/N wouldn’t even classify it as a smile if the laws of nature would allow her to; she’d call it something completely different. Something that has no negative aspect, something that has no flaws, something that the evils of man can never touch. The only words that came to mind were ‘unblemished’ and ‘pure,’ but she felt shame and embarrassment as she tried to put a word to Sam’s smile. There are no words in the English language that Y/N could scream to match that smile.

Y/N was going to say something, but all the words slipped her mind. It was as if someone had flashed her with a neuralyzer, and she only remembered the captivating woman in front of her. With what little words she could muster, she simply uttered, “I’m sorry,” followed by an awkward laugh as she rubbed the back of her neck before looking down at the rain-soaked sidewalk.

Caught off guard by the sudden change in mood, Sam tried to look at Y/N’s face, but the woman refused to meet her challenging gaze. So, Sam did what any sane person would do. She slowly brushed her fingers against Y/N’s, praying to all the gods in the world, hoping one would answer her prayer. And to her luck, a God did.

Y/N slowly bumped her hand against Sam’s and gently locked her pinky finger with Sam’s. She waited for Sam to pull back, but Y/N let go of Sam’s finger after a few seconds.

At first, Sam’s heart sank into her stomach; she was getting ready to usher out a plethora of apologies before she felt Y/N’s palm against her own. It felt as if the entire world stopped for both women, but at the same time, everything was moving faster: their breathing, their eyes, their walking pace, and their heart rates. At the same time, as if their minds were on the same wave link and they shared a telepathic ability, they both looked at each other, subtly shifting their bodies to be closer while continuing their walk.

Y/N’s eyes never left Sam’s. All she could do was stare into the woman’s eyes. The kind of eyes that made thieves wonder why they even bothered to steal pieces of art. The type of eyes that Y/N longed to call home.

On the other hand, Sam did everything she could to avoid Y/N’s piercing gaze. She studied how the scar on her eye moved with her facial expressions, noted how the earlier stress lines were gone, and wondered if her lips tasted as good as they looked. She wondered if they were as soft as they looked, if she could get lost in her kisses and forget about everything else. She wondered if they would fit perfectly with her own.

Subconsciously, both women stopped walking and slowly began leaning in. They were so close they could feel each other’s breath on their lips. And if God had decided he hadn't made Sam’s life hard enough, a car flew down the road, driving through a puddle of water, causing it to soak both women. Out of instinct, Y/N dropped the umbrella to her side, causing Sam to send her a murderous glance. Sam cursed under her breath as she stared down the quickly disappearing car while Y/N tried to slow down her heartbeats. Y/N was quick to make a joke out of the situation, hoping it wasn’t too awkward between them, “well, at least your clothes were already ruined.” She said as she quickly closed the umbrella and shook herself off like a dog.

“Umm, what the hell are you doing?” Sam questioned as she gestured towards the closed umbrella.

“What? Our clothes are already soaked; we no longer need to use this thing.” Y/N stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Sam huffed at Y/N’s words, mentally slapping herself for agreeing with the woman, then she reached out and linked her arm with Y/N’s. Y/N gave Sam that same gentle smile from earlier and gestured to the sidewalk with her free hand, “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Sam laughed, bumping her shoulders against Y/N’s. Neither woman complained about the downpour of rain they were walking through, but when the loud cracks of thunder started again, they dislinked their arms and instead linked their hands together, quickly running through the rain. Between the occasional thunder, the only thing that could be heard were the sounds of laughter and playful banter between the two.

Out of breath but full of life, they quickly reached the apartment complex doors and ran inside. Neither said anything at first, but when they looked at each other, they burst out laughing. “You look like a drowned rat.” Sam joked between laughs.

“Thank you, that is exactly what I was going for this morning,” Y/N said as she lightly pushed Sam. However, when Y/N’s hands touched Sam’s torso, she gently grasped Y/N’s hands and slowly placed them on her waist, moving into Y/N’s personal space. The atmosphere around them quickly changed into one full of desire and longing.

Y/N looked down at Sam’s eye, then her other one, and down at her lips before looking back up at Sam. The only thing she saw in Sam’s eyes was the same burning passion she felt, and she needed to feel something, anything from Sam. Leaning down, Y/N let her lips linger on Sam’s but never kissed her; it was her version of asking if this was okay. Y/N’s grip on Sam’s waist tightened as Sam removed her hands from hers and slowly brought them up to cup Y/N’s face. With a gentle stroke of her thumb against her cheek, Sam finally closed the distance.

The kiss is soft and gentle, unlike anything Sam has ever experienced in her entire life. She softly sighed into the EMT’s lips, releasing tension she didn’t know she had. She felt her whole body react to the kiss as if her soul told her that this was her last first kiss.

