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rip-quizilla · 2 months

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You Could Kill Me (and You Should)

Pairing: Vampire!Eddie Munson X Slayer!Reader

Word Count: 16k

Tags: SMUT🔥🔥🔥, dubious consent, memory alteration, reader's pronouns aren't specified, reader has a vagina, oral sex, p in v sex, blood drinking, blood kink, unprotected sex, squirting, dom/sub undertones, vampire sex, references to Buffy the Vampire Slayer (but you don't have to be familiar to understand this story)

A/N: please read the tags! This work contains depictions of blood and VERY adult content. Minors, do not interact!

Bat divider made by @saradika ❤️

Hunting on game nights was never ideal.

There were too many people around… the double-edged sword of vampire hunting. The great throngs of people made it easy for a poor soul to get lost in the fray, so it brought the baddies out into the open. On the flip side of that coin, what made an ideal hunting ground for vamps created a field of landmines for a Slayer. Throngs of people meant infinite chances to get caught in the open with a wooden stake in your hand, and that brought too many questions.

Still, you could deal with humans; you had been your whole life. Hawkins, Indiana was just like any other town- people would believe what they wanted to believe, and you knew exactly how to spin a story into something they’d find acceptable.

However, if you got caught out in the moonlight with the specific vamp you were hunting, you knew you’d attract the wrong kind of attention. You wanted to fly under the radar here; it was the only way you’d be able to live here long enough to stave off the influx of demons that liked to slip in time to time from the Upside Down- the hell that waited on the other side of this reality. Not every town was as connected to it as Hawkins was, but then again, not every town sat on top of a Hellmouth.

A sound from behind you perked up the hairs at the back of your neck. You turned, making sure the brick wall of Hawkins High protected your back as you surveyed the empty courtyard before you. Everyone within a mile radius who still had a beating heart was in the gym, cheering on the Hawkins Tigers in hopes that the subpar basketball team might actually take home a win tonight.

Well… everyone except for you, whose heart was beating alarmingly fast for someone who had slain so many bloodsuckers that you’d lost count. Why were you this nervous? Aw, who were you kidding, you knew why.

You weren’t hunting just any vampire this time. You were hunting Eddie Munson.

You steadied your turncoat heart with a slow, deep breath. “Stop kidding around, Munson,” you said, keeping your voice low and eerily calm. “You know why I’m out here and I know you’ll only hurt me if you have to, so let’s just cut the formalities and have a little chat.”

A rumbling chuckle sounded from above, and when your eyes flicked up to the sky they were met with the sight of the most elusive and cunning vamp you’d ever had the displeasure of hunting.

Eddie Munson. Or, as he was known amongst the town’s community of bloodsuckers, Kas the Bloody Handed.

“Little chat, huh?” Eddie’s smiling voice echoed from where he sat on the edge of the rooftop above you. “Put away the stake and we’ll talk, Slayer.”

You kept your eyes on him, narrowing your gaze but complying nonetheless. You pocketed the stake, shifting your brown leather jacket to the side and sliding the wooden spike into your waistband.

Were you dealing with any other vamp, you would have laughed in their face at the demand that you disarm yourself when vampires had nearly every advantage against you. You had Slayer strength, sure- but that was it. These demons had speed, strength, teeth, claws- the fact that sunlight would incinerate them was really their only weakness besides their need for blood.

Correction- sunlight should incinerate them. Sunlight didn’t affect Eddie Munson. That wasn’t the only thing that didn’t seem to affect him- bloodlust was apparently not an issue either, seeing how he was a student. At a high school. A building just teaming with sweaty, hormonal teens who were just itching to do something stupid- one would assume that a vampire in a place like that would be draining cheerleaders left and right, but not Eddie. In fact, you’d been watching him for months now since you moved to Hawkins, and you’d never even seen him hurt a fly. Hell, you’d seen kids try and beat him up and yet he hadn’t so much as made a fist since the first time you laid eyes on him.

That was why you’d sought him out tonight- this vampire wasn’t killing people, and it was making you suspicious.

Once your weapon had been safely tucked away, Eddie hopped down from his insane height at the top of the school building and landed swiftly and quietly on his feet in front of you. He smiled at you lazily, his eyes twinkling with the curiosity and glee that came with sharing a secret.

“Excuse my forwardness, but I’ve gotta know-” Eddie began, hands in his pockets as he slowly sauntered toward you. “-how long did I have you going before you figured me out?”

You pushed off the wall, casually placing your hands behind your back as you matched his stride in the opposite direction. You were circling each other, two predators locked in a deadly dance.

“You’re a pretty good actor, Munson.” you replied, voice lighter than air but balanced out by the unwavering rock-solid gaze that remained locked on him. “I might not have figured it out at all if your friend at the hospital hadn’t spilled the beans.”

That got his attention. “Annie ratted me out?” His eyebrows were practically synonymous with his hairline. “Impossible.”

You shrugged. “Apparently HIPAA laws don’t apply to secret bloodbag dealers and their demon customers. In her defense, she was pretty tight-lipped until I had convinced her I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

That stopped Eddie in his tracks. He peered at you through his curtain of moonlit curls, his gaze suspicious and unsure. “You’re not?”

You stood squarely before him at ease. “Nope.” you replied brightly. “And I don’t think you’re trying to kill anyone either… are you, Kas?”

His suspicion gave way to a blinding smile. “Well someone’s been doing their research!” You blinked and he was inches away, his enhanced speed catching you off guard; you instinctively took a step back before instantly regretting it. Eddie caught your momentary lapse in stature and his grin crept upwards in one corner. “Tell you what, killer, how ‘bout we put a pin in all your fun little Kas facts and cut to the chase, hm?”

In a flash his hand held your chin firmly. Your grip flew to the back of your waistband, fingertips already caressing the smooth wood of your stake. You mirrored each other, the two of you standing in a twin stance with one foot placed in front of the other a shoulder’s width apart, his hand at your jaw and yours ready to stake the bastard at the first sign of a threat.

“You’re here to protect people,” Eddie continued, “and I don’t plan on hurting anyone. We can coexist here, it isn’t that complicated.”

“I’m here to slay vampires.” You corrected, but Eddie only grinned and shook his head.

“See, that’s not true- you would have killed me already.” He leaned in, a smug smile only taking up more space on his countenance. “Ain’t that right, Slayer?”

You’d expected that the decision to let Eddie live would come back to bite you in the ass, but surprisingly enough, nothing changed.

You went to school. You hunted. You did normal teenager things. Not once did you witness Eddie Munson do a single thing out of the ordinary.

Well…out of his ordinary. For a bloodsucking demon hiding among human teenagers, he liked attention far more than you’d expected. The more you thought about it, however, the more you saw his reputation for being the town freak as a genius cover. He was hiding in plain sight; any weird behavior would simply be written off as a cry for attention from Hawkins’ resident eccentric. If he wanted to, Eddie could be getting away with a lot more than stolen blood bags.

So why wasn’t he?

You wanted answers, and surprisingly enough you had a feeling that it wouldn’t take too much for him to give them to you. You just needed to find a private place to ask him. Word travels like wildfire after a drought in Hawkins, and even if Eddie didn’t mind the attention, you on the other hand did. You couldn’t afford for people to start associating you with him, so you’d passed Eddie a note at lunch to meet you out in the woods at the old picnic table.

“Did you know I used to do drug deals in this exact place?”

His voice sounded wistful as his body weight caused the weakened wooden bench to creak when he sat down with you later that afternoon. “Those were the days, man.”

You snorted. “You mean the days when you were human? Or are you a bloodsucker and a pill pusher? That’s an intersectionality I can’t say I’ve encountered before-”

“Back when I was human, smartass.” He cut you off, rolling his eyes. “Now, why did Hawkins’ shiny new vampire slayer invite me to meet in the middle of the woods? All alone?” he pretended to think it over for a second, feigning epiphany when his eyes widened and his brows shot up his forehead. His voice quivered, apparently auditioning to play the role of the victim in a slasher film. “Are you g-g-gonna k-k-kill me?” He braced his hands against the edge of the picnic table, scrambling to the ground as he amped up the drama while you watched, forcing a smile at bay.

“P-p-please, don’t s-s-slay me, almighty S-Slayer!”

You snorted, shaking your head, unable to completely stop the ghost of a grin from sliding across your lips. “Having fun?” you snarked.

It took only a millisecond- in a blur of supernatural vampire speed, he was back up on his feet and sitting on the surface of the table. “Lots!” His smile was overwhelming- it was easygoing, unguarded, and above all things it was so human. It was disconcerting.

“The reason I asked you out here,” you said, getting down to business. “Is because I have some questions for you.”

The vampire’s eyes narrowed, that smile staying firmly planted on his lips. “I’m sure you do.”

“How can you be out in the sunlight without bursting into flames?” Every vampire you’d ever encountered would be reduced to ashes if they dared to step out the door in broad daylight, yet here was Eddie Munson- 100% bloodsucker, 100% sitting on a picnic bench and soaking up the rays that filtered in through the cover of tree branches.

“I know a witch.” Eddie replied, eyes following you as you paced around the picnic table. “She did a spell. Next question?”

You raised an eyebrow, “Who’s the witch?”

“Not telling.”

“I figured.” you lamented. “Do the blood bags satisfy you as much as fresh blood?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, then replied with a curt “They’re enough.”

“Enough to stave off the urge to- I don’t know- murder?”

His head whipped sharply in your direction, expression souring. “Have you seen me kill anyone? In all the time you’ve been here, have you ever seen me so much as harm someone?”

You paused. “No.”

Jutting out his chin triumphantly, he straightened his posture a bit. “Then stick to relevant questions, alright killer?”

You narrowed your eyes on him. “Your bloodlust isn’t relevant?”

He scoffed, tightening his grip on the edge of the tabletop he still sat on, and you could have sworn you heard the wood creaking beneath his white knuckles. “You may not be from Hawkins, but with that self-righteous, bigoted attitude you could’ve fooled me.” His head was hanging down, Eddie’s dark eyes trained on his Reebocks which dangled from where he sat.

When he looked up at you through his long, chestnut curls, the gaze he gave you was so disappointed, so intense, that you actually felt a pang of guilt even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. You’d accused a vampire of having bloodlust. What was there to feel guilty for?

“You’re a vampire, Munson. A demon.” you stated, matter of factly. “You need blood to survive, and you’re a killer by nature-”

“You’ve done more killing in this town than I have,” he laughed humorlessly, his voice tinged with exasperation. “-and I’ve lived here my entire life!” Eddie hopped off the tabletop, shaking his head. “I thought you wanted to have an actual conversation with me, but if you’re here to point out splinters and ignore the stakes, then I’m gone. Go interrogate some other vampire.”

You stood your ground, watching Eddie walk back towards Hawkins High as you felt that guilt crawl into your chest and start to burrow there.

You found it ironic that the Hideout was known for both being the bar in town that never carded, and being the bar that vampires frequented the most. It resulted in a clientele that was either immortal or too young to be there.

Your presence in town had slowed down vampire activity quite a bit, but apparently that hadn’t been enough of a deterrent to rid the dive bar of their undead customers for the night. After a few years of slaying, you’d learned how to distinguish between prey and predator- there weren’t too many people in the bar since it was a Tuesday night, but that only made it easier to single them out.

You knew what to look for: eyes that swept the room to sort out the hierarchy of those present. Skin that lacked the plumpness and healthy complexion that came with blood running freely through the veins beneath. Behaviors that reflected an intention to single out the weak and alone before isolating them, going in for the kill.

Unfortunately, they weren’t who you were here for. Tonight, your attendance wasn’t attributed to any run-of-the-mill vampires.

Funny enough, you were here to see the band.

You sipped on your glass of cranberry juice, watching warily as tonight’s headliner situated themselves on the small almost-stage in the corner of the tiny bar. Long dark curls shadowed eyes that followed you with equal wariness, unsure of why you were here but intrigued nonetheless.

Sitting stationary at the bar with your glass sweating in your hand, you took in the spectacle before you- four boys who looked fairly human, setting the crowd ablaze with songs about nonconformity, rebellion, and hellish imagery. Funnily enough, humans and vampires alike were all watching them, heads bobbing to the thrum of the baseline, all of them united in their quest to distract themselves from life- or afterlife- for the night.

You’d always loved how music did that- it brought together folks of all shapes and sizes, political ideals, religions, backgrounds… and it gave them something to agree on. Music made people feel something. Whether you were alive or undead didn’t seem to matter; people loved to feel things.

To your chagrin, you found yourself tapping out the melodies along with the crowd, bouncing your knee in time with Eddie’s band’s music. They were- surprisingly- not bad. The place was small enough that even though you were seated at the bar, you were able to get a good look at each of the band members over the course of their set. You recognized some of them from school- Grant was a nice guy, you had some classes with him. Gareth was… shy? Standoffish? Either way, he kept to himself and away from everyone who wasn’t Eddie- typical behavior for a vampire. Now, seeing the pallor of his skin compared to the lively flush of his bandmates, you were all but sure he was a vampire; one of Eddie’s underlings, no doubt.

You’d figured out as much information about Eddie Munson’s standing in Hawkins’ vampire community as you thought you’d be likely to get, being a vampire slayer in a town fraught with vampires. He was the first to become a vampire the Hawkins way, and that afforded him a certain level of respect among vampires here. Other than that, you were flying blind.

Vampires existed in many forms across the world- name a continent, and you could rattle off some fun facts about that region’s particular breed of bloodsucker. Some born, some made, some immortal, some not- and they all had their own particular set of characteristics that set them apart and made slaying even more complicated. Eddie Munson had been the first of a new breed of vampire, and that’s why your watcher had sent you here; not only to slay, but to collect data.

The audience’s applause for Corroded Coffin’s final song faded into a dull chatter and the clinking of bar glasses, and your attention snagged on Eddie as you watched him amble off the stage in your direction. The other band members stayed where they were, shifting around as they began packing up their instruments. Gareth’s eyes stayed on Eddie, narrowing when they crossed over his shoulder and landed on you.

“Didn’t take you for a metal fan, Slayer.” Eddie murmured just loud enough for you to hear him over the din of noisy patrons.

You shrugged, sipping from your glass. “I listen to a little bit of everything. You guys aren’t bad.” Eddie hopped up onto the stool beside you, nodding to the bartender in a silent exchange. A half second later, Eddie had a freshly opened can of PBR sweating in his hand.

“Thanks.” He was eyeing you warily, sipping slowly from his can. “So what are you doing here?”

He didn’t bullshit around when there was an elephant in the room… you guessed you appreciated that. “I wanted to see you in your element.”

He snorted into his silver can. “In my element, huh? Wouldn’t that be -I don’t know- catching me in the act of ripping someone’s throat out? Draining the blood from a litter of kittens or something?”

A pang of guilt threatened to nudge its way through to your eyes, but you didn’t let it get that far. “No,” You replied, “you said it yourself, I’ve never actually seen you hurt anyone. Or even try, actually.”

His gaze was measured, eyeing you up and down as if scanning you for some indication that you were planning on staking him right here and now. You waited for him to speak but surprisingly he didn’t, so you continued.

“I’d like to propose a truce.”

Eddie smirked slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards enough to call into action the dimple hidden in his cheek. “Didn’t know we were fighting, I sure as hell haven’t been getting in your way, have I?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you’re getting at? You want an apology?” As Eddie’s smirk grew wider, your mouth moved in the opposite direction, lips forming a hard, tense line as you glared at the smug bloodsucking bastard before you.

“I’m a Slayer. I’ve traveled all over the world with the sole purpose of killing vampires just like you-”

“There are no vampires like me, sweetheart.”

You snorted. “Yeah yeah, you’re so unique, we’re all aware.” You downed the last swig of your drink. “Can I finish now?”

He nodded, that grin still growing along his lips.

“Every vampire I’ve ever met has wanted to kill people. Forgive me for having my defenses up when I came across one that didn’t.” Eddie’s eyes softened, as did the corners of his mouth. His smug grin now seemed a little more understanding, and maybe a little sympathetic. That last bit made you bristle.

“I’m not saying this for your sympathy, I just want you to know where I was coming from when I made assumptions about your…”

“I believe the term you used was ‘bloodlust’?” Eddie supplied, his tone accusatory but not altogether unfriendly.

You sighed heavily. “I made assumptions. I’m sorry about that.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side, digesting your apology. Finally, “Buy a round for me and my band and I’ll forgive you.”

The stipulations of your truce were laid out the next day at lunch. You were able to convince Eddie to leave his cronies’ lunch table in the cafeteria in favor of a more private place to discuss your terms- the picnic table out in the woods.

As per your side of the deal, Eddie would provide you a list of names of vampires that he knew followed the same lifestyle as him- purchase blood from his supplier at the hospital, go about their normal lives, and never harm a living soul. You would refrain from hunting any of them.

Eddie’s side of the deal: he promised not to interfere with the slaying of any vampires in town who didn’t subscribe to his way of life; in other words, if they tried to hurt a human or drink from any living animals in town, they were fair game for slaying. In addition, Eddie would provide you any information you needed about Hawkins Vampires, and you would relay that data to the Watchers’ Council for them to enter into their database.

Unsurprisingly, Gareth Emerson’s name was at the top of Eddie’s list of vampires under his protection. When you saw it, you chuckled.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Surprised?”

“Not in the slightest.” you laughed. “The guy clings to your side like a guard dog and barely talks to anyone else. And he always looks like he’s on the verge of ripping someone’s throat out.”

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh along with you. “Well, in my defense, he was like that back in his human days too, I didn’t do that to him.”

You peered over the list at the leather-clad vamp as he lit a cigarette. “But you did do the ‘vamparism’ thing to him?”

“Trust me, it wasn’t a premeditated decision.” Eddie may have sounded aloof, but you could tell that the words were strained. “I had only been…turned…for a couple of weeks at that point. I thought I could handle more human interaction than I really could.”

Your eyebrows jumped a fraction of an inch, but you tried to appear unphased. You hadn’t known too many vampires who could bite a human and manage to stop themselves before killing their victims at that phase of their afterlife. A vampire’s thirst could be nearly impossible to resist for the first few years after their transition, never mind the first matter of days. The fact that Eddie was able to bite Gareth without killing him was… impressive, to say the least.

Regardless of how impressive it was, however, Eddie’s facial expression spoke volumes to you about how unimpressed he was by his choices at this particular moment in his history. You decided to air on the side of casual empathy. “Could have been a lot worse.” you said, voice soft but matter of fact. “Plus he has you to protect him.”

Eddie looked at you, eyes guarded and yet bursting at the seams with unshed secrets. You could tell there was so much more he wanted to say, but he settled for a simple, solid “Yeah.”

You didn’t pry. If you needed to know more, you’d find it out in due time, but for now you would settle for ‘yeah’.

The two of you fell into a strange dynamic as your truce was put into effect. For one thing, he made an effort to seek you out in the hallways more; it was troubling, to say the least. You didn’t want people in this town paying attention to you. If they started taking notice of your unusual habits- never getting involved at school, lurking in graveyards and dive bars late into the night, keeping to yourself instead of falling into a friend group like normal teenagers were supposed to- they might start keeping a closer eye on you. A closer eye on you meant a closer eye on the vampires in this town, and the Watcher’s Council would have your head if you became the proverbial Pandora to open the vampire box in Hawkins.

The point was, Eddie was an attention magnet, and his incessant need to interact with you in front of an audience made it difficult to fly under the radar in a town where gossip traveled faster than the average speed limit.

“Slayer!”

His calling you that in the middle of the hallway just after the final bell didn’t help things in the slightest. He was half-jogging through the throng of teens, dodging and weaving between bodies as he made his way to where you stood at your locker with wide eyes trained on the most obnoxious vampire you’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“Can you not call me that in the middle of a crowded hallway?” you hissed at him once he’d reached your side. In reality, you knew the chances were slim that anyone within earshot knew what a Slayer was, but you weren’t about to test that theory.

“Sorry, killer.” Eddie quipped, shit-eating grin loud and proud on his beaming face. “Just wanted to catch you before you left without me.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Without you? What, are we carpooling now?”

“Yeah, unless you want to get drenched in the tempest going on out there, sweetheart.”

Your mouth was open, poised to argue before Eddie wordlessly scooped up your backpack with effortless strength, shouldered it, and began marching down the crowded hallway. He didn’t even wait for you to close your locker, so you had to make quick work of grabbing your books and locking it shut before bumbling after him.

“Excuse me,” you huffed, power walking in an effort to keep up with his quick pace. “Is there something about me that screams ‘I need to carpool with Eddie Munson’? Because if there is, I will happily correct the issue.”

Eddie hop-skipped through the front doors of the school, threw a chuckling look over his shoulder at you, then took off running through the pouring rain in a straight shot to where his van was parked.

You had no choice but to run in the same direction; he had your backpack.

In a mad dash through the sky’s heavy onslaught, you shielded your head best you could until you made it to Eddie’s passenger door. The rolling percussion of raindrops on pavement was cut starkly short at the shut of your door, and you breathed a sigh of relief before swinging your head around to look at Eddie Smug-Faced Munson, scowling for all you were worth.

“There are quite a few ways I can answer your question, Slayer, all of which could get me staked…” He twisted slightly to toss your backpack into the backseat, where it landed on a discarded t-shirt and a mess of paper and spiraled wire that must have been a notebook at some point. When Eddie turned back to you, your faces were mere inches from each other, both of you trusting the center console with your weight. Eddie’s movements stilled, his eyes flitting ever so quickly down at your barely-parted lips.

You were close enough to hear his soft intake of breath. “Could be worth it, though.”

Your cheeks heated, and you briefly wondered if vampires felt the stolen blood in their cold bodies rush to places in times of tension. Breaking eye contact, you crossed your arms over your chest, brushing your biceps and shoulders with your hands in an effort to warm your rain-drenched skin.

“Just drive, Munson. I have a stake in my pocket with your name on it if you try anything.”

Eddie shook his head, smirking widely. “And here I thought you were just happy to see me.” Shifting the car into drive, he expertly navigated his way out of the parking lot and onto the main road that would take you to the small apartment you currently lived in, courtesy of the Watchers’ Council.

“You’re hunting tonight, right?” Eddie’s voice cut through the rain-spattered silence in the van, jerking your attention from the hypnotic sight of his struggling windshield wipers.

“Yes?” Unintentionally, the answer sounded like a question.

“Take me with you.”

You snorted. “You, a vampire, want to go vampire hunting?”

Eddie shrugged, keeping his umber eyes on the glassy road ahead. “Now that I know there won’t be any innocents on your hit list- yeah, sounds fun.”

You arched an eyebrow. “If I end up staking anyone tonight, you won’t stop me?”

“Good vampire, remember?” he reminded you, placing a hand over his heart before flashing you a reassuring grin. “If somebody’s out there hurting people, I want them off the streets as much as you do.”

And that was how you wound up with an undead hunting partner for your nightly patrol of Hawkins for malicious undead.

Despite being the unlikely duo that you two were, you actually looked like a pair of vampire slayers on a usual patrol- the two of you both wearing combat boots and leather jackets to match. The only tell that this wasn’t your normal routine was the stark silence occupying the space between you. You ended up being the one to finally break it after the first few minutes of patrolling as the two of you strolled through the Hawkins’ cemetery.

“So if we run into some unsavory vampires tonight… how are you gonna kill them?”

“What do you mean, ‘how’?”

“I’m not letting you use my stakes.”

Eddie angled his head toward you, a grin dancing on his lips. “Aw, scared I’ll stake myself on accident, sweetheart?”

“Oh I would consider that a happy accident.” you matched his grin in stride, teasing the tip of your tongue through your teeth.

“Aw, don’t say that! You know you’d miss me, baby.”

Baby?

