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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 5 months

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Studious VI (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+ FINALE

Five months after your reconciliation, you and Aemond have grown ever closer. When he returns from his first time away from you, you have a surprise ready for him.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: kissing, oral sex (M and F receiving), p in v sex, fluff

Author's Note: And with this, the series is complete! I want to thank you all so much for all the support y'all have given my silly little story. I truly cherish every reply, comment, or like it receives.

And fear not! This isn't the end of the journey for our lovely, stupid couple. On the 21st, I will be releasing another short fic as part of my 12 Days of Smuff event. If there will be anything more beyond that, it remains to be seen!

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here - Read Part V Here

My Masterlist

Taglist is in reblogs

Studious VI

It was the middle of the afternoon, and though the sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, there was still a chill in the air. You had uncovered all the windows in the room, so it was quite cold within the stone walls. Therefore, you were curled up on a large, plush chair – Aemond’s reading chair – contentedly snuggled within your oversized robe.

And only the robe.

Vhagar’s mighty wingbeats had thundered above the keep not long ago. Thanks to the open windows, you’d heard it clearly – the chill was well worth it. A rush of excitement flowed through you, and you immediately traded your warm dress and stockings for the robe and took up your perch.

Aemond had been gone for four long, lonely, torturous days, and you were determined to be there the moment he walked through the door to his chambers.

It was the first time he’d left King’s Landing since your wedding five months ago and the first time the two of you had been apart for more than a few hours since your ‘reconciliation,’ as you had come to call it. Both of you argued passionately against it.

Neither of you could bear to be parted only two weeks after Grand Maester Orwyle confirmed that your nightly activities had resulted in the child now growing within you. Aemond wanted nothing more than to be by your side every moment until the babe was born. You weren’t opposed to it, though you did wonder about the practicality of such an arrangement.

But the Queen and the Hand insisted on Aemond going, rather than one of his siblings. The unfortunate result of his being the dutiful and trustworthy son, you supposed.

So, you had gone with him to the edge of the woods and watched as he mounted Vhagar and flew away. Of course, he had kissed you deeply before he left. Long enough for both Vhagar and the Dragonkeepers to begin subtly voicing their impatience. Had they not been there, you likely would have shared a more thorough goodbye.

Still, the four days felt like four years, four decades, four centuries. You would have gone mad if you hadn’t found something to do to fill the Aemond-shaped hole in your life. So you filled your time with planning how you would welcome him home.

You were sure he would be very pleasantly surprised.

Time passed quickly while you were held in suspense. The sound of soft, steady footsteps soon began echoing from the hall, and you just barely contained a squeal of delight. You readied yourself to leap, standing atop the chair to give you a better chance of actually landing on your target.

Then the door opened, and you pounced.

Thankfully, Aemond caught you easily. His strong, lithe arms wrapped around your hips and rear as if on instinct, and you were once more safe and secure.

You didn’t get to see his reaction to your leaping upon him, which you only regretted slightly as you pressed your lips hard against his

Aemond made a choked sound of surprise that soon faded into a low, passionate moan as he teased your lips open with his tongue to deepen the kiss. It still wasn’t your favourite sensation – a taste you had to acquire – but after days without it, it was almost enjoyable. Almost.

“I missed you so much, Aemond,” you whispered between kisses, strained and desperate as your fingers clawed at him, seeking to touch every inch of him. Every inch you had missed.

Aemond’s brow furrowed, but he did not stop kissing you. “I was only away four days, my love. Could you miss me so much in so short a time?”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eye as you touched the tip of your nose to his, widening your eyes and making a show of pouting. “Did you not miss me as well?”

He gave you the slightest glimpse of his startled fish face before kissing you again. “No… I longed for you every minute we were parted. It took all my strength to resist the temptation of forgoing my duty and returning to you. I missed you so much I ached.”

“Show me,” you commanded, smiling against his lips as you watched the realisation that you had never doubted his missing you dawn on his face with an affectionate, put-upon smile.

You squealed as he pulled you closer to his chest – you had not thought such a thing possible – and brought the hand that had circled your waist to cup your neck as he began kissing you again. Fiercely. Passionately. Lovingly.

The rooms were a blur as he began to blindly carry you into the bedroom, depositing you squarely in the middle of the bed. You were granted only a moment to catch your breath before he was on you again, his welcome weight pressing down on you as his heat continued to soak into your bones.

“If you were wearing anything else,” Aemond growled as his hands started furiously fumbling with the tie of your robe, “I would tear it to pieces.”

You bit down on his bottom lip, ever so slightly harder than you normally did to scold him. It did not work. It only prompted him to kiss you deeper.

“Were you ever to tear even a single thread of this robe,” you panted. “I would return to my father’s keep and never speak to you again.”

“Then I will be very careful, and…” Aemond trailed off when he opened your robe and realised you were bare beneath it.

His eye raked over you slowly, studying you as if you were a master artwork. His chest heaving, he slowly traced his hand from the base of your throat down to your navel, and when you shivered at the sensation, he shivered too.

He splayed his hand over your still-flat stomach, his eye sparkling as if he could see the babe within. “How is it possible that you become more beautiful every day?”

You laughed, reaching up to cradle his cheek in your hand. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Aemond. And I dare say that your eye is quite biased towards me.”

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Your beauty is utterly indisputable. Any who behold you and do not see it must be truly blind.”

You could not suppress the smile that came over you, wide and unyielding. “I will remind you of those words when I have grown as large as a bear and have the temper of a taunted goose.”

Aemond chuckled lowly, moving his mouth along your jaw and onto your neck. “Then I will say them again, for nothing could alter how I feel about you, my love.”

Any smart reply you had was quickly forgotten as his mouth followed the path his hand had just taken. Your only complaint was that his mouth was far slower. He would press a kiss or two against your skin, then momentarily lose his grip on whatever restraint he had. Then, he latched on, laving his tongue upon you as if he wished to devour you. Sometimes, he even lightly nipped you with his teeth, but he never failed to soothe the pain with more gentle kisses.

You could have happily let him continue for hours. But you had made plans, and you were going to follow through. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him close enough for you to whisper against his cheek. “Jiōrna mazumbilloti, ābrazȳrys.”

Your use of the Valyrian mother tongue surprised him, breaking him immediately from his lustful haze. He sat up and leaned over to kiss your cheek swiftly enough that you could only catch a glimpse of a mischievous smile.

“So close, but…” he apologetically kissed your nose. “You are ābrazȳrys. I am valzȳrys.” He pressed his finger on your skin just above your heart. “Ābrazȳrys – wife.” He moved the finger to his chest. “Valzȳrys – husband.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and fuck me, valzȳrys.”

He obliged, his mouth continuing its path down your front after a brief return to your breasts. The closer he came to your center, the louder your moans and pleas became.

He pulled away slightly when he finally reached your dripping cunt, chuckling slightly. “Oh, how I’ve missed this beautiful thing,” he mused.

You spread your legs as much as you could in a show of impatience. “Well, then you should do something about that, shouldn’t you?”

“I suppose.”

A desperate gasp escaped you as you felt him gently blow a cold breath onto your heated core. Your back arched as he did it again, tracing a line of cool air up and down your folds.

“Aemond,” you breathlessly begged, “I’ve already waited so long. Please, don’t tease me like this!”

You watched as he looked back up at you with a wicked grin. “I’ve waited just as long, my dear. I want to savour this. Make up for lost time.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, though you could not deny his plan sounded quite pleasant. “Savour me, then.”

He did.

Aemond’s mouth was thorough. In the five months since he’d first pleasure you like this, he’d become as skilled and precise with his tongue as he was with his sword.

His tongue found your pearl almost instantly and began teasing it ever so slowly, as if it were a game for him. He alternated between pressing on it, drawing circles and various shapes upon it, and sucking on it like a candied lemon.

He did not stop until he’d pulled two releases from you. Only then did he finally acknowledge your entrance beyond merely pressing against it with his chin while he focused elsewhere.

Had he not been so eager to lap up every bit of wetness from you, you were sure the bed linens would have been ruined for how much slick spilt from you. But he was voracious in devouring you – moaning and gasping nearly as much as you were. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he came simply from being buried in your thighs. He’d done it before, after all.

Your hands found their way into his hair as his tongue delved inside of you, his wonderful, glorious nose still giving your pearl the attention it craved. Holding onto him was the only way you could withstand the intensity of what he was doing to you, to keep it from overwhelming you.

It also helped that when you tugged on his hair or slightly dug your nails into his scalp, he groaned in pleasure, sending delicious vibrations through you as his hips bucked into the bed. And when your release barreled through you, and you pulled on his hair like it was the reins of a dragon, he nearly screamed against your cunt.

Aemond gazed up at you, his face glistening and flushed. “My sweet ābrazȳrys,” he hummed before ducking his head back between your thighs again.

“Ah, ah ah!” You scolded, using the hands you had in his hair to drag him back to your face, causing another satisfied moan to escape him. “By my count, I’m at three, while you’ve yet to have even one. Unless…?”

A glance at the front of his trousers confirmed that he had not come simply from pleasuring you, and you sighed dramatically. “Still at none, then.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Aemond placed shortcut soft kisses all over your face before retracing his path downwards. “Let me give you more.”

You yanked him up again, kissing him fiercely. “No. My turn.”

He rose onto his knees as you pushed on his chest, his eye never once leaving yours. You smirked as you sat up with him, your legs still between his.

“I’ll rid us of these,” you said as you began unlacing his trousers – fortunately, he’d removed the belts for his sword and dagger before he’d even come to his rooms. You nodded to his doublet. “If you get rid of that.”

You had still yet to master the ridiculous clasps and buckles on the damnable thing. And Aemond resisted all your efforts to have a new, less complicated garment made for him.

At least he did not tease you about it this time and began to remove it swiftly.

Still, you accomplished your task before he did his, and he fumbled slightly as he threw the rest of his clothes on the floor as you grasped his red, weeping length in your hand and began returning his affections.

“Oh gods,” he groaned, forgetting his doublet entirely. “Oh, dōnus riñus… sȳros. Sȳros!”

His hands flew to your head. He didn’t pull at your hair or dig his fingers in. Aemond never did; he was always gentle. He simply cupped the back of your head with one hand while the other held your cheek, stroking you with his thumb in time with your ministrations.

He had been right when he said that learning to please a man was substantially easier than learning to please a woman. There were some things you had to remind yourself of the first few times you’d done this – don’t squeeze too hard, don’t take him too deep, and never use your teeth.

But you’d had plenty of practice and knew precisely what Aemond liked.

You knew how much he liked it when you used the tip of your tongue to trace his slit before swirling it around the head of his cock.

You knew the way he liked you to play with his stones – caressing them lightly with just your fingertips, and every so often giving them the gentlest of tugs.

You knew exactly how to pace yourself in a way that drove him wild without speeding him towards an early end.

He begged. Several times, he begged you to go faster, to let him finish. But after he’d told you what he meant by “practice” in his diary, you knew he could take it. Knew he enjoyed it.

“Please,” he said breathlessly. You looked up to find tears streaming down from the corners of his eyes.

For a moment, you slowed, worrying that you’d pushed him too far, until he pulled you back down onto him so far your nose nuzzled into the silvery hair at his base.

Your hands went to his hips, bracing yourself while he pulled you forward and back. Always gently, but with more speed than you’d allowed him thus far.

It was the first time he’d ever taken charge in this particular scenario. He was always dominant in all other intimate moments, but never with this. Whenever you held him in your mouth, you commanded the prince.

The thrill of it sparked a burning heat of desire in your core, and you moaned around him.

It was enough.

Aemond pulled you as close as he could until your brow rested against his stomach, and he reached his peak. His entire body shook as he spilled himself down your throat. And he did not release you until he heard you struggling to keep him so deep.

“Oh, my darling, did I hurt you?” he asked as he again laid himself atop you.

You laughed, kissing him deeply. “No, Aemond. Well, maybe a little bit, but it’s a good hurt.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t be, please. It was less of a hurt than you being gone.”

Aemond rolled onto his side to kiss you once more, languidly, now that the initial rush of lust had faded. You could almost feel his adoration as if it were a tangible thing. You held it tightly, and would never let it go. When he finally pulled away, his lips only left yours for a moment before he was again trailing his mouth along your neck to your chest.

“Well?” You asked. “Do you like your surprise?”

“It was wonderful, my love. Would it be indelicate of me to ask for more?”

You narrowed your eyes, tugging on his hair just enough to draw his attention away from your breasts and back to you. The moment he saw the confusion on his face, it was reflected in his own.

“This was not the surprise, Aemond.”

“Then what is?”

You smiled, looking dramatically over the bedchamber. Aemond only stared at you, waiting for you to speak, until you were forced to seize his chin and turn his head.

Then, he finally saw.

As his eye roved across the walls and shelves, he rose until he was kneeling in the center of the bed. You laid back against your pillow, watching him admire what you had spent the last four days doing.

The bare walls were no more. Now, they were filled with paintings, tapestries, and even a few little sculptures. By the bookshelves – which you had filled with as many trinkets as possible – you’d hung paintings depicting some of your favourite stories from fiction and history. A wrought-iron dragon flew across the space above the doorway. On another wall, a tapestry depicting your home keep surrounded by a field of dog roses hung proudly. And above the head of the bed, a new tapestry you had made in secret these past few months.

“Vhagar,” Aemond whispered when he saw it.

You let out a sigh of relief – you had not been sure whether he would recognise her. After all, the only time you saw the dragon was when Aemond took you to visit her. Making sketches on those few occasions would have swiftly given away your secret. Fortunately, Helaena was more than happy to help you in its creation.

Aemond moved closer to admire the tapestry, one leg falling off the bed. He started, looking down to find his foot had landed atop a plush blue rug. When he looked up to gape at you, his eye caught on the bursting of colour atop the armoire.

His plain stoneware and metal vases had been joined by others more intricate and brightly coloured. All of them were now filled with a vibrant bouquet. The one you’d painted yourself when you were young and thought yourself the next great painter was filled with bright pink dog roses, much to his delight.

“You decorated,” he said in awe as he faced you again. While he’d been surveying the room, you’d sat up, holding onto his arm and resting your head on his shoulder.

“No…” you teased, savouring that quick moment of his confusion before continuing, “I moved in.”

His face crumpled with an affection so strong you hardly knew how he contained it all.

Except you did know.

You did it, too.

“My dearest,” he sighed, “I – ”

“I love you, Aemond.”

The colour drained from his face, and you swore his breathing halted.

A roiling storm of emotions passed over his face. Unbridled joy, sweetest relief, depthless love, and a single moment of fear beneath it all. He’d told you only to say those words when you truly meant it with all your heart. His worry that you didn’t was clear.

You held his face in your hands and pulled him forward until his brow rested against yours. “I love you, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Not only with my whole heart, but with all that I am.”

A tear fell from his eye, and a soft whimper escaped his lips. “Oh my love,” he murmured like a prayer, “my love…”

Then he was upon you again. His mouth against yours, his comforting heat warming you. He wrapped his arms around you – one on your waist, one at your shoulder – and pulled you against him so tightly there was nowhere you were not touching.

“I love you, Aemond,” you repeated every time your lips parted from his. Each time, he nearly sobbed at the words.

You kissed for a long while, until you at last felt him hardening against you. For only a moment, he pulled away, his eyes still damp as he looked down at you.

“May I?”

Your only response was a smile and another kiss.

Aemond entered you in one long, gentle thrust.

That moment of stillness and adjustment was no longer strictly necessary, but you both still enjoyed it.

Just a moment to look at each other. To see the joy and now, the love within them. A moment to revel in the connection you shared and bask in the feeling of being whole with each other. Aemond kissed you again before he started thrusting into you. Both were gentle and slow, allowing you to cherish each other. You were not fucking to find release, but to simply be together.

There were times when Aemond was completely still as he ravished you with his mouth or hands rather than his cock. There were times when he rutted into you like a beast, only stopping so he could prolong the connection. And there were times when both of you were still, just embracing each other, breathing together, and knowing that you were loved.

Eventually, you could hold off your instincts no longer. You squirmed against Aemond to seek more pleasure – more of him. And he happily obliged. He braced one hand on your hip as he began to move. Faster and faster. With smooth, practised thrusts.

He was so familiar with your body that it did not take long for him to have you gasping as you approached your peak. He was already brushing against that wonderful spot inside you with every movement of his hips, and when he brought a finger to gently tease your pearl, you could not hold back.

Nor could Aemond. He buried himself in you entirely, his face falling into the crook of your shoulder as he moaned your name, along with several High Valyrian words you did not know.

You lifted his head to bring his lips to yours and kissed him until his breath steadied again.

“No,” you whined as he moved to sit up and pull his softened cock out of you. “Stay. Please.”

Aemond smiled as he understood your meaning, again pressing his hips against yours to keep himself inside you as he rolled you onto your sides. “If I could stay forever, I would.”

“I know.” You nuzzled into his neck. “In fact, I’d quite like it if you did.”

“Then so I shall.”

A long, peaceful silence passed between you. Your flushes faded, your breathing calmed, and the evening air began to blow through the windows and cool your hot skin.

The day was not yet over. There was still dinner to attend, and Aemond likely needed to meet with the Small Council to discuss his trip. Yet neither of you moved. You simply laid there, basking in the bliss of holding the person you love.

You loved him. You loved Aemond so much.

He’d said it so often to you in the past five months. You had a lot of catching up to do.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you,” he replied.

“I love you.”

“I love you…”

486 notes · View notes

roguelov · 1 year

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Remember Me

Summary: On a trip to the Waking, Dream returned but, with something missing. He had no memories of you, of his love. So, you may have an idea on how to get his memories back.

Word Count: ~4k

Reader: Afab

Warnings: Smut (unprotected sex, riding, minor oral (male!receiving), minor dirty talk), slight angst in beginning, lots of fluff at the end

Requested by the lovely @duckland

MINORS DNI/ 18+ ONLY

“I’m sorry.”

It was the same repetitive drone - an annoying buzz in your ears.

Who were they sorry for?

You? Or Morpheus, your sweet Morpheus?

Morpheus had taken a trip to the Waking only to return broken - or at least broken to you. You were not sure how, why, or who did it, but Morpheus could not remember you. He could not remember any aspect, not any of the time spent together, not even your name.

Everyone - the entirety of the Waking and even a few of Dream’s siblings - tried to help. They tried anything and everything to return his memories, but it all ended in failure. Now, you were left with pointless apologies, apology after apology each one grating on your nerves.

So, you hid.

Hiding from the pitiful stares, hiding from the insurmountable heartache, hiding from the one person who you cherished more than creation itself.

However, you couldn’t - and shouldn’t - hide forever. And before you worked up the courage, your feet had already carried you to him, carried you home. You knocked on the bedroom door, knocked on your own bedroom door.

A voice, so soothing and resounding, spoke from the other side. “You may enter.”

You opened the door, peeking your head in.

Morpheus sat perfectly straight on the edge of the vast bed draped in his signature midnight color. His eyes, those beautiful twinkling blue, stared off emotionless as he retreated deep within his thoughts searching through his shattered memories. His hands clasped together, yet he mindlessly twisted a ring - a ring he cannot recall giving nor receiving, a matching ring you wore on your hand.

His eyes slid over to you, blank and reserved.

Eyes of a forgotten life.

He stopped fidgeting with his hands, and placed them in his lap. He nodded, respectfully. “Hello.”

“Hi.” You hovered by the door. “Is it okay if I come in?”

“This is your place, just as it is mine so please do not feel you cannot enter because of my sake.”

You nodded, closing the door behind you. You shuffled over, and plopped down on the bed with a sizable space between the two of you. Swallowing down the pain, you whispered. “Did any of it help? Being in here? Seeing our life together?”

Morpheus paused, then solemnly shook his head. “I am truly sorry, but I cannot recall you nor our life together.”