Y/N delicately kissed Sam back, worried that if she tried too hard or moved quickly, everything around her would disappear, including Sam. Y/N is so lost in Sam that she can’t even hear the loud thumping of her own heartbeat against her rib cage and ringing throughout her eardrums. The only thing on her mind was the soft stroke of Sam’s thumb against her cheek and the tender lips against her own. Slowly and reluctantly, the two separated but rested their foreheads together.

Out of breath, Y/N whispered against Sam’s lips, “When can I see you again?”

Sam let out a laugh before slightly pulling back, just far enough where she could look Y/N in the eyes and still be in her arms. “You know where I work. Figure it out.” She said as she leaned up to kiss Y/N’s cheek while gently stroking her other cheek before slowly making her way up the stairs to her apartment.

Y/N was so lost in thought that her mind only began to register what had happened when she lost the warmth of Sam. She watched as Sam slowly walked up the first few steps before calling out, “You are really going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

Sam smiled as she leaned against the railing, looking down at Y/N, “If I remember correctly, you asked me how you could compensate me for being an asshole.”

Y/N scoffed at Sam’s words but spoke with a smile on her face, “I thought you said I had already made it up to you?”

“Well, I lied. See you at the coffee shop sometime!” Sam called out with a wave of her hand as she quickly walked up the stairs. She didn’t want Y/N to see the giant smile on her place that accompanied a faint blush on her tan skin.

Y/N couldn’t help the grin that overtook her face at Sam’s words. ‘At least she wants to see me again!’ She thought as she practically skipped out of the apartment complex, leaving her umbrella behind.

This is my first time writing anything, so I apologize if this was bad. If anyone has any requests, let me know!

#sam carpenter #melissa barrera #tara carpenter #scream #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x y/n

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guacamoleroll · 4 months

Text

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖈𝖍𝖔 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖈 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 「𝔣𝔶𝔬𝔡𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔢𝔳𝔰𝔨𝔶」 ༉‧₊˚

content. f!reader. implied breaking-and-entering, fireworks, metaphors about stars, soft!fyodor, he's secretly down-bad, he's also incredibly possessive. descriptions of moscow (red square, st. basil's cathedral), mentions of eastern european food (pirozhki), references to greek mythology (perseus and andromeda), jokes about greek incest. not proofread. 2.2k+ words.

author's note. starting the last of my fics for the year with the first bungou stray dogs character i've ever written for. thank you for such a lovely year! ࿐ ♡ ˚ .

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

synopsis. within the last minutes of the year, sitting underneath the stars, two lovers discuss the stories mapped within constellations. in themselves, they find that some tales are timeless.

"It's so lovely at this time of night."

You couldn't contain your astonishment as flurries coasted to the earth in silent swells, dusting the city in a sheen of sparkling white. With an outstretched hand, you gathered flakes into your palm, admiring them before they melted with the heat of your skin. The riverside stilled as you coasted along the sidewalk, frozen in thickening ice as parents ushered their children away from its tempting surface. Tourists clustered under trees, shivering in their thin hats and coats as they underestimated the spite of Russia's wind. But despite the chill, there was an unmistakable gaiety in the air, smiles strewn on glassy faces as they awaited the new year.

You tailed behind Fyodor as he sauntered forward with broad steps, unable to catch your breath as the basket of freshly baked pirozhki settled heavily in your stomach. Your eyelids threatened to close as exhaustion crept into the corners of your vision; journeying between museums, promenading through parks, and scowering various foods had taken a toll on your energy.

You groaned. "Do we have to go tonight?"

He merely chuckled, the velvety bass of his voice tracing goosebumps down your spine, easily distracting you from the fact that he hadn't answered your question. Your field of vision spiraled into a haze, thoughts shot far in the distance despite the frost attempting to rouse you, left unaware as an assured hand ushered you inside a concealed entrance to the luminous structure slumbering outside of Moscow's main square. You walked forward into the endless darkness, only to bump into something sturdy. Your fingers carded through the puffed fur of Fyodor's coat, tugging on its ends.

"Fyodor?"

With a click, the room was brought to life. The high-vaulted ceiling outstretched to reach the heavens above, walls embellished with intricate frescoes of ancient Abrahamic tales. Flares of resplendent color danced across the floor as moonlight met glass, casting waves of softened light upon your skin. A labyrinth of winding corridors hid in the shadows, prompting any curious wanderer into a trove of antediluvian alcoves and chapels.

Your jaw dropped, gawking at every deliberate component. "What is this place?"

"It was a cathedral erected in honor of Tsar Ivan the IV." His gloved hand puckered altar cloth between his gracile fingers, tracing the embroidery as his mind drifted elsewhere.