You sped up your pace a fraction- just enough for him to leave your periphery. “I am not your baby.” You tried to laugh through your response, but it got caught in your throat, tangling with the words and straining them in a way that sounded less lighthearted than you’d intended.

“Well look at that, I found something that makes you nervous.” You could practically feel his smugness from your two steps ahead.

“Nothing makes me nervous.”

“I do.”

You scoffed, speeding up your pace. “You do not-”

In half a second he was in front of you, vampiric speed landing him directly in your way, forcing you to stop short. He was eyeing you down, arms crossed and lids squinted in concentration. “Why’s your heart rate getting faster, then?”

You huffed a breath into the cold air, sending wisps of heat to curl and dissipate as they hit Eddie’s solid form. “Annoyance. Rage. Could be a number of things along those lines.” You sidestepped him, marching forward purposefully. Eddie followed suit beside you.

“Along those lines, you say.” He mused. “Y’know, those lines in particular can get pretty blurry.”

Eddie paused, waiting for you to take the bait. He waited a long time before giving up on that, because under no circumstances did you plan on doing so.

“The lines,” he continued, “between rage and other feelings of… equal passion.”

“You saying you want me to more passionately say you annoy me, Munson?” You quipped, refusing to meet his eyes that were practically begging you to look his way. “I will, don’t tempt me.”

“I’m quite sure you’ll find I can be very good at tempting you, baby.”

You huffed, chin whipping to the side to give him a full view of your serious face. “Stop calling me baby.” You regretted looking his way immediately, because those dark eyes were staring you down with an intensity that caused the air to leave your lungs and your voice to falter.

“Yeah… y’know-” Eddie’s grin was shining in full force now, watching you like you were a puzzle he’d just made a breakthrough in solving. “I don’t think I’m going to do that. This is the first time I’ve seen you flustered.”

“Shut. Up.” You muttered, eyes focused on a newer-looking grave about ten feet from the two of you.

“Hm, sounds like something a flustered person would say-”

“Eddie,” you hissed, already reaching for the stake in your back pocket. “Shut. Up.”

It took him a second, but he followed your gaze and saw what had you shifting gears- the low, wet sound of something sucking, accompanied by the pat pat of excess blood as it dripped to the cold earth. Slightly obscured by the headstone you’d spotted, a vampire had found some unsuspecting soul to snack on.

You held your wooden stake aloft, ready to strike. “Ready to watch the master at work?” you whispered under your breath.

Eddie matched your volume, whispering back an encouraging “Hell yeah, go get ‘em, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, carefully advancing “Just shut up and watch my back, Munson.”

“Oh I will gladly do that.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m adorable.”

You arrived home around dawn, just as the sun had begun to peek over the horizon and paint the morning in blushing shades of pinks and purples. Your apartment was a little efficiency located above a pawn shop downtown. The entrance was behind the building, which meant that there weren’t any snooping neighbors to watch you entering your home in the wee hours of the night. In a town like Hawkins, this kind of privacy was a valuable commodity.

Eddie had insisted on walking you home since it was so late- or early- which tickled you to no end since he’d just watched you take down a vampire pretty much single-handedly. He climbed the squeaking fire escape two steps behind you, stopping at the final landing as you began to unlock your door.

“You can go now.” You told him curtly.

“You’re not going to invite me in?” You almost laughed; he actually sounded hurt. He was a good actor.

“You act like I haven’t studied vampires every day since I became the Slayer.” You placed your hands on your hips, “As If I’m about to give you an all-access pass to my apartment.”

Eddie laughed, his chuckle a dark and musical thing. “Baby, if I was going to kill you, don’t you think I would have tried already?” His hand was resting on your doorway, blocking the light from the time-yellowed lamp that lit the left side of your doorway and caging you in with his shadow.

“For all I know, this is you trying.” You stood your ground, arms crossed solidly across your chest, refusing to cower even though he was looking at you like he wanted to wrap his teeth around you.

He leaned forward ever so slightly, eyes heavy and hungry. “Do you think that’s what I’m trying to do?” His gaze flicked to your closed door and back to you in half a second. “You think if you walk through that door and invite me inside, I’m going to try to kill you?”

You studied him for a moment. “No.” You hadn’t meant for the word to come out in a whisper, but that’s what happened anyway.

Eddie’s gaze remained unmoved. “So you’ll invite me in?”

“No.”

A chuckle escaped through the crooked smile that invaded his lips. “So fucking stubborn. You know I can smell you, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, confused. Smell what? Did you work up a sweat fighting that vampire? There’s no way you smelled that bad-

“I can smell you, baby.” His lips were moving against your ear, brushing the little silver rings that decorated your cartilage. “You’re right, you shouldn’t let me inside. But I can smell how curious you are about what might happen if you do.”

You were suddenly very aware of how wet you were- you felt a rush of heat as a fresh wave of slick rushed through you, undoubtedly moistening your panties. He could smell that? You were frozen, at a loss for words that could adequately respond to his insinuation.

Before you could react, Eddie’s hand was on your face, gripping your jaw just tight enough to slightly purse your lips. You felt the cold bite of his silver rings on your skin, sending goosebumps trickling down your spine. He looked you in the eyes, his gaze growing deeper and darker, and you began to relax into his grip as you realized that he truly did not intend to hurt you.

“You should invite me in.”

His eyes were so beautiful… how had you never noticed them before? They practically glowed… no, they actually glowed. They were like a neon fucking sign, bright and crimson and shining such a beautiful rose-hued glow that they looked more like rubies than irises.

Your lips moved to echo him. “I should invite you in.” Of course you should. He wasn’t going to hurt you- with every second you spent with his skin on yours and his eyes boring into your own, you became even more sure of that. He just wanted to make you feel good- so, so good…

“And are you going to?” Eddie’s voice was so beautiful- how had you never realized how gorgeous his voice was?

“Yes.”

“Good. That’s a good Slayer, unlock the door, baby.”

And you did. It was the easiest decision you’d ever made. You stepped inside, immediately shedding your coat and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. “Come inside, Eddie,” You smiled at him, letting down your defenses. You were so tired of putting them up around him. “It’s cold out there.”

He matched your smile, looking at you like you’d hung the moon. “Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing.” He crossed the threshold easily, following your lead and shrugging off his leather jacket and hanging it beside your own. He glanced around the little apartment, an appraising look in his gaze. It was just one room, a small studio with a modest kitchen and living space. Your modest bed frame sat nestled in the corner beneath a skylight, along with a small armchair and a closet with the few belongings you’d taken with you to Hawkins.

“Bed looks cozy.” Eddie mused.

“It is.”

He nodded towards it. “Go sit on the edge.”

And of course you did. You sat up straight, keeping your eyes on him and waiting for that beautiful voice to say something else. You so wanted him to keep talking; each word was like a warm shower after hours in the cold, relaxing you into a happy little puddle. Eddie watched as you perched yourself on the edge of the bed, slowly stalking across the room until your knees were almost touching his.

He stared at you, his gorgeous dark eyes glowing deep red. “Open your legs.” You did. Without breaking eye contact, Eddie commanded you again. “Tell me how wet you are for me.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he raised a hand gesturing stop. “I’m sorry baby, I misspoke.” Placing both hands on either side of your hips, Eddie leaned forward until he was close enough for you to feel his cold breath on your face. “Stick your hand down your panties and feel how wet you are for me. Then tell me out loud.”

You nodded, happy to comply. Your hands were cold, but you didn’t care. You eagerly snaked your hand under the waistband of your pants, shivering as your icy fingers traced a line down your pelvis until they reached the heat beneath your panties. The moment they dipped over the hood of your clit, you were mildly surprised at just how soaked you were.

“Talk to me, baby,” Eddie’s voice washed over you, and you felt a fresh gush of heat pulse through your core.

“I’m soaked, Eddie.” It was the truth; you couldn’t imagine lying to him when he was so curious. Besides, you wanted him to know that he was reducing you to a deluge in his honor.

Slowly, Eddie sunk down to his knees on your floor. His head was level with your open knees, hands dragging down the skin of your outer thighs as he inhaled the air between your legs.

“Take your fingers out of your pussy, I want to taste them.”

You did as he asked, wide eyes rapt with attention as you watched him grab your wrist and shove your drenched fingers in his waiting mouth. His tongue made you want to melt; it lapped along the skin of your fingers and savored the tart, heady flavor of you. You whined when his lips popped off your hand, but eagerly changed your attitude when his fingers began tracing your waistband.

“Tell me you want me to taste that pretty pussy baby, I can smell how bad you want me already, you smell so fucking good.”

You did. You wanted him to taste your pussy very badly… you wanted it more than you could remember ever wanting anything before now. “I want you, Eddie.” you panted. “I want you to taste me, I’m so wet for you.”

Eddie’s eyes shone up at you, like light through a glass of dark red wine. “I know, baby, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll have my tongue on you again in a second.” He slid his hands into your pockets, gently yanking on the material and jolting your hips forward. “Take these off for me.”

Your hands flew to the button of your pants, making quick work of them as well as your panties while Eddie helped you remove your shirt. You wanted to bare yourself to him completely, let him devour you whole, even. When you looked into those beautiful eyes, letting him have you just made sense.

You now sat completely naked at the edge of your bed, Eddie kneeling before you taking in the sight and smell of you. His gaze was hungry, his hands tracing possessive lines into your outer thighs. “You’re going to lie back for me,” he said, voice low and commanding, “and I’m going to taste this pussy that’s been leaking for me since I first called you baby in the graveyard.” Your eyes were wide, desperate- stuck on his like a moth to a flame. He pressed his hands to your knees, opening you up as wide as you could go, and you felt his breath on your wet lips.

“Go ahead, Slayer.”

You laid back, staring up at the morning’s gradient of cerulean and lavender through your skylight as your heart began to race from the anticipation. When Eddie’s tongue licked a broad, wet stripe from your entrance to your clit, a reedy, wanting moan pulled from your chest, singing into the stillness of your apartment.

“That’s it, give me every noise you have, baby. I’ll know if you’re holding any back, and believe me when I say I’ll make you moan one way or another.”

And make you moan he did. Eddie’s tongue was masterful in its movements, licking and flicking in the perfect places as you listened to the symphony of noises that were coming from between your thighs. Between the sound of his wet tongue squelching in the juices that you eagerly supplied and the humming little moans that Eddie made as he feasted on all you had to give him, it was all you could do not to start sobbing from how badly you wanted to cum for him. You knew he’d get you there, but let’s be honest- you were not a patient person.

“More, Eddie- hngh- please, I need… aah!” Your pleas were cut short as you felt a sharp suck at your swollen clit. You moaned, high and pathetic under the careful ministrations of Eddie Munson. His two middle fingers plunged into you, not bothering to give you time to adjust because he knew you were already wet enough to take him. His fingers curled slightly, sharply jerking his hand up and in, over and over in a way that filled you like a water balloon. You were whining, loudly arching your back into your bed as you squeezed your eyes shut, sensing your climax was fast approaching-

“No,” Eddie lunged forward, his right hand never ceasing its assault as his left grabbed you by the neck, wrenching you forward into a crunch position. “Look me in the eyes while you cum, don’t you fucking close those fucking eyes, baby.”

Your mouth hung open, eyebrows drawn together desperate and needy as you felt yourself getting impossibly wet and impossibly tight. His hand kept going, ruthlessly pounding into you as you screamed his name. Curses tumbled from his lips as he watched you soak his hand, and all the while his other hand stayed curled possessively around your neck. Wetness sprayed from you, and his eyes were downright feral as you squirted all over his face. You watched his smile grow, stretching across his face in triumph and baring his fangs in all their unholy glory before turning his head to the side and opening even wider.

Then he sunk his teeth into your femoral artery, and sucked.

You moaned- loudly- and then you woke up.

Being a vampire slayer who’s had a sex dream about a vampire was pretty embarrassing.

Being a vampire slayer who’s had a sex dream about Eddie Munson was… inconvenient.

When you’d first woken up from… the dream… you’d spent your first waking moments frantically trying to figure out how much- if any- of it had even happened. Had Eddie even walked you to your door, or had you parted ways at the cemetery? Had he actually called you baby? Did he admit he could smell how much it affected you when he’d called you that? Most importantly, had you actually invited him into your apartment?

It took a few minutes, but eventually you sorted out reality from whatever your traitorous brain had concocted. You and Eddie had hunted last night. He did indeed call you baby at one point and teased you about how defensive you got about it. You’d slayed a vampire while Eddie assessed the victim, and afterward the two of you had taken her to Annie at the hospital and updated her on the situation. With Hawkins’ vampire population growing by the day, this wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with a newborn; she knew what to do.

After that, you’d gone your separate ways. As far as you knew, Eddie still didn’t know where you lived- though, you knew if he wanted to find out then it wouldn’t be difficult for him to follow you home undetected. The good news was that he still hadn’t been invited into your home, so you were probably safe as long as you were inside your apartment. Of course, the rules for Hawkins Vamps were still mostly unknown to you, so there was a possibility that he might be immune to the invitations-only rule that bound most types of vampires- but you weren’t about to take him home and test that theory.

Then there was the compulsion- the ability to control the minds of humans and turn them into subservient prey at the mercy of their vampiric predator. You had heard of some vampires having this ability, but had never actually come across it in your time as the Slayer. You hoped that this dream had just been the product of loneliness and sexual frustration taking over a sleep-deprived mind, but how could you be sure? Maybe everything in your dream had actually happened, and Eddie had simply compelled you to think it was all a dream. Maybe he had some sort of psychic powers specific to Hawkins Vampires, and he had planted the dream in your brain just to fuck with you.

You didn’t know what was real. On top of that, Eddie kept trying to get your attention at school the next day and it was getting more and more difficult to ignore him without being obvious about it. You successfully avoided him for the duration of the school day, but he finally caught up to you as you were walking home. Driving his van at a steady crawl, he rolled down his window next to where you walked on the grassy shoulder.

“You wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me all day?”

You sighed, too chicken to meet his eyes. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Yes you have.”

You sped up your pace, which was stupid because Eddie was literally driving a motor vehicle.

“No, I haven’t.”

You were still refusing to look at him, but you could hear the eye roll in his sigh. “Quit being difficult, Slayer,” he said, still keeping equal speed with your barely increased pace. “Get in the van.”

“No.”

“Uugghhh.” Eddie groaned. “Please? I don’t know what I did wrong but I’ll make it up to you.”

You shook your head but still faced forward as you trudged along on the side of the road. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You didn’t think he had, anyway. “I’m just… I’m in a weird funk today, don’t read too much into it.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Okay, then get in the van.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the thought of being so close to him… just the idea was enough to get you wet. You felt the familiar gush of arousal as you walked even faster. “No.”

An echo from last night’s dream reverberated in your skull. So fucking stubborn. You know I can smell you, right?

You picked up your pace.

Eddie sighed, jerking the gear shift into park. In a moment, he was inches in front of you, his hand planted firmly on your shoulder.

“Stop,” he said, his tone much more all-business than before. You did what he said, begrudgingly, but you were glad you didn’t feel any real need to be obedient. No compulsion, then… you thought, at least not right now.

You slowly looked up at him, hoping he couldn’t smell the effect that his sudden touch had on you. “Eddie, it’s fine. Seriously.” you tried to smile at him reassuringly, but you could feel on your face that it came out looking more like a cringe.

Eddie was silent, looking you over with an unreadable expression. Finally, he spoke, “Please get in the van. I’ll take you out for food, whatever you want, my treat. If you aren’t going to tell me what I did to make you so mad at me, at least let me make it up to you somehow.”

You thought it over for a moment, eventually conceding and nodding your head. Eddie exhaled a sigh of relief before turning on his heel to open the door for you. When you were both seated in the car, Eddie looked over to you cautiously, questioningly.

“Milkshakes?”

You nodded, eyes still facing forward. “Milkshakes.”

Benny’s had everything.

They had the best burgers in town. They had the best fries, the best chicken fried steak, the best pancakes in the morning. But the milkshakes? They were the best you’d ever had- which was saying something, since you’d lived in twelve different small towns just like this one since your Slayer powers awakened four years ago.

You sipped your vanilla milkshake through a red-striped straw and let the sweet, dependable flavor ground you. It was like releasing a breath you’d been holding since you’d woken up that morning. Eddie’s powers of observation didn’t need to be above average for him to notice the relief washing over you.

He sipped his chocolate shake, raising an eyebrow as your shoulders relaxed into your first suck of the straw. “You don’t have to talk about it, sweetheart,” he murmured against the plastic held between his lips, “but if there’s something on your mind, you can talk to me.”

Yeah, but you are the thing on my mind, you thought, and therein lies the problem.

“I appreciate the concern, Munson, but I’m fine.” You shrugged. “Like I said, it’s just a weird funk. Normal. It happens.”

Eddie didn’t seem convinced, sipping from his straw as he studied you intently- it was making you uncomfortable.

“Stop staring at me.”

“Stop lying and saying you’re fine, I can tell something’s up.” Eddie reached up with one hand and tapped on one of his dormant fangs with a fingernail. “Vampire senses, remember?”

Your heart rate picked up at the thought of what his vampire senses might be sensing, and you could instantly tell that Eddie had heard it from the subtle tick of his eyebrow.

“Speaking of vampire senses,” you started, eagerly trying to turn the conversation away from your current state, “I have some questions about your, um… powers. Specifically, about Hawkins vamps in general.”

Eddie seemed surprised by the new line of questioning, but nodded cooperatively. Leaning back in his squeaky booth seat, he let go of his glass to stick his hands nonchalantly in his pockets. “What do you want to know, Slayer? I’m an open book.”

Pulling your legs up to rest on the seat of the booth, you made yourself comfortable, leaning against your backpack that sat between you and the wall. “Are you able to enter someone else’s place of residence without an invitation?”

“Yes.”

Your eyebrows jumped. “Really?”

Eddie was already nodding. “I already knew my fair share of vampire lore before my stint in the Upside Down… I tested the more popular vampire theories pretty quick after I figured out what I was.”

You smiled, your curiosity eclipsing the nagging worry in your chest regarding his answer to your first question. “Which theories?”

Eddie chuckled at himself, making a show of counting them out on his fingers. “Well, the first was running really fast- really, really fast, I mean you’ve seen me-” Your scoff and eye roll earned you a cheeky wink from the vampire. “-tested out how good my hunting skills were in the forest by hunting down some squirrels, and let me tell you, super speed and super hearing can only get you so far, because those motherfuckers are always on alert. Learned how quiet I can be now, which is weird because staying still and silent has never been my strong suit.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” you snorted. “And you told me the sunlight thing doesn’t bother you because of your witch friend- what was her name, again?”

“Nice try, but I’m still not telling you.”

You smiled, throwing your hands up in mock surrender. “Worth a shot, I’ll find out eventually anyway.” Taking a sip of your milkshake, you kept your voice even as you asked your next question, which was arguably the most important to you at the moment. “So, uh, are there any other powers that you’ve noticed? Powers that don’t fit into the ‘popular vampire theories’ umbrella?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Such as?”

Ugh. “Well,” you began, focusing on a spot on the table where the vinyl coating had begun to peel off and using your fingernail to help it along. “In some regions, there are vampires who can read minds or compel humans to do whatever they say. Some can even bite humans without turning them.”

“Damn,” Eddie whistled, “lucky bastards.”

“So you’re saying you can’t do those things?” you prompted, to which Eddie shook his head and sighed.

“Nope. First and last time I bit someone, I turned my best friend into a monster. Didn’t feel like testing that theory anymore after that. Can’t read or control minds either, but honestly I’m fine with that. That kind of power doesn’t tend to end well for people.”

You nodded, sipping the final bit of milkshake down. “Wise words.”

Eddie did the same, fishing out his wallet and slapping a ten dollar bill on the table before standing. “They’re the words of someone who’s flown close enough to the sun to know himself pretty well by now.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded towards the door. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you stood and followed him, catching the door as he opened it for you. “Thanks for the milkshake.”

“Don’t worry about it, consider it an apology.”

“I told you, you didn’t do anything! I’m just in a funk-” but if Eddie could hear you, he didn’t show it as he jumped into his van and closed the door.

The drive to your apartment wasn’t long, only about five minutes. Approaching your front door with Eddie in tow gave you the strangest sense of deja vu even though the only time this had happened before was in your dream. You stood with him in the doorway, the warm light of your single-bulb lamp casting harsh shadows across his face as he watched you with eyes tinged with something imperceptible.

“Gonna invite me in?” Eddie asked, his voice husky and eerily quiet in the cold air.

You smirked, feeling slightly apprehensive knowing that he didn’t need an invitation, but was asking for one anyway. “Why, you trying to snoop through my things, Munson?”

Eddie snorted, “We both know that I could if I wanted to, sweetheart, and I wouldn’t need your permission.” He shrugged, leaning a shoulder against the chipping paint on your doorframe. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

“Since when has that been your priority?” you bit back, but there was no venom in it. You were already jiggling your key into the brass lock and turning the knob. You weren’t sure why Eddie wanted to come in, but he was right- if he had malicious intent, he could barge into your home whether you wanted it or not. You made a mental note to request some demon-repellent poultices from a witch friend of yours to remedy that…

The door creaked open, and you tried to shake off that wild feeling of deja vu that kept washing over you with every similarity to your dream that kept occurring. Eddie’s boots thumped against the floorboards, heavy souls claiming the aging wood with every step they took. He surveyed your apartment, assessing what he saw with nods of his head and crossing of arms.

“Well I can tell you don’t plan on staying long.” he mused.

You raised an eyebrow, closing the door and locking it behind you. “What makes you say that?”

“The walls are empty. Nothing in here looks like you picked it out. I didn’t know better, I’d think I was in a hotel room. ”

You raised your eyebrows, nodding. “Perceptive. You’re not wrong, you know. I don’t usually stay in one place very long.”

“What’s the longest your wardens have let you stay in one place?” Eddie had hopped up on your tiny kitchen counter, his arms straining against the fabric of his leather jacket as he braced his hands on the ledge. You hoped he hadn’t noticed the way your eyes lingered on the way your dim lighting glinted off his bicep.

“Watchers. Not wardens.” you corrected, shedding your own leather and dropping the coffee-colored jacket over the edge of your bed. “And it’s never been more than a year. If you want to get technical, I think I was in Las Vegas for around 11 months.”

He quirked a curious smile. “Vegas, huh? Lot of vampires there?”

You shrugged. “Tons of tourists to munch on and nothing but nightlife. Believe me when I say that city is run by vampires.”

Eddie chuckled, “Guess that makes sense.” He looked down, as if he were debating whether or not to say whatever he was thinking at the moment. Then- “Any idea if… well, have they told you if you’ll be here long?”

You smiled; it was a small, tentative thing, but you allowed it to grace your lips. “I’ll probably just stay until the council is happy with the knowledge I’ve accumulated about Hawkins vamps. Once they feel I’m needed more elsewhere, I’ll be packed up and moved within days.” You averted your eyes from his, suddenly finding it difficult to voice the reality that any day, you might have to leave Hawkins. Leave the friendship you’d started to get the slightest bit attached to.

You heard Eddie scoff- it wasn’t bitter or laced with venom, but it was hollow. An empty, breathy laugh that didn’t do much to cover the vulnerability he had shown by simply bringing up the subject of how long you’d be staying. “Well, you know what they say- hate to see you go, love to watch you leave.”

It was an attempt at glossing over the mournful mood that’d begun lingering in the air. You looked up at him, brows pulling together in a hopeful, sweeping arch. “You really hate to see me go?”

The smile he’d plastered on was devious and smart-mouthed, but it softened at your question. “Yeah…” he said, his voice lower and rounded as he stroked his fingers along his jawline. “...I think I hate it.” His head stayed down while his slitted eyes looked up at you beneath bushy brown brows. “I was just getting you to like me.”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “Who said I liked you?”