Your throat constricted. You blinked back a few tears and nodded, turning away from him.

“I wish I could.” He confessed in a soft voice. His attention was back on the ring. “I cannot remember anything, but it does pain me to see such a sullen look on your face” - his eyes flickered over, connecting with yours “- and if such feelings reside in me then maybe not all hope is lost.”

You blinked.

And surprisingly, you laughed. A short bubble of laughter.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed together.

“You,” you smiled softly at him, “you are still my Dream; still hopeful despite it all.”

His eyes widened slightly, taken back by your statement. Yet, his shock vanished, giving way to a kind, gentle smile. A loving smile only you ever saw. “I am beginning to see why you are part of my life.”

You laughed again, a true loud laugh filled with joy and hope.

Oh, it was like an old melody to Morpheus. One he had rediscovered after centuries, and nearly lost to time. His heart skipped - a quick flutter. He truly loved such thrilling feelings - feelings that he deeply missed, feelings that apparently came true again with you.

“What?” He breathed out, wishing to hear the reason for your honey rich laughter.

“Sorry,” your laughter faded, but a wide grin was left behind, “you always said you couldn’t imagine a life without me. I guess hearing you say that just proves that your memories of us are still inside you just locked away somehow.”

“Ah.”

You smiled. “You know, you called me your North Star once, that I was the one thing always guiding you back home.”

“My star.” He whispered, tasting how the words were familiar on his lips.

Your breath hitched. “Yeah, your star.”

A frown tugged on the corner of his lips. Questions surged. Why did this happen? How could it be fixed? Why did his heart ache in your presence? Why were his thoughts scrambled and confusing? How could he forget his love?

How could he forget his beautiful star?

Seeing his frown, you leaned over and clasped his hand. His eyes fell to your hand. Hesitantly, unsure of himself, he turned his hand, offering his palm. You instantly, like all the times before, intertwined your fingers with his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “We will figure this out.”

He continued to stare at your hand in his, stare at the set of matching rings. He wordlessly nodded.

“Morpheus.”

His eyes trailed up.

You tilted your head and smiled, trying to ease any of his worries and pains. With your free hand, you reached out to cup his face, but froze. Your hand hovered awkwardly beside his face. He was Dream, your Dream, but you weren’t his - you were still a stranger.

“You may touch me.” His voice was low, oddly thick with uncertain emotions.

You cupped his face.

He immediately leaned into your touch, and sighed in relief. Odd, how a stranger brought such comfort.

But how can I unlock his memories? You thought.

You brushed your thumb over his cheekbone. “Can … can I try something?”

“What?”

“Could,” you nervously licked your lips, “could I kiss you? I … I don’t know if it could help or -“

“You may.” He answered.

Anything, he thought. Anything to remember you.

You blinked, surprised by his eagerness. You mumbled a shaky ‘okay’. You scooted closer, and drew his face towards yours. Your eyes dropped to his lovely pink lips. Leaning in, your lips brushed over his, almost waiting for him to tell you to stop. Nothing, no objections. You closed your eyes and pressed a gentle chaste kiss.

However, Morpheus stared, rigid. Somehow overwhelmed and underwhelmed all at once.

Just a hollow ache.

You began to pull back.

“Is that how you greet your husband?” Morpheus amused by your short fleeting kiss.

You hummed, smiling. “If you want something, then ask my dear husband.”

His heart leapt into his throat.

A memory, just a passing snippet, but one memory had returned. You backed away, but he soon quickly chased after you. His arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. “Again,” he muttered against your lips, “please, kiss me again.

You didn’t hesitate, and you didn’t hold back.

You kissed him with more passion - with more desperation.

Please, bring him back to me.

You threw your arms over his shoulders, and carded your fingers through the ends of his hair. He sighed, fluttering his eyes closed. Your lips moved in sync, in this wondrous dance of take and give. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss. Your tongue grazed over his bottom lip. It ached for entry, and you could only pray he would answer. And he did, he relinquished all control.

Your lips curled into a giddy smile. Your tongue slipped in, tasting him just as you’ve done so many times before. Your nails scraped against his head. He shivered. You tugged on his soft raven locks.

Morpheus hummed.

He was thrilled by how well you knew his body, and how easily he reacted to your touch.

Without thinking, he moved you. He brought you onto his lap.

It was instinctual, completely out of habit.

Your hands slid out of his hair, dragging your nails down his neck, down his shoulders, and rested on his chest. You bunched up his shirt. Needs and pleasure clouded you. You gently pushed on him. He fell back onto the blankets and pillows.

His chest heaved - all his air was stolen by you. Not only the air in his lungs, but his thoughts were stolen too.

Stolen by a not quite stranger.

Breathless, you stared down at Morpheus. His eyes showed no signs of recognition, only hints of wonder and confusion for the stranger who knew him so well. Did I take it too far? Am I overstepping? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -“

“It’s okay,” he said. “I asked for that, did I not?”

You nodded and quietly asked, “So, did … did it help? Did you remember anything?”

“I did.”

“You did?” You tried not to let your excitement overtake you.

“It was small, a simple conversation.”

“Okay, uh, that’s good,” you whispered.

Your lips still tingled with the ghost of his, and you could still taste him on your tongue. Nervously, you adjusted yourself to comfortably straddle his waist. Your hands still laid on his chest, resting above his beating heart.

Should you keep going?

God, you wanted to.

But.

“We can keep going or we can stop. Just tell me. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” You said.

Morpheus’s hands skimmed up your thighs, and curled around your hips. Again, it was such a natural act - it was what felt right.

You smirked down at him. The sunlight from Fiddler’s Green haloed around you. “What do you want, my king?”

“You.” He answered. His hands latched onto your hips, not wishing for you to be anywhere else. “You and only you, my love - my star.”

Morpheus blinked.

Another memory, another wonderful memory. His back itched at the faint memory of the prickly blades of grass, and his skin was warmed by the nonexistent sun.

It was all here. All the memories of you were still here.

“Morpheus?” You asked, concerned by his silence.

He swallowed, tightening his grip on you. “Do not stop.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I want to remember.”

You smiled. You bent down, and kissed him softly. “As you wish, my king.”

My king.

He loved how it rolled off your tongue.

Yours.

You trailed kisses down his jaw and neck. He instantly craned his head, surprised by how his body simply acted.

“I will never grow tired of marking your skin,” you whispered the confession into the crook of his neck. Your teeth grazed over his flawless skin, making him shiver. You enjoyed - immensely - marking his skin, enjoyed how easily he bruised, and how quickly he healed to repeat the process all over again the next night. “And you may not remember now, but I know you love it when I do.”

“Louder,” you murmured. You nipped at his neck, adding to the countless amount of love bites you created. “I want the whole kingdom to hear you.”

Morpheus groaned.

“Again.”

A moan, faint and soft, rumbled in the back of his throat. Memories and reality clashed together, fueling his growing pleasure.

You sat back, and ran your hands down his chest. Biting your lip, you slipped your hands under his shirt.

His breath stuttered.

Your delicate fingers traced over every curve, every taunt muscle, every inch of his body. To you, his body was an instrument. You knew where to touch to draw out such lovely sounds, to create a symphony of pleasure. Slowly, you lifted up his shirt, revealing the body you had seen dozens upon dozens times before. The body of a friend, the body of a lover, the body of your husband.

Before you could ask, Morpheus sat up, shucked off his coat and shirt then tossed it all onto the floor.

Excited, you started to remove your shirt, when his hands stopped you.

“May I?” He asked.

You smiled. “Of course.”

Taking the hem of your shirt, he carefully lifted it up and over your head, throwing it into the pile he created. His eyes fell to your body - a body he had not seen before, but his hands knew of it. They danced over your skin, running over your curves and edges. Like muscle memory.

Yet, he did not touch you where you wanted him to. You swiftly unclipped your bra, adding it to the pile on the floor.

Morpheus, however, stared, transfixed by you.

“You can touch me,” you whispered. “I want you to touch me.”

His hands brushed up your sides and cupped your bare breasts. You let out a breathy sigh, and dropped your head forward. He gently played with them, kneading and occasionally pinching your hardened nipples. He was more enthralled by your soft moans that constantly tumbled out of your parted lips.

But, he quickly moved on.

One hand glided up your chest, and grabbed the back of your neck, bringing you to him.

Your lips.

He could not get enough of your lips.

“Morpheus,” you mumbled as his lips left yours. “What are you doing?”

He smiled, one that hid secrets. “Can I not kiss the one I love?”

You huffed, smiling back at him. “You can, but here? In the library?“

He swooped in again, stealing another kiss. “I wish to kiss you wherever and whenever I please.”

Morpheus parted his lips, and slipped his tongue in your mouth. It swirled around, savoring each second. He knew without thinking exactly how to render you into a mess.

And a mess you were becoming.

You whimpered, and clung to him. You rolled your hips, needing just a bit of friction.

Morpheus moaned in your mouth.

Empowered by it, you rolled your hips again.

He swiftly broke the kiss, releasing a shaky breath. All of this was insanity, but he wouldn’t stop - couldn’t.

And neither could you.

You were becoming relentless.

You kissed up and down his neck, and soon nipped at him. The first of many marks to come. He hummed, and wrapped his arms around your waist. You bit him again, and again, sucking on his bruisable skin. He groaned, holding you tighter.

“I will make you remember me,” you promised.

He shivered. Such an exciting promise.

You pushed him back down. And he willingly complied.

Smiling, you then began to kiss down his chest. Occasionally, biting and sucking at his skin.

He sighed, closing his eyes.

Marking up his chest, you moved farther and farther downwards. You kissed each of his hips, then paused - paused at the waistband of his pants, clearly in the way. You peered up at him.

He cracked open his eyes, glancing down at you. His heart soared at such a sight: you peering up through your lashes with a teasing smile on your swollen lips. Licking his lips, he nodded - a quick jerk.

Your smile widened.

Undoing his pants, you swiftly discarded all the layers of confining fabrics, including his underwear. The King of Dreams, Ruler of the Nightmare Realm laid completely bare before you, with red splotches dotted over his once perfect skin, just like so many times before.

Your eyes fell to his hardened cock. Biting back a smile, you carefully wrapped your fingers around it.

He tilted his chin back, groaning through clenched teeth. With the barest feathery touch, pleasure - unadulterated pleasure - surged through him. Pleasure he didn’t know of, but his body certainly did.

“Remember all of our nights spent together.” You teasingly stroked him. His mouth fell open, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Remember how some of those nights I had you begging.”

“Say it, Morpheus.”

Morpheus sprawled out on his back. Sweat covered his forehead, making his usually chaotic hair lay down flat. He was left utterly breathless. His hand was tangled in your hair, tugging on it in a silent plea to keep going. He licked his lips, and mumbled, “Please.”

You smirked, peering up at him with your face nestled between his legs. You peppered butterfly kisses up his cock. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

Morpheus moaned.

Your thumb ran over his tip collecting his precum. Your movements were painstakingly slow, easing him - or torturing him in his case - to his high.

He greedily bucked his hips.

“Patience,” you purred, “I need you to remember all of it.”

You let go of him, and he nearly whined.

“Remember how my lips feel against your skin.” You nipped his hip, bruising him further. “Remember how my hands trail over your body.” Your hands skimmed up his sides, sending waves of goosebumps. “Remember how I whisper and moan in your ear.” You crawled on top of him, and ducked your head and gently blew at his ear. He shivered. “Remember how much you mean to me.”

“I love you.”

Morpheus froze. He slowly turned, looking at you. You were gaping like a fish, stunned by your own sudden confession.

“I … I do,” you mumbled, finding your voice again, “and you don’t have to say anything right now. I just … I just thought you should know. I love you, Morpheus.”

He stayed silent, his expression was blank.

Embarrassed, you glanced away.

“Love … love is something I know of fondly, and I also know of the heartbreak and ruin that inevitably follows.” His voice was barely above a whisper as the truth spilled out.

You peered back over at him.

His expression was now soft, and full of love and adoration. He gently cupped your face, bringing you close to him. He pressed his forehead to yours, letting his world be consumed by you. He smiled, “But with you, it feels … different. I know it will be. You keep me grounded, and I am safe and home with you by my side. You, my love, are my guiding star - my North Star, always bringing me back to you. So yes, I do love you. I love you more than you could ever fathom.”

You pulled away from him, looking down at his lust filled eyes - the dark void overtaking the pristine blue galaxies.

You quickly shimmed out of your pants and underwear, wanting to fill his needs, wanting him to come back to you.

You hovered over him. The tip of his cock skimmed over your wet folds. You cursed under your breath. While, Morpheus’s hands latched onto your hips, excited and relieved. He almost pushed you down himself. But, thankfully, you finally gave in.

You sank down on him, enjoying how he stretched and filled you.

His jaw clenched. Heavenly, would be one word to describe such a sensation. Addicting, would be another.

Your hands rested on his chest. You began to move your hips up and down - savoring it, memorizing it. How deliciously full you felt, how easily he meddled with your body.

Countless nights spent like this, countless nights of love and passion, countless nights of whispered confessions. You wouldn’t lose him, you couldn’t.

Your nailed dragged down his chest as you found a steady rhythm.

A moan rumbled in his throat.

His hands moved up and splayed across your back. He then, surprising himself, sat up. He was so desperate to have you closer. It was cold without your skin pressed up against his.

Cold and lonely.

Smiling at him, your hands moved to his shoulders for support. You continued to bounce, an easy languid pace, watching as pleasure washed over his features. Your fingers played with the edges of his hair, occasionally tugging on him sending shivers down his spine.

Then, you rolled your hips.

Waves of pleasure coursed through Morpheus. He dropped his head, nuzzling his face into your neck. His heavy breath fanned over your hot skin.

“Look at me, Morpheus, please.” His head fell back, staring up at you with dazed eyes. You smiled, and pressed your forehead to his. “I’m right here. I got you.”

Looking into your eyes, he was lost within them.

Lost within the surge of memories.

Each one zipped by, each one beautiful and loving, from the moment you met to the last one - him kissing you goodbye before he left for the Waking. It was a chaotic whirlwind, leaving him dizzying and his heart pounding.

He blinked as tears welled up, he matched your smile and cupped your face. “My star.”

Your heart skipped. Is he -

“My sweet star,” he pressed his lips to yours, “how could I forget you.”

You laughed, almost about to cry with absolute joy. “Morpheus, my Dream, welcome back.”

He kissed you again, loving how your lips fit against his. The perfect puzzle piece, his other half, his guiding star.

He carefully flipped you around, gently laying you on your back. He smiled down at you, brushing away a tear that escaped your eye. Your smile was wide, and beautiful as ever. He loved your smile, loved how you lit up a room with it.

He rolled his hips, and his cock slid out and back in.

Your smile dropped as you let out a breathy moan.

He also loved to hear such sounds from you.

He buried his face into your neck. “My star, my love. Forgive me.”

You grabbed his face, making him look at you, “There is nothing to apologize for.”

Smiling, he took your hand, kissing your knuckles - kissing your ring. “Then allow me, your loving husband, to take care of you.”

He rocked his hips again.

You sighed in wonderful bliss and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him down to you. Each stroke filled you, each one hit all the right spots. Oh, it was great to have him back.

His hand trailed down your side, stopping at your thigh. In an instant, he swiftly hooked your leg up and over his shoulder. An intense bloom of pleasure coursed through you. You moaned loudly and unabashedly as you arched your back.

“How could I forget such beautiful sounds,” Morpheus hummed.

He snapped his hips.

You whimpered. Your nails clawed at his back. Ribbons of red slashed over his already bruised skin. He moved at a new, deliciously, unforgiving pace. Each stroke you saw stars. You barely could catch your breath.

“Morpheus,” you moaned.

“Hmm, how could I forget such beauty.” He lifted your hips, hitting a new spot.

You gasped.

The sinful sounds of skin smacking together, the sounds of him sliding in and out, the sounds of his heavy breathing and deep soothing voice - it was nearly too much. His hands re-explored what he had almost forgotten. He needed to touch you, touch every part of you. They grazed up your sides, and pinched one of your nipples.

You moaned.

“Never again.” He whispered.

He mercilessly pounded into you, committing every second to memory. He dared not forget a single second.

Your walls clamped around him, you would not last much longer. “Morpheus,” you warned him.

“Let me see it,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “Let me see what I’ve nearly forgotten.”

He would not forget you.

He would not forget how your lips fell apart as you cried out in pleasure, how your head tilted back into the pillows, how your eyes fluttered close and bliss overtook you. Smirking, he fiercely continued to work you through your orgasm, remembering how he loved to watch as you withered in overwhelming pleasure, as you clung to him whispering his name over and over. All of it was divine. Sweet bliss. He quickly followed, reaching his own end, as your name tumbled off his lips.

But, you swallowed up his sounds. You hungrily kissed him, drawing him down to you.

Morphues chuckled in the back of his throat.

You pulled away, cupping his face as he hovered over you. “Don’t you dare let something like that happen again.”

He smiled sweetly. “I promise.”

He bent down kissing you again. You hummed, thankful the cruel nightmare was over. Your Dream was back.

He whispered into your lips, “But, I will not object if this is how to regain my memories of you.”

You huffed through your nose. You brought him down onto the bed, so you could hold him properly, to have your husband back in your arms. “Later. Right now, I just want to stay right here like this.”

He wrapped his arms around you, grateful to be back. “As you wish, my star.”

Never again.

He will remember you, forever and always.

#the sandman #morpheus #dream #dream of the endless #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #dream x afab!reader #Morpheus x afab!reader #morpheus smut #dream smut #smut #the sandman smut #afab!reader

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ravengards-rogue · 3 months

Text

✧ gender neutral reader, reader has a fucked up life ksdlkflk

wyll tells you he loves you anticlimactically. he waxes poetically about his feelings for you often that there's not really so much of a need to say it to you. you are the orange of his sunset and every shade of vibrancy tucked into the corners of the world.

love is almost juvenile in comparison to the adoration he experiences.

when he does tell you he loves you - he's hoping for reciprocity. for all the other ways you show him your affection, you keep your attentions rapt and your lips sealed tight. you'll touch him softly, or bring him something to eat. you'll show him you love him, but you never say it.

it makes wyll wonder if there is some reason for it. or if its something you struggle to say.

"i love you," soft and warm like flame licked embers of a campfire going dull. your expression changes microscopically, you smile. but you still don't say anything. "do you feel the same?"

you're surprised by his asking. "of course,"

wyll isn't offended, he tries to assure through his words. "i've never heard you say it before."

you don't take time to consider it.

"im loyal to you. i'd die for you. those things are more apt than love." you say instead.

you sit next to the campfire and sharpen your daggers in silence.

"i'd much prefer if you lived for my sake." wyll offers back, his knees bumping yours. you don't budge. your expression is unchanging. you turn your head to look towards him, dagger against sheath as you admire its reflection.

"if it was for your sake, ravengard - i'd lay my life down. as your comrade or your lover. if it was my life or yours, i'd pick yours."

wyll does not know at first how to weigh sentiment. he then, briefly, remembers you at the start of your journey. concerned with yourself. only yourelf - isolated like a mutt chained to a post and left for dead. an animal that's gnawed through metal to stay alive.

because of that, violence comes to you naturality wyll should abhor. your instinct is to kill. maim and shred and rip apart until there's nothing that should threaten your life that you regard preciously. since no one else ever would

he should abhor it so deeply.

he doesn't though. there's nothing that wyll could condemn you for now - this late in your journey. should your nose shepherd you to violence, wyll won't ask you to heel. only if he think you're at risk of losing control would he take place in placating you.

only for wyll are you docile.

you had to survive for only yourself for many years. it showed in how you carried yourself. potent paranoia. in the beginning you hardly smiled and did the kind things like you were waiting for them to hurt you. you were always surprised when they did not. now you've melded so far into the pack, wyll forgets what you once were.

the words are not light, wyll thinks. no matter which way you pose them. he feels odd trying to internalize such a thing. you would die for him. a rush of euphoria following by a ticklish sensation abut how much he commandeers you, how he guides you.

he would prefer you to live for yourself. but if you'll give your life for his sake, all he can do is cherish it.