You hummed, racking your brain as it itched in anamnesis. "Wasn't that the terrible one?"

He was silent as he released the fabric from his fingers, but the self-satisfied smirk told you everything you needed to know. "Indeed. This place once brimmed with life, hosting religious gatherings and services for the denizens of this city." His boots snicked against the tile, the noise reverberating as it spun towards the ceiling. "It has been left as a relic of time."

You ever-so-delicately brushed your hand against one of the columns, not wishing to disturb the peace of stillness and rest that blanketed the cathedral.

"How marvelous."

Your attention went astray as Fyodor tinkered at a lock, the hinges of a thin door ricketing with unsettling squeaks as he stood aside, uncloaking a never-ending staircase to the unknown.

"After you."

Your muscles cramped with every step, dread buried deep in your gut as your vision remained impaired, the flashlight beam smattering inconclusive rays of light as it aimed at your back. It was almost like the architects had attempted to reach the clouds, their grandiose endeavor churning a flare in your back as you slumped against the wall, your lungs burning with every passing moment. Your spirit was invigorated at the sight of a door through the dime ire of light, basking in your relief as you stepped out the door, the crisp breeze of winter striking your skin as—!

"W-Woah!"

Your feet teetered over the ridge of the roof; only your ankles remained flimsily rooted onto solid paneling as your arms swung out to balance yourself. Fortunately for you, an arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you back against Fyodor's chest. A quick peek upward towards his impish expression revealed everything you needed to know.

"You must be careful, любимая."

Your breath was shuddery, inwardly wavering on whether to punch him or kiss him, the indecisiveness reigning victorious as you pointedly ignored the mellifluous lilt of his tone, hands binding to his arm as your gaze locked onto the ground several hundred feet below.

"Good lord, we're high," you muttered between pants.

His arms braced you further against his chest, leaning away from the perilous drop. "You're trembling." The tension in your grip eased at the sensation of a gentle kiss against the crown of your head. "You know I'd never let you fall, hm?"

"Right." You released the amalgam of tense breath that clawed at your throat, able to balance on your own two feet as you settled your view to the skies.

Your feet shuffled across the panels as you slogged onto a wider expanse of the roof, slumping against a wall as the tension evaporated out through your fingers, the nightmare of plummeting from the roof erased from your mind. However, you swallowed a yelp as the flashlight flickered off, leaving the both of you enshrouded in complete darkness—at least for a brief moment.

Clouds stacked in bunched within the stratosphere, mirroring fragments of light that bounced from below in a nebulose aurora. But despite the wonderment of their decadence, they lost their luster once the stars peaked through their fogged edges, the finite speckles scattered like freckles across the canvas of the heavens. They felt close enough to touch if only you reached out toward them, daring to do so. Your fingers trailed maps of these celestial bodies, finding a sense of peace in their familiar patterns.

"Are you familiar with Ovid's Metamorphoses?" Your voice pierced through the silence.

"I can't say I am."

You withheld the impulse to laugh—he had the entire compendium of books in his personal library. It would be a surprise if he hadn't at least skimmed them, but you decided to humor him this once, scooching closer to point towards a specific cluster of stars.

"Those are the constellations of Perseus, the son of Zeus, and Princess Andromeda, the daughter of King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia."

You took his silence as an encouragement to continue. "Perseus found Andromeda chained to a rock as a sacrifice to the sea monster, Cetus, by her parents in order to save her home." Your fingers drew out the character within the stars, a grin upturned on your lips as you envisioned the archaic tale in your mind. "It was told that he found her so beautiful that he slayed the monster, rescuing her before fighting against her uncle for her hand-in-marriage."

"Her uncle?" Fyodor mused.

Your nose scrunched in a grimace. "There's a lot of that in those stories, I'm afraid."

"The couple went on to live happily ever after—an extremely rare ending to most ancient stories."

"There is a simple explanation for that," he replied.

You snickered, already aware that your open-ended commentary would eventually lead to some thoughts from the infamously brilliant man.

His eyes rolled in return at your amusement, disregarding the tightness of his chest. "We hold onto ancient tragedies because they are a reflection of life. Nothing in our world is as simple as a happy ending." A vacant look ruled over his features, a familiar expression that often shielded his thoughts within the dark, contemplative hours of the night. "Most aspired heroes never reach their potential due to their blind devotion to selfish aspirations and goals."

"You're right," you sighed, hands balled against the corner of his cape in an attempt to thaw your frozen fingers. You wanted to say more, but it felt like your mouth was cotton-filled. So, instead, you returned your eyes to the sky.

"Sometimes, I wish I was a constellation." He looked at you. "Even with its flaws, this world is undoubtedly beautiful from above. I like to think the stars admire us just as much as we do them."