“Your heart rate.”

Well, if it wasn’t true before, it was now. You felt all the blood in your body suddenly rushing through your veins with purpose. The room was feeling surprisingly hot, and you absently pondered whether you had left the heater on when you had left that morning.

Your voice matched his quiet timbre, “And what’s my heart rate saying?”

He slowly stepped down from his perch on the countertop, stalking toward you with care, as if he were approaching a wild animal.

Ironic.

“Well,” he started, “something in your brain obviously must have told your heart that you might have to run soon, because your blood’s been racing since I walked through that door.” He took a step closer, and now all you had to do was look up and your faces would be parallel, his eyes boring into yours. “Your body still knows I’m a predator, that’s good.”

He was right. Your blood was racing under his gaze, and he could undoubtedly feel the heat that was radiating off of you- but that didn’t mean you were ready to openly let that show. “What about you? Big and scary ‘Kas the Bloody Handed’?” you asked. “How does your body react around a vampire slayer?”

Now you looked up. He was glaring down at you, pensive and predatory as a cheshire grin slowly crept across his features. “That depends on how much blood I’ve got in me, sweetheart.” You were leaning against the edge of your tiny excuse for a kitchen island, but now that his hands were planted on both sides of your torso and braced along the tiled edge of the countertop, you felt caged in with nowhere to go and nothing to look at except his eyes as they glowered down at you. “If it’s been a while since I've fed… well, to be honest I get a little hungry.”

Breathe.

“And if you’ve had your fill?”

He chuckled. “Oh, baby, if a vampire ever tells you they’ve had their fill, they’re lying. There is always room for more.” You felt a chill, and the blood in your veins was screaming at you now to grab a fucking stake!! However, you couldn’t seem to tear yourself from this conversation. The way he made you feel- hot, ironically enough- was gluing you to the spot.

“But if I’ve got some blood in my system,” he continued, “I have to confess, Slayer, just seeing the way you look at me is enough to make all of that blood rush to all sorts of places.”

You were both silent, but the air was pregnant with the question he knew you wanted to ask. A few short breaths were all it took to make you give in. “And… how do I look at you?”

His thumbs ventured to brush over your hips through the material of your jeans, and you jumped at how much the contact affected you. You took in a sharp breath in surprise, and the strained sigh that rumbled through his chest in response nearly made you shudder.

“Like… a fox that knows it’s being hunted. Wants to be hunted…knows it could outsmart the hunter, but wants the chance to run simply for the thrill of it.”

Fucking. Breathe.

“Is this your way of saying you’re hunting me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, like the tension between the two of you was so fragile that it could be shattered if you spoke loud enough.

Eddie’s lips were inches from yours, and you could feel his cold breath on your cheeks. “This is my way of saying that I don’t need to.” He nodded sharply in your direction, “Fox.” He squeezed your hips, tugging you gently closer to him, “Trap.”

You squirmed under his gaze but refused to look away from his smoldering eyes. “Bold of you to assume I’m the fox in that scenario.”

“Yeah, yeah…” his husky whisper rasped into your ear when the soft brush of his fingers along your hips became a firm grasp as he effortlessly lifted you up to sit on the counter behind you. He did it so swiftly, so easily… it wasn’t hard to forget about his vampire strength when he barely showed it. He gazed into your wide eyes with a grin that was playful but hungry. “Big bad Slayer is a hunter, not hunted. We’re all aware, sweetheart.”

His hands splayed atop your thighs, and you couldn’t remember a time before now that you had felt anything as acutely- or with as much anticipation- as you were feeling every inch of him touching you right now. Your inner calves touching the outer sides of his thighs. The knobby contact of his hip bones where they wedged between your knees. The way his fingertips pressed into the meat of your thighs ever so slightly, like he feared how hard he could squeeze before he hurt you.

You watched his hands, breathless as you studied the light that glinted off his silver rings. There were splotches of faded black shining on a few of his fingernails. It wasn’t nail polish; you’d seen how he colored on his nails with black Sharpie when he got bored in class. Those black nails shone reddish-purple when the light hit them just so, and you shivered as they traveled further up your thighs until he reached the part of your hips that had the most flesh for him to squeeze. A low growl danced in his throat when he heard the noise that escaped you at the sensation his hands were supplying.

He squeezed tighter, tentatively testing how much of his strength you could handle. Luckily for him, slayers are not delicate creatures.

Wordlessly, you lifted your hands to his shoulders, letting your fingers twist into his dark curls. They were beautifully brown, frozen in the perfect shade of chocolate until the end of time. Your nails gently met his scalp, raking through the roots until both of your hands were nested deep in his hair.

You made two fists and pulled.

It wasn’t a sharp tug, wasn’t meant to yank him away from you; it was a slow pull, meant to tease and tell him that you weren’t afraid of a little pain, given or received. He was testing the waters, and you were giving him the all-clear.

His eyes screwed shut when you pulled his hair, and it wasn’t from any sort of pain but simply from the fact that you were doing it in the first place. Eddie took a deep, shuddering breath as he opened his eyes once again to glare up at you with enough impassioned heat to give his bloodless body a temperature. He clenched his jaw until it ticked, then mumbled “alrighty then” so quickly and quietly that you didn’t even know if you were meant to hear it.

And then he was slamming you against the wall.

Your thighs straddled his waist, ass seated in Eddie’s stone-strong hands as you felt your back hit the drywall. His eyes were pitch black, hungry for so many things but settling for your lips as he captured them in his own. You kissed him back fervently, desperate now that you knew his touch and the sensations that came with it.

“God you smell so fucking good,” Eddie growled, pressing into you at the waist and pinning you to the wall where he held you tightly. His lips were insatiable, kissing you like your lips were dipped in sugar and he was a starving man. He panted against your mouth, breathless. “Always smell so fucking good… might be obsessed, I want…want…”

“Want what, Eddie?” you panted with him, eyes fluttering open, wanting to see the way he looked at you when he said things like I might be obsessed as he kissed you… who wouldn’t want to see that? You weren’t disappointed with the sight.

Framed by the backlit baby hairs that formed an evening halo around his head, you might have thought at first glance that Eddie looked angelic. Oh, how wrong that would be. His eyes held far too much gluttony for that.

He leaned in to scent the crook of your neck, causing you to shiver as the tip of his nose traced the base of your skull before whispering into your ear-

“Want to taste you- in every way-” You shivered. “-I want to feel you on my tongue, running down my throat, soaking my hands, falling apart…” Eddie’s lips traveled down your neck, mouthing over the veins that pumped your life force at top speed under sweet, pliant skin. “I want to break you just to know what you look like broken by me.”

The two of you were waltzing on the line of your collective self-control, and you knew all it took would be one little bite- one tiny prick of his fangs- and his venom would pour into your bloodstream. Then it would be goodbye, humanity.

Mustering up the slightest amount of dignity (with surprising difficulty), you took one hand out of his hair and braced it on his shoulder while the other stayed fisted in his curls. With a sharp tug, you used your Slayer strength to remind him he was evenly matched here, yanking him from your neck and bringing his bloodlust-glazed eyes parallel to yours.

“Fucking try it then.” you hissed, “See if you can break me.”

Eddie’s familiar roguish grin triumphantly returned then, and you barely registered his nasal scoff and a rush of wind before you were suddenly being flung onto your bed across the apartment. Eddie climbed on top of you, caging you in with solid arms and a scarlet guitar pick that dangled from his neck to dance on the skin of your collarbone.

He stared down at you expectantly, all-business. “Take your shirt off.”

“You take yours off.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Are you really in a position to be giving the orders, Slayer?”

In a split second, you grabbed his wrists and hooked a leg over his hip, rolling over in the blink of an eye. Now, you were seated firmly on his hips, back arched to splay over his torso and pin his wrists to the mattress. Eddie’s eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden display of strength and dexterity that he had apparently forgotten you had.

You grinned, cocky. “I am now.”

Eddie glared, thrusting upward in hopes that he might throw you off balance, but to no avail. Rotating his hands in your grip, Eddie dexterously took hold of your wrists and gently pressed his nails into your skin. You winced; his nails were sharper than you’d thought they would be. Almost like…

Claws. Eddie’s nails had grown into catlike points, and now they were applying a little too much pressure. Any more than this and he would surely draw-

“-Blood.”

You whispered to yourself as you watched the bright bead pooling where Eddie’s thumb had pressed hard enough to puncture skin. Before you had time to react, Eddie was pulling your bleeding wrist to his face, inspecting his handiwork up close. He caught a whiff of your scent, inhaling deeply before exhaling so heavily that it rumbled low in his chest. Bringing your wrist to hover above his mouth, you felt your survival instincts kicking in as Eddie’s grip on your arm tightened, squeezing more of your blood to pool into the drop that now hung precariously from the cut in your skin.

Eddie’s finger on the top of your wrist raised, then firmly tapped down hard enough to shake the drop free and send it falling into his waiting mouth below.

You watched, transfixed as Eddie moaned at the taste of you on his tongue. He licked his lips, spreading your blood across them and letting your essence settle into the cracks in his skin. You wondered how long his lips would taste like you after tonight. Would it only take moments for the flavor of you to leave his skin? Or would he still taste you in the morning?

Eddie’s eyes rolled back in his head, his composure slipping under the influence of your blood in his mouth. He pulled your wrist to his mouth and licked greedily at the tiny puncture wound, gently sucking but still staying careful enough to keep his fangs far away from the opening. You were trusting him to be responsible here, as stupid as that was, but so far he seemed to be completely aware of where the line was, and he was careful not to cross it. Test it, maybe… but he wouldn’t cross it. At least you were hoping he wouldn’t.

His gaze settled on yours, and you found yourself at a loss for words. He smiled proudly, slowly sitting up until his face was even with yours. You’d long since let go of your grip on his other hand, and now that your bones were suddenly jelly, it was easy for Eddie to lift both hands to your neck and slot both of them so that his thumbs and pointers rested on either side of your ears. He pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately and sharing the taste of your own blood from where it still lingered in his mouth.

“Tastes like fuckin’ honey.” He murmured against your lips, tongue snaking out to lick into you, and you couldn’t tell if he was referring to the taste of your lips or the taste of your blood. You recognized it in his kiss- the metallic flavor rolling over your taste buds and awakening something primal in you. Your hips bucked into his, and you felt the solid length that ached for you through his jeans.

Eddie chuckled darkly, rolling his hips into yours in response. “Careful, baby.” You felt his lips lowering, placing gentle wet kisses along your throat. Your heart raced to a bounding pulse as it dawned on you that were he to bite you here, he could kill you quite quickly. “Mmmmmm,” you shivered as his voice reverberated through your neck. “I can feel your blood rushing faster. That just for me?”

You forced yourself to breathe as you confirmed his suspicions with a small nod. Eddie sighed, hot breath pluming from his nostrils and across your skin. “Just for me… all for me…” His tongue emerged once again and licked a fat, wet stripe along the center of your neck, and you couldn’t stop the desperate moan he pulled from you at the sensation. His hand slid down for his thumb to make slippery caresses over the trail of spit he’d left behind.

“I’ve never tasted blood this good, sweetheart. It’s… I don’t know how to describe it, it’s like the way you smell, but better.” His thumb pressed ever so gently into your throat, and you felt the tip of his sharpened nail rake a promise against your skin. Eddie kept it there, pausing for a moment, and you realized with a pang of emotion that he was trying to stop himself from asking for more.

You allowed the slightest bit of tenderness to break through to your exterior, smiling gently at him as you leaned into his touch. “It’s okay,” you whispered, “I can trust you not to take too much, right?”

The lights were dim, but you could see enough of Eddie’s face to make out the glowing smile your trust had elicited. His hands curved gently along the back of your neck, cradling the base of your skull as he pulled your forehead to rest against his own. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

So much warmth flooded your chest at Eddie’s praise that it almost scared you. You knew this wasn’t compulsion- you felt complete control of your body and mind, and felt aware of your ability to tell him no. In fact, you knew in your heart that if you told him that you wanted to stop everything now, he would obey without a second thought, bid you goodnight, and walk right out that door.

But you definitely did not want that to happen.

That much was made clear by the pornographic moan that tumbled from your lips as Eddie’s claw drew a single, shallow gash down the center of your neck. His hand slotted under your jaw, applying enough pressure to hold off the blood flow above your neck for the fewest of seconds. Blood pooled in the cut, and Eddie admired his handiwork with hungry fascination.

“Gorgeous…” he muttered, leaning closer. Your heart was racing, undoubtedly causing the blood to rush even faster to your neck, and when you heard Eddie fucking inhale the scent of your blood like it was a perfectly aged Bordeaux? It started beating out a marathon.

The moment your scent hit his nostrils, you shivered as a guttural, primal rumbling rolled from Eddie’s chest. The growl grew into a moaning sigh as you felt his warmed wet lips envelop the base of the cut on your neck, and lick into the life that pooled there.

He sucked, pulling more into his mouth and you whimpered slightly from the sensation. As if to comfort you, his hands slid a little further down so that they cupped the vertebrae at the back of your neck, and it was strange how you could almost feel his touch getting warmer the more blood he took from you. He pulled your neck closer, hungry for all you had to give him.

For a moment you started to worry, fearing that you may have overestimated Eddie’s control over his bloodlust, but your worries were put to rest when he detached himself from his latch and licked up the minimal mess that he had made.

“Let’s get this off of you, Slayer.”

Eddie’s hands snuck underneath the hem of your shirt, causing you to shiver at the sensation of cold fingers on heated flesh. Before long, You were both stripped down to nothing and panting with need, a tangle of hands and lips and pulses as you melted into each other in the moonlight. He pushed you gently onto your back, climbing over you slowly and with purpose. You felt the hard length of his naked cock bounce against your thigh as he did, and the anticipation you began to feel between your legs was hot and wet, dripping from your lips as if it were salivating for him. You bucked up involuntarily, eliciting an amused chuckle from the vampire on top of you.

“Easy, baby,” Eddie cooed, “starting to think you only invited me in for one thing.”

“Oh blow it out your ass.” you rolled your eyes at him, “Don’t pretend you weren’t hoping for that one thing exactly.”

Eddie smiled, a twinkle in his eye launching your heartbeat into overdrive as he planted a quick peck to the cut on your neck and began to lower himself further south. “I may have had a hunch, yeah.” You watched with rapt attention as his face drew closer and closer to where you wanted him most, the echo of your dream still potent in your memory. What similar talents might the Eddie from your imagination have shared with the Eddie that currently studied your glistening pussy as if it were a delicacy to devour?

In your heart of hearts, you knew that every move you’d made tonight since Eddie walked through that door was absolutely insane. Masochistic, even. But your own idiocy was no match for the ecstasy that hit you when Eddie’s dextrous tongue dove into your folds, twisting and lapping up the essence that he craved in ways that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your arching form.

You moaned, writhing under his touch as his tongue glided over the dripping lips of your core, savoring the flavors of your arousal and the way they paired with the taste of your blood that still lingered in his senses.

“Taste so fucking good, sweetheart, goddamn.” Eddie’s voice was muffled, wet and hot in the way he spoke it into you and moved his lips along your pussy to speak the words. The sensation coupled with the commentary all but broke you, and you mewled a bewildered thank you as he continued his ministrations.

A sharp sting jolted you, ripping your eyelids open- you didn’t even remember closing your eyes- and it took a second to realize that Eddie had used his sharpened nails to create another gash at your inner thigh. It stung, but only slightly, so you assumed the cut must not be too deep.

��Sorry, sweetheart, did that hurt?” Eddie’s voice was soft and sympathetic as his fingers toyed with the small wound, gently pinching and pressing to undoubtedly coax more blood for him to enjoy.

“Little bit,” you whispered, and the voice that came out of your mouth was so high-pitched and airy that you hardly recognized it. “-but it’s not bad. It’s not too deep, right?”

“Nah, barely even a scratch.” Eddie assured you. “Besides, I’ll close it in a second anyway.”

Your head popped off the pillow. “You can do that?”

“Check your neck, sweetheart.”

You brought a hand to the place where Eddie’s cut had been, but were amazed to find that the cut was completely gone. You felt nothing but smooth, unscathed skin in its wake. Bemused, you checked the cut at your wrist and found it had healed as well.

“How did you do that?”

Eddie shrugged, the pads of his fingers beginning to draw idle shapes over your clit, mixing your blood with the wetness of your cunt. “Apparently, all I have to do is lick a scratch and it heals itself within minutes.” You jolted when you felt his lips close around your clit and suck, whining at the suction as he drew the mixture of your flavors into his mouth and hummed in satisfaction.

“Now if you don’t mind,” he murmured, “I was in the middle of something down here.”

You barely had time to nod before he was diving back between your legs, lapping up your essence with an urgency that lay somewhere between passionate purpose and reckless abandon. He alternated, going back and forth between the bloodied gash on your thigh and the shimmering lips of your dripping cunt.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, arching into the mattress as he moaned into you at the intensity of your taste. “More, please… I need… inside-”

In a blur of movement, Eddie’s face was level with yours, and you were staring directly into his lust-blown eyes as his cock nudged its head between your folds. Eddie shuddered at the feeling, closing his eyes as ecstasy overtook him and he slowly sheathed himself completely into you.

“Hoooooly shit, sweetheart-” Eddie gritted out through clenched teeth. His arm reached behind your shoulders, pulling you flush against him and bringing his mouth to hover mere inches from your ear. “Fucking made for me, so fucking tight.”

When Eddie began to move, your hips bucked to meet him instinctively. In your current position, Eddie had you caged in and wrapped in his arms, held in place as he thrusted into you and grunted sweet, filthy nothings into your ear.

“Feel so good squeezing my cock, baby.”

“Wrap your legs around me, don’t let me leave.”

“God, you smell so fucking good, can still taste you on my lips.”

“Such a good little vampire slayer. Take it all, sweet thing.”

You were getting closer with every word; each whispered praise in your ear made you tighten more and more, but you weren’t quite there yet. As if he could read your mind, Eddie’s hand snaked down between your naked bodies until his middle finger came to rest on your throbbing clit. Careful to keep his claws from scratching the sensitive area, the soft pad of his finger slipped small circles over the wanting bud.

You mewled, eyes rolling back at the combined sensations. The stimulation was overtaking every sense, numbing you to everything but the climb of your orgasm that awaited you on the other side of the peak you were climbing.

“You know what’s crazy, Slayer?”

Eddie’s voice was husky in your ear, and you’d barely registered what he’d said before he continued.

“I didn’t even need the power to control your mind. Didn’t need to make you want me like this, you did that all yourself.”

You struggled to comprehend what he was getting at, but a particularly forceful thrust caused a sharp moan to leap from your lips. Eddie laughed, and it was somehow both musical and malicious all at once.

“Dreams are funny things… I showed up just to see what would happen, thinking ‘hey, there’s no way in hell she’d have me, right? But maybe in my dreams’...” Eddie chuckled ruefully, shifting slightly to angle his cock further into you and moaning at the way you gripped him tighter when your leg was tilted just so.

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. What did he mean he showed up? As in, showed up in your dream? Your mind was reeling, spinning in the midst of the jumbled logic of his words and the mounting pleasure his cock was driving into you.

“But it wasn’t even in my dreams that you wanted me, it was yours… in your dream you gave in to me so easily, practically begged me to tell you what to do…”

What? What was he… was Eddie saying what you thought he was saying? You squirmed, trying to lift him so you could look him in the eyes, but he held you in place- immobile and at his mercy. Your eyes widened as you stared up at the skylight in your ceiling. The moon was full tonight, and it stared down at you unwaveringly as Eddie continued to thrust into you and hit that spongy spot within your cunt over and over and over.

“The compulsion was a great touch, I hadn’t even thought of that until your delicious little brain took a turn for the kinky.” You could hear the smile on his panted words. “One dream told me all I needed to know… you wanted me just as bad, Slayer. Wanted- needed- permission to just let go and admit you wanted the bloodsucker’s cock, didn’t you?”

“Y-you….ah! Oh, fuck!”

You tried to respond, tried to tell him you needed a second to process what he was telling you, but before you could get more than a word out his finger began to work your clit at a pace so rapid, only a demon like him was capable. If you didn’t know better, you would think he’d pulled out a vibrator. That was how fast he was able to rip your orgasm from its precipice and make you spasm out of control around his cock.

“Shit!” You clenched at the sinful sound of Eddie’s voice in your ear as he unraveled inside of you. “Holy- I’m cumming, baby, fuck-” He continued to thrust into you as he rode out his orgasm, murmuring into your neck, “...mine. Fucking mine…”

Your eyes stared unblinking at the moon as you clenched around Eddie’s throbbing dick, mind beginning to flood with post-sex clarity as soon as your orgasm began to calm. Your chest felt like it was clawing at your heart, trying desperately to rip out the offending organ for overtaking the control that your brain was supposed to have had this entire time. Your instincts had tried- god, they’d fucking tried- to tell you not to trust the demon inside you, and yet here you were. Pinned to your own bed with his seed dripping from the most intimate parts of you, and you’d fucking invited him in.

How much of your attraction to him had been you, and how much had been him? You’d asked him so many questions this very night about his powers, what he was capable of- and he’d glossed over a very important piece of information by omitting the fact that he could make appearances in your fucking dreams.

Before you could even voice even one of the questions that swirled around in your head, Eddie’s eyes were hovering over yours, the moonlight dancing in a ghostly halo along his silhouette.

“Listen to me, Slayer.”

His eyes were pitch black, and you found yourself missing the brilliant ruby red they’d shone in your dream. Maybe that’s all tonight was? Just a horrible dream, and the one person you’d considered a friend in this godforsaken town was still someone you could trust.

“I’m going to get you cleaned up, you’re going to get under these covers, and then you’re going to go to sleep.” You heard him take a breath; felt his shaking exhale on your face. “When you wake up in the morning, you’ll forget everything that happened since I walked through that door.”

You blinked, listening intently. Obediently.

“I walked you home, said goodnight at the door, and left. Then you went inside, locked your door, and went to bed. Repeat it back to me.”

“You walked me home, said goodnight at the door, and left.” Your lips moved seamlessly of their own accord, parroting his own story back to him as you stared into those bottomless black eyes. “Then I went inside, locked the door, and went to bed.”

Eddie stared at you a moment, and there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. It suddenly dawned on you that his eyes weren’t normally black or red. They were brown. You missed how pretty those brown eyes were. They were sweet; honest. Trustworthy eyes.

Finally moving after a few seconds of watching you intently, searching your face for something he evidently couldn’t find, he leaned forward and tenderly kissed your forehead.

“Good.” he whispered, low and tired. “That’s good, sweetheart.”

The night played out exactly as Eddie said it would. He cleaned you up, taking the time to make sure he’d kissed every nick he’d made in your skin until there wasn’t a wound in sight. He watched silently as you cleaned your face, donned a soft shirt so large it reached mid-thigh, and slid under your covers. Eddie kissed you softly before wordlessly locking your doorknob from the inside and exited your apartment. You heard him double check the lock and leave once he was satisfied with your safety.

Then you fell asleep.

Eddie had only dreamwalked a few times before he’d realized that his newfound vampirism gave him the power to manipulate the dreams that he’d recently gained the ability to stumble into.

It had started when he’d heard Wayne sleeping restlessly in the living room of their trailer, tossing and turning on the couch with his forehead pinched with worry. Eddie had wanted so badly to ease his pain, and before he knew it he was watching his uncle’s nightmare playing out around him like he’d stepped onto the set of a film. He’d seen his own gravestone, seen Wayne tearing at the dirt until his fingers bled, and wanted nothing more than to alleviate his uncle’s pain- that yearning on his part had evidently been enough to cause the scene to shift in his favor. The grave had sunken into the ground, the sky changed from stormy gray to sunny blue, and the bed of dirt had become a gingham blanket, upon which sat a significantly happier Wayne and a sticky-fingered Eddie at age four holding a PB&J that was oozing out the sides.