"my life is yours, wyll. should you try you try to give yourself up again, i will take your place. should the world turn its back on you, i will turn my back on it."

your voice does not tremble. there is confidence, conviction in the sentiment that traverses beyond just warmth.

is there a word stronger than undying love? wyll should look for it. you smile softly then add. "i love you too. if you must hear it so much."

wyll reaches for your hands as you put your own weapon away. he grips it firm in his hand. his heart murmurs your name when he sees your face flush in embarrassment.

"i won't take it for granted. i promise."

you chuckle and squeeze his hand tighter. "damn right you won't."

#d.rogues love letters #bg3 x reader #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x reader

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namazunomegami · 3 months

Text

Into the Void

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn!reader

Synopsis: Geto is so succumbed to his ideals that you have no choice but to run. But the hunt for you is more than a simple chase. It's resurrection. It's repentance. Just like in the parable of the lost sheep.

CW: canon compliant, established relationship, predator/prey, injuries, blood, toxic dynamics, heavy religious symbolism, emotional distress, dissociation, tiny bit of hurt/comfort, yandere behavior, Geto is a manipulative ass how surprising

WC: 5.2k whoops

Credits: my dear @notveryrussian for proofreading but tbh I should start calling you my editor from now on lmao. I'm glad you enjoyed my sneak peeks so much 💕

Song rec: since I can't control myself, I picked 3 songs by Nine Inch Nails that gives the perfect vibes to the story. For the exposition, I recommend Heresy, mostly because the lyrics resonates with the reader's thoughts about Geto. For the escape/chase part, I picked Eraser for the creepy vibes and reader's slowly deterioriating sanity. For the closing part, I picked A warm place because it's a comforting yet a bit gloomy track

A/N: Saying that this idea possessed me is an understatement. Initially I only wanted to put effort into the whole chase scene but obviously I started to add lore into the whole thing. And since they grew on me and I simply love their dynamic, a part 2 is on the way yaaay.

Minors shall not interact unless they wanna get punched.

And a usual warning for dark content. I wanted to keep it mild but I couldn't. Maybe I'm a lil bit too skilled when it comes to writing about fear.

It’s all too painful to think that maybe running away with Geto wasn’t the best idea.

Of course you loved him, you loved the twins too and the makeshift family you created, it really healed some of the wounds you received in the past. But you wished it would’ve stayed that way. Living together, somewhere far away, isolated, in peace. Have a fresh start, build a nest for the four of you and fill it up with love.

But he had other plans.

There were a lot of improvements in the initial phase of your plans. Building community, uniting the herd. You enjoyed some reverence from the followers too. Eventually the initial number of breakthroughs began to stagnate, despite all the effort. It became routine, like you were being dragged through the same day for years and years without end. When you were faced with even more setbacks, you started to realize that you basically never left the temple and it soon began to feel like a cage. Golden and holy. It was draining to see people lose their sense of individuality and how he became their only source of validation. It was torment. Living life as an idol of worship tucked into a forgotten corner of a church. Praised like a twisted Gothic Madonna with a blue cloth over your head, but in reality you weep, you’re their Mater Dolorosa, with swords piercing your sorrowful heart.

The most devastating thing about realizing you’re not fit to run a cult, is the fact that you lack the most understated yet important aspect of it: believing in the agenda you want to spread. How could you guide all those helpless, simple-minded sheep while questioning whether your destination is real or not? Maybe that Canaan has nothing to do with milk and honey, instead it’s just a pile of rubble.

You soon got tired of it all. His drive, his goal, all too impossible to achieve. Maybe he knew he could never make it happen, but it consumed him regardless. You’ve lost the most cherished parts of him to his hatred, his deeply repressed rage against any injustices he had to deal with after the infamous Star Plasma incident.

You weren’t sure about your feelings towards Geto anymore. Were you afraid of him? Angry at him? Bitter? Disappointed? Worried? It all turned into mush, a grotesque, black liquid as the thin walls of the temple slowly made you feel like they were closing in on you. You had no idea how much time you had, until your unresolved feelings will taint the whole place.

You always circled back to the worst possible action to protect your soft, aching heart… When you thought that nothing will change for the better, you wanted to run away. You wanted to hide. The ambivalence of your feelings towards him weighed on your heart and conscience, like a thousand stones. You loved him, yet you loathed what has become of him. Despite that you trusted him with the map of your soul, made it through all the highs and lows of your relationship so far, all the deep abysses of pain and suffering.

Maybe you should run, just for the sake of it. To test how it will make you feel. Will it make you feel freed? At ease? Will it lift the weights on your chest? Will this sense of incoming doom vanish?

Maybe you should find Gojo. He wouldn’t condemn you, but he would be disappointed. If you set your judgement and resentment to aside, he’s the only one who can talk with the higher ups to scratch your name off the list of curse users who are on death row.

How much time did you need to forge your plan? Not even a single minute. It was only natural for you to memorize everybody’s routine, how to distinguish the sound of their steps, to pick a timeframe when nobody is lurking around the halls. The first (and probably last) time you were glad those who have hurt you gave you a skill, besides the ability to harness cursed energy of course. They made you stealthy, alert, observant.

And when Geto left you to cater to his followers, you decided to put your plan into action.

Your body is strung tight with the tension of waiting, agitation making you feel as if you were unraveling at the seams - but something deep inside of your mind pleaded for you to stay. Agony and anxiety were plaguing you until you’ve found enough courage to get up and sneak out. Now, you had the chance to show off everything you’ve learned: sliding the doors shut so slowly that they don’t make a noise, walking down the corridors with socked feet, carefully putting the middle parts of your feet on the floor, instead of your heels, easily avoiding those parts that creak.

Sometimes, when he was immersed in his thoughts, he was amused by how faint your steps sounded.

An involuntary instinct warns you. It’s trying to convince you that he can see you through the eyes of bodhisattvas residing in the thangka paintings decorating the walls. You almost give up your quest as you glance at the depiction of Vajrabhairava. In all its anger, with its six faces and twelve limbs. A dreadful beast that defies death itself.

You don’t want to do this to him, do you?

You look away from the painting, focusing on getting your shoes on and climbing out through the window. As you’re squatting on the windowpane, you can see all of Tokyo stretched out beneath you. You’re a little bit annoyed that all temples are built on a mountain. A long way to go, but you can never know when this place will turn into a funeral pyre.

It’s a little bit too easy. There’s no sign of surveillance curses nearby, you only need to slide down on the wet tiles, jump up high, land in the mud and let yourself be swallowed by the darkness of the forest. You specifically picked your least conspicuous clothes to blend into your surroundings perfectly. And the cold and murky night will let you go safely. The leaves will conceal your tracks.

So many things are working in your favor tonight.

You know there’s no need to rush. You can only draw attention to yourself if you are running around, creating noise and disturbing the wildlife. You don’t even use a flashlight, you have to get used to the darkness, the full Moon will guide you with all her dazzling light. And after that, Tokyo will do the same, with its crowded streets and all its places to hide.

There’s a weird kind of tranquility in your heart. How the cold prickles your skin, the moisture in the air, the faint noise of the creatures dwelling under the leaves, up in the trees, singing, chirping, crawling. The scent of wet soil, the gentle caress of the wind…

Now, you feel free.

As you walk deeper and deeper into the woods, you feel lighter, you feel like you could fly away, like you could dance all the way towards your destination. You’re thinking about actually doing that, as if you got possessed by a strange spirit…

But the uneven, slippery ground makes you fall right into the mud. You squirmed a little, trying to get hold of a tree trunk and then…

Silence, dead silence.

Your heart sinks deep in your chest.

You know what it means. When nature falls silent. There’s…

There’s a threat nearby.

A primal instinct tells you to run.

There’s no way, there’s no fucking way that he already noticed you were gone.

Twigs whip at your skin as you’re running mindlessly. Wherever you end up, it will be fine, as long as you can enter the outskirts of the city. The cold night air stings your throat, your heaving breath leaves your mouth in puffy clouds. You feel the urge to cough, deep from your bone-dry lungs.

The ground beneath you turns soft and steep. You lose your poise, stumbling and rolling all the way down until you fall from a high clod of rain-washed soil. Your body collides with a cold, wet, yet incredibly hard and flat surface, fraying the skin on your palm and face. Your back and shoulders will be bruised by tomorrow, painting your body with black and blue spots. The pain ripples through your entire being, paralyzing you for a couple of moments.

As you slowly gathered your battered self from the ground with a grunt, you realize you landed on a road. It’s a good sign, you’re not so far from civilization. But instead of following the road, cutting through the forest is the wiser decision.

Your relief is short-lived, just like a may fly.

A sinister feeling takes hold on you. It makes you freeze, squeezing your insides. Like you’re sitting in the jaw of an eldritch beast. You slowly turn back to the direction of your fall.

The lights are flickering.

You grab on the guardrail for dear life. You try to fill your lungs with shaky breaths, your heart desperately beating against your ribcage. Your trembling knees barely keep you upright, yet nothing can make you move. You have been found, you’re defeated, there’s no point in running away from him. The injuries, the already forming bruises will only deplete your strength.

How could you fight him? You’re aware that if he wanted to, he could break your bones and twist your body at the joints with an arm behind his back.

How could you outrun him? He’s capable of summonning a swarm of curses before you even take a step.

How could you make war with him?

Three of the lamp lights were already out, you stared into the darkness, the boundless abyss right before your eyes. You can’t even force yourself to blink.

And when the lights came back on, he was just standing there. Without breaking a sweat. Your pulse feels non-existent.

What infuriated you even more was that he wasn’t wearing his gojo-kesa. The motherfucker even gave you a head start by changing into something comfortable before he came to fetch you. Or simply he noticed your absence later than you expected.

Whatever, both is bad news for you.

He doesn’t utter a single word, he merely walks towards you. Slowly cornering you. Feasting on the terror on your face. Meanwhile you can’t unravel what could possibly be going on in his mind. The only thing you notice is that those violet sparks in his eyes are so sharp they could cut yours out of their sockets.

Should you give up? Should you beg for forgiveness?

But then, an idea blooms inside your mind.

You don’t hide your fear, you let your body tremble freely, fingers desperately clinging onto the metal, with your shoulders hunched to protect your neck and your wide, frightened eyes stare back at him. Letting him believe that you won’t fight back. That he can take you back to the temple and throw you back into your cage.

And when his foot hits the bisector, you jump. Right into the nothingness behind your back.

You fall on leaves and broken twigs again. You roll and roll with such speed you can’t comprehend the growing distance. Not even having an idea of how far you’re from him. Small rocks, branches, hardened roots of trees, bones all cut, scratch and pierce you. But you endure it, you’ll undergo any torture if it meant you’ll be freed. Your only hope is that the adrenaline will deal with the pain.

Suddenly, you violently crash into a tree, the ridged texture imprints deeply into your stomach. Acid bursts from your throat. Your diaphragm didn’t avoid the hit either, breathing is not unlike Sisyphean task as you try to get your shaking limbs to stand. Your mind is disturbed by the lack of air and your desperate attempts at getting yourself together. You’re wheezing like a dog. You must look pathetic, you think.

It takes almost all of your mental strength to calm down and slowly breathe through your nose, your lungs finally opening. But Geto won’t let you recover, you hear the fallen leaves getting crushed under his feet. You take a few sharp, ragged breaths, like it’s the last drag of a cigarette before the train comes and then, you move.

You hide behind a thick pine tree, palms covering your mouth and nose. The lack of oxygen is just another frustrating hindrance to your successful escape plan. Dizziness fills your head like a thick fog and sucks the strength out of your shins, needing to lean against the trunk to keep yourself standing. You try to conceal your cursed energy with all your might. A tracker who’s untraceable is a useful pawn in the hands of the higher ups, this skill made you a cherished student back in the day. Back when everything was so… no, it’s only the nostalgia making you wistful, it wasn’t any better.

The rustling gets quieter, you wait until the sound eventually dies. An almost muted sigh of relief leaves your lips in a thick cloud, dancing in the cold air.

From the corner of your eye, a floating form cuts through the pale moonlight.

Looking closely at its shape, you realize what kind of curse it is. The beetle looking one that attacks instantly once it senses movement. You can’t believe it, you’re going to -

The curse drags itself into your aura, scanning your form that is fused with the pine. Every muscle is tensed, you’re stiff as a board, you suppress every reflex in your eye and empty chest. You’re just like a statue, a corpse, showing no signs of life. Only an agonizing scream echoes inside your skull. A scream that puts mental breakdowns to shame.

It’s like an eternity until the curse finally disappears from your sight.

You definitely look exhausted, your body is limp and heavy like lead. But you must keep going at all costs, even if you have no idea how many curses are sent after you. You walk around the mountain instead of going down like he’d expect it.

Slowly yet surely, you calm yourself down. You know that you’re still in his grasp, but you still have a chance to outsmart him. You go deeper and deeper, you’re near the heart of the forest now. The moonlight barely crawls through the leaves, it’s easier to navigate according to what you hear rather than to what you see. The surroundings are growing eerie, you ache for light and warmth. And the longing sucks a bit of spirit out of you.

Before you can start questioning yourself, the sound of running water fills your ears.

A narrow, yet fast running stream plowed through the forest. Though you were unsure of staying close to the stream, going through it and getting to the other side sounds like a smart idea. As you take a reluctant step, you realize the water is ice cold. And when you dive into it further, enduring the strong current, it’s not as shallow as you believed. You’re submerged all the way up to your thighs. At its deepest point, the stream hugs your waist. The cold makes your movements slow and rigid, your teeth clang together in a frenzy. The bottom is filled with smooth, flat pebbles, they make it easy to -

You slip on the rounded, polished stones and fall into the stream. The freezing temperature makes your skin shrink, it prickles you like a thousand needles. Scared, you crawl around the bottom, trying to get a hold of something and emerge back to the surface. A sharp, burning pain wakes in your palm, tears streaming down your cheeks. You try to swallow your scream, but it wants to burst from your lungs, you grunt and whimper until you can bite down on your sweatshirt, letting the material muffle your shout. Your gaze fixates on your hand and even in the darkness of the night, you see blood oozing from the deep cut, from your own torn flesh. The urge to retch is strong.

You palm is plunged back into the cool water, in hope of easing the pain.

He calls out your name right behind you.

You crawl out of the water, running from him, just as before. It doesn't matter how many times you trip, fall, stumble. It doesn’t matter how your fresh wounds end up in the mud, you don’t have it in you care about the pain or the looming threat of an infection. You hear him trying to reason with you. You must come back home, you’re injured, you’re bleeding. He must take care of you.

Why are you running? Where could you go? Who’s going to help you recover?

No, you mustn’t let your determination crumble. But oh… it sounds so easy. Giving in to your hopelessness.

An evergreen bush becomes your shelter to collect yourself and check on your wound, which is aching from all the dirt and is still bleeding. Water is dripping from your hair, your clothes are soaked, makes it easier for the cold night air to bite into you, to shake the whole length of your body. Your fingers are hardly moving and have no strength in them. The adrenaline is starting to wear off. You feel alone, small, and vulnerable. You’re freezing, scarred and aching. All the things you see in the dark twist into creepy, threatening forms. Everything that surrounds you is suddenly dangerous. As a lonely spider crawls within your field of vision, you flinch. The world around you is evil and everything is after your flesh.

And the only person who can save you is the one you’re running away from.

What are you going to do now? Fight, flight, or freeze? Which instinct is going to win this time? Because comprehensible thoughts won’t work on you. Every little layer of a fully-fledged human with a conscience has been stripped from you. You left them scattered everywhere in the woods. You’re nothing more than a primordial shell of a being.

Ceremonial horns wake in the distance, soon followed by howling. They let the dogs out to hunt you down. Poor, little hare. Your own stupidity has woken up the beast.

Who is like unto the beast?

You defeat the paralyzing dread and decide on flight. You dash out from the bushes, but - Oh… your eye. Your soft doe eye. There’s something in it. And your tears have an oddly metallic taste on your tongue.

And power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues, and nations.

You wish you could see yourself from the outside, but you’re probably nowhere near as majestic as you think you are. Right now you feel like you’re the fastest, stealthiest creature who’s ever lived, even if your muscles are almost torn, weak, and tensed. This is the last crumb of your strength, this is your all.

And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him.

You don’t dare to look back. You know he’s there. He’s so close, he’s orbiting around you like a moon does with its planet. As if all of this is a dance. A hunt is a dance with a coital rhythm. And mother nature is the audience to your deadly waltz.

And he doeth great wonders, so that he maketh fire come down from heaven on the earth in the sight of men.

He takes your hand in his. Gentle and kind. To not scare you any further. You snap like an electric current under his touch, but you break free and zigzag between the trees.

He grabs your waist. Forcefully. It scares you this time. You escape from his embrace before he can swallow you whole. But he might have bit your throat during the process, you feel something trailing down your collarbones. You hear your bones crack.

It was all a mistake. You are a mistake. But mistakes can be forgiven, right? He has forgiven you so many times, you can’t even think of a number.

You slide down on a slope, leaves stick to your clothes, and you drop onto a thick trunk of a fallen oak. Tensive pain ripples in your side. You should stand up and run, but you can’t move. You won’t move. What’s wrong with you? What kind of prey gives the fight up before its last breath? But you think about your frozen limbs, the pain in your palm, your back, your shoulder blades, everywhere. You think about home… you want to go home or be left here to die. But the thought of dying here, alone, makes your heart palpitate rapidly, like there’s not enough air to fill your lungs. Your breathing becomes desperate, panicked even. Your chest hurts, your ribcage is ready to break apart by your racing heartbeat. You press your palms against your head, clawing into your hair. Every little morsel of you is bursting into a tremor. The connection between your mind, your body and the world cease to exist. And that lovely, unlimited stretch of space inside your consciousness is shaken, it’s in utter chaos. Breaking into tiny little pieces, like glass, like porcelain. Tears and plucks like paper and fabric. Shrieks and wails, rejecting the only thing that makes all creatures on this plane of existence agitated over their own mortality.

You’re doomed.

Unconsciously, your limbs curl into the very same position you took when you saw the world for the first time, protecting your belly and face, making you seem small. Geto knows you only do that when you fear what might happen to you, despite being unaware of the kind of terror your brain had subjected you to. That’s why he approaches you slowly, making no sudden movements as he picks you up gently, like one would lift a porcelain figure from the ground. When you open your eyes, he had already settled you into his lap as the manta ray curse lifts the two of you up to mount the skies.

You have no idea if he hunted you down or saved you from your own demise.

What a defiant, ungrateful creature you are, you think. You tried so viciously to run away from your burden, and now you feel safe with him again, you dare clinging to him, you dare seek his warmth. The contradicting thoughts and desires torture you on the way back. There’s only one faint voice inside your head that’s capable of calming you down, able to keep your sanity intact…

You’re the lost sheep, and he’s the shepherd who searched all over the world to find you. And he’ll bring you back to the flock, and he’ll love you more than the rest of them.

Your false god. Your fallacious savior. Will he forgive you if you repent on your knees? Until they get bloody and bruised?

Back at the temple, he refuses to let you take even a step on your own. You weren’t born to run, to soil your soles with the ground that filthy monkeys walk on. You’re meant to be worshipped, to claim the whole world as yours beneath dainty, soft feet.

The warm lamplight and the comfort of your shared room helps you unwind. To shift back into a much more civilized, humanlike state. And as you practically glue yourself to the heater, you notice more dirt, more cuts, more blood marring your flesh than you expected.