And he didn't say anything more; he didn't need to. Instead, he reigned you onto his lap, his coat shrouding your shoulders as he shared its warmth. You leaned into his embrace, basking in the flutter inside your chest.

"You're awfully cold, милая," he grumbled, his fingers mapping your frigid palms.

"Our roles are reversed now," you quipped. "I hope you think about this the next time you decide to stun me with your hands in the morning."

"I'm afraid I might forget," he whistled.

"You little—"

But you found your voice hidden underneath layers of crackling. You ogled as fireworks wiggled their way into the night sky, shimmering onto the city square, the towers of the Kremlin becomen heavenly statues as their structures temporarily glistened. Without a second thought, you grabbed onto his hands, giving them a squeeze with each pop. You were so attentive to the collections of radiant sparks that you didn't notice the eyes boring into your skin; Fyodor's gaze averted from the fireworks to contemplate the interlacement of your fingers.

He surmised you were to be his future the moment you had locked eyes for the first time—his destined, pre-ordained other half as he journeyed to actualize God's promised land. It wasn't a surprise that someone was fated to remain in his keep—another loyal follower, too intertwined in their own aspirations to connect to his cause without deliberate guidance.

But not you.

You may not have supported his cause with the devotion of his witless flock, but you understood it better than anyone. And most importantly, you understood him. You peered through his intricate plans and performative malice, reading into his cause as you unraveled his intentions. It had been an enticing cat-and-mouse game, the both of you constantly entangled in a mental match, intellect and morals clashing. He knew you were his perfect match from your analytic dexterity, but he had no idea that you would pull at the strings cast around his heart, ones he believed had been severed long ago.

His heart had never belonged to anyone or anything—his mind and will were forever devoted to his cause, but his heart hadn't beat since before he could even remember. The sudden constriction of his chest was so foreign.

You must've been quite the powerful woman to kickstart the heart of a demon, excavating a trove of humanity he had buried within himself with a simple glance of your eyes—and all without knowing, your gentle expression puncturing through his abstruse masquerades, somehow able to see everything except the turmoil that you left in the wake of your very touch.

He found himself less and less concerned about the echoed beat of his heart within the emptiness of his chest, too captivated by your smile as you beheld the heavens with a benevolent expression, savoring the burning red and gold sparks despite their dullness in comparison to you. In spite of himself, your everlasting happiness had become an intrinsic component in his plans.

You were made to remain at his side—not as a brainless devotee, but as his equal and often opposite. The world, so rotten yet somehow divine through your benevolent gaze, may try to pull you away, but he'd have no issue burning cities to their ashen roots if anyone dared attempt to pry you from his hold.

His lithe fingers outlined the constellations of every freckle and beauty mark, star patterns copied onto your skin as his touch drifted your attention from the flashes and flickers to him, your inquisitive eyes scanning his face as he remained unmoved.

"Федя?"

He shuddered with unparalleled delight at the euphonious sound of his mother language slipping like honey from your tongue, foreign to your lips yet dulcet all the same. Your bonniness beaconed him forward, a heat flowering in his once cavernous chest as he captured your lips, which were as soft as the powdered snow that glinted on your skin. His heavy breath tickled your nose, which crinkled in tandem with your eyes as you drew him in for another. Words became meaningless, his skin seared like static as your arms drew him closer, skin scorched from the cold of your hands against the nape of his neck.

He tucked your hair behind your ear, ensuring that your empyreal features weren't veiled further as flakes of snow flurried once more, your parted lips and shallow breath leaving him in a helpless state of complete limerence. He stirred as his hand brushed against your pulse, your own heart racing concertly with his.

You parted in bittersweet bliss, yearning imbued in your bones as your hands drifted towards one another to intertwine. His forehead rested against yours, your shared breath permeating in spirals within the open air as he peered into your hazy, glossed-over eyes.

His hand cupped your cheek, the frame to a divine masterpiece. "Ты согреваешь мою душу, мое нежное солнышко. Твоя красота вне всякого сравнения; твой разум безупречен." He had never looked at anyone like this before, his ire thawed by the brilliance of your tender gaze as if he had melted. "Я бесконечно благодарен, что Бог привел тебя ко мне."

And you laughed. "You know I don't understand anything you're saying, right?"

He kissed your forehead, concealing his smile as his lips pressed against your skin. "You will one day, солнышко. You will."

любимая = darling милая = dear федя = fedya ты согреваешь мою душу, мое нежное солнышко. твоя красота вне всякого сравнения; твой разум безупречен = you warm my soul, my gentle sun. your beauty is beyond comparison; your mind is beyond flaw. я бесконечно благодарен, что бог привел тебя ко мне = i am eternally grateful that god brought you to me. солнышко = sunshine

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