It was at this moment that Eddie had started thinking that maybe these powers he’d gained might not be all bad.

He hadn’t realized he had the ability to manipulate memories until the first time Gareth had lost control and killed that girl from U.S. History.

She’d asked Gareth to meet her behind the bleachers after school, and Eddie had told him not to go, told him not to risk it, but Gareth was so fucking stubborn. The girl was cute, and the idiot had thought he could handle it. By the time Eddie had realized Gareth had ignored his warnings, it was too late.

Eddie had been so close to cleaning everything up seamlessly, and then some cheerleader had to go and stumble upon Gareth, Eddie, and the bloodless corpse of that poor girl. Eddie’s instincts had taken over, and before he knew it he’d grabbed the cheerleader by the shoulders and used every ounce of willpower he could muster to convince her that she hadn’t seen them at all, and in fact what she had actually seen was U.S. History girl walking into the woods behind the school.

It had been a desperate, kneejerk reaction, and Eddie had had next to no confidence it would work, but the next day he’d been amazed to hear that exact story being repeated through the rumor mill word for word. It gave Eddie and Gareth the cover they’d needed to take the girl’s body to the Upside Down and hide it where no one would think to look.

His abilities were handy tricks to have, sure… but it scared him. Eddie didn’t like that every new power he discovered within himself gave him a new way to get away with something awful. Eddie didn’t trust himself enough for that knowledge to sit well with him.

Now, he sat in the cafeteria at his usual table with Gareth, eyes sweeping the room for your face. He hadn’t seen you in the halls yet today, and even though he had every reason to be confident that you wouldn’t remember last night, he’d never tried to erase memories from a Slayer before. Maybe you had some sort of mental defenses against him? Maybe you were already waiting at his trailer, stake in hand? The unknown of it all was stressing Eddie out.

That’s what he was feeling- stress. Not guilt. Eddie had hardened his undead heart enough that he didn’t feel guilty for things like this anymore. If he had been completely honest about his powers at Benny’s, there’s no way you would have trusted him after that. After being an active player in your wet dream without your consent? He didn't know many people who wouldn’t hate his guts after that- hell, he hated his own guts after that. He was a horny creep who’d violated you in more ways than one, and there was no way anyone could forgive him for that. Why should you?

He could have been honest about his memory manipulating abilities, but the idea of giving that secret away had simply scared him too much. It was easier to keep that in his back pocket, and wasn’t that what you always had against him, after all? A wooden stake, always ready and waiting as a last resort. A failsafe.

No. Eddie didn’t feel guilty. For the sake of his own self-preservation, he couldn’t.

As if on cue, Eddie perked up when he saw you enter the cafeteria. Act casual, he reminded himself. He couldn’t act like anything was out of the ordinary, but at the same time he needed to be sure you remembered nothing. Then he could move on, not feel as… stressed.

He watched you discreetly, looking up from his crumpled bag of pretzels every twenty seconds or so to check if you were looking at him. You sat at your normal table on the opposite side of the room, pulling a sandwich from your bag and quietly began to eat your lunch. You didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned with where Eddie was, much less whether or not he was looking at you.

Suddenly, as if you could feel his gaze on you, your eyes flicked up and locked with his. For a split second, Eddie’s confidence in his powers faltered- maybe his powers were useless against you; maybe you remembered last night in all its shameful glory. The jig is up, he thought, I’m caught. Let justice be served.

But all you did was smile at him and give a little wave before turning back to your sandwich.

Eddie felt a nudge at his elbow from Gareth. “You good, man?” the floppy haired boy glanced in your direction, raising an eyebrow in question.

You didn’t remember. Eddie should be relieved… he’d successfully befriended, seduced, and fooled The Slayer. This was a good thing.

“Yeah,” he huffed, reassuring Gareth with a curt nod. “I’m good.”

Good. Such a relative term. So many definitions for the word good, and yet not a single one would make ‘I’m good’ anything but a lie when it came from Eddie’s mouth.

He ran his tongue over one of his sharpened canines, pressing it into the tip hard enough to break skin. The taste of your blood that still lingered in his veins flooded his mouth for a split second before the puncture healed itself, and he closed his eyes to savor you for a moment.

No; Eddie Munson wasn’t good. He hadn’t been good for a very long time.

Taglist (just some people I think will be interested, as well as those who I've spoken to about this story during the MONTHS it took to finally finish): @the-unforgivenn, @vintagehellfire, @munson-blurbs, @littlesubbyflower, @msgexymunson, @hellfire--cult, @word-wytch, @carolmunson, @bettyfrommars

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #vampire eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson #slayer!reader #vampire slayer reader #buffy the vampire slayer #Spotify

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 1 year

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Hi! I'm so glad to see you're accepting requests again.

If it's not too much trouble, and it's not against the rules, I would like a HC of Fuegoleon, Nozel, and William have an S/O who was previously in a toxic/abusive relationship prior to starting a relationship with them, and running into said ex who wants to restart relationship with said S/O.

Hiya~! ^^

Glad to hear that you're glad ^^ No worries, it's not against the rules. Hope you like these

Pairings: Fuegoleon x gn!reader, Nozel x gn!reader, William x gn!reader Fanfic type: Headcanons Genre: Hurt-comfort (?) Total length: ~1.8k Content warnings: Contains references/implied former toxic/abusive relationship between reader and their ex, reader experiences anxiety/uneasiness as a result of running into the ex, the ex used he/him pronouns, (though meant as a coincidence, some parts can be interpreted as stalker-ish behaviour on ex's part), the BC men are there to support/save reader from the situation at the end though, so happy ending

Fuegoleon

You’re out on the town, just spending time together on his day off. For a moment you wander closer to a small boutique as he wonders about which café to go to. And you hear someone calling you from the crowd, which causes you to instinctively turn your head towards the sound. But as you do, you instantly recognize your ex, and it makes your entire body tense up.

You left that relationship in the past for a good reason. For a very god damn good reason. And you never want to go back to it.

Plus, you’re happy with Fuegoleon. More than happy.

Thus, seeing your ex is one of the last things that you want to experience.

And yet, there he is. Casually coming up to you and starting to talk about how much he misses you and how you were the best thing to happen to him, and how he wants you back. Honestly, as he starts to ramble about how he has changed, you tune out, and all you can do is think about how you do not want to be there.

But Fuegoleon has been watching the entire exchange, which hasn’t taken more than some tens of seconds. And at first, the casual “hell” could simply have been an old acquaintance coming to greet you, which in itself wasn’t a cause for concern. However, as he sees your body tensing up, and hears the talk about “I want you back in my life,” it’s more than evident to him what’s going on.

He doesn’t want to cause a scene, however. It would just escalate the situation. So, he simply starts walking closer, and calls out with an audible, but not too loud voice: “My love, would you prefer a café or a restaurant?”

It causes both you and your ex to look towards him, and while relief settles in you, you can see your ex’s eyes shift between you and Fue.

There’s a wide variety of emotions flashing in your ex’s eyes, anger being one of them.

But as Fue wraps his arm around your middle and pulls you closer, making a clear gesture that you are together, your ex looks away and mutter something under his breath.

Lucky for you he’s not dumb enough to start a fight with a Magic Knight Captain.

“I’m happy where I am now,” you still say to your ex, mustering all your courage, which causes him to glare at you.

But as said, trying to battle with a Captain, and a Royal, is a losing battle for him. So, he mutters something else, and turns on his heels with hunched shoulders.

Fue then leans closer to whisper into your ear “are you alright?”

And honestly “I am, now that you are here,” you whisper back. Because you are.

You’d always be alright, as long as he’s there.

Nozel

You were coming back from the castle with Nozel, heading towards the Silver Eagle’s headquarters after running an errand with him. But he was stopped by a higher ranking fellow Silver Eagle who had a question to Nozel, so you decided to make your way to the base by yourself. It wasn’t a big deal honestly. And you had no way of knowing how long the matter would take.

Besides, you had things to do yourself. Too many things to take care of, in fact, which is why you got lost in your thoughts as you walked. But you were waken from them as someone called your name.

And as you looked up, you saw none other than your ex, wearing a smile and waving a hand as he walked toward you intently.

You cursed in your mind, because he was the last person on this earth that you wanted to see.

You had closed that chapter in your life, and you didn’t miss it one bit.

But something in you made you stop in your tracks, as your mind was running a million miles an hour.

Honestly, you didn’t know what to do. You weren’t prepared to face your ex. When you left, you thought that you wouldn’t need to see his face again.

And yet there he was. Talking something about how you looked good, and how he had “seen the error of his ways” or something, and was talking about wanting you back. Going to your favourite restaurant, that you honestly hated now. Not because of the food, but because of the memories.

In that moment, all you could think was running away. Which, in all honesty, made you a little angry. Because you were a knight for god’s sake. You should be able to handle this. But you weren’t able to get a word out as he just stood there with a stupid smile on his face and you just stood there, frozen.

Until you heard another voice coming from behind you, and the expression of your ex changed. From a smile into one of … near fear.

“What is going on here?” You could hear the ice seeping through Nozel’s tone.

“Nothing, I was just catching up with my-“

“Your what?”

You could practically hear the judgemental gaze and a quirked eyebrow you were sure that there was on his face.

“You don’t seem to know your place,” Nozel concluded. “Because you dare show the insolence of trying to court my spouse.”

You could see your ex’s eyes widen as he connected the dots.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize-“

Silence. Nozel didn’t say anything, but the weight on your shoulder, and the weight of the sheer mana collecting round you told you that Nozel was putting his foot down. Without a word. Because he didn’t need to say anything.

And honestly, Nozel didn’t need your ex to say anything else.

He just wanted him gone. You wanted him gone. Out of your lives.

And your ex took the hint. Ran away with his tail between his legs. Which made you let out a sigh of relief, as Nozel looked around while removing his hand from your shoulder. But he didn’t move away from you. Instead, you could feel him still hovering close to you, as if guarding you.

“Stay close,” he said, but you knew what he meant with it.

He wasn’t a man who was good with words, especially in public. Rather he showed his care through actions. And the way he stayed close to you, spoke volumes about how he felt.

William

You were taking a nature walk behind the bass of the Golden Dawn. Though technically speaking it was a bit more into the forest than “behind the base”, since there was a hiking trail there. But it was relatively close to the base, and practically on your backyard.

In fact, many Golden Dawn members used to travel there whenever they needed time to think, or just a moment for themselves. There was even a particular trail that would take 3 hours to walk if gone through entirely, before entering actual headquarter ground, and was frequented by knights and civilians alike for its beautiful nature.

And the day was beautiful. Birds were singing, and wind was rustling the leaves of nearby trees as sunlight filtered through the foliage as you came into a crossroads of the path you were walking, and one heading to town.

“Hey!” Came a voice from the other path, which caused you to stop. Maybe someone needed help or directions, so of course you’d stop to help.

But the person approaching you waved, seeming okay. So, maybe it was someone you knew? You weren’t entirely sure to be honest.

Not until… he came closer… And you recognized your ex, wearing a hiking outfit.

Why… You grimace in your own mind.

This was one of The Least Likely places to run into him. So *why*? Why here? Why here? Why all in all?

You wanted nothing to do with him. You could have gone for the rest of your life without as much as hearing about him, but here he was, walking down just this hiking trail. On this exact day. On this exact time when you were there.

Fate must’ve hated you. Or so you felt.

“Mmmm…” you muttered, waving your hand and starting to walk again. “I have to go,” you quickly explained.

“Wait, wait wait,” he urged while quickening his own pace, and jogging up to you.

Then he started to talk something about having taken up on hiking because of fresh air doing good to him, or something, and how, though feeling happy about a new hobby, he still missed you and wanted to reconcile with you.

But you did not like the situation. You did not want to be here with him. You didn’t want to be anywhere with him.

“No thanks,” you tried while again quickening your pace.

“Please give me a chance,” he implored, and it just made you want to run.

Until you heard a familiar voice from the woods to your side.

“Oh I didn’t know you were also on a walk,” it was William.

The branches of his World Tree Magic carrying him closer to you, as if a saviour delivered by the forest.

“Though suppose it’s no wonder,” he mused while coming closer to you. “My songbird needs to fly,” his voice was soft and gentle, but there was a weight to his tone and words. As if a stern statement. “And who might you be?” He asked, after placing himself onto the ground next to you, and looking at your ex.

“I’m uhh…” he stumbled on his words, because the statement of ‘my songbird’ had been clear as day. “We used to date…” he muttered.

There was a pause. A pause that must’ve been unsettling to your ex, because even you could feel the tension in the air.

“I see.” William concluded. Leaving it at that.

He didn’t need to say anything more. Why would he? He had established that you two were dating, and your ex was only an unwanted encounter. It might not have been said with words, but the way William stared at your ex, without really staring; watching from the corners of his eyes, told enough.

“Honey…” you manged while turning your head to William.

“Let’s go,” he said to you, turning to you with a smile. “Together,” he added while over you his arm, so that you might link yours to his.

But before you turned to leave, he gave a glance to your ex. One last glance. As if to make a statement.

And your ex heard the message, loud and clear. He wasn’t much of a threat to a Magic Knight’s Captain. Actually, he was no threat at all. Your ex might’ve been a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid like that.

You smiled, because luck seemed to have been on your side after all. And William really seemed like your guardian angel.

#black clover fanfiction #black clover headcanons #fuegoleon x reader #nozel x reader #william x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader #nozel silva x reader #william vangeance x reader #black clover x reader

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hisuian-history-makers · 1 year

Text

Post-Series Finale HCs: The Owl House (Spoiler!)

(From days to weeks) Right after;

—Raine spends time between recovering and pitching ideas to rebuild the Isles, reconnecting with Eda. They find out what music range the Owl Beast spirit cannot handle to avoid making their girlfriend (later wife) go deaf. Happiest they have been in years since the breakup.

—To limited degree, witches can use magic outside their coven sigil now. The sigils cannot completely block other magic-types only just restrict it. Biles sacks are pretty fragile though.

—Several cults/religions tried to start up once people learned King was a living Titan. Eda shut them down before they could get established—the Collector has a few cults too.

—Hooty helps Lilith practice her own Harpy form. Has to catch her several times as the other half of Owl Beast is less sentient(?) than Eda’s own curse. It grows to be a Raven. He finds being in his “Porta-Hooty” mode to be more fun since he can hang out with Lily.

—Alador spends time catching up with his kids. He likes to study how various beasts and animal species are adapting to the raised left arm. (If the Abomination track wasn’t expected of his family, he would have joined the Beast track.)

—Luz does, in fact, keep a portion of her Titan form’s power. Being in direct contact with such immense power has left its mark. She has fangs and magic will spark off her fingers whenever she holds Stringbean. Her shouts are loud!

—The decision to tear down the ruins of Belos’ castle is pretty unanimous. They find several thousands of snails hidden away, remains of the Grimwalkers, and old wild magic texts.

—So much rebuilding to be done. Not just buildings but the entire infrastructure of the Boiling Isles. People outside the main cast wonder what in the realm happened for everything to crazy during the Day of Unity.

—Hunter does some soul-searching in between joint custody of the Nocedas, Clawthornes, Parks, and Darius (plus Eber). There is a lot to unpack in his life after everything that went down. He ponders what being a Grimwwalker means, processes Flapjack’s passing, and what he is going to do going forward. The poor boy is traumatized to high heaven being raised under Belos/child soldier/clone of Caleb Clawthorne.

(Yes. I headcanon that Caleb took Evelyn’s last name or they refer to him by that after finding out what his brother did.)

—Eda jokes about Hunter technically being her and Lillith’s however-many-greats-grandfather.

—Wrath has to go through a redemption arc. Seriously! He sees how much Braxas missed him and begrudgingly accepts that the coven system was wrong. It takes a few years though.

—The Collector does not go straight back to the siblings who left him alone. This idea is argued for by the main cast who want them to spend time being a kid. King begs him to stay.

(I do not know how to write pronouns for a person who has He/him and They/them).

—On a side note, everyone who was ever mean to King is now genuinely terrified of him. :)

—People wonder why the Titan’s left arm is stretched out toward the sky. Even Luz does...

Four Years Later;

—The concept of carving a palistrum egg has boomed in popularity. Stringbean inspired many people to respect Palismen as individuals.

—Cultural trade between the Boiling Isles and Earth is still tentative. Unfortunately, Andrias’ invasion made humans wary of other realms. (We know ToH and Amphibia share a universe due to easter eggs. Might as well capitalize~)

—Gus secretly eats movie DVDs. He knows that they are supposed to be watched but they taste good. He will eat some on his lunch breaks.

—A president/representative has been put in charge of the Boiling Isles. Democracy is still new so there are a few kinks to work out. Each town has a few spokespeople for them to really give everyone a voice in how things are run.

—Luz, Amity, Willow, Gus, Hunter, Eda, King, Lillith, Raine, and the others are still the main celebrities on the island. Their popularity has finally died down from fan-worship levels much to their relief (Raine, Hunter, & King mainly).

—King keeps discovering glyph types outside his parent/father’s elemental ones. The combo testing can get a little crazy since this is his new magic language! He is really excited to learn it.

—Funnily enough, future students of Eda’s have visited using the time pools. They never say anything too revealing about the future but the subtle picture they paint is chaotic.

—The Basilisks help the Unversity of Wild Magic keep from burning down/freezing/exploding/imploding/getting damaged by wild studies.

—Willow acts as a motivational speaker for young witches and demons in the Flyer Derby off-season. The still-new freedom of magic can be overwhelming in sheer choices to the kids.

—Camila can only handle a certain amount of the Boiling Isles’ otherness. She loves that her first kid found such an accepting second home, really she does! But it is still a lot to take in...

—The Collector took care of the Titantrappers years ago. Only the youngest members are more open to interacting with King.

—Eda still finds it ironic she became a teacher.

—Amity spends her days exploring the world, though she is always a call away from Luz and her friends. She did not expect to fall in love with exploring different Titan-civilizations.

—Viney has interned under Camila to learn about Earth animals. The difference in biology between the two realms plays a part in how she judges treating pets at her mythical pet clinic. Some species react adversely to magic being used on them which she learns cause of it.

—Hunter gives each past Golden Guard a name based on what little he could find about their personalities. He still sees their ghosts but in a “guardian angel” way. Is for sure dating Willow.

...It. It took a while for him to carve Waffles.

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barflovski · 1 month

Note

What are your gender headcannons for the main 5 + anyone else you wanna mention

Stan: fem nonbinary, he/they. Doesnt care too much about gender, but becomes uncomfortable if anyone refers to him as a boy or a girl. Still uses the label gay though, because he feels it fits him best. Stan hardly puts much thought into how he dresses (he wears the same american flag jacket and broncos t-shirt constantly without washing them. He’s greasy asf) EXCEPT for when he dresses fem. He goes all out then and loves to express that side of himself, especially at Crimson Dawn concerts. He likes sweaters n tank tops and skirts. They especially like their outfits since they can’t dress fem much because Randy would fuckin freak and South Park isn’t exactly an open town to that kind of stuff.

Kyle: cis male, he/him. Becomes pissy if someone asks him his pronouns because he takes it as them not perceiving him as male. For sure answers with “the boy ones”. He’s not transphobic though, just very self-conscious, especially about his appearance.

Cartman: bigender, she/he. Calls you a fag if you ask him his pronouns. But if you get them wrong he’ll berate you. Her pronouns are just kind of implied to everyone. Calls herself both a man and a woman, and is in touch with both sides of herself. She’s very comfortable with her gender. LOVES to dress up and put on costumes. But when dressing casually he usually just wears a t-shirt and either a skirt or shorts. Doesn’t take anyone’s shit if they make fun of him for dressing fem.

Kenny: genderfluid, any pronouns. Like Eric, they’re very comfortable with their identity. And everyone had kind of seen this coming ever since the princess Kenny thing- Kenny had started using any pronouns ever since he had turned like 12 or so. Only calls himself a girl, Karen calls Kenny her big sister, but he’s still fluid. He just has fun with it and dresses however the hell he wants. Usually they just dress comfortably.

Marj: trans girl, she/her. Realized she was a girl at age 14, but struggled internally for a long time because her parents are fucking douches and for sure wouldn’t accept that. But after she started dating Eric he helped her come to terms with herself and her gender, and now she’s out at school and the gang. but NOT her parents, she does a lot to make sure they never figure it out. She’ll usually keep a pair of her girl clothes on her when she goes out and changes outside of the house.

I have strong thoughts about these 5 with their gender identities, especially since even in canon they’re all very expressive about it (for instance Eric dressing in drag constantly, princess kenny, Kyle’s extreme persistence that he is a Boy, Stan’s struggle with gender in the cissy, and Butters’ overall side with femininity). But other than these 5, Wendy is nonbinary she/they, and Kevin Stoley is nonbinary they/them.

#asks

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xticklemeemox · 3 months

Text

The Love You Want: III, Part One

Word Count: 10,003

A03 version

Masterlist

The Love You Want: I

The Love You Want: II, Part One

The Love You Want: II, Part Two

The Love You Want: II, Part Three

Summary:

III wanted to be accepted. Growing up in a small town with backwards views, they knew they would never fit in. Then he was killed, and Sleep came to them and offered him acceptance, wanted him to be their Third. Offered them the chance to love and be loved in return. How could they not accept? Not when Sleep offered him the chance to get to know the two strangers from his past job. The two he was drawn to in a way they had never felt before.

But Vessel is hurt, trapped in his past, and II can't help him on his own. III will force his way into both of their hearts within mere moments, a ray of sunshine that they needed.

Adding III into the mix makes something apparent. They were all bound to fall in love with each other, even if they could feel in their souls that something… someone was still missing. They were destined for it, to love and be loved in return, and no amount of hesitation or fear on Vessel's part could stop the entwining of their souls.

Tags from previous chapters all apply here.

Fic under the cut <3

They came to him in a dream as they were teetering on the edge of life and death.

They remembered choking, gasping for breath as their own blood bubbled past his lips as he coughed it up and back on to themself. His chest lit up with fire with every short, wheezing breath, their own blood suffocating him from the inside. His torso had been aflame, burning every nerve as they lay on their side, curled into himself as some sort of protection from the blows that had rained down. Whole lot of good that did them.

They'd called him a freak, an abomination, before kicking their knee in at the back. He didn't remember much after the blow to the side of their head sent stars exploding into his vision. Only the pain as the kicking started, the numbness that spread over his emotions as slurs were being spilled like acid from cruel lips of people with even crueller minds.

The God came to him with a promise of a wish granted as they floated in an expanse of stars. A galaxy lay in front of him, a swirling mass of white flecked beauty and he lay entranced at the sight. There was a presence around him, gentle and loving, voices beginning to speak as though they were right beside them.

"I can grant your wish if you'll become mine, offer your body and soul to me. Spread my message, my existence, to the world through music and I will give you your deepest desire."

"Who are you?" He asks, a little too eager at the thought.

"I am Sleep, though that is not my true name. It is unable to be spoken by your human tongue."

They think upon this answer for only a moment before blurting out their next thought. "Do Gods have pronouns? 'Cause I use he/they and I feel it would disrespectful not to ask for yours."

"You are the first to ask." Sleep comments in amusement, and he feels the God swirl around him like a cold wind though there is no visible presence.

"I find myself partial to being referred to as a he, though whatever my vessels call me is fine as long as it done in respect. I am a God, my pronouns are inconsequential in the face of eternity."

"Then I will use what you prefer." The third affirms with a bright grin and there is a chuckle that is like the booming crash of a waterfall.