When you take off your grimy sweatshirt, shoes, and socks, Geto is towering over you. There’s nothing imposing about him, he looks rather troubled as he sighs.

“What do I do with you?”

You roll your eyes. Oh, the good old rhetorical question. He has no idea if he should treat your wounds first, bathe you or break your leg just like the Gospel says.

“Come, let me take a look at your hand.”

You see your reflection in the mirror, and you’re horrified. Your right eye is bloodshot, a deep cut is splitting through your lower lip. You’re drenched in mud, already dried on your face along with some patches of wine dark blood. Together they seal the scraped skin on your cheek, makes your hair stick together into thick strands, accessorized with pine leaves and other remains from your little hike. You’re blistered and torn, you can barely recognize yourself.

It's pleasant to rinse your hands with warm water at the sink, but the sight makes your stomach twist. That nasty wound is too deep, it has to be sewn shut. A shiver races down on your spine when you see the first aid kit. He soaks a fresh gauze pad with wound solution and guides it towards the gaping cut with a pair of tweezers. The sting is horrible, the burning sensation rivals acid being poured straight into your flesh, it makes you grunt and hiss. He gives you a moment to breathe and collect yourself then he continues, despite your whimpers and twitching, tensed fingers. But the pain pales in comparison to when he swipes a new, clean pad inside your wound, cleaning it of all the filth. A pathetic cry erupts from your throat.

“Stop.” you sob, pulling your hand away to hug it close to your chest. You’re too distressed to realize that the temporary discomfort is necessary. But maybe this whole act is nothing but another one of his silly little games.

He places a finger under your eye, close to your lashes and collects your tears. The sight of you crying is somehow not worth of savoring to him. Before any little drop of your sorrow and regret can roll down your cheek like diamonds, he smears them, as if they could make your misery vanish. Well, they can’t. It frustrates you that you can’t let your feelings manifest because he’s ready to devour them just like his curses.

He doesn’t care that your face is caked in dirt, blood and tears, he lifts your chin up to kiss you. Deeply. You’re not reprimanded for not kissing him back.

You were right, he’s definitely toying with you. He makes it hurt before he soothes the ache. He creates a connection in your mind. Like you’re the dog of Pavlov, slowly conditioned to associate him with anything that makes the human heart fill with delight.

The tiles attract your attention much more than watching how the curved needle dives into your skin, how the thread closes the wound proficiently. Your features soften for a moment. Shoko would be so proud of him... Not for the reason he got so good at it though. He learnt to treat his wounds for the sole purpose of not letting a non-sorcerer doctor ever touch him.

He’s crazy. Vile. Petty. And delusional. It drives you crazy too.

But when your stitched hand is wrapped up in bandages, you seriously think about thanking him for putting up with you. For not being angry at you.

“Maybe this will make you reconsider your actions next time.” he remarks in a flat tone, concealing what’s going on in his mind.

You keep your gratitude to yourself.

But it’s not an easy task when he continues spoiling you, with so much care that it rivals motherly love. How he rinses all the grime out of your hair, how he gives you a moment of peace in a tub filled with plain, warm water, no bubbles or scented oils to irritate your scarred, sensitive skin. He dries you, brushes your hair and fills the whole bedroom with the calming notes of lavender and cedarwood coming from the incense burners. But he’s just so fixated on your injuries… every scratch, every surface level cut is thoroughly sanitized. It’s still humiliating, even when you’re the one sitting comfortably on the bed and he’s kneeling on the floor.

You’re afraid the extra pampering will twist your reasoning and resolve. That’s all part of the mind games he plays. You know he’ll go out on his way to prove that the world outside is cruel, that this is the only place where you’re safe, loved. In his proximity, under his hand.

And somewhere, deep down, you admit that he’s close to convincing you.

It makes you mad, you want to tear him to shreds, you want to weep for him just like Mary did under the cross. There’s still care, there’s still love under all those layers of burning hatred. What remains is twisted though, but it is there.

After you’re patched up, he glances up at you, thumb brushing your lip right next to that nasty cut. His other hand is resting where your thigh and knee meet. It’s a sign, a warning.

“Was it worth it, little lamb?” his tone is soothing and playful. So close to being outright mockery.

You reflect in silence, averting your gaze from him. All those scars and discolored skin, your disturbed mind, and the ache in your bones - you realize that your stupid little plan was futile. Totally unnecessary, it’s no achievement you can be proud of. At least if you’re not as masochistic as to pride yourself on your injuries. But the fact that he can recognize the parallels coats your answer with bile.

“No.”

Because you know that you can be so much more… There’re unlimited possibilities to a repented non-believer. And now you know that being his doubting Thomas has no benefits.

Maybe you did lose your faith in him, like the lamb in that story, to eventually realize how much you need him and vice versa. But you’re not satisfied with being a lost sheep. You just haven’t decided on your role in his Gospel yet. This is your call, you don’t know exactly which part of him calls out to you, but you’re satisfied with either of them. Whether it’s a prophet, a messiah, a beast, or the devil itself. The fallen Morningstar who used to be the favorite.

This can be your true Genesis.

“Go on, break my leg if you want to. There’s meaning in that, at least.” you dare echo his last words to Gojo, clean and low.

And your bones remain whole.

You’re relieved. Though you’re sick of his maneuvers with your mind, you’re aware their purpose is not to hurt you or punish you. These aching limbs of yours go limp as he crawls into bed next to you. The arm you were scared of coils around your waist. Viciously tight, much like a snake. The snake that corrupted Eve in the garden. The one that made her sin, got her cast out of paradise, the one that turned her whole world upside down. And maybe Eve did fall in love with the serpent, the worst creature that God had ever created. But even though he caused the fall of mankind, the serpent freed you from the clutches of a jealous, ungrateful god who denied knowledge from his own creations. Now you have the passion to rebel, to prove your creator wrong, to avenge his mistreatment. Give in to the temptation of your snake, believe his honeyed words, accept the fruit for a second time. Because you still remember the taste, oh so sweet and luscious. And with all the power he wields, you can win back your lost Eden or re-build it on earth, the home you’re both yearning for. It’s a promise between the two of you, silent, because words are not needed, only closure.

Something warm blooms inside your chest. Yes, that’s it! You can finally feel it now…

The very first ounce of belief.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #idk why but geto is very downward spiral coded to me #fun fact the title is another song by nin lmao #and i dont delibaretely write him as a yandere but somehow i finish a fic and reread an then... whoops he's yandere #geto suguru x reader #meesa writes

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tinietaehyun · 2 months

Text

Forsaken [XII]

[Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader] [Series] [Chapter Twelve]

Pairing: Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader

Genres: Romance, royal!au, fantasy, enemies to lovers, fluff, action, thriller.

Contains: Profanity, description of injury, mentions of blood, suggestive themes, dialogue-heavy.

Links: Forsaken Masterlist || Masterlist

Summary: Having teleported successfully out of Prince Beomgyu’s palace, you were left with Taehyun bleeding out. You had to save him at all costs! Thankfully for you, you haphazardly manage to bandage his wound and can only hope he will wake up soon!

Though when he does, you find your time with him going quite a bit different than you expected. Not that you would ever complain of course. Not when it felt so right to have his lips against yours.

Your gaze pierces Taehyun’s unconscious figure who you have managed to sit up against the wall. With nimble fingers, you unbutton his shirt as you analyse the extent of his injuries. Fortunately, you managed to find the bandage wrap, disinfectant and some other useful items.

With widened eyes, you spot the medium size slice into the side of his torso just under the ribs. His smooth expanse of skin now marred with a soon to be scar, not that it mattered, his physique spoke for itself.

Blood had soaked into his shirt and cloak; it was a clean slice clearly done with a blade; most likely Beomgyu’s doing. A gruesome mixture of fresh blood dribbles down his side dripping onto his trousers and the floor with flakes of dried blood now forming around the wound. You wince feeling slightly nauseous at the sight of the wound.

You weren’t an expert healer, but you had quite the many falls as a child and watched how he would bandage up your wounds or the wounds of Fortuna’s soldiers; particularly Kai’s. Biting your lip in hesitation, you crouch down beside him. You’d try your best. You had to.

With a wet towel you clean the surrounding blood. You clearly see the clear laceration making you wince at the thought of receiving such a wound. With the disinfectant, you begin sanitising the wound, to which you were extremely thankful he was unconscious, you knew it would hurt terribly. You continue to use pressure to stop anymore excess bleeding.

Haphazardly, you lean over and wrap the bandages around his torso. You weren’t sure if the way you were doing it was correct, but you didn’t care. All that mattered to you currently was Taehyun’s well-being. You wanted him alive.

With a fatigued sigh, you finish up your pitiful bandaging attempt as you sit back resting on your hands peering at your handiwork. You rejoice at the colour rushing back to his cheeks; his paleness seeming to dissipate as the minutes pass. Relief floods your system, noticing his breathing was more stable.

You hope he will wake up soon. A frown graces your face; he risked his life for you. He made you go first. What if he didn’t make it in time? Goodness, you couldn’t even imagine the possibility. You scan his unconscious body as your eyes glaze over, “Taehyun,” you mutter shakily.

“Please wake up soon,” you whimper. You hoped that you did something to help. Taehyun had done so much for you, he comforted you. He himself had been wronged, yet he helped you, a royal. You wanted to return the favour. Give him back his rightful position as the true Royal Sorcerer of Fortuna. To recall his exile. To let him be by your side.

Your gaze drifts to the string with which your ring hangs. Your heart flutters; he truly kept it safe. You found this fact ever so endearing. A shaky chuckle escapes your lips as you wipe away the tears. Oh, Kang Taehyun…

To think that bratty, uptight sorcerer you met would be the one to risk his life for you. The person who you had grown to love being around, to bicker and tease with, with whom you felt like you could truly be yourself. He didn’t treat you like a noble, no, he treated you like a normal individual. Albeit, it first irritated you, now you cherished it deeply. You yearned for it even.

Standing up, you yawn loudly. Coincidentally, your stomach grumbles. You take in your surroundings as unease settles in. It was rather dark as the sunset was near its end. You scramble to light up the candles outside the door and within the rooms.

With the flickering candlelight, you felt much better. Your mind flickers back to Taehyun’s tidbit about Bloodmoths; a reminiscent smile lingers on your lips. You were hungry, and you definitely needed something to energise Taehyun whenever he woke up.

Deep in thought, you finally remember the first soup Taehyun made. It was the easiest meal he had made and you remembered making it so visibly since you grumbled and whined about the chopping, stirring and boiling. The soup would do then! This was the least you could do.

You remembered that Taehyun kept extra vegetables in some glazed crocks soaked in vinegar and wrapped in some leather to keep them from spoiling. With a grimace, you begin making the soup. You were sure it would taste rather grim due to using the preserved vegetables instead of fresh ones but also the fact you have barely cooked throughout your life. You just hope what you were making would at least be edible.

As the soup simmers, you sprinkle some pepper in. A grunt resounds out as you peer over seeing Taehyun’s head twisting and turning as he writhes waking up. A low hiss leaves his lips as he realises he was still injured.

“Taehyun!” You call out as you rush over and crouch right beside him. He squints briefly, his eyes adjusting to the environment before meeting your gaze. He croaks out, “Mm, we made it.”

Your eyes begin to water, “We did. All because of you, Taehyun! Goodness, I’m so thankful you’re alive!” He scoffs weakly, “As if that pitiful wound would kill me,” he coughs.

Glaring, you respond, “Oh shut it, sorcerer. You scared the living soul out of me! Don’t be cocky, you may have sorcery, but a wound is a wound! Especially if you can’t heal yourself afterwards!”

Taehyun groans, raising his hand frailly dismissing your whining, “Yes, yes, princess, I get it. I overexerted myself, used too much mana, and put myself at risk.” You huff, “Indeed. But…” you resume with a pout, “But it was necessary, I was just…”

“Scared?” He murmurs with an amused twinkle in his eyes. You nod, “Mhm.” Taehyun’s lips form a lazy smirk, “Poor sweetheart, worried about little old me? Who would have thought, hm?” You refrain from smacking him (just this once!) and huff, “Just keep quiet, save your energy.”

He merely smiles at you as you stand back up keeping an eye on the steaming soup. He sniffs the air and his brows furrow, “Wait, you’re cooking? Shit, how have you not burned down my home yet? What have I told you about cooking without my supervision?”

Crossing your arms, you glare, “What was I supposed to do, ask you whilst you were unconscious?” Taehyun snorts weakly, peering away with a smirk, “Mm, fair point. Anyway, you’re making, ah, it seems to be vegetable soup. You still remember it? Impressive.”

You huff stirring the pot, “Don’t underestimate me, Taehyun. Of course I do,” you resume with a snarky smile, “I remember how you tirelessly nagged me through every step.”

Taehyun merely smirks, saying nothing as he peers down at his bandaging. He muses dryly, “You did all this? Huh, not bad. It certainly feels better this way.” Taehyun’s gaze meets yours with a mischievous glint, “It would be unfortunate if your soup would poison me after you worked so hard to heal me up, no?”

You huff, glaring at him, “You ungrateful imbecile! Here I was worried to pieces about you and yet you’re talking away and teasing me as if nothing happened! Oh, what a fool I was!” To think, your soup could not be that bad right?

A snicker escapes his lips at your dramatic response. He coughs feeling a shot of pain bolt through him. Taehyun loved teasing you like this; for some odd reason it made him feel warm inside whenever you’d cutely berate him back. He missed it dearly.

He was talking to you to take his mind off the discomfort of the wound and the extreme exhaustion from the overuse of mana. Taehyun’s eyes continue to observe you as you mediocrely make your way around his kitchen finishing up the soup. The way candlelight illuminates your face and your body, makes his heart flutter. The crease between your brows as you put your all into such a simple meal made him feel whole, even enthralled by your endearing behaviour.

Taehyun was indeed captivated by you nonchalantly cooking away. A scene oddly domestic, if it was not for the blood soaked clothes he had on and the bandages he wore. It made him incredibly happy inside that you looked after him. You were compassionate, caring, willing to try even if you didn’t know what you were doing. This fact alone separated you distinctly from any other nobles he recalled.

A heaviness appears in his heart as his thoughts become captured by you. You notice his intense gaze. “Are you scrutinising my technique? Don’t worry, I am sure it will be edible.” Taehyun dryly muses, “Good to know, sweetheart.”

After a few minutes, you pour the soup into a bowl and grab a spoon. Sitting beside him you hold out the spoon, “Here.”

“You’re going to feed me?” He asks slightly surprised. You glare, “Surely it will hurt if you raise your arm each time?” You had a point, he was also not going to complain about you feeding him. In fact he’d relish this moment of vulnerability.

With each spoonful, both your eyes meet. His gaze feels electric, looking at you with a new fiery intensity that leaves you breathless. This tender gesture of you feeding him made you feel warm inside. You had countless maids who catered to your every whim. You always had others to do things for you. This time, you did something for someone else. It felt good. It felt human.

Finishing up the soup, he hums, breaking the silence, “You know, if you added a little more pepper and a pinch more salt, it would have been perfect. But for a first attempt, it was rather delightful, good job.” You smile at him, “Thank you, Taehyun.” He muses, “Also it was indeed edible.” Rolling your eyes, you try to hold back a grin, “Yes, yes quite the feat, I know.”

You both chuckle before settling into a comfortable silence. The crickets and other insects chirp and buzz outside accompanied with the rustling of the trees and brush of the breeze. His rustic cabin groans and creaks.

The silence is broken as Taehyun murmurs, “Thank you,” he peers at you with genuine sincerity, “For getting me patched up, I mean. For believing in my sorcery,” he pauses for a moment, “Believing in me.”

For a second, you’re taken aback by his rawness and you return a sincere smile, “Why? I don’t need to be thanked. What you did for me, far surpasses my haphazard handiwork?” You avert your gaze, “In fact, I should be thanking you, Taehyun. Your skill, your power. The fact you risked yourself so boldly.”

Taehyun’s gaze never once leaves you as you speak with pure honesty. His heart raises upon hearing the praise leaving your sweet lips.

“Thank you for putting up with me, staying beside me. For…for not betraying me like so many others. I hope I’m not too unbearable to be around,” you awkwardly laugh.

Another moment of silence passes and your gaze meets his, leaving you breathless. He smirks, “I always knew you were the sappy type.” You groan as he shatters the sentimental atmosphere. “Oh come on, I am being honest,” you whine.

Taehyun hums, “Oh I know, I appreciate it.” His gaze softens as his lips morph back into a smile, “I really do. It’s just…endearing, seeing you not bickering with me for once. Being so sincere.” You clear your throat embarrassed, “A-Anyway, just don’t let the praise go to your head.”

“Oh princess, it’s far too late for that,” he grins. You huff placing the bowl and spoon in the sink not being bothered to wash it as you sink yourself back down onto the floor beside Taehyun.

You peer back down at his torso at the bandages now slightly stained pink with the remainder of the blood which had oozed out.

“Mm, admiring me so brazenly? Goodness, princess, how crude to place your gaze upon a topless man.” You glare, “Hold your tongue, you vain sorcerer. I was looking at your bandages, you fool.”

Taehyun snickers at your outburst of indignation. He wouldn’t mind if your pretty eyes eyed him for a bit. Not that he’d ever admit such a crude notion out loud. He’s also has his fair share of admiring your features, subtly of course. You were indeed a sight for sore eyes, particularly tonight under the candlelight where your skin glows golden and your hair glistens.

For some reason, he felt content away from the palace, just you and him. It was a strange feeling; he was someone who enjoyed his solitude and initially rebuked any hint of company. Though, the minuscule thought of being alone again in these woods hurt his so-called icy heart deeply. What was this feeling? No, he was denying the obvious. He didn’t want to cave in and make things awkward.

You were a royal, he was a mere sorcerer. So why was his heart still fluttering at your close proximity, your words, your mannerisms. Why were you so nonchalant, did you not see him in such a manner?

“Taehyun? Are you listening?” Your voice drones back in as he leaves his headspace, “Huh?” He asks, confused.

Groaning, you repeat, “I said are you listening? I asked whether the bandages hurt, are they too tight? I need to change them before morning, no?” Taehyun peers at you for a moment before replying, “No, no, you did a good job. They feel secure.” You sigh in relief, “Okay, I’m not exactly a healer so…”

He muses, “Well from your technique I figured. But, I suppose for a life or death situation you did a decent job.” Your expression becomes deadpan. What a brat!

You scoff, “Despite being injured and fatigued, you still remain irritating, a skill indeed. Not a good one, but a skill nonetheless.” Taehyun hums amused, “Why, thank you sweetheart. You still remain as fun to irritate as usual.”

Your mind begins to churn its gears as you think about everything that has happened. You ponder, what was the current situation in Luna? Beomgyu must be beyond infuriated. He had lost and he had no diplomatic grounds to enter Fortuna angrily unless he wanted to initiate a war, which would break the treaty. Ironically, you were safer in Fortuna, even more ironic, in the Woods of Mors.

“What’s your pretty head thinking about, hm?” He breaks your train of thought. “Mm? Oh, just Luna. Beomgyu, everything really.”

“Forget about that bastard, focus on what to do next. We’ve already made humongous progress by even being back here,” he reassures. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s not willing to start a war or dispute.” You nod slowly, “Yes…well I hope not for the sake of the people.”

Taehyun gives you a small smile, “You’ll get your crown back, then you’ll really be untouchable.” His remark and smile causes your heart to jump around in your chest. He had said it so cutely, that anyone would find themselves grinning like a fool. Your cheeks begin to hurt from smiling so frequently; you hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time. Being here together felt like your own pocket of time and space.

Your eyes gaze back at the dried blood on his trousers, unbuttoned shirt. “You should probably change clothes,” you suggest. He peers down and grunts, “Yes, it is rather grotesque, isn’t it?”