"Let me think on it a moment." They state, and the God agrees.

To offer their body and soul to a God he knows nothing about?

He lets them take as long as they need to think over their decision, until finally he comes to a conclusion. Much of his life was spent never accepted by those around them. They grew up thinking they were odd, but despite this, never let the opinions of others beat him down. It was difficult to keep his smile in the face of all that hate, but they managed. Growing up in an adoption home could have been worse. They could have been stuck with abusers, and should be glad they only were emotionally distant. He thinks back to the terror of their schoolyears and the uncertainty of how long he'd manage to keep his current job. He never could seem to keep one for more than a year.

Then he saw those two men in the bookstore. He'd just started the week before and only lasted two weeks in total. Meeting them had been the highlight of his job, of any of his jobs. They were entranced by the two mask wearing cultists with the pretty eyes and prettier smiles. When they showed up one day, they were the talk of the town in a very negative way. Where he lived was small and stuck in the past, so imagine his surprise when two people showed up one day and became the main topic of gossip. It had finally moved off of them and his apparently strange way of dress and who he was fucking. They enjoyed crop tops and skirts as well as fancy modern victorian-esque clothes and patterns. They were always too loud, too much. It was odd, that he wanted to date men, as a man themself.

He only ever wanted to be accepted. For who he is, how they dress, and who they want to love.

"Sleep?" He questions, coming to a decision.

"Yes?"

"You said you'll grant my wish?"

"Yes, of course. You want acceptance, and my other vessels will give you that and more."

"Your other vessels? How many are there?" He asks, curious, waving a hand through a passing star.

It crumbles to dust around their fingers.

"Two others, a third if you accept my offer. Two more, perhaps, but I have not yet decided." Sleep responds.

"Can you show me them? I would be living with them, it can't hurt to see what I'm getting into." They ask, eager and yet trying to stifle it, to appear not so- himself.

"Of course."

The mass of stars and galaxies directly in front of him begin to converge into an image swirling at the edges that hangs a foot away, no bigger than a hall mirror. There's a drumkit being banged mercilessly by a very familiar masked man. He beats at his drumkit with such anger it surprises his onlooker, the song filled with rage.

Its fast paced at first and then slows down to a less angry tone that keeps the fast pace. Subconsciously, they can already imagine just what riff they'd play on his bass to the tune.

The man yells out in anger as one of his sticks breaks, throwing it at the wall next to a beautiful piano that sits closed and untouched, dust beginning to settle on its bench.

"Is he okay? They seemed happy when I saw them at my old job." He asks, as the man stands and begins pacing, rubbing at his eyes as a sniffle reaches the onlookers ears.

"They were happy. My First is isolating himself again. He does not know how to let others love him, and my Second is feeling the brunt of the Firsts silence in presence and in voice."

"I wish I could hug him." They whisper, finding his legs able to move forward, kneeling in front of the floating image.

The Second moves away before he can reach his hand out, leaving the room after turning the light off.

The room changes to one covered in pitch darkness. They squint, struggling to see in the lack of light, the brightness of the universe around him making it more difficult to see into the galactic image floating before them.

"Here, my Third, a taste of the power you could have. If you accept my offer, you will gain this ability once your transformation is complete."

There is a flash of pain in his eyes, overwhelming in its intensity and they crumble, palms digging into their eyesockets. When the pain lessens, he manages to blink his eyes open, breath caught in his throat at the sight before them.

The man with the pretty mask and the smile like living sunshine is sitting on his bed, six eyes dull and lifeless as blood spills from a cut actively being sliced into his arm. He lunges forward as the First goes to make another but their hands pass right through the floating image, tears welling in the onlookers eyes.

"You have to stop him. He doesn't deserve this! He deserves to be happy! I- I hate this. Why would you show me this if I can't help him?" He cries, tears spilling down his cheeks as he kneels, trying in vain even now to stop him as he makes another cut.

"My Vessel has always done this. I will not force him to stop. Actions such as these brought him to me, and he is my most beloved. It is up to the Second, and you, if you accept, to heal his mind and heart."

"You must see him as he is and choose to care for him anyway, as the Second has done. I will not have a vessel who leaves my First, as he was left by everyone he cared for before I came to him."

"He is my most precious creation. I am a flawed being, I know this, and recognize that I have the capacity to lash out in anger much the same as any human would. I am flawed, as everything is, but in my eyes, my First is perfect. You and my Second are perfect, no matter your own flaws."

"I need vessels who will accept me as I am, I need vessels who will accept my First as he is."

He takes in all this information slowly, truly trying to comprehend it all. They never thought a God would so blatantly reveal that they are a flawed being. A flawed being that clearly cares greatly for His creations, his vessels.

"If you will accept me, if the others will accept me..." He starts, changing what they were going to say entirely.

"Something within me calls out to the vessels in a way I've never felt before. My acceptance was already set in stone before you showed me them, but to see them again after my death... I'm meant to be with them in any way they'll have me. I was meant to be yours, too, I think. Accepting you feels right."

"You accept my offer then?" Sleep asks, voices echoing around him.

"Yes. I accept." He affirms resolutely.

Between one blink and the next, the universe around him is gone and replaced with a sandy beach. Waves crash against the shore somewhere nearby, and the sand is grainy against his knees.

He kneels in a circle of white candles. Above them, the moon shines as bright as the sun but does not seem to permeate the space outside of the circle and yet it doesn't touch him even still.

"Offer your blood to me, my third. Every drop of it, so that I can fill your being with my essence."

A decorative plate materializes in front of him, golden in color like the blade of the knife that sits atop it.

"Your blood, my third." Sleep urges, his voice a low croon.

"I will be accepted? Do you swear it?" Their voice wavers, the reality of what he is about to do setting in as he brings the knife to their skin.

Its cold.

"I swear it, my third. You will be accepted, you will be loved."

"Okay."

They dig the knife in. Sharp as it is, it glides smoothly, blood spilling from under its edge and down his arm. From wrist to forearm, a gaping wound is slit. Red blood spills out.

There is a cracking sound, and he looks up, mouth gaping open as the moon above splinters open at the bottom to reveal a gaping maw of sharp teeth and inky tendrils. Six eyes blink open independently and Sleep's voice is a firm command as he tells them to look away for their own safety.

"Did you know I was going to accept your offer?" He asks, blood dripping down from the wounds in his arms.

As they wait for a response, he sits, dizziness making it so that they don't trust their ability to remain standing. Sleep's tendrils reach down to wrap around and around and around his bleeding arms and he grows ever colder.

"I pick my potential vessels very carefully. I will not choose one who will not accept. I am too weak to not get something out of these meetings. This offering of your blood connects your body and soul to me, granting you eternity, connected to my life force, and strengthening my power through the offering itself. I will not even consider one I do not know for certain will not hurt my First. So, yes, I did know you were going to accept. I was drawn to you much the same as I was drawn to my First and Second. Your souls are perfect for my essence."

"I see. I suppose I feel proud that a God was drawn to me." Sleep continues lapping at the blood leaving his body.

"You're perfect, you should be proud. My vessels are all so perfect." Sleeps voices are smooth and reassuring, laced with his love for his vessel.

He gazes up at the expanse of stars above him, carefully avoiding the moon looming at the edges of their vision, the sand soft beneath their body. The gentle flickers of the candlelight in the corner of their vision is soothing, the Gods presence prominent as the tendrils leave his body carefully.

"Eat the apple of Eden, my dear third. Let divinity sate your stomach and accept me into your soul." Sleep urges once more, and he sits up again with some difficulty.

Using their arms to push themselves up causes pain to white their vision, an explosion of dizziness not caused by the bloodloss.

When their vision stops swimming, they notice an apple has appeared on the offering plate. The red skin shines in the candlelight and he reaches forward to pick it up with trembling fingers.

"Eat."

He takes a bite. It tastes of iron and something sweet and rich, and blood spills past his lips and drips down their chin. He licks it away between bites. Divinity settles in his stomach like a leaden weight.

He eats the entire thing, core and all, despite the chewy texture of the core itself. When they pull it away to look, only once, the sight reminds him of something. They continue eating, craving the taste even as what he saw begins to unsettle him.

Licking the blood from their fingers, he realizes that the apple had a faint heartbeat. Nausea swirls in their gut as he realizes the core looked an awful lot like a human heart.

"You will not remember the part of your reasoning being wanting to help my vessels after I'd shown you them. You will not remember being shown them at all. Everything else if for you to keep in your memories. Anything that my First could misconstrue as you not choosing to care for him of your own will, will be erased."

"I understand." He agrees, vision already beginning to blacken around the edges.

"When you awaken, my dear Third, you will be at the edge of my realm. My vessels will be collecting you. Taking you back to their home so you can start your transformation."

"Will it hurt?"

"Yes. You will wish you had died for good but you will survive it, as my other vessels survived it."

There is no time for a response as his mind fades. A name is just on the tip of their tongue. A simple word. They are the Third.

III

III wakes at the edge of a forest on his back, blue eyes blinking open to see a dark sky above him, lit only by the shining silver light of the moon. Whoever they were before that moment ceases to exist. He rolls over and lays there for a moment, struggling to think past the tiredness invading their mind.

A black mask with a white design sits beside them and he clutches it in one hand, attempting to sit up entirely with shaking arms that just can't seem to push up their weight.

Approaching footsteps cause them to look up and he sees II walking towards him with Vessel lingering at the treeline. A wide smile pulls at II's lips as he helps III up, but they notice the red rimmed eyes easily. "Are you okay?" He asks, and II cannot hide the widening of his eyes.

The smile he wears grows a little softer under his mask. "Not really, but it isn't something you can fix. I appreciate you asking though. Have you chosen a name?"

"III, in roman numerals, since I'm the third. The name called out to me after I accepted Sleep." II moves to help them stand, gentle hands gripping each bicep and pulling him up with a strength no man that short should possess.

"Pleasure to meet you, III. I'm II."

"I remember." III grins, warm smile lighting up his face.

"Ah, okay. Let's get you back home." II returns the warmth in III's expression and reaches an arm around to wrap around III's waist, the other arm slinging III's over his shoulder.

Pulling the man closer, they turn towards the treeline where Vessel waits. They meet him at the edge of the forest, where he wraps a large blanket around III's shoulders, tying it off at the front so it won't fall off. Throughout the process he never steps too close, never lets his fingers linger, never says a word. Only inclines his head in greeting with a tiny smile before turning around, fiddling with the long sleeves of his shirt so that they're pulled down to cover his hands.

"I'm sorry about Vessel. He's going through some things right now." II whispers, and III hums in acknowledgement, leaning into II gratefully and keeping an eye on Vessel's back as they walk.

Faced with both of their gazes on his back, Vessel ignores the chill in the air, continuing forward resolutely. He truly didn't mind offering up his hoodie to II, but didn't want to think about it any further for fear the careful calm he was deluding himself into thinking was his reality would crumble away.

With a twitch of his finger, the branches and roots part for their feet. Vessel steps over them, not caring much for his own safety but they move out of his way anyway. Not once through the trip back to the manor do II or III stumble over anything but III's own feet, weakened as they are.

A migraine pounds behind III's eyes, slowly spreading to the rest of their head. Every fractal of moonlight is a dagger to the skull. Wincing for the umpteenth time, III clutches his head as the agony persists.

In an instant, Vessel is at his side, sliding his mask over III's face and fastening the buckles at the back of their head. Darkness falls over his vision, a mesh film materializing over the eye holes, and III breathes a sigh of relief as the pain lessens immediately. The mask is weighty, but not uncomfortably so. It is almost like a comforting weight. If their head did not hurt so badly, he would have used this chance to see Vessel's face.

"Thank you." He murmurs, and there is a gentle touch to their arm, the barest of brushes that III almost could have mistaken for a low hanging branch or II had it not been for the coolness and the brief glance of a claw scraping featherlight against their skin.

Vessel accepts the gratitude he feels from II's side of the bond, his open only a crack. He sends back acceptance and nothing else. He lingers closer as III's steps grow weaker, II carrying more and more of their weight as time passes.

"Sorry." III mutters, and Vessel speaks up only briefly, quiet yet still loud enough to be heard, stilted like he was forcing the words out.

"Don't apologize, II and I were the same way."

"Who helped you?" They ask, head lolling to the side as their words get a little slurred, blinking profusely to combat the dizzying headache still pounding away at their skull.

III cannot see it, but Vessel's lips tighten to hold back the grimace as tears well up at the force of the memories. The pain of the scrapes and bruises and cuts he received on the journey to the manor. The bugs crawling over his skin when he collapsed in the foyer, on his eyes and into his open mouth. The foul taste of the black sludge. The awareness of every change happening to his body, unable to sleep, to close his eyes, to shut off his mind for even a second-

"Ves?" II's gentle tone snaps Vessel out of it.

His head snaps to look at II, six eyes widened and glistening with tears. He paints a smile on his face as II frowns with worried blue eyes.

"I would prefer you didn't ask, I'm sorry."

It wouldn't have hurt II or III any less if he'd admitted to having no one. II could see it in his eyes, in the hunching of his shoulders.

"You don't need to apologize either, Vessel. Unless its something detrimental to your health, I don't expect you to tell me anything you don't want to." II states firmly, pushing sincerity and care down the bond through that crack Vessel left open.

Vessel's smile is only a little more real when he wipes his tears, but he nods anyway and turns back to continue to the house, just a little bit closer than before. II cannot stop the happiness that shoots through him. Vessel spoke again, he looked at II, smiled at him. Its so much progress compared to the last week, compared to earlier that day that II cannot help the wide smile on his face.

"I'm sorry for asking." III manages, and there is the faintest trickle of their regret in the back of II and Vessel's minds.

II murmurs a gentle reassurance, smile dimming as reality hits him again.

Without a word or emotion shared between them, only a glance, Vessel and II come to an agreement. Vessel is at III's other side quickly, taking his other arm and letting their hips brush as they walk. They need to hurry. Their transformation is coming on fast, faster than they thought it would, if they're already beginning to feel the thirds emotions.

With both of them working together, II and Vessel get III back to the manor in record time, even as every brush of their hips together causes Vessel to hold back a wince but he knows he isn't very successful by II's increasingly worried glances.

The only light on in the house is a single lamp in the foyer window, Elvira pawing at the door when they enter. She weaves in and out of II's feet as they begin to make their way to the stairs. As Vessel moves to turn the lamp off, II starts up the stairs with III.

Making it to III's room isn't as difficult when they're not in as much of a hurry. Vessel turns the lamp on at III's bedside and frantically smoothes out an wrinkles in the sheets before II lays the taller man down on the bed. The first thing II does is remove III's sneakers, gaze catching on the multicolor tie dye sock on one foot and the leopard print of the other sock. Then, II begins the careful process of unbuckling the straps of Vessel's mask and pulling it away from III's face. III glances up at II, shielding his eyes with a hand when the light hits him to avoid the brightness. Only II's eyes are visible and yet III smiles, a little delirious. "You're real pretty."

II laughs, brushing a stray strand of blonde curls from III's forehead after setting Vessel's mask down on the nightstand. "Thank you, you're pretty too."

III's smile is wide and blinding before a grimace wipes it off their face, eyes clenching shut in pain. Vessel appears behind II with the blanket that was on III's shoulders from where he'd been lingering by the door. II isn't quite sure when Vessel had removed it or even where it was before this, but is thankful as he drapes it over the foot of the bed. III's eyes go vacant and expression falling slack but before II can panic, Vessel is gently coaxing him out of the room. He protests even as Vessel's hand is cold against his shoulder but so gentle, yet Vessel is insistent in a way II usually doesn't see from the other man.

"Go on, II. I've got him, you go rest." Vessel assures, and II turns back to him at the door.

"No, you need your cuts taken care of. I know you won't do it yourself."

Vessel glances nervously at III, wondering if II can feel the edges of pain beginning to seep under the door that houses III's bond that is still forming. It was not so slow with II and Vessel, but he assumes its a slower change since it was an eventuality instead of a surprise gift like before.

Vessel does not want III to be in pain for long, as the bond lacks that fuzzy feeling it gets when II sleeps. III is very much awake right now, and experiencing every agony of the transformation. If Vessel goes along with II's request instead of arguing or trying to change the subject, then Vessel can get back to III faster to put them to sleep.

"Okay." Vessel agrees quietly, and blushes at II's surprised but pleased expression that he tries to keep off his face, but can't manage to keep from the bond.

"Okay! Okay, good, uh. Let's head downstairs for the first aid kit in the bathroom."

Vessel nods, hands clasping a forearm each to hide the shake of anxiety. He doesn't want to see the look on II's face when sees what Vessel has done to himself.

When II doesn't move, Vessel looks up from the floor where he was watching II's feet to follow. The nervous expression on II's face is endearing but also floods Vessel with guilt. His hand is outstretched in a silent offering, and Vessel can't bring himself to kill the tentative hope over the bond and reaches his hand out. II takes it with both hands with a smile, giving a gentle squeeze before dropping one hand and keep hold with the other.

II leads him down to the bathroom, hand warm in Vessel's perpetually cold one and Vessel takes comfort in the touch when he knows he shouldn't. When he knows he doesn't deserve even a kind glance as he is still closing himself off from II after he'd finally been opening up to the shorter man.

II turns the light on and apologizes when Vessel winces from the sudden brightness, forgetting he wasn't wearing his mask. Vessel had accidentally left it sitting on III's nightstand and didn't realize til now, still stuck with his habits he's gained from living with II when his mind is not all there. II gestures to the bathroom counter for Vessel to sit, pulling out the first aid kit.

Vessel does and conceals his strained amusement when II steps up close and isn't quite up to Vessel's shoulder in height. II asks Vessel to remove his long-sleeve shirt and frowns when the hastily done band-aids are revealed. "Band-aids, Ves? You know those just exacerbate your wounds."

Vessel doesnt say anything, only avoids II's gaze. He doesn't even try to stifle his winces and hisses of pain when II, as gently and with as much care as he can, peels the band-aids from Vessel's cuts. Scabs pull up with the adhesive parts and II notices Vessel cleaned them, at least. There are no traces of dried blood around the edges of these, at least.

"I'm proud of you for cleaning them though."

Vessel frowns at II's words, a blush of embarrassment and happiness coating his cheeks regardless of the turmoil inside him. II shouldn't be proud of Vessel at all.

"Do you know why I'm proud of you?" II asks as he begins cleaning the cuts and putting antibiotic ointment over them.

Vessel shakes his head and refuses to look at II. "Can you look at me for just a moment? Please, Ves?"

Vessel forces his gaze to meet II's and is struck by the tenderness there, the sadness hidden further in his irises. "I'm proud of you because you tried cleaning them at all. When I met you, no, even up until a few months ago, you never would have done anything to make the pain easier on yourself. This is progress, even if you don't think so."

"But I haven't stopped cutting. I can't. I don't want to. I forced myself to do even that much with them." Vessel whispers, loud in the silence of the bathroom.

"Progress is progress, even if it's only a little bit. I'm proud of you for showing any amount of growth, and I'll still be proud of you if your progress hits a downward slope." II states, gentle but firm, as he wraps long strips of gauze around Vessel's forearms.

Vessel can't stop his tears from falling at II's words, cannot speak through the lump in his throat. He wants to sob, to break down and tell II how much he loves him. Tell him how confused he is by the constant support and care.

But Vessel is afraid. He has always been afraid and it is something he's not sure he will ever have the courage to move past.

And Vessel is guilty. So guilty. Its smothering him. He knows II's pride in him is misplaced because Vessel only agreed to this in order to get back to III faster where he can secretly keep putting them to sleep during their transformation.

All he can do is send his thankfulness down the bond, to try and keep his self-loathing from overtaking it. He could not cry loudly if he wanted to, and he does. He wants to be able to let out his pain that way, but every command to 'be quiet!,' 'stop crying so fucking loudly!,' and 'Shut it, crybaby.' is like a noose of thorns around his throat.

II would give anything to hug Vessel, to do more than take his hand in his and use his other to wipe the golden tears from Vessel's cheeks. II knows better than to even ask, knowing Vessel's answer would be a refusal.

When Vessel's tears have abated somewhat, II backs away a couple steps, keeping his hand in Vessel's for the time being. "Is there anywhere else?" He asks, leveling his eyes on Vessel's form and scanning him over like he can see through the taller man's clothes.

Vessel nods reluctantly, replying quieter than usual, "Um, my hips. And thighs."

"Is it alright if I bandage them too?"

Vessel only nods in response and begins awkwardly removing his clothes, leaving him in his boxers and socks. II doesn't let the sight outwardly faze him. He's seen Vessel like this before and its only ever been for situations like this, never for anything more intimate. Vessel's body is gorgeous even though his cuts and scars make II sad.

Vessel does not tell II about the cuts on his ankles, they were small and did not need any attention. They would be perfectly fine if left alone.

There are a multitude of cuts from the edges of his boxers down about half of his thigh, as well as over his hips and down onto the sides of his thighs that are shallower than the ones on his arms and legs. The cold of the countertop sends shiver down his spine that he tries to control. "Alright if I touch you?" II asks and Vessel nods less hesitantly this time.

II has never done anything untoward, his touches never even hinting at anything more intimate and its easier for Vessel to trust him. Aside from that, its to the point they've both had experience with II bandaging Vessel's legs and hips. There is no room for much awkwardness, not when the only thing to be shown here during these moments is care.

The antiseptic stings worse than on his arms as II starts with his hips, moving the waistband and bottom hemming of Vessels boxers up and down enough to make sure he cleans each cut. The thick, square bandages go over the ones on his hips, then II carefully wraps gauze around his thighs.

"I'm sorry it hurt, but thank you for letting me do this." II smiles and Vessel manages to lift his lips into one a bit smaller but as genuine as he can manage. "I feel better knowing they're taken care of."

"Thank you. For... For taking care of me. I don't deserve it." Vessel whispers, voice fading out as his throat closes up with anxiety.

II takes his hand again, raising it to his lips and placing a soft kiss against his middle knuckle. Vessel's six eyes are caught on II's form, one pair tracking his lips, another his eyes, and the bottom pair his hands. The blush on his face deepens.

"You deserve the world. I'll take care of you for as long as you'll let me. You take care of me, even if you think I don't notice the little things. Thank you for making III's bed earlier."

"Was nothing." Vessel smiles, embarrassed II brought it up, as he puts his shirt back on.

He didn't think the other man had noticed, and somewhere inside Vessel preened at the praise, at how II had noticed.

"I'm going to head to bed, this day has been... exhausting." II starts, and Vessel's bond fills with guilt that he shuts down quickly. "Its not your fault though. I don't want you to blame yourself for anything. I'm always glad to help you."

He couldn't even last the night before he broke his conviction to push II away before II could break his heart. It was killing Vessel to do it in the first place but... he couldn't help it.

II didn't truly love him. No one did and no one will. He's too broken. But Vessel shut down anyway at the fragile hope that had filled his veins at II's words, at the fragmenting of his soul when he was struck with the memories of all his past relationships.

Vessel is a man lost in the ocean of his past, caught in the middle of a hurricane where the calm is nothing but an illusion. The moment II said those words, it was like a switch had flipped in Vessel's mind and he couldn't stop picturing the faceless bodies of his past partners. It was a struggle to stop picturing II's face as their actions haunted him. II didn't deserve that, and Vessel would never, ever tell him. Somewhere deep inside, Vessel couldn't picture II ever hurting him like they did, but he thought the same of his past partners and they tore him to shreds. His mind and heart were at war and there would be no end to the turmoil any time soon.

They said they'd loved him too.

"Wake me, Vessel. Promise you'll wake me. I will not let you wear yourself thin when I am perfectly capable of watching over III as well." II's voice brings Vessel out of his own head,

Vessel nods, not trusting himself to be able to speak. Already that lump that had been in his throat since II said he loved him was reforming, and he could feel his ability to talk diminishing by the second. He'd gotten too lost in his head again and dredged up things he'd rather not remember.

Vessel reaches up with his free hand and taps his throat while shaking his head side to side, and II nods in acknowledgement while still keeping the gentle smile.

"Okay. No talking then. Thank you for letting me know this time. I- it hurt when you ignored me, but I understand it to a point. Was it the same thing as right now?"

Vessel nods, grateful to II for understanding even as the vulnerability of being known unsettles him and makes the lump in his throat even worse.

"Tell me next time, please, so I don't have the chance to work myself up into a frenzy of worry." II's tone takes on a hint of forced amusement, trying to lighten up the despair creeping into Vessel's eyes.

Vessel cannot meet II's gaze as the thought that he had ignored II intentionally persists.

"Goodnight Vessel. I- I... Goodnight." With a mere quirk of his lip in a shadow of a smile, II leaves the bathroom after a gentle squeeze to Vessel's hand.

Vessel sits there for a few minutes, lost in thought before getting up and heading to III's room. His pain is stronger now as their body settles further and further into the transformation process, muted though with Vessel's own bond off. Looking down at their vacant expression unsettles Vessel to the bone even as he loses himself in their beauty.

III is pretty, so, so pretty. Eyes like deep ocean waters and a pretty smile like the sun. Of course II would be enchanted. Vessel does not let himself linger too long on the jealousy swirling in his gut as he brings a careful claw to III's temple.

Vessel had held out hope up until this point that Sleep would listen to Vessel and let III sleep like They should've let II, but clearly that hope has been dashed.

Putting III to sleep is easy, like second nature at this point, and yet it still makes Vessel violently ill. He runs to the trashcan near III's bed, barely managing to bend over it before black sludge spews from his lips and he begins a coughing fit. His chest aches with every rough exhale, like glass has made a home in his lungs. Its different than before, and Vessel wonders if this will cause even more changes in his body.

When he pulls himself up and wipes his mouth on his sleeve, he heads back over to the bed. III's eyes have fallen shut and their bond is fuzzy with sleep, the faint tickle of a dream niggling at the back of Vessel's mind. With his ability to sense and eat nightmares, came the power to sense dreams as well. He wonders if he could see them as he does nightmares, but will not even attempt anything like what he does with II's nightmares.

He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, brushing a stray curl from III's face. A finger traces a small circle around the beauty mark near their eye. Beautiful.

Vessel pulls his hand back quickly, standing as he slips his mask back on, buckling it at the back of his head like always. The mesh around the eyes disappear with barely a thought and Vessel can see without anything blocking most of his vision.

II's door is open when he passes, footsteps silent in the hallway, and Vessel can't help but peek in. II is curled up around a large pillow, snoring softly and looking absolutely adorable with the covers kicked off. It brings a smile to his face, both the sight and the way II has continued to leave his door open for Vessel. Every day since Vessel went silent, II had left his door open. Sometimes, when Vessel was sure he was asleep, he would sit in the hallway, just close enough to hear II's snoring. The familiar noise helped him relax, calmed him enough so he could write. Elvira would come visit him if she noticed Vessel was sitting outside, rubbing against his side and batting at his pencil as he tried to write. She was a cute little thing, a memace sometimes, sure, but Vessel had come to care for her as his own pet since II had come to live in the manor.

Vessel couldn't bring himself to enter, not when every atom in his being knew that when III's transformation was over, II would move on from him. No matter what the other says. Vessel was used to empty promises.

Sometimes, he thought he really could believe that II would stay. In moments where II asks about the book Vessel is reading, when he listens, even as Vessel gets excited and begins rambling, never too loud. Asks him to continue, when he goes quiet as fear strikes that he annoyed II, going as far as to remind him of where he was when he last spoke.

When II will ask to hold his hand, or tuck a strand of Vessel's hair behind his pointed ear, pull it back in a half-up, half-down ponytail to keep it out of Vessel's face while he works at the piano. When II will bring him one of his own favorite snacks, knowing that Vessel doesn't need to eat but sometimes likes to enjoy the taste of too-sweet chocolate anyway.

Vessel shakes his head, holding his arms close as he enters his room for a blanket and a book, navigating the stacks that still litter his floor with ease. There are fewer now, at II's insistence, but Vessel doesn't care to organize them or take them downstairs so here they stay.

Back in III's room, Vessel settles down at the foot of the bed, leaned against the wall, legs curled close to him with only the moon shining through the curtains for company. Sleep's presence lingers in the back of his mind, distracted with III's transformation and Vessel knows the God will not be bothering him for at least a couple weeks, busy as they are. Vessel cannot help the relief, though he always loved to see his god, to be near the one being Vessel knew without a doubt loved him, even if that love won't last. Not when They are gathering more vessels. A rag and bowl of water is set to the side on the nightstand, beside III's mask, to wipe the sweat from the fever burning under III's skin.

Both II and III's presences are fuzzy with sleep, peaceful as the expression on III's visage, and Vessel picks up his book to read in the low light, bookmark laid on his thigh.

The days pass much the same as they did during II's transformation, but Vessel is not alone, this time. He wakes II that next morning just as he'd asked and goes to relax at his piano with a song in mind, trying in vain to ignore the tiredness etched into the tense line of his hunched shoulders. Where before II had as much supervision as Vessel could manage between his oncoming sickness from using a power that wasn't his and the anxiety that something was going to go wrong, II was a steadfast presence at his side. Vessel still couldn't speak, words caught in his chest with no chance of escaping, but II understood, using gestures and emotions to get responses from Vessel.

Their bond with III steadily formed with every passing day. II was entranced each day he entered III's room to see more and more black covering up III's forearms, with a single spot on the palm of each hand was a question mark symbol, a bright red color. Every time III would begin to wake, Vessel was always quick to go to them, brush a curl behind their ear and wipe the tears of pain that slipped from their closed eyes. Vessel was not always close when III would wake, sometimes II would reach him first and Vessel would go into III's room and see the softest expression on II's face as he soothed the other as best as he could. Held their hand and wiped sweat from their forehead. Whispered words of comfort much like Vessel would murmur as he put them back to sleep.

II was better at comforting III than he was, and in some strange way, that too, made Vessel jealous. He had been entranced with III much the same as he'd been entranced with II upon first glance.

He wonders how much of a fool, how much of a shit person it made him, to be so envious of a sick person and their caretaker at the same time.

Vessel hated it when he didn't get to III first. He was filled with such envy at the expression of care on II's face. He was filled with envy at the way II was able to hold III so close, while Vessel didn't dare. The guilt of feeling that jealousy ate at him from the inside.

He wanted II to look at him that way, even if he knows he doesn't deserve it.

Vessel hated when II was with III before he could put them back to sleep. III always woke in agony, and both of them could feel it. Something within Vessel did not want II to know about his new abilities, abilities not gifted to him, abilities he took for his own. He was afraid of what II would think of him if he knew that Vessel could put him to sleep at will, could eat the nightmares in his mind and be privy to parts of II's past that he may not want Vessel to see.

So Vessel waited for a moment II was not looking at III, a moment where it could be considered III just passing out from pain as their bond raged with wrongness, for one of them to be in such agony. Vessel always had to excuse himself for a while after discreetly putting III to sleep, making a run for his room and the trash can inside it to puke up his guts and cry from the pain of the migraine using Sleep's power causes.

Divinity flows through his veins and he feels his connection to Sleep growing stronger, something he didn't think was possible since he was already their First. He locks himself in his room as his body runs a light fever, eyes feeling warm in his head as he cries, rubbing them away roughly.

II knocks on his door some time later and Vessel gets up from his spot on the floor, leaned against his bed. He wipes his golden tears on an old shirt and slips on his mask, meeting II at the door with a small, shaky smile. Vessel has a job to do, to watch over III and make sure they don't feel any of the pain he had. If Vessel could take II's week long agony during his transformation and give that torment to himself, then he would in a heartbeat without even a moment of hesitation. He wouldn't wish that torture on anyone, but most certainly not the man he loves.

Vessel and II try their best to keep III off his back for the most part, on their sides where black sludge could drip out of his mouth without worry of him strangling. They keep him in clean clothes, using Vessel's shirts and pajama bottoms since his size fits them best. Vessel, when he knows II is asleep and his voice cooperates, will read to III from his books, voice barely above a whisper, cracking and hoarse as he goes over the different flower meanings again. Most days, he can't even manage that and it fills him with such frustration at himself, hating that even when the object of his silence isn't near, his voice still fails him.

Secretly, Vessel hopes III would explain more if he asked. There are so many different meanings for the same flowers and Vessel wants to learn more, but refuses to leave the forest until III's transformation is over. Someone has to watch him, and Vessel can't force himself into a store on his own, not anymore with the mask. With the eyes. Even if they're not easily visible with his mask, just having them will make him too anxious to even get out of the car unless II is with him. He will constantly feel like every eye in the room was on him with every miniscule movement.

II is filled with worry most days. If its not his worry for III and the startling agony that assaults their bond when the other wakes up intermittently, its Vessel and the empty void where the bond should sit. Not once has he left it open, not even a crack, much like his door every night. Vessel is most often in III's room, keeping a watchful vigilance over them as their body changes. Vessel will wake II in the mornings, and II will watch over III until the evenings where they will stir, their bond alerting the two vessels that he is waking, and Vessel will appear to take over watch duty again. It becomes something of a routine, to take care of III and navigate Vessel's silence. II finds a bit of enjoyment in watching the transformation into a vessel of Sleep, the black slowly crawling over III's arms, the slow bleed of black over the white of their sclera, a little more covered with every waking.

II misses Vessel's voice. Misses hearing him sing quietly to himself in the practice room. Misses the soft spoken good morning and goodnight he would receive every day, before II ruined everything by telling Vessel he loved him. When Vessel could speak, when III first arrived, II wonders if Vessel not bringing up those three little words was a rejection, fear, or indifference. Based on that last spark of tidalwave of emotion he felt before Vessel has locked himself away in his room, it was fear, all consuming terror. But is Vessel afraid of II, or the love he has for Vessel?

III often wakes with a mind full of cotton. He is aware that things are different about them each time, something new happening to their body while he sleeps. He is never awake long enough to think past the agony of an active mind in a body overcome with pain. As the time between each waking grows shorter, III becomes more aware of the things going on around them. If he is alone, it is never for long. Usually, it is Vessel with him first but when the other man sees that III is becoming more aware each time, it is II who greets III with a smile as they open their eyes. When he can manage one back, groggy and tired as Vessel's form looms in the background, it widens as II's face lights up, smile splitting into a lopsided grin.

III can't think past how beautiful II is, wants to tell him so badly, but their throat is dry and there is still pain beginning to creep up behind their eyes, in their veins.

III wonders if he's dreaming, but knows their imagination could never conjure up a face to put behind II's mask.

"Do you see that Ves? They're smiling! The bond is awake. Does this mean their transformation is over?" II exclaims, bringing III's hand up to squeeze gently closer to his face.

There is something III can feel. It feels happy, but... not like it is their happiness. Its clear, bright,

Vessel moves closer, mask hiding his expression, but there is a small, strained smile pulling at one corner of his lips as he shakes his head 'no.' If III were more awake, less tired and not still working through a migraine, he might have wondered why Vessel didn't speak.

Vessel opens his mouth, hoping he can force some words out but can't manage a sound. Shaking his head in disappointment with himself, he scribbles out a note on the notepad he has taken to carrying with him.

'No, another week. Maybe less.'

Exhausted, III feels their disappointment mutely, unable to properly feel it past their tiredness. He's tired of the grogginess, the pain, when they wake. He wants this to end.

"Shit, okay. Would you like anything to eat since you're awake for now?" II asks, and Vessel wants to stop him, to make an excuse for II to leave so III can rest again.

But Vessel knows that those two need food (though not as often as they used to as humans), unlike himself, and III hasn't been able to eat anything for a few weeks now.

"Please." III squints, slow, sluggish movements bringing his arm up to cover his eyes.

The sclera is almost entirely black now, only a small sliver of white around the outer ring of their iris. The beauty mark by their eye has changed shape somewhat, Vessel notices as he moves forward to take II's place when the shorter man leaves to get III some food. Upon closer inspection, the little freckle has turned into an upside down question mark, much like the ones on the palm of III's hands.

III reaches out weakly, a hand moving towards Vessel's where he sits on the edge beside the third. Vessel, not giving himself the chance to second guess it, takes III's hand in his own and gives it a gentle squeeze before beginning to rub soothing circles into the palm. III grins, though it has a pained edge.

Nothing will come out when Vessel tries to tell III how sorry he is that the other is in pain right now, guilt causing tears to well in his eyes and his lips to press together.

III cannot look away from Vessel, cannot stop glancing between his hair, his pretty, delicately pointed ears, and the red rubies of his eyes that they can glimpse through the mask, the shimmer of gold that surrounds them.

"Pretty." III says, a blush battling with the fever over which could make their face more red.

Vessel laughs insecurely, a silent thing that doesn't make a sound, only a huff of air, shaking his head. He turns his head away, reaching for the buckles at the back to lift the mask from his face. Vessel uses his sleeve to wipe the golden tears from his face, then the inside of the mask, face hidden from III's view.

III wants to see him, to know what he looks like. He wants to catch a glimpse behind the mask that guards him from the world. III knows he's pretty, no matter what Vessel actually looks like. His smile is pretty, and his voice, and III can tell in his own soul that Vessel is radiant.

He remembers vague flashes of memories, of Vessel's soft voice as he read some sort of informational text on chemistry to them when he was lucid enough to understand any of the words coming out of Vessel's mouth. Even hurting, III wanted desperately to listen to the sound of Vessel's voice. It was alluring, and it had been even before they became a vessel.

III was drawn to them, II and Vessel both. To Sleep.

III frowns, and pulls Vessel's hand with their own. Vessel turns to look at them as he does his mask back on.

"You're radiant." III insists, and while they, somehow, can tell that Vessel doesn't believe him, is content with the small smile that pulls at one side of Vessel's mouth.

III can't look away from the blush turning Vessel red to the tips of his pointed ears and from that moment on, III vows to do anything in their power to make Vessel blush constantly.

Shaking his head, Vessel motions at himself, before nodding as he lays a careful hand on III's chest. Their heart beats fast under his fingertips and Vessel wants to be able to tell III himself.

If anyone were radiant, as bright as the sun, it is III. Vessel knew it the moment he laid eyes on them in that quaint little bookstore what feels like ages ago.

III keeps their grin but says nothing more, content to watch Vessel as the other looks anywhere but back at them. He randomly squeezes Vessel's hand every few moments while they wait for II, and Vessel squeezes back, gentler, as though too much force will shatter their hand in his.

When II returns, Vessel moves to stand by the foot of the bed. As his hand leaves III's, they let out a wounded noise, disappointment traveling down their bond. Vessel wonders if III even knows they can feel him like that, wonders what their reaction will be when II inevitably explains.

III devours the sandwich given to them, and chugs down the water bottle and II, when asked, helps them down to the restroom in a slow process that is comprised of II doing most of the work. Vessel follows, just in case, and hates the sad look in II's eyes the reflects the emotion in the bond when Vessel rejects the offer of a hand hold. No matter how he wants to take the offer.

When they get III back to their bed, Vessel struggles to come up with an excuse to send II away so that he can put them back to sleep. Their pain had been manageable up to this point only due to their need for sustenance, and Vessel can feel that their migraine, the aching of their bones, is no longer so ignorable.

"Hurts." They mutter, as II tucks them in.

"I know, I'm sorry. Ves said it should be over soon. You'll just have to sleep it off." II soothes, stroking III's cheek with a soft look.

"'Kay." They murmur, closing their eyes in a grimace.

Vessel taps II's shoulder, showing him the notepad and what he'd written.

'Make yourself some food. I'll watch them.'

II nods as he moves away from III, already making his way to the door as he speaks. "Yeah, okay, I'll- I'll be back. I haven't eaten in a few days anyway."

Vessel is glad II didn't question him this time. It makes this easier. When II's footsteps fade entirely, Vessel takes his place at III's side and without even a moment of hesitation, places a claw on their temple. III's eyes open at the touch, but fall closed quickly as Sleep's power works its magic. If Vessel's heart were in his chest, it would have stopped at the trusting expression laced with confusion when III saw Vessel looming above him.

Vessel cannot handle his guilt, the hate for himself, or the overwhelming sensation to puke up his guts. He escapes to his room with a final glance at III and their peaceful expression, glad at least to give them that. His door is locked securely and Vessel wastes no time tripping over his books to hunch over his trash can while foul black sludge claws its way up his throat and out his mouth. Tears fall freely into his mask, his hair becoming a mess.

Vessel thinks II might pull it back for him, if he were to ask. He won't ask. Won't explain why he is throwing up, what he has done. Why this happens to him.

There's only about a week left until III wakes fully, for the last time, and is truly born anew as the third vessel of Sleep. Vessel knows it isn't long now until II leaves him for III, and then, when Sleep realizes that they're better suited to be their vessels, tosses him aside, too. Everyone he has ever loved has left him after shattering his heart beneath their feet after it was given so freely.

Vessel would never be worthy of any of their care, anyway.

When II knocks at his door some time later, he ignores it. He lays in bed, holding a shaking hand to a bleeding wrist as he sobs, keeping him movement small, silent, and gaze blank like the dead. He can feel II's worry and hates that he is the cause, but he will not rise. Does not want to witness the care and the sadness that will fall like a veil over II's pretty blue eyes. He is not worthy of II's care or his tears or the gentle touch of his hands as he smiles so prettily at Vessel like he's worth something.

He is not worthy.

#ii sleep token #sleep token #am i tagging this right #vessel sleep token #poly sleep token #polyvessels #sleep token iii #sleep token fic

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gashface · 1 year

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SHINE CONTESTANTS

Name: Mandy

Location: Futuristic San Myshuno

Age: 21

Pronouns: She/They

Story: So Mandy is a heavily cyber-augmented girl studying Robotics at the University in a cyberpunk reimagine of the Sims world. In the world she lives in, cyber modification is really common for everyone. She has glowing eyes and while she's usually depicted with a human skin tone she is entirely blue metal underneath. Her fave color is blue so she always has blue on her in some regard. She has albinism. She has a really wacky fashion style that usually consists of oddly matched silhouettes. She's really smart, hence robotics, but has the tenancy to speak without thinking. She LOVES singing and is working on a side music career as she studies, but is struggling to balance her newfound music popularity with her studies.

Created by: @skaterboisims

Name: Parker Winston

Location: Seattle

Age: 25

Pronouns: He/They

Story: My sim is Parker. He's genderfluid but prefers he/him and sometimes they/them. He grew up in a small, very religious town where being queer and loud weren't acceptable things. Being both, he decided to head for Seattle when he was old enough. He's an artist and has dabbled in anything creative he can get his hands on, from drag to tattooing to graffiti, he's done it all. Self-expression is the most important thing in the world to him and he shows that in his style, his art, and his hair dye. And though he likes to cling to his heavy grunge and emo styles, he's never met a color he didn't like or a pattern he wasn't willing to serve with all his heart.

"If I had to describe myself, it would be if like Barbie was in The Crow instead of Brandon Lee." - Parker

Created by: @morgynemberisagenderfluiddaddy

Name: Dillion Carter

Location: Houston, TX

Age: 25

Pronouns: No specific pronouns but they refer to themselves as They/Them, She/Her and He/Him, occasionally.

Story: Dillion's story starts with a graffiti-riddled alleyway. Being abandoned by well-known junkies, a screaming baby was found by the police and then placed into foster care. It was not easy for the first decade of their life. A lot of blood, betrayals, and fistfights were not lost. Eight homes returning her that used to be intrigued. No one had really wanted a child that would barely talk, but also not know when to give up and back down. Until one day, the Carter Family had taken them in as a preteen and had not returned them. It's been history ever since. The adopted family was black and Dillion was as pale as could be, but the whispers did not deter them from growing even closer and loving each other. Dillion's quiet yet useful, bold, and confident demeanour has landed them two jobs: a mechanic and underground boxer by day, and recommended by their sisters in the fashion industry— a model by night. It is those same sisters that had shown them the "Shine" modelling competition and convinced them that it was good exposure. That Dillion was worth so much more than what they had. Dillion responded with a smirk, a shrug, and a "Why not?" They'll just let their body speak for itself.

Created by: @mewo-ita

Name: Rin Miura

Location: Born in Mt. Komorebi but currently living in San Myshuno

Age: 19

Pronouns: She / Her

Story: rin's a college student, an aspiring fashion designer, but most importantly - a loser!! <3 She dreams of creating fashionable pieces for everyone in the world, but gets too caught up in the details, and gets way too carried away .. so she mostly just makes (insane-looking) clothes for herself. she thoroughly documents the entire creation process online; her other hobbies include doll collecting drawing pet training making music cooking baking building furniture and honestly just whatever the hell comes to her mind!!! shes very very happy-go-lucky, sweet but a bit airheaded and also VERY loud :3

Created by: @glittermutt

Name: Eli Sims

Location: Willow Creek

Age: 24

Pronouns: She/her

Story: Elizabeth Gil is the daughter of a famous fashion designer and a famous model, so she's known everything about the industry since she was very little. She always wanted to be a model like her mom and she would watch her during photoshoots and fashion shows. When her parents noticed her interest in the industry to started preparing her for her debut in it. Her first runway gig was at 15 years old for her father's spring couture show. She kept working under him for the next 3 years, barely catching a break, until she turned 18 and immediately left home and her career with her father's brand. She lost contact with her parents and nothing's been heard from her since then. In other news, the latest high-end model Eli Sims, known for her outstanding white hair, is opening the Chanel show at New York fashion week this evening, we wish her the best of luck!

A/N: yeah so basically my sim is a nepo baby that left her family,, changed her appearance and got back in the game all on her own. Her parents don't know she's modelling again, and every time her father has tried to get her on one of his shows she's declined, she does not wanna see them again bc of the awful way they treated her

Created by: @simsinfinitylt

Name: Ember Arendse

Location: San Myshuno

Age: 23

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs

Story: Growing up in San Myshuno with a very artistically inclined and supportive family, Ember has always taken to all things creative. Lead singer and guitarist of ‘The Gutter Rats’, they always found comfort in expressing themselves in front of an audience, so though their area of expertise lies in freelance photography; They have been curious as to what it would be like to be in front of the camera.

Created by: @wolfrynn313

Name: Charline Morel

Location: Brindleton Bay

Age: 21

Pronouns: She/Her

Story: Charline "Charlie" Morel was born as the first of two daughters to an overly strict wealthy family. The Morels were a family of musicians, and every child born to the family was expected to be a musician, and those in the direct line were expected to inherit the family instrument manufacturing business (or whatever it was, Charlie really couldn't care less). Unfortunately, Charlie did not inherit her family's ear for music - she knew she wanted to be a creative soul, but honestly, she wasn't very good at any of it. Her parents forced her to take singing lessons because it was the only thing musical she was any good at, but she always wanted to do something else. She didn't know what that was until she graduated from high school - she wanted to model. She had tried taking pictures once, but quickly she realized she preferred being in front of the camera instead. So she packed up her belongings and moved out - not terribly far away, but out of her parents' clutches. Charlie is a stubborn, self-assured girl who is determined to prove herself and make a name in something other than music. Once she gets an idea in her head, she is determined to see it through to its finish - or crash and burn trying. (Even if her inner perfectionist cries out in terror at the prospect.)