You muse, “Stay, I’ll grab a shirt for you.” You scramble around in his large wooden trunk amongst the clothes and select one.

“You have an awful selection of clothes. They’re pretty but they’re all different shades of black or brown,” you grumble settling back beside him. He snorts, “What about it? A muted colour palette never harmed anyone. Furthermore, it helps me blend better here in the woods.”

Rolling your eyes, you hand him the white shirt with ruffles near the collar, “I found this at the bottom,” you murmur. He scoffs, “Of course you’d choose that old thing.”

You glare, “Put it on, sorcerer.” With a groan he grabs the shirt and you notice for a moment a flash of a pained expression crosses his visage. You lean forward, “Wait- wait let me help.”

He is slightly startled by your proximity and the offer before he concedes handing you back the shirt. With shaky hands you slide down the arms of his stained black shirt carefully pulling the shirt off him revealing his strong built shoulders.

With shaky hands you guide his arms through the sleeves as he grunts in slight discomfort. Clearing your throat from being flustered, you mumble, “There. You can button up your shirt, I’m sure.”

Taehyun’s eyes twinkle as his lips twitch momentarily before speaking, “But, my wound hurts from moving it around just now.”

“You barely moved it, I did most of the guid-“ He interrupts, “What if I make it worse? The top button too, I’d have to raise my right arm and well, who knows how much that would hurt?” You glare unimpressed with his explanation but you decide not to argue back purely on the basis that he saved the both of you.

Leaning forward, you begin buttoning the buttons one by one. Your heart races at the closeness as he gazes intensely at your hands and back at your concentrated face. You didn’t want to meet his gaze; or look at his chest. Rather, you focus on the tiny button alone. Goodness! Why were your hands suddenly so clumsy?

Your hands begin to feel clammy as you clumsily put on the buttons. Why did you feel nervous? His breath lightly brushes against your ear and then your neck as you work your way down. The silence gave way to a tension between the two of you which had built up over a long while; seeming to now reach the brim.

You were nervous; so was he. You briefly raise your gaze to his and a shaky breath escapes your parted lips at the sheer intensity of his stare. His pupils had dilated and were trained on you. Both of you were locked in an intimate staring contest as your hand hovers over the last two buttons of his shirt over his belt.

“You stopped, why’s that?” His voice startles you; it takes on a rougher, lower edge - almost restrained in a way.

“I-“ you stammer, “Sorry, I’ll continue,” you fluster buttoning another button. He suddenly grabs your wrist making your heart reach your throat.

“Do I make you nervous?” He asks. You can’t meet his gaze. Truly, this once you can’t; you feel a warmth inside you - one you’ve never felt before. He did make you feel nervous, he made you giddy. Something about his presence, you yearned for it.

“Answer me sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Yes, yes you do,” you whisper. “Hm,” he airs back. You can’t bring yourself to face him; this was just too embarrassing. You didn’t even know what could be used to describe this moment.

His voice takes on an amused tone, still raspier than usual, “Can’t look me in the eye? Not going to bite back at me? I’m teasing you, no?” No, it was different this time. How could you bicker with him when you feel your cheeks grow so hot?

Feeling overwhelmed, you go to get up abruptly but you’re stopped as he pulls you down by the wrist and you yelp as you brush against him; he hisses in pain as you press against his wound.

You begin to assert, “See- this is why…” you falter upon seeing how close his face was to yours. Oh, how he was so incredibly pretty. Charming, ethereal, chiseled features which would make even the reluctant damsels faint.

“This is why- what? Finish your sentence,” he muses. Taehyun wished to ascertain your reaction. You tempted him for far too long, he wanted to control himself, keep his delusions at bay as usual, but something about you tenderly caring for him, being so close to him where he could see you up close, feel your body heat, your soft hands brushing against his body. It was intoxicating.

“You’re being crude, having a noble lady so close to you like this, what’s g-gotten into you?” You breathlessly stammer. Taehyun’s lips form a coy smirk. Perhaps, this was a dream. It felt unreal, of course.

“You’re right, my apologies. You’re free to stand then,” he peers at you challengingly. Your heart pounds in your chest; why weren’t you rushing to get up? Why were you taking the time to hesitate?

The tension between you two was palpable, on the verge of breaking over the brim. Neither of you wanted to cave in, gaging each other’s reactions simultaneously, afraid of the consequences but far too gone to stop now and come to your senses.

“Y/n,” he calls out. Your name, he said your name for the first time; it felt intimate, making your lips tremble. “Get up,” he shakily warns, “I…I think we both know what’ll happen otherwise.”

As much as he wanted to, he had to hold himself back from kissing your sinfully tempting lips right here and now.

“What if I want it to happen?” Your voice breaks momentarily at your sudden remark. Taehyun stiffens letting go of your wrist; did he think of you as undignified? Instant regret floods your senses. This was far too crude for a noble lady of your standing. How could you give into instinct so easily?

A breathy chuckle escapes his lips as he leans slightly forward, “You never fail to surprise me,” his hand tentatively brushes against the side of your neck before sliding his fingers to the back of your neck pulling your face closer to his.

The tip of his nose brushes against yours as his breath caresses your lips making you shiver. He gages your reaction, noting you’re not pulling away, rather you’re peering at his lips. He smiles for a second before finally pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss is brief, clumsy even. After all, you haven’t ever kissed anyone. Taehyun didn’t mind at all, neither did he. Being exiled certainly didn’t help, though reading his mother’s romance books that he shouldn’t have and garnering a few novels from the occasional merchant, gave him sufficient knowledge.

Well, the most useful was human instinct, carnal desire itself. A dangerously tempting guide. A breathless laugh escapes his lips, “Wait, wait, tilt your head a little more,” he tilts your head upwards slightly and to the right before leaning in; you feel incredibly embarrassed.

“Mm, your lips are soft,” he chuckles, “Don’t worry; I’m not an expert if it helps,” he leans in further once again brushing his lips against yours, “All I know is I want to do it again.” So did you. Your lips ache to meet with his soft ones.

You shakily grip his forearm as you close your eyes once more. With that, he pushes his lips against yours and he breathes out, “Move them with me, not against me, with me, sweetheart,” you nod, beginning to move your lips with his.

You had read an enormous array of romance novels; even some of the more erotic nature (not that anyone should know of course), but this, this was something you could truly never be prepared for.

As initially clumsy as the first kiss was, this one was far better. It is longer, you both find yourselves settling into a comfortable rhythm as your lips dance delicately with each other. The world around you was but a blur as Taehyun’s lips moved with yours tugging and pressing against them sending sparks through you.

Your hands slide up to his shoulders as you push yourself closer, finding yourself chasing his addicting lips. You would never admit it, you wanted this, just as much- no, more than he did.

Both of you part from each other, breathless, hot, it was a mere heated kiss, nothing too major yet it left the both of you desiring more.

“Fuck,” he sighs, leaning his head back against the wall with a dazed expression and shut eyes. Your fingers brush against your lips processing what had happened. You kissed him- he kissed you.

If this left you all hot and bothered, then what if you both- you shake your head abruptly getting up. No, no.

Taehyun peers up at you with a pitiful expression, almost as though he were a scolded puppy, “Y/n- princess, wait.” You regard him flustered; here he was acting as if he didn’t just press his lips to yours so salaciously. “You’re leaving?”

“I-“ you begin. Taehyun frowns, “Do you regret it? Please tell me you don’t.” It wasn’t an in the moment kind of thing was it? He wasn’t that type. Not a scoundrel to brush it aside?

You find yourself smiling at this; this hint of panic on his expression. You find the urge to tease him but refrain, “I don’t, Taehyun.”

His shoulders ease in relief and rather a subtle hue of red dusts his cheeks. Taehyun murmurs, “Well, that’s good to hear. I don’t either.” His words send your heart spiralling further. You didn’t know what this would develop into. It seemed that neither of you would admit to your feelings.

Taehyun muses, “Mind helping me up? I’ve been sitting here for over an hour. With a shake of your head, you walk over helping him up towards his bed and lying him down.

“Where will you sleep?” He asks. After all, he had let you sleep on the bed during your brief time here, last month.

“The floor,” you mumble awkwardly. You’ve never slept on the floor; how dreadful the idea was to you, but you were not willing to be selfish. Taehyun was injured, after all.

“No, you can sleep on the bed,” he insists. “You’re in pain, Taehyun,” you huff. He pushes himself to the other side of the single bed just before the edge with a pained grunt. “Goodness, what are you doing?” You groan exasperated.

“Making room,” he hums. Your heart races. For you. “That’s absurd, a man and woman in the same bed-“

He looks at you bewildered for a moment before cackling. “You are so…” he muses, “Why? Afraid you cannot resist me?” You snap, “Mind your words, sorcerer.”

He grins lazily, “Don’t be a brat, get in here. You won’t last even a minute on the floor. Be realistic.” You bite your lip as your brows furrow. How irritating; he was right! Crossing your arms, you huff, “Well- I just have to manage-“

“Okay, well, take the floor then,” he relinquishes insistence, quickly making you gawk at him. That quickly?

You peer down at the grim wooden floor. You spot a few nails bent out of the floor. A grimace paints itself onto your face. How did he sleep on this whilst you were here before? You frown.

You mumble pathetically, “Mm…Taehyun.” A smirk laces his lips with his eyes shut, “Mm?”Awkwardly, you mutter, “I’ll sleep on the bed. With…you.”

He opens one eyes peeking at you with a coy smile, “You want to sleep with me, sweetheart?”You gasp mortified, “You-! Heathen! That’s not what-“ Why did he phrase it like that?

“-You meant? Yes, yes, I know,” he grins, “Come here.” You couldn’t believe him. No, you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. This felt unbelievable.

You lie down beside him stiffly; his body heat resonates. “You’re going to fall off the bed at this rate,” he muses. “Move closer,” he hums. “That’s just-“ You splutter.

“If you can kiss me, mouth to mouth, you can’t sleep beside me?” He hums amused. With a glare you shift closer with embarrassment flooding you.

“Don’t get cocky, I’m merely humouring your insistence,” you mutter. Taehyun muses, “I’m sure you are, why thank you, princess.”

You scoff at his sarcasm. You feel the weight of his arm on your waist from behind, “Just so you don’t fall, of course. It’s a small bed.”

A smile plays on your lips; thankfully you were facing away from him, “…I see.”

You wonder when the both of you will get the courage to face your intertwined hearts?

However, for now, you were content.

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letsgetrowdy43 · 3 months

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my house is warm (Rowan’s Version)—

I listened to the song "my house is warm" by Sombr and immediately was like "ADAM AND SUNNY BREAK CORE!" so please enjoy, and maybe give the song a listen cause it's really good!

Warnings: a little angsty, nothing too bad, just a hallowing in self pity Adam and a heartbroken sunny, some drinking/partying, lmk if there is anything I missed!

Au Masterlist!!

"I wanna call your phone with nothing in mind, just to hear you breathe on the other line. I try to reach for you but your skin's full of thorns. Oh, this town is cold but my house is warm"

The second Sunny left Adam's apartment that day, he knew it had all been a mistake.

He couldn't decipher if this break was something he needed or if it was a way to run away from the build-up of issues that were growing in his life. Afraid of burdening the ones around him, especially her, he just made it a clean break with a slight promise of a future.

He stared at his phone screen tapping through Instagram stories before landing on hers, a bright smile on her face as she celebrated the Umich football team winning the Natty. She was smiling, she looked so genuine, so perfect, so real, and to him she looked so happy, without him. Her nose scrunched with excitement as she hugged closely to her roommate, the two of them standing just before the TV in their living room, dressed in Michigan colours as they posed in front of the scene of the quarterback holding up the trophy.

He hesitantly hit the like button at the bottom corner of the screen before tapping off of her story to look at her account, eyes landing on the lack of their highlight. The compilation of photos that once was labelled with a little "A" followed by a heart emoji was gone, none of their memories over the past year visible on the account.

It kinda felt like a slap right in the face, but this is what he deserved, this was his punishment for ruining something so good.

He missed it, missed her, she was easily the person in the world he loved the most, and somehow he had managed to fuck up a relationship he cherished so deeply. Missing the ability to just call, to talk to her 'just because'. But remembering that towards the end, he wasn't ever calling her just because he could, he was becoming a chore to her.

He needed to free her.

Kent tapped Adam's shoulder as he caught him stalking the girl's profile, "we should get dinner soon," he said nodding towards the door as Adam just cleared his throat and turned his phone off. "Sounds good!"

★★★

"How did it end like this? I wanna talk to you, talk to you again. How did we get here so quick? I watch you walk right pass me like we never did what we did"

Luca handed the girl a drink as she sat on the sophomore's couch, her eyes wandering the room with a pout on her lips as she looked at the boy whose face dropped at the sight of her sadness. The whole team and a few alpha phi girls were pregaming before they headed out to the bar.

Her eyes had been glued to her phone screen most of the night, staring at a single notification saying that Adam had liked her story. It was moments like this, with all the fun surrounding her, where she hated him for making her fall in love with him. Something about having fun now felt foreign to her, it felt so distant, because she'd been on a constant loop of self-pity and emotions.

Her lips formed a straight line as she looked up at the guy who had become her best friend, "are you okay Sun?" he mumbled as he sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. She flashed him her phone and shrugged, "just miss him," she whispered, trying to keep her voice down around her friends, the topic of Adam and the breakup seemed to be the only thing they wanted to talk about, but she wasn't willing to talk about him in the light of the asshole ex-boyfriend, Adam was her everything.

"I understand," he mumbled, his hand rubbing up and down her arm reassuringly as she leaned against him, "but let's not focus on the sad tonight, let's get drunk and pretend like everything is okay, just for a few hours," he clinked his beer can with her cooler and took a swig. Sunny smiled as she mimicked his actions, "That sounds like a really fucking good idea," she smiled slightly as she looked around the room at her friends, Nick catching her glimpse and motioning for her to come join their game of beer pong, which she happily obliged.

'Just for tonight' she thought as she smiled and made her way across the room to the group surrounding the kitchen table.

★★★

"I can't right my wrongs but I can write another song, I can't take you out but we can get along. If I went away, would you chase the train? Oh, this town is dark but my house is warm"

Allstar week was meant to be a whole week of just relaxing and getting his mind off of hockey and stress, but as soon as Luca, Gavin, and Rutger convinced him to come back to Ann Arbour for the oof week he knew it would be nothing of the sorts.

The first sign of trouble was that the second he arrived at the sophomore house and was met face to face with Charlotte, Sunny's roommate, leaving Gavin's room, he knew that this week was going to be less tranquil then planned.

He smiled awkwardly as her face grew red and murmured a short bye to the boys before taking off.

Their lives were so intertwined at this point that there was no ignoring each other, they were doomed to run into each other at one point, and it was just a matter of time before they were face to face. Faces flustered and chests heaving with the raw emotion of this realization that they were no longer together.

That was sign number one, the second came only a few short hours later when he was sitting in the student section of Yost alongside Rutgers girlfriend. He was a little on edge, he loved this place, loved the atmosphere of the building and the crowd, but he had learned to love within the walls of this building, fought battles in the building, and even made a name for himself, and now he was back and there was this feeling of melancholy looming over this head. Adam had this gut-wrenching feeling that something was going to go wrong.

Then it happened, he saw her, for only a short few seconds. Her gentle eyes meeting his, Sunny was clad in his old Blue Michigan jersey, something he'd given to her for home games and never asked for back after the season ended, and she looked perfect. She looked almost glowing, cheeks nipped pink from the chilly air, her hair cut noticeably shorter with bangs, smile so wide as her roommate handed her the sheet of paper that listed out tonight's line up.

He was almost gutted that she looked so beautiful, and he looked like a shell of himself.

She was stuck in place for a second, her stomach dropped as they just stared at one another. But she was abruptly brought back to reality by her friend who tugged on her sleeve to keep walking.

Her cheeks grew increasingly pink as she sent him a slight wave, but someone got in the way of her little action and it went missed before she was dragged down the stairs to her seat by the glass.

Adam felt nauseous, his eyes meeting Kayleigh's as she watched him turn pale, "you okay?" she asked as her eyes went back to the game. "Yeah yeah, I just need some water," he said unconvincingly before taking off in the direction of the concession stands, his eyes searching the crowds for the blue jersey, but he couldn't pick her out of the sea of maize and blue.

He couldn't find her in the crowd, and that was enough for him to leave the arena and text the boys that he got sick.

★★★

"How did it end like this? I wanna talk to you, talk to you again, how did we get here so quick? I watch you walk right pass, like we never did what we did."

Three months is how long it took for Adam to reach out, and it all happened because of a short message Luca sent him.

"You need to get your shit together Adam," frustration filling his tone as he sighed, "Someone kissed Sunny, and I'm not calling to rat her out or to tell you that she is talking to other people, I'm calling to tell you that she is being tortured cause she can't move on from you cause she won't allow herself to, and you're not doing anything to relieve her from that pain," he paused for a second, "I love you man, but get your shit together, figure it out cause she's not going to wait forever, and you too have something too good to let go of," the line went silent as Adam stared at his desk in shock.

His brows furrowed for a second before letting his emotions get the best of him and dialling her number.

It rang once before she picked it up, confusion filling her senses as she put the phone up to her ear, "Adam? Is everything okay?" "No" "What's wrong?" her voice more alert as she tensed at what seemed to be anger in his tone. "You kissed someone, and didn't tell me!"

She blinked slowly, trying to gather all of the anger coursing through her veins at such an inconsiderate thing but was to worry her like that and then use that vulnerability to get upset with her over something so stupid.

"I'm sorry, you called, after ignoring me for months to get mad at me because someone kissed me, and I didn't tell you?" "I-" "No you dont get to do that Adam, you cut me out of your life, and I get it and I understand why, but you can't be mad at me for something that I for one didn't want and two had no way to tell you cause you iced me out."

She paused waiting for a response but was met with silence, "if you want to talk about it do it like an adult, tell me why you are upset and we can get through it," she sighed as he searched for the words. "I don't have anything to say, that was irrational and immature of me, sorry." She laughed at his formal tone which made him let out a chuckle, "good," is all she said as she stared at the promise ring on her finger that she never took off.

Words danced on the tip of his tongue as both ends went awkwardly silent, he considered the weight of them, how badly he needed to get them off his chest before he just spat them out, "I missed you," he said firmly causing her to smile. "I miss you too Adam," she whispered, as he settled into his bed.

"I've been meaning to call you," he sighed, "I just didn't know how to reach out, I've complicated everything Sunny, and I'm sorry that I was inconsiderate of how this all would affect you." Sunny sniffled on the other end, her hands wiping away the tears as she leaned against the headboard of the bed, "Thank you, but please don't apologize for putting yourself first, I just want you to be okay."

"Are you okay? are you doing better?" she asked, immediately hearing a soft huff on the other end. "I'm doing better, just trying to make it through the season," he shrugged as she hummed in agreement, "are you okay." "Not really, it's been hard," she answered truthfully, her voice cracked causing him to tense, "but I'm happy you called, I've missed hearing your voice." "I've missed yours too."

Adam and she stayed up talking for a few more hours, mumbling and spilling about all the life events they'd missed over the course of the three months they were no-contact.

As she went to hang up Adam stopped her by saying her name one last time, "I just want to say that if I'm holding you back Sun please don't feel like you need to hold onto me because you think that you have to," Luca's words replayed in his head, ones about him torturing her, like physiological warfare, "what I'm trying to say is that if this isn't working for you anymore, I'm okay with that, I just want you to be happy."

Sunny sat silently on the other end for a second, "That's not what I want Adam," she let out a little breathless cry "I love you so fucking much, I would never throw that away unless you want me to, if this is you trying to tell me to move on then I will do that for you," she said, the tears coming back as she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the stinging. "That's not what I want, I want you." "Good, cause I want you too" "Good," he said, a grin growing on his face as she hummed at their shared realization.