Created by: @cyazurai

Name: Nicky Soufan

Location: San-Myshuno

Age: 19

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Since childhood, Nicky dreamed of becoming a model. The parents were not happy about this, because they thought that she would become a doctor like them, but they could not interfere with their daughter's desire and tried to help her in any way they could. At the age of 13, they sent her to a modelling school, where the girl stayed for 4 years. Not having received the proper result, the parents took Nicky out of there. She was in despair and did not know what to do now, because the modeling school took away from her all the desire to go to her dream. One day, Nika's friend, a photographer, invited her to his shooting to work on his hand. After this photo shoot, the girl again had a burning desire to become a model.

Created by: @rosamadchen

Name: Willow Young

Location: Willow Creek

Age: 30

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Willow is a new coming Simstuber. She is a mother of one & married to Irving Young. She loves to make art and travel and make woodwork. Willow is a very cheerful woman and she also loves taking photos. As friendly as she seems, she doesn't trust others easily. Willow hopes to become popular and rich. Willow always had an interest in modelling since she read magazines as a child.

Created by: @ohgeezhaddie

Name: Dawn Pepper

Location: StrangerVille

Age: 23

Pronouns: She/They

Story: Dawn is you typical 23 trying to branch out of her comfort zone. Her bold looks usually come from her bold and bizarre surroundings where she grew up. However as he daily part-time job in retail has completely bored her she finally wants to leave her comfort zone, meet new people, and explore new places!

Created by: @bigppton-jpeg

Name: Babylon Fleur Beppu.

Location: Glimmerbrook but was raised in Windenburg.

Age: 18

Pronouns: She/They

Story: Babylon is currently eighteen years old and was born on June 28, making her a Cancerian. Although she isn't aware, she is a fairy born of two ordinary townies. In my Sims Au, fairies are extinct and have been so for many years. She was born in Glimmberbrook but was raised in Windenburg.

Created by: @everythingaestheticlly

Name: Genie Fiorelli

Location: NO INFO PROVIDED

Age: NO INFO PROVIDED

Pronouns: She/Her

Story: NO INFO PROVIDED

Created by: @plumbobcrumble

Name: Su-Yen

Location: Korea

Age: 19

Pronouns: She/Her

Story: Su-yen is the youngest in a family full of models and actors. But Su-yen decided she wanted something else and tried to be a dancer. But now that she is a bit older she decided to follow in her mother's and older siblings' footsteps and do some modelling. The problem? Su-yen is reckless to the extreme. She is constantly injured from skating on trying to do stunts. She is often sporting bandages.

Created by: @dododoesstuffs

THANK YOU, EVERYONE, WHO ENTERED!

A FOLLOW-UP POST IS BEING SENT WITH FIRST WEEKS PROMPT!~

#Shine contestants #ts4 #sims 4 #SHINE #competition #HAVE TO POST IN GROUPS AS TUMBLR WONT LET ME PUT THEM ALL TOGETHER #sims 4 competition #sims4 #TS4 #sims4competition

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newtthetranswriter · 1 month

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The Trans Magic Knight

Word count: 1641

Paring: The Black Bulls x Trans Masculine Reader (platonic)

Summary: Being a member of the Black Bulls that hid a part of their identity can be hard, it gets even worse when you get hurt and the truth comes out. Or maybe everything will be fine.

Warnings: Mentions of transphobia, injuries, smoking, if I missed any please let me know

A/n: Hello everyone and Happy Transgender day of Visibility. I wrote this as a piece to honor the fact that I’m trans myself. I also want everyone to know that My blog is a safe place for all identities and I would love to write more lgbtqia+ fics so feel free to request. It’s not exactly what I was going for but my brain started to give out and I wanted to get something out so I hope you enjoy either way. Anyway, enjoy and remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Being a member of the Black Bulls is wonderful, everyday is an adventure and everyone is accepting and kind. Not a day goes by that I’m not grateful for Captain Yami offering me a possession on his squad. I hadn’t even taken the exam to become a magic knight, Yami found me trying to defend my little village from bandits, with only a few defensive spells. When he arrived I was barely holding on against the older mages but I refused to give up, after taking out the bandits Yami approached me and tossed a Black Bulls robe my way asking me to join his crew. I didn’t even hesitate, I may have been trying to protect the village but I was desperate to get out of that town. Hell once the bandits were gone, the villagers praised Yami and gave him food and money, not acknowledging that had I not been there the bandits probably would have been long gone by the time Yami showed up. So yeah when I saw the robe, I jumped at the chance to get away.

Now I’m part of an amazing and fun group of people who I would gladly fight for and who would gladly fight for me as well. That being said, there is one thing that only Captain Yami knows about me and that’s only because I’m terrified of how the others would react if they found out, after all Yami only knows because of some of the hateful things yelled at me as I left my village with him.

You see I’m transgender, when I was born everyone said I was a girl and enforced the feminine lifestyle on me. Around the same time I got my grimoire, I accepted that the label of girl or woman was wrong, I was just a person and preferred the more masculine things, fighting and getting dirty. When I realized this I cut my hair short, started binding my chest to appear more masculine, I even asked that my family and the people of my village call me Y/n and use either masculine or neutral pronouns to refer to me. Sadly living in a small village of the forsaken realm, being different in any way was wrong and so I was ostrichsized by my family and the people of the village. When Yami showed up and I left with him we were followed with shouts of transphobic slurs and insults of how bringing someone like me into the magic knights would bring shame to the kingdom. On the way to the Black Bulls base Yami agreed to keep it secret as long as I wanted, but he also promised that no one in the Black Bulls would care. Appreciating the sentiment, I had thanked him but decided that for now I would keep the truth to myself.

So for the last three years I’ve lived and fought alongside the rest of the Black Bulls and so far no one has figured out my secret. Yami managed to give me a room that had a private bathroom attached and if anyone ever asked why I got special treatment he just did his usual act of asking why they would question him and scare them off. It was nice though, everyone here called me Y/n and addressed me as a guy, never suspecting anything else. But as we all know all good things come to an end, and my end happened during the Royal Knights exam to pick who would be the kingdom's leading force against The Eye of the Midnight Sun.

During the second round when Langris nearly killed Finral, being the third member of Team G, I was horrified by what he had done. When the Wizard King said that we would move directly into the semifinale match between Asta’s team and mine, It took everything in me to listen and continue to stay on the battlefield. After all my teammate had nearly killed one of my closest friends, with encouragement to stay in the fight for a chance to be in the royal Knights from my other squadmates, I stayed but I wasn’t going to help Langris in his destructive plan to hurt any more of my friends. I simply cast a protection spell over my team's crystal, knowing Asta would easily break it, and took a step back.

Somewhere during Asta’s stand off with Langris, one of the spatial mages spells that Asta managed to launch back, had missed Langris and ended up hitting me in the rib cage. It seemed like everyone was too focused on the main fight to register I had been hit, hell I was too focused on the fight to notice. Only when both crystals had been destroyed and we were moved off the field did I realize there was a large hole through my shirt and chest. Actually it was Vanessa who pointed it out.

“Oh my god, Y/n are you okay?” Vanessa approached looking panicked. Everyone who was still at the observation area turned to us concerned. I just looked at her confused not knowing what she was worried about, before I could respond I began to feel extremely dizzy. Right as I was about to fall Vanessa caught me. “Hey, it’s okay sweetie take it easy. I got you.” It felt like I was being lowered to the ground as she spoke to me. I tried to say something or even look at her but my vision went black and I went completely limp.

Time skip to shortly before results of the exam came back

I slowly opened my eyes, being blinded by the harsh light of the sun shining directly into the window next to the bed I was in. The first thing I noticed was that there were a few people in the room with me. I could tell one was Captain Yami from the lingering smell of smoke, but my eyes hadn’t completely adjusted so I couldn’t quite tell who else was there. Moving to sit up I felt a hand on my shoulder gently pushing down, followed by a voice.

“It’s good to see you’re awake but you need to take it easy. Don’t sit up so fast, Okay?” Turning to the side I confirmed that the voice was Vanessa, she was one of the first members of the squad to welcome me. Even though she tended to drown in booze, she was like a big sister to me so having her here relaxed me a bit.

Nodding to her I accepted the help in sitting up in the bed. Looking around I realized most of the squad was here to visit, just missing Finral and Gouache. And it seemed they all heard Vanessa speak to me because they all started talking. The room was filled with a chorus of them being happy I woke up or asking if I wanted to fight (that one was just Luck).

The commotion went on for a bit before Yami shut them all up. “Shut up, no one is fighting anyone. Anyway, how you feeling kid?” Yami asked. As I was about to respond, I realized that in order to heal my wound, the healer had to take off my binder which means I was sitting here with my whole squad and they could definitely see the truth. It seemed Yami understood me freezing and took it upon himself to speak. “Don’t start worrying about that now. No one here gives a shit and if anyone says anything I’ll feed them to the beasts.” I just stared back at him, yeah so far no one has mentioned it but it was fairly obvious, with me not exactly being small chested and not in my usual binder and baggy clothes.

Once again before I could speak I felt Vanessa lean over and give me a side hug before speaking. “Yeah no one cares. You’re you no matter what if you say you’re a guy then that’s what you are. Plus Yami told us your story and it’s truly awful how you were treated. Just know that no matter what we will always have your back.” Hearing that I smiled gently at her, trying to think of how to thank her.

“Thanks everyone, but I’m sorry I lied to you all for so long. I would understand if you guys don’t fully trust me any more.” I apologized figuring that yeah they can say they accept me but that doesn’t mean they have to forgive the fact I kept it a secret for so long.

I was about to continue when Noelle started talking. “Nonsense what’s there to apologize for. You kept a secret because the last time people who were close to you found out, they treated you poorly. So what, you have fought by our side, protected us and even healed us more times than any of us can count. So how could we be mad about that? You were protecting yourself, we’ve all kept secrets to try and protect ourselves.” She finished with a flick of her hair. I looked at her shocked, then turned to the rest of the squad receiving nods of agreement and smiles.

Before anyone else could say anything Yami ushered everyone out saying I needed rest and with that I was left alone. Sitting alone in the room I thought of what was said, Vanessa and Noelle are right, these guys will always have my back, we’ve fought together for so long and none of them have ever given up on me for any reason so why would they now. I slowly shifted to lay down content with the conversation that happened, and enjoyed the normal chaos that could be heard throughout the Black Bulls base. Everything was going to be just fine.

#x reader #black clover x reader #Black clover x trans reader #x trans reader #x transmasc reader #trans writers #transmaculine #transgender fic #transgender day of visibility #trans day of visibility

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riverofrainbows · 5 months

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Plot for a Gilmore girls AU episode where Rory comes out publicly as a trans boy (he keeps his name but needs a different nickolasname, and the whole jokey frame subplot is Lorelei suggesting different silly names she would have named Rory, including absolutely outlandish apparent relatives, with little anecdotes on some of these relatives)

The whole town aggressively accepts it, and there is a whole campaign organised with little stickers to distribute to everyone so they can retroactively correct all the yearbooks (Kirk owns a cricut machine). Miss Patty forces him to repeat the dance lessons for the men's roles, starting with the beginners group full of 12 year olds.

Luke gets really stressed out by the fact that he didn't teach him any hammer skills, and is worried Rory felt pressured to any of the girly things he did in his childhood on birthdays and such (he didn't, he still likes them) and Lorelei calms him down and gifts Luke a pink frilly hammer [based on that one episode] so he can have the equipment to be a good male role model to Rory to be absolutely sure he doesn't feel alone. Suki makes him a gigantic gender reveal cake with edible confetti inside that mischievously explodes all over her when she tries to check why it didn't explode when Rory cut it.

The only one who doesn't immediately accept it is Taylor, because he thinks that people changing the genders they live as is absolutely disorderly. And there is a commotion outside Luke's diner, where he declares that after being hounded by half the town and Jackson is about to beat him with a zucchini, when Lorelei and Rory and Luke come out. Taylor repeats his complaint, and how confusing it is, and Miss Patty says that it really isn't and if he isn't sure what a person's gender is he can use they/them until he knows. Lorelei then quips if Rory should send Taylor an official notification and Taylor says he would greatly appreciate that, and then Luke butts in absolutely enraged and says that it's completely unfair only Rory has to do that, and Taylor is immediately like "Yes you are absolutely right" (and Luke is like 'oh dear he agrees with me') and goes on to say that everyone needs to declare their gender to him. And that he wouldn't have expected Rory to be a boy and this was all really surprising (and Luke butts in that that's gender stereotyping and men can have any hobbies, and Patty agrees with a raunchy fun fact), and then Taylor, ignoring that, states that clearly anyone at any time is quite likely to change their gender, who knows, he himself might have a different gender tomorrow, and he needs official written notifications of everyone's gender now. Lorelei asks if he will also send himself a notice if his gender changes ("Well how would i know otherwise").

And in the end Taylor is they/themming everyone until the give him a written notice. Btw Lorelei grabs a napkin and has Rory write his' up on her back and hands it to Taylor who retreats victoriously after acknowledging Rory's gender. It ends with Luke giving Lorelei the name of his great uncle who took him fishing or something and it's the same name as Lorelei's favourite children's book character so that becomes Rory's new nickolasname. Rory likes it because she had been worried about losing that connection of being named after her mom. Lane already knew obviously but she is giving Rory a replica of a childhood memorabilia of them both with his gender updated (it's a cd or sth) while Lorelei talks to Luke about the name thing.

Next episode is some different main plot, but on b plot Luke is on the forefront of reminding people to declare their pronouns and name etc if they want Taylor to acknowledge them, and even let's Taylor put up a poster where to send the notices. At the same time Mr. Antiestablishment (especially when that establishment is Taylor) refuses to give a note himself, despite Taylor asking him twice, because "he doesn't need to know". Taylor does refer to him as gender neutral for the rest of the show. Also it turns out Morty quite likes the they them and decides to go by he/they. Kirk changes his notice 7 times to try everything out first, including neopronouns. The plot of the Taylor they/themming people goes on as a little background thing for two more episodes.

#own post #gilmore girls #trans

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punkdawg-25 · 1 year

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Randy Reference Sheet

Name: Randolfo "Randy" Rossi

Age: 23

Build: Lean and Skinny

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Pronouns: He/Him

Occupation: Ice Cream man, wanna be professional guitarist in a Heavy Metal band.

Personality: Despite his look as tough guy due to his rocker attire, Randy is a very generous kind of guy. He is altruistic, introverted and doesn't talk much in general. He is patient, reliable and with a good sense of responsibility. He has a soft side he shows mostly to animals and to his loved ones. He suffers from anxiety and panic attacks. His personality changed a lot from his teen years to his twenties. He used to be very indecisive, unconfident and carelessly reckless before the accident with his step sister, then he became quite over protective, especially in her regards.

History:

Randy lost his father at the age of 10. His mother had then to get two jobs to be able to make ends meet, so the young boy mostly spent his middle school days on his own and without a proper parenting figure. During his last months of middle school, his mother started dating a friend of his late husband and the three of them moved together in his hometown, Trenton in New Jersey.

Randy attended High School in Trenton, but his insecurities only grew stronger because of the new town, new school and foreign language and country. For the first two years he had no friends and troubles fitting in, while at home he could not find himself able to accept his step father, even though the latter was a very nice man who just wanted the best for his step son.

Things got even worse when his step sister Violet was born. Randy quickly grew jealous over all the attention his little sister was receiving and he started acting more recklessly and angrily. His change in behavior was noticed by some of his classmates, who decided to introduce him in their group. Randy finally felt like he belonged and he considered them as family, following them everywhere and embracing their attitudes. His group of friends often threw parties where drugs were often used. But Randy's life drastically changed after a dramatic event. He was supposed to look after his 3 years old sister Violet, for a night, but he decided to throw a party with his friends. They brought a lot of marijuana with them and his sister accidentally ingested a good quantity of the drug and had to be taken to the hospital with urgency. She survived but the event shocked Randy, who was then taken to rehab and followed by a shrink. By the time he started college, he was past his drug addiction but he had developed anxiety and panic attacks for which he was prescribed meds. His step father persuaded him to work part time in an ice cream shop and to pursue his passion for music. Randy learned how to be responsible and more self assured and was giving the chance to live on his own in one of his step father's properties, where he now lives with a rescued dog, two rescued cats and a python.

Trivia:

He has a husky/collie mix called Richie who’s a rescue dog. He also has two maine Coon brothers. A black one named Slash and a Red tabby named Axl, also rescue cats. And he also has a ball python he rescued from an high school friend named Cinderella.

He is a big dreamer and dreams of starting his own rock band, which he'd call Row Ice.

He is socially awkward and suffers from anxiety.

He labels himself as bisexual but everyone knows the truth...

His music is his therapy, without it he would be lost.

Likes:

Glam Metal

Animals

Playing his guitar

Traveling

Veggies and Fruits

Cooking

Dislikes:

Driving

Junk Food

Flying insects and ticks

Posers

Italian Comedies

Animal Abusers and bad people in general

Theme Song:

youtube

#oc #original character #hair metal #glam metal #heavy metal #digital art #LGBTQ+#artistiitaliani #artist on tumblr #queer artist #character design #reference sheet #character sheet #bisexual #randy #Youtube

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despite-everything · 2 years

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Literally… WTNV was the first podcast I listened to. Downloaded on the podcast app of my iPod. Celios was one of the first times I had ever heard someone speak so softly about someone of the same gender. The perfect hair… the perfect teeth… my only other exposure to a queer relationship at that point had been Willow and Tara from Buffy the vampire slayer. Every tender Celios moment. Every phone call. It changed me.

exactly!! i started listening right after glow cloud came out. i remember loading episodes onto my ipod nano... it didn't host apps, but i'd put downloaded mp3 episodes of wtnv on it to listen to.

im not exaggerating when i say that wtnv has had a greater impact on me than any other media i've consumed - i was 12 when it came out, and i came out myself soon after. it was the one of the first (if not actually the first....hmm.) examples of explicitly (yet still positive!) queer representation in media i'd consumed. it changed my standards for how we should be treated (especially since i was in that whole superwholock thing... which was messy to say the least)

i mean, hell, i work at a radio station now. i am currently in the station (taking a break from paperwork) and i would have never been here if not for wtnv. it was such a magical show that made me love surreal horror and radio, but also changed my perspective on the world. in addition to the queer relationships, wtnv was the first place i'd ever heard a character use they/them pronouns. i'd come out as non-binary and had been using they/them pronouns for a bit over a year, and i remember listening to "a new sheriff in town" and hearing cecil use "they" in reference to sam and i literally froze and sat down to rewind the episode. it's just been so transformative and it breaks my heart when people don't see it as such

EDIT: wait im not done. i also want to respond to you saying it was the first time you'd seen queer love spoken about so softly and you're so RIGHT. and i feel like the show's perspective on life and the world is inherently queer and inherently optimistic, which is so refreshing. wtnv has some of my favorite quotes and exchanges in the world, and some of them include:

"Perfection isn’t real. Perfection isn’t human. And Carlos is not perfect, no. Even better — he is imperfect.

Everything about him, and us, and all of this, is…it’s imperfect! And those imperfections in our reality are the seams and the cracks into which our out-sized love can seep and pool. And sometimes we are annoyed, and disappointed, and that too is a part of how love works."

- Cecil talking about Carlos in "Condos" (also Carlos' long monologue preceding this)

"‘What’s the point?’ you ask. ’Why bother?’ you say. ’Oh, Cecil,’ you cry. ’Oh, Cecil.’ But then you remember - I remember! - that we are even now in another bit of molten wax. We are in a moment that is still falling, still volatile, and we will never be anywhere else. We will always be in that most dangerous, most exciting, most possible time of all: the Now. Where we never can know what shape the next moment will take. Stay tuned next for, well, let’s just find out together, shall we?"

- Cecil in A Memory of Europe

"...but no family member is perfect, they become perfect when you learn to accept them for what they are."

- Young Cecil in Cassette

"Are we living a life that is safe from harm? Of course not. We never are. But that’s not the right question. The question is ‘are we living a life that is worth the harm?"

- Cecil in Parade Day

"Listeners, I do not know everything about Carlos and he does not tell me everything. That is OK. We are not one person. How lonely that would be! A couple who has made themselves one so completely, that they are once again alone.We are two people, separate. Unique. And joined only where we choose to join."

- Cecil in The University of What It Is

"Everything is exciting! Particularly existence. Existence is the most thrilling fact of all."

- Cecil in Condos (okay let's just put all of Condos on this list, tbh)

and THIS is my absolute favorite exchange in the entire show:

Carlos: But I do know two things.

Cecil: What is that?

Carlos: I love you.

Cecil: I love you, too. What’s the other thing?

Carlos: You just said it.

#okay this is rambling. but i get emotional about wtnv very quickly #and i have so many THOUGHTS about it #wtnv #tree talks #asks

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eyndr-stories · 10 months

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Across The World C8 - The End

Summary:

The gods of this world are ancient, most of them forgotten, or nearly so. Nomen has been taught not to make deals with any old gods, should they be unlucky enough to come across one. However, when their little brother Maribus stumbles into mortal peril, they find they have no real choice but to accept the trials of one such god in order to save him.

This is an original story written by yours truly! I started writing this back at the very start of 2021 when I had a particularly wild and extremely vivid dream. This story is heavily based on said dream! This dream is also why I strongly distrust bunny mascots / anthro rabbits lmao but anyhoo, I think i've improved as a writer since this so the quality may or may not be quite on par with my other stories. I also had some help from my cool aunt Kerry with editing this, so if there's anything amiss here we can totally blame her lmao

That all being said, I do still like this story, and I hope you will too!! Enjoy <3

Things To Know:

major character death (its okay though, they live lol)

blood and violence

happy ending

protag (Noman) is nonbinary and referred to with they / them pronouns

first person POV

8 chapters in total, about 13,000 words in total. So roughly 1600 words a chapter. Lil bite sized chappys!

No swear words used, somehow

(lmk if i should add anything, i can't think of anything else)

Ao3 link here

Chapter 1 here

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

C8 - The End

All at once, I was back in my home town. I was actually here, and there was color and warmth as well as the cold, and I could feel my hands again, and they were holding my camera. The parade was going by. I felt like I'd just woken up from a dream.

I turned to see my brother sitting next to me, smiling wide at the birds as they swooped down in formation. He’s here, and he’s alive.

My second chance. I’d earned it, I’d beaten the trial. This time, I would not let my brother go.

The adventurer came by on their float, awkwardly acknowledging the crowd. I lifted my camera and took a picture.

The adventurer descended the float and donned their suit. My mother told me to look after my brother. I promised her I would.

“Hey.” I put a hand on my brother’s shoulder.

He stopped pouting for a moment to look at me, sensing my serious tone.

Before I said anything else, I wrapped him in a tight hug.

“What’s this about?? Unhand me, fiend!” He squirmed out of my hug and gave me a weird look.

“Nothing.” I smiled at him. “Do you wanna see the adventurer?”

My brother’s face lit up. “Yeah!”

My heart leapt at the sight, and I had to hold myself back from hugging him again. “Follow me. I'll take your picture with him.”

Maribus looked less thrilled to realize he'd be having a human interaction, but he let me lead him over the wall and down the wood stairs anyways. We waited at the end of the pier. I stared out at the ocean of ice, half expecting to see a single giant eye staring back at me from the fog.

“Hey, Maribus. I want you to know something,” I said seriously, facing my brother.

“What?” My brother looked at me curiously.

“It’s okay to be afraid. Fear is what helps us stay safe, pushes us to do what we need to in order to survive. But too much of it… and you’ll end up with nothing but regret. It’s a balance, and a very important one at that. Whenever you feel scared, just remember what's important.”

“Okay.” My brother thought about that for a moment. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Its just an important lesson to keep in mind. Regret can be… detrimental at times,” I said.

My brother hummed thoughtfully. We stood together in silence as the adventurer came down the stairs, pausing at the other end of the pier.