★★★

"I still see your face in every single crowd. Oh, I just wanted to make your mama proud"

The rest of the year became a blur for Adam, the only thing he found himself looking forward to was playing the Redwings in Detroit one last time for the 23-24 season, knowing that his brother and best friends would be in attendance.

His eyes searched the crowd for Luca and Rutger, the two boys grinning and waving at Adam on the ice as he flashed them each a smile, his heart stopping momentarily as he looked next to them to see a girl with short brown hair sporting a Fantilli jersey, his heartstrings pulled as Cole bumped into him making him loose sight of her. By the time his eyes find his brother and friends once again, she's no longer there.

The game goes on, it's long and his plays aren't working as in favour as he'd hoped. The bluejackets were down by one and the tensions were high as the time counted down. Second by second, he felt the time slowing down as he got puck possession right in front of the Redwings net and took a slap shot right through the open area, the goal horn going off as his arms raised in the air out of excitement.

His eyes found the crowd again, searching for her, looking to Luca who was on his feet cheering, and then he saw her familiar face in the sea of people, but the second he blinked she was gone again.

his brows furrowed as his mind switched back into game mode as he went down the line of the bench to fist bump everyone loudly cheering now that the score was tied. he sat down, eyes looking back at the crowd, darting from section to section, seeing if he could catch a glimpse of her comforting face once again.

But he couldn't find her.

After the game, which went into overtime, and ended with a Kent game-winning goal assisted by Adam, he met Luca and the boys down in the visitor's tunnel.

A smile on his face as his brother pulled him into his chest, "nicely done Mo," Rut said from behind Luca, their grins contagious as Adam pulled the other boy in for a hug.

"Missed you guys," he said as Rutger ruffled his hair. "You're such a softy," he laughed causing Adam to shrug. "We missed you too," Luca elbowed Rut as he pushed him to the side.

Adam fixed the collar of his dress shirt as he looked at the CBJ merch his brother was sporting, remembering back to the game.

"Was sunny here?" Rutger stopped his loud rambling, his grin replaced with an awkward smile as Luca stared at his brother with confusion. "um no? I don't think so," he said watching as Adam's lips formed a straight line and he nodded curtly. "Oh, I thought I saw her in the crowd," he said trying to play it cool, but instead coming across as extremely unconvincing.

The guys stared at him with wide eyes, trying to decipher if they should ask before Adam shook his head and just smiled, “It's whatever, do you think guys wanna do dinner before I have to get on my flight?”

★★★

"Baby in another life I can, call your phone just to hear you breathe again"

He put the phone up to his ear, his hand rubbing his temples as he fought off the fatigued state he found himself in.

"Adam?" she said groggily, a sleepy haze in her voice and her heart beating at a fast pace from the startling ringing sound of her phone. "Sorry, I don't know why I called, just felt like I needed too," he whispered as she hummed in agreeance. "It's okay, just surprised me for a second," she mumbled, the heels of her hands rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she rolled over and propped herself up on her elbow.

It remained silent for a second before she spoke up, "Are you okay?" "I think I'm going insane" "Well I could've told you that," she joked, her lips pulling into a smile as he let out a huff. "I'm serious, I keep seeing you everywhere I go, like tonight at the game, I saw you with Luca, but it wasn't you," he confessed as she bit back a smile at the sound of desperation and confusion that laced his voice.

"Did you want me there?" He let out a groan at the question, she was playing mind games with him, "that's a dumb question, you know the answer" "I want to hear you say it," she persisted, the grin on her face grew as she listened to his deep breaths. "I want you with me at all times Sunny," he said in a 'duh' tone as she let out a noise of contentment.

It fell silent again, the confession taking up the space between them as they sat with the weight of his words for a second.

“I watched from home, so I was there in spirit,” she confessed, Adams grin growing “You still watch my games?” “Of course, I didn't stop caring about you the second I left that apartment Adam,” he nodded along with her words as he laid back down on his hotel bed.

he was struck by the comment, his heart beating harshly in his chest as it dawned on hims just how this all could've been avoided if he had just been a little less in his head, “I really fucked us up.” “You were just doing what you thought right” “Well I was very wrong, and I hate that I can't just call when I feel like it, or that my friends look at me like a kicked puppy when they talk about you, I was so wrong about everything” “Yeah?”

A comfortable realization sat in each of their chests, as Sunny stared at the promise ring that still sat on her bedside table, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she searched for the right words.

“Off-season is in a few weeks, and so is my summer vacation, we can talk about all of this then, okay?” “Okay,” he said, she could hear the smile on his face through the phone.

She stared at the clock on her bedside table looking at how late it was, eyes heavy as she ran her fingers through her bed head, “I have an early class so I have to let you go,” she mumbled. Adam nodded and let out a little hum, “okay, sorry for calling again,” “No I'm really happy you did, this was good.” “Okay,” he waited for a second before whispering a quick “love you.” “I love you too Adam,” she mumbled before hanging up to leave him with his thoughts.

#tinydancerau!!#adam fantilli blurb #adam fantilli x reader #adam fantilli imagine #adam fantilli #luca fantilli #rutger mcgroarty

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frvnkcastles · 1 year

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YOUR WOUND BUT MY SUTURES ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Frank has a long night ahead of him… and his best friend really wants to meet you. Cue stakeout!

Warnings: She/her pronouns used, Hurt/comfort, Reader compares herself to Maria

Word count: 2.8k

Curtis had been incessant. Nonstop bombarding Frank with questions of when he’d finally get to meet you — the amazing woman who had stolen The Punisher’s heart and tamed his nightmares, only for Frank to grumble something vague in response. He didn’t blame Curt; you were a gem and one that he planned on cherishing for the rest of his days, but he also preferred keeping you safe and at an arm’s length from his nightly activities. As much as he appreciated Curtis, there was no denying that he was deeply involved with The Punisher side of him, and with you… he just wanted to be Frank.

You had crossed paths with Curtis once — that was what he always pointed out, too, only to receive a lecture about how it doesn’t count if you’re bleeding out on the table, Frank. At the end of the day, it was just about meeting the person who was making his best friend so happy, even if he was completely inadequate at showing it apart from a few crooked smiles and less bitchiness.

Tonight was one of those nights when the two men were planning on sitting in Curtis’ dingy car, staking out the outside of an apartment building where Frank’s latest target was known to hang around. That meant, he was booting up while you got cozy on the couch with a bag of Doritos and the remote in your hand.

”Be safe”, you wished him well when he stomped over to you to give you a slow kiss as farewell, his finger lifting your chin up for him to press his lips onto yours. It was supposed to be short and sweet, but with residual tension still hanging in the air from your earlier fun in the bedroom, he couldn’t resist leaning into you a bit deeper and knocking the air out of your lungs. You were left with a blissful smile when he pulled away, and with a soft look in his eyes, he brushed his thumb across your cheek and then withdrew towards the front door.

”Don’t worry, sweetheart. Should be just sittin’ around tonight”, he reminded, and you rolled your eyes — you had carefully asked him about the plan while in his arms in the bed earlier, only to be shocked that he wasn’t even planning on making himself a sandwich or something. The man was undeniably good with his patience, fully prepared to wait out the night with just coffee in his backpack.

However, as his own words rung in his head, he wondered if there was something else he needed to bring. ”Ya know, uh, Curtis ain’t so happy I haven’t brought you over yet. Sure you’re good with your shows, baby?” he spoke up, his hand falling from the door to turn back to you, and with a Dorito hanging off your lip, you stared at him in quiet wonder.

”You want me to come along?” you asked, your voice so soft with surprise that Frank’s heart swelled at the sound of it. The best he could offer in response was a haphazard shrug, almost like he was nervous you’d say no. And maybe he kind of was. After all, this was a big step for him — opening the door to his other life, willingly inviting you to take his hand and take a glance at the other side.

”It won’t be dangerous?” you added, even though you already knew the answer. He would never place you in harm’s way, he had made that clear on several occasions, and him asking now could only mean it truly was going to be an uneventful night.

”Nah, no excitement. Just two ugly mugs talkin’ shit”, he snorted while zipping up his jacket, concealing the notorious skull. You gave him a disapproving look at the not-so-fond nicknames for him and Curtis, but eventually your expression melted into a grin.

”Should I get changed?” you wondered, half to yourself, but Frank was quick to protest.

”Y’look perfect, sweetheart. C’mere”, he nodded at the front door, something proud fluttering his heart when you shifted the sleeves of his sweater, the worn out fabric from his broad chest loose over your curves. You looked fucking adorable and if you weren’t due to meet Curtis, he just might have shown you just how much he appreciated the look right there on the couch.

You pulled on your shoes and that was it — Frank had the keys and anything else would just get in the way, you decided. With that, he opened the door and held his arm above your shorter frame to let you get out first, his protective figure looming over you as you strode down the hallway of your apartment building.

Curtis was already waiting outside, seated behind the wheel but when he noticed you coming alongside Frank, your hands enjoined, his eyes widened and he climbed out of the car. A wide grin took over his face and he opened his arms, greeting you with joy.

”Hey you!” he laughed, and with a flattered smile that someone would be so happy to see plain old you, you let go of Frank and accepted Curtis’ hug. ”So glad you’re finally joining us! Gets boring with this guy”, he nodded towards Frank who suppressed a smile and adjusted his backpack over his shoulder.

”Yeah, well, it ain’t exactly movie night. Nothin’ happens to her, aight?” he spoke sternly, and with a chuckle, Curtis gestured over to the car where the three of you piled in.

”You make it sound like we’re still disarming bombs, man. It’s just a stakeout”, the man reminded, and with a snort, Frank gave him a look but said nothing more — until he turned to you, glancing over the seat to make sure you were all buckled in in the back.

”Good?” he confirmed, and when you gave him an excited nod, he repeated the gesture and smiled. ”Attagirl.”

Curtis started the car and Frank rested his arm on the window, silence falling in the vehicle for exactly the time it took to make it off of the curb. ”I gotta tell you, I’ve been bugging this guy nonstop to let me meet you. I’ve never heard him speak as much as when you come up. You make him happy, you know”, Curt began explaining, and with an agreeing nod, Frank chimed in.

”Goddamn right.”

Smiling from the backseat, you eyed the two. ”He makes me really happy too”, you emphasized, not missing the way Curtis shot Frank a look, followed by a grin — your best guess was the man was looking more flustered than Curt had seen him in a long time.

As the drive ensued with Frank and Curtis discussing the actual plan of the night, you couldn’t help but wonder how involved he had been in Frank and Maria’s life. He was a good guy, you didn’t doubt that, but a part of you begun to question if maybe he wanted to vet you; make sure you were worthy of his best friend. You wouldn’t blame him, Frank was one of a kind and deserved everything good in the world, and you were fully dedicated to giving him as much as you could. But you also knew you could never be what he had once had, you couldn’t be her.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the car halted with a whine, officially parked across the street from an apartment building in much worse condition than yours, with dogs barking and distinct yelling in the distance. Frank assessed the situation from where he was sitting, scanning the surroundings and making sure no one was watching them watching.

”If I had known you were coming, I woulda brought snacks. This can get kinda long”, Curtis piped up, twisting in his seat to face you.

Chuckling, you dismissed his worries with a wave of your hand. ”It’s okay. I’m happy to be here”, you reassured before tilting your head at him. ”I hear you have a girlfriend too, now”, you mentioned, and with a low laugh, Frank turned from the window to the two of you.

”Yeah, Curt. Think we oughta do a double-date, huh?” he teased.

”You joke, but I’m serious!” you intervened with a laugh, fondly swatting at Frank’s shoulder from your seat. ”I hope it’s going good with you two, though.”

Curtis smiled at you, nodding to confirm that it had been going well. ”It’s been good. Thanks for saying that”, he replied before turning back in his seat and directing his eyes out of the windshield, both him and Frank keeping their attention on the front entrance of the building. They weren’t stupid, though — there was an alley leading into the back entrance, just in case.

”So, y’all thinking about taking the next step?” Curtis then asked, inviting a heavy silence in the car as Frank turned to him with a glare and you… you just didn’t know what the fuck to say.

It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t thought about it, but you weren’t stupid. You knew marriage with The Punisher wasn’t on the table, and you were perfectly fine with that. Things were perfect as they were, and as awkward as it was to have Curtis bring it up, you didn’t need anything more than what you had right now.

Maybe you could have said that. Instead, you froze completely.

”Think those snacks sound good right now”, Frank was the first one to speak, and you felt defeat heavy on your shoulders, the embarrassment of not saying anything and the slight disappointment of Frank changing the subject. ”Come on, sweetheart. There’s a shop ’round the corner”, he continued, and unsure what else to do, you nodded and exited the car.

You were used to comfortable silences with Frank, but this one was far from it. You felt uneasy, though vaguely comforted when his hand reached for yours instinctively and held on tight. You followed him without a word, silently praising whatever superior power had planted the convenience store quite literally around the corner, allowing you to distract yourself with the food inside.

Before you could make it past the automatic doors, though, Frank was tugging on your hand gently to pull you back. ”Hey—”, he began, but you cut him off, an apologetic smile on your face when you faced him.

”I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I know it’s an uncomfortable topic and he—you know, he really shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that”, you huffed, slouching your tense shoulders when you got the words off your chest. Frank looked at you quietly, narrowing his eyes while inspecting you with that stare that you could never quite decipher, but when he broke into a weak chuckle, you supposed it was a good look.

”Yeah, shit, he shouldn’t have said it. But it’s not…”, he inhaled, pinching his nose before gesturing in the air. ”Look, I, uh, I said somethin’ to him and now… Fuck. Yeah. I guess that’s why he’s been insistin’ on meetin’ you”, he laughed to himself, shaking his head as if to beat himself up. For what, you couldn’t quite tell.

”Baby, I’m not following”, you frowned, and with a nod, Frank swallowed.

”Yeah. Y’know I’m kinda outta my depth here, doin’ this whole datin’ thing again. But it feels right with you, yeah? I wanna be with you. I can’t imagine shit without you anymore”, he explained, his hands slowly encompassing yours as he licked his lips. ”It ain’t somethin’ I’m ready for yet, but I told Curt… I told him that if I ever were to marry someone again, it’d be you. You know? There ain’t no one else for me. No one I’d rather have”, Frank continued, and with every word, you became less and less convinced that you hadn’t just passed out at home and were enveloped in an intense dream.

But the squeeze of his hands on yours, the shy look swimming in the darkness of his eyes, the nervous tick of his jaw… It was all too real and you couldn’t stop your lips from twitching into a sheepish smile.

”No one?” you blurted out, and with a snort, Frank glanced at his feet.

”Yeah, I know it ain’t easy bein’ with me all the time. All that baggage… Shit, I dunno how you deal with me, sweetheart. But yeah, no one. She, uh… she was the love of my life. But I ain’t that guy anymore. Whoever I am now, is so fuckin’ in love with you. I’ve got a new life, and you’re the love of that one”, he rambled, his voice obviously nervous but entirely sincere as he confessed his love to you under the stars and the neon sign of the convenience store. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard him say I love you, but like this? Never.

”I’m in love with you”, you repeated, dropping his hands only so you could wrap your arms around his neck and pull his taller body into yours. ”And you don’t have to be ready. I’m perfectly fine the way we are. We’ll take that step together whenever we want to”, you promised, murmuring into his shoulder, and with a soft nod, he agreed. He held you against his chest, precious like you were going to vanish at any second, and closed his eyes while breathing you in.

”Okay”, you chuckled, wiping your eyes when you pulled away from him, ”let’s go get some snacks.”

Equipped with some chips and chocolate, as well as Twizzlers for Curtis, you and Frank made it back to the car hand in hand. As soon as you had climbed back into the backseat, you dug Curt’s candy from the little plastic bag and waved it in his face, grinning up at him.

”You’re a blessing”, he sighed at you, taking the licorice with gratitude.

”Don’t know how you eat those shits. It’s like fuckin’ rubber or somethin’”, Frank grumbled, just as he reached for the thermos in his backpack and made Curtis laugh.

”Says the black coffee drinker”, he pointed out while unwrapping his Twizzlers. You giggled in the back, digging through the bag for your favorite chocolate bar to snack on.

Frank had just poured himself a cup, when he noticed the man of the hour sneaking into the apartment building. ”Fuck, you gotta be kiddin’ me”, he huffed, placing his cup on the dashboard before unholstering his gun and turning quickly towards you to press a kiss on your forehead. ”Anythin’ happens, you follow Curtis”, he instructed before turning to the man himself and giving him a look, ”got that?”

Nodding, Curtis promised to look after you. ”I got it. Go, man, we’ll be fine”, he assured, and with that, Frank fled the car and you watched him jog across the street.

As he entered the right building, Curt turned back to you and noticed how nervous your bites had become. ”Hey, he’s just being dramatic. He knows what he’s doing, nothing to worry about”, he tried to console you, and with a wry chuckle, you finished your chocolate.

”You know I’ve patched him up enough times to know that’s not always true”, you noted before giving him a smile, ”but thank you.”

He shrugged before turning back to look at the building, keeping a close eye just in case. ”Hope I didn’t put you guys in too awkward of a place earlier”, he spoke then, and with a quiet laugh, you shook your head.

”It’s fine. Kinda ruined the surprise, though”, you hummed, and with wide eyes, he looked over to you.

”Shit, he didn’t bring it up with you?”

You laughed. ”Nope, but I guess it had to come out one way or another. He was really sweet, anyway. It’s okay”, you reassured before tugging on your sleeves and bringing your hands to rest on your cheeks so the warmth of the sweater and the stuck scent from Frank could comfort you.

”For what it’s worth, I think you’re great. You know, he thinks he’s the luckiest guy in the world. And I know you feel just as lucky and that’s all I need to know”, Curtis announced, relieving any tension left in your jaw and any worries on your heart when it came to making a good first impression. Of course, he wasn’t comparing you to Maria — you were the only one doing that.

You could get used to this, though. You didn’t need to be Maria, you just needed to be you, willing to spend ungodly hours outside with your vigilante lover kicking ass while you snacked with his best friend.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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snowmist-hashira · 10 months

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[Chapter title: Silent Yearning]

Muichiro Tokitou x Reader

Wattpad:(One shots) Tokito Muichiro x Reader Archive:Kimetsu No Yaiba: Tokitou Muichiro x Reader Master list:♠ Information ♠

Artist: まび

Links; Pixiv & Twitter

To be honest, I had initially planned for a different ending, but as I started writing it, it didn't feel quite right. Instead, this new ending emerged and it had a certain sparkle to it that resonated more to it.

Muichiro couldn't quite understand why he felt this way. He was generally indifferent towards the interactions between his fellow Hashira and the other demon slayers. But when it came to Y/n, it was different. Perhaps it was because he saw something special in her, something he couldn't quite put into words.

Every time he caught sight of Y/n conversing with others, a sense of unease would wash over him. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy, a feeling he was unfamiliar with. He wanted her attention, her smiles, her presence to be directed towards him. He wanted to be the one she spent time with, the one she greeted warmly, the one who made her happy.

Yet, at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to act upon these emotions. Muichiro was not one to express his feelings openly, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

However, the more he saw Y/n interact with others, the harder it became for Muichiro to suppress his feelings. The thought of her being happy without him brought a bittersweet ache to his heart.

Muichiro's internal struggle intensified as he grappled with his emotions. The anger and frustration he felt when Y/n didn't give him her undivided attention only added to his confusion. He questioned why he was reacting this way, why her interactions with others affected him so deeply.

His frustration stemmed from a mix of jealousy and a fear of being left behind. He didn't want to be just another person in Y/n's life. He wanted to stand out, to be someone significant to her. And when he saw her engaging with others, he couldn't help but feel overshadowed, as if he wasn't as important to her as she was to him.

“Mui, what's wrong?” Muichiro's heart skipped a beat as he heard Y/n's voice calling him by his nickname. It was a name he cherished, one that he allowed only her to use. Yet, even in this moment, he couldn't shake off the mixed emotions swirling within him.

He looked up at Y/n, his gaze meeting hers briefly before he averted his eyes again. His response was curt, unable to find the right words to express his turmoil. "Nothing," he repeated, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Muichiro wished that Y/n could see through his facade, that she could perceive the depth of his emotions. He longed for her to understand the significance of his actions and the significance she held in his life.

His lack of clarity about his emotions added to the confusion. He didn't fully grasp that what he was experiencing was jealousy and longing, as he hadn't encountered such emotions before. The conflicting nature of his feelings left him uncertain of how to proceed.

Muichiro felt a sudden rush as Y/n took hold of his hand, urging him to follow her to their usual spot for cloud gazing. His confusion momentarily subsided as he allowed himself to be led by her, feeling the warmth of her touch.

As they reached their spot, Y/n turned to him with that radiant smile he longed to see. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered with a mixture of joy and apprehension, “I’m sure you’re just tired from your duties, let’s relax for now!”

He sat down beside Y/n, who was gazing up at the expansive sky above. The clouds drifted lazily overhead, painting intricate patterns across the blue canvas. He let the calmness of the scene wash over him, momentarily pushing aside his conflicted feelings.

Muichiro gazed at Y/n's serene and gentle expression, his eyes traced every delicate line and contour of her face. He found himself captivated by the beauty that radiated from her features. Her eyes, like pools of tranquility, held a depth that drew him in, and her smile, so genuine and warm, brought a sense of comfort to his heart.

It was as if the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them and the vast expanse of the open sky. Muichiro couldn't help but be entranced by Y/n's presence, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions.

He found himself wanting to protect that smile, to be the one who could bring it forth effortlessly. The desire to be the source of her happiness grew stronger within him, his gaze remained fixated on Y/n, committing every detail to memory. He wanted to etch this moment into his mind, to carry it with him even when they were apart.

He hoped that one day, he would find the courage to express the depth of his feelings, to show Y/n just how much she meant to him.

Muichiro couldn't help but let his hopes rise within him, even though he tried to temper his expectations. Y/n's pure heart and genuine kindness had always been apparent to him, and he found himself yearning for a connection that went beyond friendship. He longed for something more intimate, a bond that was born out of love.

In his heart, Muichiro wished that Y/n's actions and the warmth she showed were indeed signs of something deeper. He yearned for her to see him in the same light, to feel a connection that surpassed the boundaries of friendship.

Before he could fully admit and express his love for Y/n, he needed to understand it himself, to sort through the complexities within his own heart.

In the meantime, he resolved to keep his love to himself, cherishing it as a precious secret.

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linalavender · 7 months

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How Tatsuki Fujimoto writes Affection

First of all I would like to give massive credit to Tiktok user @campaign_baby for their Tiktok I saw on this that really made me think of it alot more

I will Bring up Examples from:

Shikaku

Mermaid Rhapsody

Goodbye Eri

Fire Punch

Chainsaw Man Part 1 (Quite a big spoiler in this will give fair warning)

Fujimoto has a sort of strange method he uses to write that a character Loves/cares deeply for someone. And its The character either being willing to be consumed or to provide sustenance to someone, Or to consume the other person. Examples:

Shikaku

After Shikaku confesses her love for Yucel, He rushes to the hospital to offer her his blood, Making her into an immortal vampire just like him. Yucel has also fallen for Shikaku, its basically his confession of love, He wants to live with her Forever.

Its drawn in a way you can tell its such an act of compassion too.

Mermaid Rhapsody

"I loved her so much that I thought, If it was by someone with a smile as pretty as hers, Maybe being eaten wouldn't be so bad."

Toshihides Dad feels the exact same way about his Mom as Toshihide feels about Shijyu. Mermaids eat humans, But that never mattered to either of them.

Goodbye Eri

In Yuutas Movie about Eri, He writes her to be a Vampire, because he wouldnt actually mind to be her sustenance, In his movie, he loves Eri so much. (I genuinely cant read this fucking story without sobbing, Rereading it again just to get this screengrab just made me cry for like 20 min help)

Fire Punch

This one is Pretty straight forward, Agni with his regenerative powers feeds his village by continuously chopping of his Arm so they dont all starve to death. But more importantly he does this to prevent his sister from doing it aswell. He doesnt want her to suffer that pain so he takes sole responsibility for providing himself to the village.

Agni also later feeds his followers with the help of Togata Chopping of the part of his face that isnt on Fire. I think this has more todo with making sure Togata gets fed rather than his followers, To Agni Togata means alot.

⚠️Chainsaw Man Part 1 (Spoilers for the Final arc)⚠️

When Power is about to Die, Power not only offers her own blood For Denji to Drink so he can get back to health, But Pochita also offers a small part of himself so she can come back as a Powerful Devil.

And ofcourse the big one is Denji Eating Makima. He obviously has to and all for the sake of erasing her. But he explicitly says it wasnt an Attack, It was an act of Love.

Its such a fascinating thing that the idea of consuming someone can be concidered something you do to a cherished one, as an affectionate thing. I guess as Denji mentions that you basically become one with eachother in a way if you consume them.

But this is such a Weird thing Right? Where does this idea even originate from? Well ofcourse we can only Speculate but I really think he took on inspiration from his own life here, Because he has actually done this to someone he loved. Yes, Seriously.

Tatsuki Fujimoto eating his deceased Pet Fish

In the Authors notes for "Tatsuki Fujimoto Before Chainsaw Man: 22-26" Fujimoto shares a story from when he was 24:

"Even though we were poor, we had a pet Japanese rice fish. I found it dead one summer. I went to toss its body into the trash like in Parasyte, but my girlfriend said she wanted me to bury it, So off I went to the park, alone. I tried to bury it under this big tree, but the ground was too hard, my hands got all dirty and I had no hole to show for my effort. Out of Options, I figured I would pretend I had buried the fish and left it lying there on top of the ground. As I watched it for a little while, ants found the body and began to carry it away. Im not sure what came over me, but in that moment, love for that pet fish welled within me for the first time. I brushed the ants away, and then Ate it."

You can read the full story here

It has that "Wait what the hell am I reading" Charm to the story like alot of his works, But theres something so weirdly beautiful about this story, Somehow stricken with grief and love for this fish, He ate it. As Denji says, its not an attack, his fish is part of him now and its an act of love. So strange, yet so Beautiful.

Anyways thanks for reading this insanely long post if you even got this far I appreciate it!

#tatsuki fujimoto #fire punch #chainsaw man #goodbye eri #Mermaid Rhapsody #Shikaku #chainsaw man spoilers

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klayleyism · 4 months

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Haylijah actually slaps when you truly understand them.

Its fault is having too much screen time, which they wasted most of doing nothing

The thing is Elijah is a tragic character, he wants to be a decent person, he in no way enjoys exercising or watching cruelty, he cared deeply for his family and his values, and he felt insane guilt that ate at his soul for centuries over not saving Klaus from their abusive father

Yes he would do anything for those he cares for and yes his number one priority will always be Klaus and he's not a hypocrite, he's well aware of it and he says it

The way he did everything for Klaus and couldn't imagine a world without him that he left his unstable niece alone to die by his side because there's no saving him from the devotion and loyalty he has for him and because in a thousand years Klaus was his only purpose is beautiful and the actor did the role justice to say the least

Elijah was doomed which is why every love story he had or any resemblance of independence and building a life/a purpose outside of Klaus ended up horribly (pretty much always because of Klaus too) yet he still came back to him because that's all he knows and he can't imagine a more perfect atonement for what he perceived as his ultimate sin

It's all fun till hayley comes into picture because soon enough she will have the same destiny Elijah has because she too will have the utmost love and devotion for the piece of shit man who'll also give her life the biggest meaning and she will be running back to him no matter what he does as much as Elijah

So ultimately Elijah's character revolves entirely around Klaus which regardless of Hayley's feelings makes Haylijah impossible to work out and hayley too is way too devoted to that man for Haylijah to work out either

Haylijah was never about Haylijah it was all about klaus-elijah / Klaus-hayley

The show does a magnificent job at portraying the very complicated dynamic between the trio, except when they focus too much on the cheesy and meaningless romantic aspect that is simply not there between Haylijah as opposed to going about Haylijah in the way that shows how both Hayley and Elijah's trauma and past experiences make them have the most nuanced and fucked up love for a very possessive and insecure maniac who loves both of them too much to risk losing one of them in an attempt to be with the woman he loves (his literally words in 5x08)

Haylijah can't exist outside of klayley because there's no Elijah outside of Klaus and there's no hayley outside of Klaus

Elijah's feelings for hayley and Hayley's feelings for Elijah were all about Klaus wether it's the sheer gratitude he had for her for saving Klaus from himself therefore achieving what he's been working towards for a millennium or her need to be loved , cherished and feel safe especially in a time she needed it from Klaus the most

#klayley #the originals #klaus mikaelson #hayley marshall #tvd #klaus x hayley #the vampire diaries #character study #anti haylijah

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free-for-all-fics · 8 months

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Various Slasher Prompts! This list includes: Brahms Heelshire, Ghostface, Thomas Hewitt, Jason Voorhees, Asa Emory, Jesse Chromeans, Severen Van Sickle and Bo Sinclair. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these ideas and I’d love to read it! 🔪❤️🩸(Special thanks to my bestie @tinalbion!)

1. You’re either born with unique doll-like features or you’ve gotten extensive plastic surgery to look like a doll. Either way you have the face, hair and body of a life size porcelain doll. You’re beautiful and look practically perfect in every way. But it’s sort of uncanny how you dress and do your makeup and hair to look so much like a living doll, almost like you’re an imitation of a human. How does Brahms react? How do you react when you meet this man who’s been living in the walls and wears a porcelain doll mask?

2. Resident Evil Village Crossover: You’re a doll maker like your sister, Donna. You may or may not have mutations and/or the ability to bring dolls to life and control them like she did. After Claudia’s and your parents’ deaths, all you and Donna had left was each other. Naturally, you were very close. You made dolls together, tended to the garden, and left flowers at Claudia’s grave periodically. You were the only person Donna showed her face to, but she still had bad days where she couldn’t bring herself to take off the black veil. Not even for you. You’d never leave the house or go to the village without her because she wouldn’t let you. She used her dolls to keep watch over you while she was away. She always accompanied you outside, afraid something bad would happen if she wasn’t there to protect you.

After her death, there’s nothing left for you in Romania. You’ve never been allowed to step outside the village walls before because of how agoraphobic and overprotective your dear sister was. You’re scared and anxious to travel abroad all alone, but you have no reason to stay here. After burying Donna with Angie in the family cemetery and giving your final goodbyes, you leave Beneviento Manor without looking back. You travel to England, only bringing your personal favorite doll and some small yet precious family mementos that you cherish.

Somehow you meet Brahms and it’s remarkable how alike he is to both you and your deceased sister. Like Donna he has dark hair, hides his face, and speaks through or otherwise uses a doll that’s important to him to communicate. He, too, loves to play games like Hide-and-Seek with his victims. He’s lonely and doesn’t want you to leave the Heelshire mansion either, just like how Donna forbade you from leaving Beneviento Manor without her. Like you, his life is marred by tragedy. His entire family is deceased and he has lived alone in a creepy old house since his parents committed suicide, just like how you and Donna spent your lives after you lost your own parents in the same manner. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Brahms was a long lost brother of yours that was separated from you at birth. Maybe it’s fortunate he has no blood relation to you. So what happens now? (Platonic or Romantic is up to you)

3. Ghost of Thornton Hall AU: You’re Brahms’ twin sister and were beloved not just by your family, but by the entire village. Everyone who knew you loved you. While Brahms was “odd”, you were everything but. Your parents tried to love you and Brahms equally, but you inevitably became their favorite child. When you died with your brother in a house fire, the village suffered a great loss and everyone mourned you deeply. Even 20 years later, your absence is still felt by the village. Flowers and gifts are left at your grave. Your epitaph reads, “Dear Sweet Y/N, Please Come Back”. Rumors and ghost stories spread that you and your brother still haunt Heelshire Manor. Village children make up the rhyme, “Fire So Red, Night So Black, Dear Sweet Y/N, Please Come Back,” and dare each other to recite it in the cemetery at night over and over until they scare themselves silly. Except you didn’t actually die. You were sent away after Brahms nearly killed you. It was a terrible accident and he never meant to hurt you, but it was too much for your parents to bear. So they faked both of your deaths and sent you abroad to America to live with a new family while they kept Brahms hidden away in England.

On your 28th birthday, your adoptive parents tell you the truth and reveal your birth name (omitting the parts about your brother and the fire). You’re sent a letter in the mail that has no return address, but looks like it’s from someone you know. It’s your friend’s handwriting and signed with their name. You haven’t seen them in a while, but they’re inviting you to their house in the English countryside - all expenses paid. How can you say no? Unbeknownst to you, this is all a trap set up by Brahms to bring you back to Heelshire Manor, whether you remember he’s your brother or not.

On the drive there, you stop by a cemetery and see a beautifully decorated gravestone covered in flowers and gift offerings. With your name and birthdate engraved on it. Naturally, you freak out, especially when you see your death date listed as 20 years ago. You’re not dead! So how and why is this here? You’re perturbed and have so many questions but is this really a mystery you want to unravel? The only place you’ll find answers is inside Heelshire Manor. But If you step foot into that house, there’s no going back. You’ll be past the point of no return. Once you come home, Brahms won’t let you leave.

4. Ghost of Thornton Hall inspired AU: A local newspaper has a front page story that reads as follows: A dreary cloud descended over the English countryside yesterday afternoon as services for Y/N Heelshire brought the entire village to a complete standstill. A large group of mourners braved the pouring rain for a chance to pay their final respects to Ms. Heelshire before the private internment on the Heelshire family’s estate. A beloved and charismatic member of the influential Heelshire clan, Y/N was fatally injured during a fire on the Heelshire estate. Since news of her death, outpourings of grief have been seen throughout town, but none were as spectacular as what occurred during her funeral service. Brahms Heelshire, brother to the deceased, was carried out by local police following a violent outburst. Witnesses allege Brahms Heelshire grew agitated during the services, causing thousands of dollars in damage and a few minor injuries. No witnesses were willing to comment to record and Brahms was later released without charges to the care of his family. There is currently no evidence that what transpired that fateful night was anything more than an accident.

“What’s the story with the locked room upstairs?”

“It’s Y/N’s. We don’t go in there.”

“It might help me figure out what’s going on if I could take a look around.”

“Best of luck. That door locked itself up tight the day of her funeral. There’s not a key in this world that’ll open it. I’ve tried.”

Are you truly dead or has your death been faked by your parents? Did young Brahms intentionally try to kill you or was it truly an unfortunate accident and misunderstanding? Will you one day return home to Heelshire Manor and darken its doorstep or does the ghost of your memory forever haunt the halls? It’s all up to you to decide.

5. Crimson Peak/Haunted Mansion AU (no incest!): You’re Brahms’ twin sister. Since you were children, you’ve had murderous urges like he does. Except while Brahms was “odd” and didn’t have many friends, you were a beautiful little girl who looked and acted sweet. You’ve even fooled your parents into thinking you were a perfect social butterfly. But in secret, you’d do weird things like mutilate your toys, etc. Other kids and adults fell right into your traps. It was easy for you to pretend to cry about being lost before isolating your victims and killing them. Covering it up was also easy: No way could a child overpower an adult or do such a terrible thing! But after Brahms killed Emily Cribbs, your parents faked his death by setting the manor on fire. It was up to you to play the part of the perfect daughter and heiress.

20 years later, you’re a stunningly beautiful woman and shine brightly amongst society. Your parents are deceased, and the wealth you and Brahms have accrued from your inheritance and parents’ wills is drying up. You’ve become a somewhat prominent and popular socialite, so you and Brahms hatch an ingenious plan: You go out in society, travel to America and other countries to seduce wealthy men into marriage. Once you bring them back home to Heelshire Manor after your honeymoon, you work your magic on them until they believe themselves to be in love with you. Any weird or strange noises your new husbands hear in the walls you wave off as just the rats, the old pipes, etc. The house is old and often creaks and “breathes” when it shifts. Any concerns they come to you with, you comfort them but tell them they’re just not used to the English countryside air yet. It usually doesn’t take long for you to convince them to sign the papers and leave everything to you.

You and your brother then kill them together and dispose of their bodies. You put on an award-worthy performance as a worried wife with a missing husband, which soon turns into a grieving widow. Then you collect their money and assets, and repeat the pattern as needed. Gaslight and Girlboss. You’re a very successful Black Widow and everyone in the village is none the wiser because you’re such a convincing actress. Brahms and you cover up your crimes so well. Besides, you’re such a darling and do so much good and charitable work for the village that you would never be capable of doing such a heinous thing! You’re so friendly and everyone in the village loves you. You just have terrible luck in love, that’s all!

6. Orphan inspired AU: Heelshire Manor has become a (in)famous though unofficial haunt. The abandoned house has been an attraction for tourists, ghost hunters, and paranormal investigators around the world ever since rumors and speculations from village pub talk have been spread through word of mouth and posted on the internet, exaggerated over time to garner the most attention. The truth behind the story of Emily Cribbs’ death and the fire at Heelshire Manor has been twisted ever since it first got published on online blogs. What was an unsolved crime has now become a ghost story, an urban legend almost. The manor is said to be haunted by the ghosts of Brahms Heelshire and his sister ever since they both died in a house fire when they were children. Videos posted on TikTok and YouTube show strange phenomenon: Porcelain dolls and other objects moving by themselves, inexplicable noises like knocking, the voices of the ghost children, and telephones ringing when the lines are revealed as disconnected and dead. Doors have been shown to shut and lock on their own, and dead animals that were definitely not there before are left lying about in the open. Threatening messages such as “GET OUT” appear written in blood, etc. Some videos even feature rare sightings of the little Heelshire daughter’s ghost. She looks exactly the same as she did on the day she died.

Except you’re not a ghost and neither is your brother. He’s been moving through secret passageways inside the walls and mimicking the voice of a child perfectly. You were born with a rare genetic disorder that makes you have the appearance and voice of a child even though you’re an adult woman. Unwitting people trespass onto your property and break into your family home to film scary ghost content, so you and Brahms take every advantage. You give them the scares and ghost activity they so desperately want then, when they least expect it, you and Brahms strike. You and your brother murder them even if they’re still recording. The videos capture their final moments as they struggle to fight and survive. You and your brother relish in the sounds of their screams or dying breaths as they gasp for air or choke on their own blood.

You then take their phones and cameras, stopping the recordings at just the right moment before you post the videos yourself. Peoples’ skepticism and eagerness to denounce something as fake for clicks or clout works in your favor and allows you and Brahms to get away with endless murders. You then promptly destroy the phones, cameras, or other recording devices and dispose of them just to be safe. The locals know better but are too afraid to go near your house. Nobody ever heeds their warnings and people keep coming like lambs to the slaughter because they think it’s all fake or staged. And since people think you and Brahms are paid actors and it’s all just an elaborate hoax, nobody is gonna bother to investigate. No matter how many people go missing or end up dead, it’s never going to stop. It’s an endless cycle you and Brahms delight in.

7. You’re dating Stu and Billy. You love them both and they love you so it’s perfect that you share and do things as a trio. But because it’s high school and the 90s, nobody understands your poly relationship and you get relentlessly harassed and bullied in school for dating two guys at the same time. You’re called a whore or slut, sarcastically asked by guys for threesomes or hookups since you, “open your legs for two guys already so what difference would it make”, when you’re just trying to get stuff out of your locker or get to class. Thanks to annoying cliques of popular girls, rumors may start that you even have STDs or are pregnant. Even at home, you get creepy or annoying phone calls from girls asking who’s better in bed or guys asking for sexual favors. You’re tired of all their shit so you disconnect your landline phone, which makes your boyfriends worried when you start skipping class and they can’t get a hold of you anymore.

Billy and Stu find out about the situation sooner or later, whether you tell them or not. When they started their Ghostface killing spree, they didn’t have a motive. But now they do. They start tormenting and killing your harassers and bullies. You don’t know your boyfriends are Ghostface and you may be a suspect for a while and questioned by police, but Billy and Stu don’t like that. They’ll take care of it and clean up their mess so that evidence points to someone else (like Cotton Weary) and you’re cleared. Whether you eventually find out they’re Ghostface or not is up to you. How you react to the reveal of them being Ghostface (whether they confide their secret in you and tell you all they’ve done to protect you, or you find out accidentally by being in the wrong place at the wrong time) is up to you.

8. You’re Sidney’s sister and Mickey’s girlfriend. You’re his muse for his film aspirations and often help him with his amateur filmmaking whether it’s brainstorming ideas, traveling to locations, writing screenplays and scripts, etc. While his intentions were the same as Billy’s when he first met you, everything changed when he unexpectedly grew to love you just as much as he loves film. He doesn’t want you to get mixed up with his Ghostface plot anymore. But his methods of protecting you look suspicious and you start to have doubts and feel uneasy around him. When you vent about Mickey to your classmate, Cici Becker, she puts these ideas in your head that he’s either cheating on you and/or wants to break up and is just waiting for an opportune moment. She compares his behavior to her own shitty “boyfriend”, Ted. Why did he ask Hallie to go with him as his date to the mixer party and didn’t even tell you about it? Why else would he be gone and out late so often or not answer your calls? Little do you know, this is why Ghostface later kills Cici. Similarly, he killed Randy for having the audacity to think he had a chance of scoring or dating you.

All his efforts of protecting you blow up in his face when Nancy Loomis shoots you anyway during the final confrontation. Sidney kills Nancy before the vengeful mother can kill Mickey while he’s distracted and unaware of his surroundings. He’s at your side and trying to stop your bleeding, too busy apologizing to you and asking for your forgiveness. He assures you that you weren’t supposed to be here or get hurt, but you don’t know if you can believe him. You’re torn between pushing him away because you’re scared of him and feel betrayed, or accepting his help because you don’t want to die and you still love him. You know it’s fucked up, but a part of you wishes you could pin all the Ghostface attacks on Nancy somehow. You know you’re not thinking straight due to the blood loss, but a part of you still doesn’t want to see Mickey, your Mickey, dead or in prison. You stop Sidney from killing him and she relents, for now. You’ll all be going on a trip to the hospital, but what will happen between you and Mickey afterwards?

9. 10 Things I Hate About You AU: Mickey is paid off by another student to take you out on dates for whatever reason. He’s asked you out multiple times, but you kept turning him down, aware he’s kind of a player and gets around campus. But he persists and eventually does something like Derek did for Sidney where he makes a spectacle of asking you out. So you finally cave and say yes. What started out as a monetary transaction became genuine as he got to know the real you, past the introverted and antisocial exterior you exhibit at school. You’re tempestuous, feisty, and rebellious, but have a very sweet and sensitive heart deep down. You’re tough but he really likes you. Hell, maybe he even loves you as the semester progresses.

You agree to stay up late to help him with his final project for his Film Studies class, but then you both get distracted and bored with filming the documentary. You decide to film a sex tape instead. Something special and private, just for yours and Mickey’s eyes only. He treats it like a passion project. He directs you and acts alongside you as if you were scene partners in a high class art film. During the filming of this sex tape, you tell Mickey you love him. Even if he doesn’t say it back, you feel like he doesn’t have to. You already know he loves you too. But then everything goes to shit when you overhear a heated exchange between him and the student who’s been paying him off. When your sex tape is mentioned, you think he’s shown the tape to other people and feel used and lied to.

“Nothing in it for you, huh? You were paid to take me out! I knew it was a set-up!”

“It wasn't like that!”

“Really? What was it like? A down payment now, then a bonus for sleeping with me?”

Mickey chases after you and insists that he doesn’t care about the money, he cares about you. But after what you perceive as his betrayal, you refuse to listen. You storm off, accusing him of not being who you thought he was. This drives Mickey to become Ghostface and start killing. He wants revenge on those he believed played a part in turning you against him, starting with the punk who bribed him. He’ll come up with a plan to make things right and win you back, one way or another. Even if he has to eventually kidnap you and/or pretend to be the hero and save you from Ghostface. He’ll come up with an elaborate plan and find a way to prove his love for you is real. Even if he has to commit a few murders along the way and pin them on someone else.

10. You’re Sidney’s sister and have been dating Mickey. Murders start happening again following the release of Stab and you get calls from a new Ghostface. You ask Mickey if you can come over; it’s very important that you talk to him in private and it can’t wait. When you arrive at his dorm, Mickey is concerned about your mental and emotional state. You don’t look well. You’re paranoid and stressed, still traumatized from the Woodsboro Ghostface attacks 2 years ago. He acts as a loving and supportive boyfriend, comforting you and distracting you from your anxious thoughts with kisses and more. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve stayed over at his dorm nor would it be the first time you’ve slept together, but this time feels like a goodbye. You urge Mickey to stay away from you for his own safety because Ghostface is after you and your sister again. Whoever it is won’t hesitate to kill your loved ones to get to you. You tell him you’re leaving town and try to break things off, but Mickey is stubborn and refuses to let you go. He loves you and swears he’ll protect you, but he feels like there’s something else you’re not telling him and demands to know what it is. He blocks the door and stops you from leaving. You’re acting weird and look like a sleep deprived mess, so you’re not going anywhere until you tell him what’s going on with you. You break down and reveal it’s not just you or Sidney you’re worried about anymore: You’re pregnant with Mickey’s child.

After that, things seem okay between you and Mickey. The killings have slowed down so maybe it’s over. But then you inadvertently find a Ghostface costume hidden amongst all his stuff in his dorm while he’s out, and you rightfully assume the worst - that he’s playing you the same way Billy played Sidney. Mickey admits that while that was the original plan, the plan changed when he unexpectedly fell in love with you. He swears he wasn’t the one calling you and that it was his partner, Nancy Loomis. He told her to stop and leave you be after you told him about your pregnancy, but it seems Nancy didn’t listen. He’s lied to you all this time and you don’t know if you can trust him anymore. It isn’t until after the final confrontation when he saves you from Nancy and takes a bullet meant for you that you believe him. He put his own life on the line to save yours. To hell with the film, Mickey wants his family. He wants you and your unborn child more than fame.

11. When you were a baby or toddler, your parents were taking you on a family road trip. They stopped at Luda’s shop for gas and/or snacks. A new and young mother of two boys herself, Luda adored you at first sight. She noticed your eyes were two different colors. You were unique and special just like her sweet Thomas. He’s about your age too, or maybe a little older. Your mom and dad were polite as one of them held you in their arms and told you to say hello to the nice lady, waving your arm for you because you were too shy. Luda gave you an old but pretty doll to play with, and your little smile made her heart swell at how cute you were. You were such a sweetheart and she was sad to watch you leave, but was happy you had parents who loved you despite your mismatched eyes.

When your parents later hit a cow in the middle of the road and died upon impact, Charlie Sr. came along and found you in the backseat, covered in your parents’ blood. He cursed to himself when he heard your shrill crying and screaming. You were confused and frightened but luckily unharmed. He pulled you from the bloody wreckage before the sheriff could show up and take you away. His wife always wanted a daughter, so he brought you back to the house. After he told Luda what happened, she cleaned you up. She rocked you back and forth, hushing you and lulling you to sleep. What a horrific tragedy to have befallen your lovely parents and for you to be in the middle of it. Luckily you were young enough that you wouldn’t remember your birth parents or anything from what’s happened. She’ll love you and raise you as her own. Tommy will have a sister to play with. What’s your upbringing like as you grow up with the Hewitts? With your eye condition and his skin disease, what are you and Thomas like as siblings from childhood to adulthood?

12. You died at Camp Crystal Lake and Jason, this poor man, was so devastated that he was in denial and didn’t want to bury you. He’d just tuck your deceased body into bed or on the couch like you were only sleeping and Pamela had to softly tell him it’d be best to bury you properly. Her sweet boy was hurting and her voice comforted him as best as it could. So he buries you, his best friend and lover, in your favorite spot in the camp. He leaves wildflowers for you every day he visits. Of course Jason would be merciless to those that caused your death (if it was caused through foul play and not by an accident or natural causes) and any trespassers after that. One day a group of typical teenagers at Crystal Lake were telling scary ghost stories and fucking around with a ouija board, or one teen in particular was just being absolutely stupid in trying to go around the camp and "resurrect the Camp Blood Slasher" as a joke.

But joke’s on them, it resurrected you instead of Jason. When you come back and Jason sees your grave is empty and has been disturbed, he thinks someone stole your body. He’s about to go on a rage fueled murder spree - until he finds you in his cabin. Your hair, skin and clothes are covered in dirt and grime. You’re shaking like a leaf and your eyes are wide like a startled deer. You know you died, you still remember that day so vividly. So you have no idea how you’re here now. You’re alarmed that you have no heartbeat or pulse. You have no need to breathe like a normal human. What’s happened? Why are you like this? What day is it? Somehow, you’re now risen and immortal, just like Jason. But while he’s a zombie, you may be more like a vampiric creature that needs blood to survive. Jason has to do his best to console and comfort you like how Frankenstein’s Creature tried to do with his Bride. There, there. You’re safe now and back home with Jason. He’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again. He’ll teach you what he knows about being undead as best as he can.

13. Orphan/Criminal Minds inspired AU: You’re Asa Emory’s younger sister and the only other member of his family who survived your insane father’s familicide and macabre setting of the dinner table. The experience fucked you both up and warped your minds. The chemicals your father injected you with didn’t kill you, but they stunted your growth permanently. You escaped with Asa before your father could kill or stuff either of you, but you’re frozen in the body of a little girl. Even as an adult woman, your petite stature makes you look and sound like a child. Sometimes your brother takes you with him on “exterminator jobs” and lets you design or set traps. Other times you’ll lure in victims by pretending to be lost or in need of help. Most people can’t ignore a child in distress and you’re such a good actress. You’re so relieved and thankful to Asa for not infantilizing you. He speaks to you and treats you like the adult you are when you’re in the privacy of your house or otherwise not hunting for victims.

But you’re often angry and envious of adult women, frustrated at your own body. You ask your dear brother to bring back “dolls” for you to play with when he’s working. You’re both artists; While he’s a licensed Entomologist, you’re a master seamstress. He creates masterpieces with his collection of insects while you create beautiful garments for your victims. Asa steals jewelry from houses for your personal use. Sometimes you use parts from different bodies to mix and match in order to create the “perfect woman”: What you think you’d look like as an adult had you been able to grow normally. After you sew the body parts together, Asa preserves your work through embalming and puts it in the hotel.

Other times, you ask Asa to bring back beautiful women alive. These women are abducted by your brother and then paralyzed due to being heavily sedated with drugs through an IV. They’re conscious but cannot move or speak. You wash them, tend to their wounds, dress them up in clothing you made, and do their hair and makeup. You pose them however you want and talk to them like they’re your friends. You care for them until you either grow bored or they inevitably die from the drugs. Asa disposes of them or moves them to his hotel for his own artwork. As fucked up as it is, you and Asa truly love each other as siblings should. You do what you can to protect and care for each other and keep yourselves safe and under the radar.

14. Doctors were able to save Jesse’s baby by performing a post-mortem C-section after his wife killed herself. But knowing what kind of man he is and the gruesome details about the heinous crimes he’s committed, they falsely reported that you died in the womb along with your mother so that Jesse wouldn’t think to come after you and you could have a chance at a normal life. You were adopted by a new family and live under a new name, but sooner or later Jesse finds out one way or another that his child is out there somewhere, alive. He’s livid at this deception. He’s gonna make the people who faked your death and kept you away from him all these years wish they had never been born. Death is too merciful when there are many a worse fate he can arrange. He may even kill your adoptive parents just to eliminate all obstacles that would potentially get in the way of him taking you back. Either way, he’s going to kidnap you. It’s inevitable.

He’s your father and he loves you, even if he shows it in strange or scary ways since he can’t talk and is often surrounded by blood, gore, and death (Remember how he used a creepy Text-To-Speech program with his victims’ voice recordings on his phone and patted Princess’s head with his knife? Yeah. It’d be like that). When the time is right, he may even show you his face and tell you the story of what happened to him. When he heard the tragic news from Spann, he mourned for you rather than for his wife. While she was a means to an end to keep up a cover, he wanted more than anything to have a child of his bloodline to carry on his legacy. He never loved her, but he always loved you from the minute his wife told him she was pregnant. Once he has you back, he’s going to call you by the name he would’ve given you. The name your adoptive parents gave you is wrong. Your past life is dead. You always have been and always will be a Cromeans.

He’s filthy rich so he’ll spoil you and give you practically anything that your heart desires. But he’ll keep you under close watch and heavily guarded. Every room in the massive and luxurious mansion you live in has security cameras monitoring your every step. You feel like a bird in a gilded cage. Of course you can go outside and go anywhere you want! A trusted employee just has to drive and accompany you everywhere you want to go. Doesn’t matter if you’re old enough to drive and have a license or not. He won’t let you escape. He’s missed out on so much and he wants to get to know everything about you. He wants to mentor you and raise you to be his heir. One day you’ll inherit his “business” when you’re old enough and he either retires or is gone. Everything will be left to you and you’ll want for nothing. He’ll kill anyone who tries to usurp him or steal your rightful inheritance (cough Preston cough). He’s trying his best to be a good father, but given his line of work, well, it’s…complicated.

15. You and the slasher of your choosing love to make snuff films/sex tapes. You kill your victims in creative ways because you’re not just committing murder, you’re making ✨art✨. You do all sorts of weird stuff with your “subjects” (use your imagination) and then have sex in their large blood puddles while they bleed out and/or next to their freshly deceased bodies. You film it all on tape. You and your slasher are smart and resourceful so that the tapes can never be traced back to you or fall into the wrong hands and get exposed to the wrong people. You use voice modulators, never show your faces, etc. You’re both sick and twisted, but you aren’t incompetent or stupid to incriminate yourselves. You could send your tapes directly to the police and they’d never find you. That’s how experienced and skilled you both are.

16. Near Dark and House of Wax Crossover ideas: Your older brother, Severen, made the stipulation that he wouldn’t join the clan unless he could bring you with him and turn you when you became an adult. You were still a child or teenager at the time and were his responsibility in your human life. You’re the only person in his family that he ever loved and he practically raised you (for better or worse). While you were still human, the clan would use you as a lure to fish for victims or to run errands for them during the day. Severen taught you how to defend yourself and gave you a trusty weapon to carry with you in case of trouble since he couldn’t be with you during daylight. In your vampire life, Severen’s love for you remains the same. Your brother can be cruel, violent, aggressive, and sadistic. But as your vampire sire, he taught you how to use your beauty and charm to seduce your victims. He emphasized the importance of never showing hesitation about killing. He and you make a chaotic duo. You hot-wire cars to go on high speed joyrides and eat the cops that try to pull you over, commit arson and theft, etc. You put on ✨performances✨ whenever you murder. It’s not enough to just kill. Yawn! That’s boring. You and Severen have to dress up and play a role. You have to make up a character or story. Or walk over a bar counter and slit throats with your boot spurs, etc.

Your road trips with your clan land you in Ambrose where you meet the Sinclair brothers. You really like them, especially Bo. He’s handsome, charming - A dangerous yet cunning murderer. Just like his brothers. All three of them put on stunning performances! Lester gives lost folks a ride into town, Bo sabotages their cars while they sleep then plays the part of a friendly mechanic, and Vincent silently lurks and slinks in the shadows. The brothers work together to murder their victims and put their embalmed bodies on display in the wax museum. Sometimes their victims are still alive while paralyzed in wax and posed. How avant-garde!

You spend most of your time with Bo during your stay and Severen hates that. He hates any human who has the audacity to flirt with or try to seduce his baby sister. It’s always been you and him for over a century! He doesn’t like that Bo is butting in and taking up your attention and time. He once saw you and Bo turn up the music in the garage and go downstairs to some secret room. He knew what you and Bo were doing down there and nearly blew a gasket. It took every last bit of self restraint for him to not barge in there and rip Bo’s head off from his shoulders and gorge on his blood. He had to leave and go out hunting to calm down.

Severen loves you, so he’ll begrudgingly tolerate Bo but his patience has always been thin. You may have to turn Bo and take him as your companion if you want him to live. If Bo isn’t your mate, your brother will probably snap and cut off his face or kill him in the most horrific way he can think of. The only thing stopping him right now is you, since you seem happy with Bo and are in love with him. (Don’t worry, Bo and Severen will warm up to each other and become best friends eventually. They’re very much alike.) Even if you have to turn Lester and Vincent and bring them along to get Bo to agree to your terms of joining the clan, that’s no problem. They’d be useful with their talents and welcome additions.

You’re the youngest Sinclair and only daughter, so your elder brothers are very overprotective and almost smothering in how much they love and look after you. (Maybe you were born kind of sickly and that chronic sickness has been with you all throughout your life, even as an adult.) They practically raised you since Trudy and Victor were absent or neglectful even when they were alive. It was always one of your brothers who had to watch over you to make sure you didn’t run too far away when playing outside. They were your playmates and kept a close eye on you to make sure you didn’t get hurt or kidnapped. If you did get sick or hurt, they took care of you and made sure you had the right medicine and everything you needed.

Bo killed your father to protect you when the doctor went mad after Trudy’s death and tried to “fix you” with his heinous medical experiments. You would’ve been killed if your eldest brother hadn’t acted and shot Victor with his own shotgun. When he and Vincent were old enough, they pulled you and Lester out of foster care and brought you back home to Ambrose. You’re an adult now, and shit goes down when Severen and his clan just randomly drop in unannounced at Ambrose. Lester didn’t drive them in. Who are these punks? The cowboy vampire seems drawn to you and is stuck to your side like glue from the moment he meets you, always incredibly flirty and charming. Your brothers probably don’t like that but what can they do against a vampire clan? What can they do against a vampire who’s found his mate and it just so happens to be their baby sister? That’s right, nothing!

Severen hates that you’re hurting and suffering from your chronic illness. The medication you have to take and strict routine you live by daily seems like a lot just to remain somewhat functioning. He’s disappointed whenever your brothers interrupt your time together and take you back to the house to rest because your illness is worsening. The creep that he is, he may climb through your bedroom window to watch over you while you sleep just in case you need something while your brothers are busy murdering people. He’ll want to turn you sooner rather than later so that your illness dies off with your human self. The transformation is painful and difficult, but you’ll become not only stronger and faster, but also incredibly hotter. You’re hot now, so imagine how sexy you’ll be as a vampire!

But your brothers can be stubborn and will need lots of convincing first. Of course they’d love it if you were healthy! if vampirism can truly expel the illness from your body and it’s what you want, they won’t stop you from making that choice. But they’re not just gonna give you away to some vampire as if you’re property, even if he is your “mate”. Something this serious calls for a good ol’ sit down with the entire clan at the kitchen table. Good thing the vampires have all night, because this discussion is gonna take hours. Your brothers are gonna pull an all nighter while they interrogate the vampires and set down some ground rules. Severen would do anything to have you, even if it meant turning all of your brothers into vampires. They’re your family too, so If you want them to join the clan and they agree to being turned, he’ll welcome new members in without complaint for once.

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