“Hello, my brother wanted to talk to you and maybe get a picture before you leave,” I said. I gave my brother’s shoulder a gentle pat.

The adventurer walked forwards and stood before us. He looked down at my brother. “Oh, is that so?”

My brother looked nervous. He was quiet for a long moment, then spoke. “I just wanted to say… I’m going to be an adventurer like you some day! You inspire me to learn about the world, and I know you don’t know me, but you’re very important to me, and I wanted to give you this.”

I was slightly dumbfounded by how well my brother had articulated his feelings. He pullout out of his pocket a very carefully folded bird. The paper was dark colored, and I actually recognized it as one of the birds from the parade, with the name i’d instantly forgotten.

“Oh, a dirodopafowel!” The adventurer carefully accepted the paper bird with a gloved hand. “I am honored both by your gift and your words. I’ll keep this safe.” He unzipped a pocket on the suit’s arm and slipped the paper bird inside. “I have to leave now. But when I come back, I’d love to tell you and everyone else about what I’ve discovered out there, beyond the ice.”

My brother beamed. “I’d love that too!”

My brother and I wished the adventurer good luck, and he stepped out onto the ice. He gave us a wave, then turned and marched into the unknown.

I smiled at my brother. “I’m really proud of you. You’ll make a fine adventurer one day, I just know it.”

My brother smiled at me. “I know!” He turned and started walking back down the pier. “Lets go eat dinner!”

I let out a relieved sigh, and let go of the tension I’d been holding. I glanced back out at the ice. The adventurer was now just a hazy shape far in the distance. My gaze traveled skyward, where a full moon hung high in the sky.

I was about to turn and follow my brother, but then I remembered the full moon wasn’t for another week. I stared up at the moon.

The moon stared back. It blinked at me, then vanished into the night sky.

“Are you coming?” my brother called.

“Yeah.” I turned back towards my brother.

Together, we headed home.

#thanks so much for reading <3 #dont worry ive got more fnaf fics in the works lol #ive also got more og stories i want to fix up and post #all of wildly different tones lmao #original story #eyndr tells a story #across the world #fictional death #fictional violence

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the-institute-rpg · 2 years

Photo

➤ MEET MALAKAI: 25, SLAVE, HUMAN

Full Name: Malakai Bailey Luca Nolan Nickname(s): Close people will be allowed to call him Mala but everyone else would call him Kai. Pronouns: He/Him Birthday: October 21, 1996 Age: 25 Status: Slave Major: Emergency & Trauma Medicine Species: Human Special Powers: None Sexuality: Pansexual I am a: Submissive I want a: Dominant/Switch Turn-Ons: Bondage, biting, and breathplay Turn-Offs: Scat, vomit, and vore

➤ BIOGRAPHY

Malakai grew up in a small town in Colorado and he was the apple of his parents eye. They adored him and were there for him, no matter what he wanted and most considered him quite spoiled. He found it hard at a young age to make friends and form connections and this was something that went with him throughout his school years. He would have one or two very close friends but he didn’t fully allow himself to meet many people. He was quite often referred to as the shy kid but, if people knew him, he became Mala, the boy who didn’t shut up.

After school, he took some time to go traveling with his then girlfriend Carmen, seeing the sights of the world but, when they were in London, the relationship came to an abrupt end, with Carmen leaving on a flight and never coming back, without so much as a warning. Just a note that said ‘I’m sorry, I just don’t think we are right for each other anymore’. He was crushed, but he kept the note in his wallet, even till this day.

When he returned home, he started to hang out with his friend Andre more and one thing led to another and he started to date the man. That was when he noticed the change in his parents. They did not agree with his new lifestyle and they almost blamed him for Carmen leaving, even though he had no clue why she did. Things became unbearable at home after he told his folks about Andre.

When he was 24, he decided enough was enough and he looked into leaving and furthering his education; however, asking his parents for the money was now not an option and so he looked for scholarships. That was when he came across The Institute and he submitted his application straight away. Upon acceptance, he packed his bags quicker then he did for traveling, broke up with Andre and bid a not so fond farewell to his parents.

➤ PERSONALITY

✚ Reliable, calm, observant ▬ Insecure, indecisive, withdrawn

➤ ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS

None

➤ FACE CLAIM & OOC INFO

Malakai's faceclaim is Matt Dallas. // Red, 31, She/Her, GMT

#bio #matt dallas #red #malakai nolan

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liriostigre · 3 years

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hey! I wanted to ask what your favorite poetry books are? I have a few but I want to read new and interesting stuff, and I trust your taste :D

hiii ♡

tbh i only started reading poetry collections like,, last year. i'm subscribed to poetryfoundation's newsletter (poem of the day) so i usually just read random poems

anyway, i'm not sure my recs could be considered new (cause i'm gonna start with Mary Oliver ♡) but feel free to message me if you want to know the themes, style, feeling (vibes, if you will) or anything you want to know about these collections. for now, i'm linking my favorite poems in each collection, i hope this helps you choose! ♡

here you go:

Dream Work —Mary Oliver (“Wild Geese.” “Dogfish.”)

Red Bird —Mary Oliver (“Summer Morning.” “Love Sorrow.”)

Blue Horses —Mary Oliver (“To Be Human Is to Sing Your Own Song.” “Loneliness.” “Little Crazy Love Song.”)

The Wild Iris —Louise Glück (“Sunset.” “Retreating Light.”)

Haruko/Love Poems —June Jordan (“On a New Year’s Eve.” “Mendocino Memory.” “Toward a City That Sings.” *under the cut)

Extracting the Stone of Madness —Alejandra Pizarnik (“Primitive Eyes.” “Summer Goodbyes.” *under the cut)

Ariel —Sylvia Plath (“Tulips.” “The Rival.”)

Prelude to Bruise —Saeed Jones (“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat.” *under the cut)

Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth —Alice Walker (“Coming Back from Seeing Your People.” *under the cut)

I Must Be Living Twice —Eileen Myles (“Edward the Confessor.” *under the cut)

Teaching My Mother How To Give Birth —Warsan Shire (“Conversations About Home (at the Deportation Centre.”)

The Black Unicorn —Audre Lorde (“Hanging Fire.” “Sister Outsider.”)

Bright Dead Things —Ada Limón (“The Riveter.” “Glow.”)

Night Sky With Exit Wounds —Ocean Vuong (“Thanksgiving 2006.” “Logophobia.”)

Postcolonial Love Poem —Natalie Diaz (“Manhattan Is a Lenape Word.”)

Crush —Richard Siken (“Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out.”)

Once —Alice Walker (“So We've Come at Last to Freud.”)

“Toward a City That Sings” by June Jordan

Into the topaz the crystalline signals of Manhattan the nightplane lowers my body scintillate with longing to lie positive beside the electric waters of your flesh and I will never tell you the meaning of this poem: Just say, ‘She wrote it and I recognize the reference.’ Please let it go at that. Although it is all the willingness you lend the world as when you picked it up the garbage scattering the cool formalities of Madison Avenue after midnight (where we walked for miles as though we knew the woods well enough to ignore the darkness) although it is all the willingness you lend the world that makes me want to clean up everything in sight (myself included)

for your possible discovery

“Primitive Eyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

Where fear neither speaks in stories or poems, nor gives shape to terrors or triumphs.

My name, my pronoun — a grey void.

I’m familiar with the full range of fear. I know what it’s like to start singing and to set off slowly through the narrow mountain pass that leads back to the stranger in me, to my own emigrant.

I write to ward off fear and the clawing wind that lodges in my throat.

And in the morning, when you are afraid of finding yourself dead (of there being no more images): the silence of compression, the silence of existence itself. This is how the years fly by. This is how we lost that beautiful animal happiness.

“Summer Goodbyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

The soft rumor of spreading weeds. The sound of things ruined by the wind. They come to me as if I were the heart of all that exists. I would like to be dead, and also to go inside another heart.

“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat” by Saeed Jones

I. Drugged, I dreamed you a plume of ash, great rush of wrecked air through the towns of my stupor. And when the ocean in your blood went toxic, I thought fire was what we needed: serrated light through the skin, grenade in the chest—pulled linchpin. I saw us breathing on the other side of after. But a blackout is not night; orange-bottled dreams are not sleep. II. I was a cross-legged boy in the third lifetime, empire of blocks in my lap while you walked through the door of your silence, hunting knife in one hand, flask in the other. I waited for you until I forgot to breathe, my want turning me colors only tongues of amaryllis could answer for. It owned me, that hunger, tendriled its way into my name for you. III. In a city made of rain each door, a silence; each lock, a mouth, I walked daily through the spit-slick streets, harbingers on my hands in henna: there will be no after Black-and-blue-garbed strangers, they called me Cassandra. (I had such a body then.) Umbrellas in hand, they listened while they unlistened. there will be no no. after

the world will end no.

you are the reason it no. ends

you no. IV. I didn’t exactly mean to survive myself. Half this life I’ve spent falling out of fourth-story windows. Pigeons for hair, wind for feet. Sometimes I sing “Stormy Weather” on the way down. Today, “Strange Fruit.” Each time, strangers find me drawing my own chalk outline on the sidewalk, cursing with a mouth full of iron, furious at my pulse. V. After ruin, after shards of glass like misplaced stars, after dredge, after the black bite of frost: you are the after, you are the first hour in a life without clocks; the name of whatever falls from the clouds now is you (it is not rain), a song in a dead language, an unlit earth, a coast broken— how was I to know every word was your name?

“Coming Back from Seeing Your People” by Alice Walker

Coming back From seeing your people You were So wonderfully Full Of yourself.

But now You have supped With vampires They have fed Feasted On you.

They arise Bright-eyed Fit.

You alone have lost Not only Your sleep But also Your glow The luster of Affection Heart welcome Your people Sent home With you.

Beloved You must learn To walk alone To hold The precious Silence To bring home And keep the precious Little That is left Of yourself.

“Edward the Confessor” by Eileen Myles

I have a confession to make I wish there were some role in society I could fulfill I could be a confessor I have a confession to make I have this way when I step into the bakery on 2nd Ave. of wanting to be the only really nice person in the store so the harried sales woman with several toned hair will like me. I do this in all kinds of stores, coffee shops xerox shops, everywhere I go. And invariably I leave my keys, xeroxing, my coffee from the last place I am being so nice. I try so hard to make a great impression on these neutral strangers right down to the perfect warm smile I get entirely lost and stagger back out onto the street, bereft of something major. It’s really leaning too hard on the everyday. My mother was the kind of woman who dragging us into stores always seemed to charm the pants off the cashier. She was such a great person, so human though at home she was such a bitch, I mean really distant. I imitate her and I don’t do it well. She didn’t leave her wallet or us in a store. I’m just a pale imitation it is simply not my style to open the hearts of strangers to my true personhood. I hope you accept this tiny confession of what I am currently going through. And if you are experiencing something of a similar nature tell someone, not me, but tell someone. It’s the new human program to be in. It would be nice for at least these final moments if we could sigh with the relief of being in the same program with all the other humans whispering in school. I can’t quite locate the terror, but I am trying to be my mother or Edward the Confessor smiling down on you with up-praying hands. I am looking down at the tips of my boots as I step across the balcony of the church excited to be allowed to say these things. Outside my church is a relationship. On 11th street this guy and this woman are selling the woman so they can get more dope. All their things are there, rags and loaves of bread and make-up. And there was— this was incredible. Two men lying by the door of the church giving each other blow-jobs. They were sort of street guys, one black one white. I said hey you can’t do that here. They jumped up, one spit come out of his mouth. If you don’t get out of here I’ll call the cops. Don’t call the cops we’ll go, we’ll leave. That was a shock. That was more than I expected to see in a day. Something about seeing the guy spit come out of his mouth. He didn’t have to do that. I guess I scared him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was scared too.

#btw!!!! i'm sorry!!! SO SORRY it took me weeks to reply 🤕#hope you're having good days <3 #💌

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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

Text

No regrets

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna x reader (reader is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, but there are slight implications of them being AFAB)

Author note: At a whooping 11.5k words, it’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience as well as those who gave feedback during the initial interest check! I hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy this long piece! A bit of forewarning, this piece is rather dark, so please read the content warnings carefully and only proceed if you are comfortable doing so.

Revisions made on 3/30/2021

Minors do not read/interact with this post!

Heian era

It was only a matter of time before the king of curses came to your village and slaughtered you all. It was inevitable, but the village elders were determined to hand over every last scrap of fabric and goods if it satiated the cursed being for a short while, knowing the all powerful curse was an indulgent one. Your village was a well known trading settlement, so gathering and setting aside the best of the best on the market was rather easy with all the merchants coming in and out of the town nearly every day.

Your family specialized in sword crafting, often forging or repairing swords for soldiers or aristocratic families who merely collected them as works of art. Your father taught you a bit of the craft and a few seasoned samurai humoured you and taught you some forms while they awaited repairs, but you mostly spent time helping your mother around your quaint home. Your days with them were peaceful, even with the ever looming and expected arrival of Ryomen Sukuna blanketing your people with constant fear.

The day finally came, yet all the preparations you and your people took to secure a better chance of survival still didn’t feel like it was enough as the four-armed monster of a man easily destroyed several houses with a mere flick of his hand and cut down several innocent individuals who fled last minute due to their anxiety getting the better of them. He was at least willing to see all that was being offered to him when it was made clear your people were not going down without trying their luck, but that sadistic smile of his was all the proof everyone needed to know that their careful efforts meant nothing.

Your village elders remained determined, and to the shock of you and your parents, they grabbed you and offered you up as one final offering. You were young, the youngest in the village in fact, and unmarried too. A perfect candidate for Sukuna’s harem and they knew this when they turned and grabbed you without a second thought. You still remember the way your mother began to smack your elders with her shoe when they yanked you away from her and your father’s side. Bless her heart.

Perhaps a part of you knew that your status as the youngest would be taken advantage of if things weren’t working out. Sukuna’s harem was only a rumor, scary gossip whispered amongst the housewives. Yet the idea of a monster like him having a harem didn’t seem so farfetched. You knew better than to question the validity of the lucky few who got away and were displaced because of Sukuna’s village razing and massacring.

Whether he accepted the last second addition to the offer pile or killed every single one of you right then and there, you accepted that your life would never return to how it once was before he came. You didn’t make so much as a peep of discomfort when the brute began to manhandle you, pulling back parts of your clothes away from your body to inspect you in front of the entire village, in front of your distraught parents. You didn’t wince in pain when he roughly grabbed your cheek between two of his meaty fingers and examined your face like you were merely a piece of art, an object. You just went completely numb.

Everyone, including yourself, was shocked when he agreed to take you along with all the goods your village offered, but not without ordering them to prepare another pile for his followers to collect every following month from now on. He made it clear that if they held back a single grain of rice or gave him anything else but the best, he’d send your body back to them in a bloody sack before reuniting them with you in the afterlife shortly after.

As the king of curses hauled you away like a sack of potatoes, your emotions came flooding back in. You kicked, scream, cried and begged like a moody toddler for your mom and dad to help you, to not let this monster take you away and do know who knows what to you. The last you see of them before you’re forcefully knocked out is your mother suddenly collapsing on the ground like all the energy she had just left her body instantaneously. Your brawny father seemed equally at a loss as well.

When you were brought back to Sukuna’s temple, you were hauled away by servants after he unceremoniously dropped you on the ground and retreated to his chambers. You were thoroughly bathed, skin rubbed raw of outside filth and dressed into a fresh new robe before being whisked away to Sukuna’s quarters by his demand.

That first week under his roof was meant to break you, but for some reason you kept fighting back because of something a bit stupid. You wanted to keep your old clothes the maids forced you out of and you wouldn’t shut up or keep still under him no matter how much he harmed or degraded you. You don’t know why you kept pushing back against him over something so meager. The fabric wasn’t anything that fancy. The color was faded and you were even beginning to outgrow them. It’s the only memento you have of your home, so maybe that’s why your mind zeroed in on it and refused to yield to his torturous ministrations until you made certain it wouldn’t be taken away from you.

“Again with those rags you call a kimono?” he clicked his tongue with annoyance. “You want to keep them so badly? Fine, but don’t think I’ll be so accommodating next time.”

Living in a merchant town, you know how to tell when someone is trying to swindle you. As much as you hate the man who has been violating your body for literal days now, you can tell that he means what he has stated.

When you finally relax your body, he lets out a disgustingly child-like cackle, but before you can express any sort of rage that bubbled up within yourself, your mind goes numb once more if only to alleviate the pain you’re in just a bit.

There are two types of fates for those in Sukuna’s harem. There are the favoured concubines, who live relatively better than the disfavoured, who are made into servants. Of course, this is all a meticulous set up by the king of curses himself. Those he shows higher favoritism towards are desperate to remain in his good graces if only to make their way of living that bit easier to bear. Those he turns into lowly servants and brushes aside are desperate to rise above their rank and gain the privilege and spoils he grants to the selected few. It’s all an elaborate plan to instill discord between members of his harem so he can sit back and watch them tear each other apart without lifting a finger.

Your fighting back was what earned you an automatic spot amongst his favoured. He thought he had broken you, but just as soon as you yielded to him you flared up and began to fight back once more. It was invigorating, seeing the rage and desperation in your eyes when you were quiet and had a distant, blank look just moments before. How long had it been since a human raised their fist against him? Far too long for him to remember.

You were an outlier. Where all would refuse to meet his gaze whenever he passed through, you would always meet and hold his gaze without fail or hesitation. You talked back, cursing him a thousand ways into the next phase of the moon. You never bowed when others did. Never.

Your disobedience gave him plenty of reasons to drag you to his chambers and attempt to break you once more, only for you to shut your mind down as soon as you were thrown into his bed. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism? A way of trying to disassociate from all the rough treatment you endure under him? A part of him is grateful you aren’t like the others, that you’ve come up with a way of protecting yourself while the others around you, who give into the despair and hopelessness he brings them or lie to themselves that he holds some sort of affection towards them, if only to find some sort of hope through this hell even if it means lying to yourself. Both of which bore him immensely as well as annoy him greatly.

It’s sudden and neither of you can recall when it began, but after he was done having his way with you and you regained your sense of reality and would devolve into the usual episode of flailing rage and crying, he began to hold you against him and whisper soothing phrases like “good job” or “It’s over, you did well”. He kept his many arms wrapped around your shaking figure, waiting for you to eventually exhaust yourself and pass out before doing so himself. When the sun rises you are always gone from his chambers. How you manage to escape right from under him is a mystery, but he doesn’t have much of a desire to ask you about it. He likes waking up surprised. Hardly anything surprises him anymore.

It becomes clear to everyone that Sukuna acts differently towards you, treats you differently than the rest of his concubines. There are even periods of time where the rest of his harem is given little to no attention because he’s completely focused on you. The time he spends with you isn’t anything kind or relieving. He purposely says things that offend you and have you screaming at him. Should anyone else say what you say to him in return, he’d rip their tongues out and swallow it before their very eyes without any remorse. But you? He’s smiling down at you, as if you were an actor entertaining him with an elaborate and well-rehearsed performance.

“Damn you! Damn this temple! Damn your ancestors for existing and bringing you into this world!”

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” he gives you a toothy grin, his sharp canines glinting under the light of the sun. “Damn me and damn the rest of the world for that matter!”

His encouragement only infuriates you more. Without a second thought you began to throw whatever it is you can get your hands on at him. Your comb, your shoes, your untouched makeup products, anything in sight is hauled at the deranged man who dodges everything with ease. Just as you throw a jar of ink at his head and it shatters against the way, bathing the wood with dark ink, he grabs you and you both tumble back into your unmade futon.

As usual, you thrash and voice your disdain as he presses his lips against your neck and aggressively undresses you. He’s high off the adrenaline from earlier, making his ministrations much more excruciating than they normally are.

To him, it feels like a passionate session of lovemaking and he’s left light headed when he finishes.

For you, it’s just another day under his reign and body, your mind going numb as soon as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Just as quickly as he gave you most of his attention, he turned away and left you in the dust.

You have been his concubine for over a year when it happens. Your village continues to uphold their end of their deal and provide him with all the luxurious goods they can get their hands on each month. You’re not sure if he’s trying to torture you more or genuinely thinks he’s bringing you some sense of comfort and calm, but he personally brings you a small bunch of fabrics and trinkets that your father specifically went out of his way to get for you, hoping you would receive them somehow as a reminder that he still thinks of you. It’s during these small moments of Sukuna passing on these items that you learn that your mother passed after you were taken.

You didn’t shed even one tear when this information was given to you, as a part of you knew that was the case after you saw her collapse. Sukuna expected you to fly into another fit of rage. That was the only reason he told you if he’s being honest. He’s caught between feeling disappointed or worried when you just hummed in acknowledgement as you rolled up the soft, intricate rolls of fabric and stored them away. You never did anything with them, so they were sure to collect a layer of dust like the rest in due time

No one, not even Sukuna or even yourself, expected your village to take up arms and fight back against the followers he sent out to collect his offerings. When word came back of what transpired, Sukuna was tempted to take you with him and force you to watch as he slaughtered your village in retaliation for breaking the accord. He didn’t, nor did he send back your disfigured corpse like he promised he would back then. He simply went out, killed them, and then came right back to wash off all their spilled blood. All within the same day.

After he killed all the villagers, he attempted to locate your father amongst the scattered corpses, but they were too mutilated and disfigured to discern who was who. Even if they weren’t, it’s not like he remembered what your father looked like. Did you even bear any resemblance to him? He overheard you speaking with one of the other concubines that your father was an armorer and was tempted to grab one of the expertly crafted swords the villagers were carrying and bring it back to you, blood and all staining the scabbard. He decided against it.

He’s demoted many concubines, all with the purpose of watching them try to regain the meager luxury and privilege they grew accustomed to. He did the same for you, eager to see you break character and come crawling back to him with pitiful desperation.

A part of him knew that it wouldn’t take much effort on your part to have him changing his mind. He’d easily forgive you for the betrayal of your village. All you had to do was put on a show and give him the entertainment he wanted from you. You can kick and scream and deny him all you want, but he’s broken many people like you before. He’s had you under his spell since day one.

Except, you didn’t do anything. When he sent you to live within the overcrowded servants chambers near the far end of his temple, you never put up any sort of fight or caused a scene. Not even when he gave away all the fabrics your father sent you to the other favoured concubines, going as far as to force them to wear the garments whenever and wherever your presence is at. He waited with giddy for someone to inform him of how you lashed out at another girl and attempted to rip the cloth off of her body because they were wearing the fabrics meant for you. But there was nothing from you.

When he dragged you to his quarter and began to violate you like normal, he forced himself to brag and even fabricate details of the day he slaughtered the people from your village. He even lied about how your father asked about you before he was killed, falsely stating that the man had a smile on his face when Sukuna told him that you received all the goods he selected just for you.

Like always, your mind went blank until he finished. There were no twisted words of comfort afterwards like before. He simply ordered you out once he was done, one final attempt to invoke something out of you. You merely redressed and left in silence. He nearly got up and dragged you back, but once again, he decided against it.

One day he ordered a few men to build a crude looking home out back, detached from the main temple, and have you moved in it upon completion. If his normal efforts won’t elicit the usual reaction out of you, then he’ll take a different approach. He’ll deprive you of everything, social interaction, decent and consistent meals, and a stable shelter. He’ll have you isolated for a short while, after which he will visit you out of pity and revel in the sight of you crawling back into his arms. If the time he forces you alone is not enough to break you, he’ll simply extend your stay until you either give him what he wants or die because of your own stubbornness.

It hasn’t even been a day since you’ve been moved from the servant's chamber to your new quarters, and already he’s come to visit you. Within the same breath that tells you that your only other option besides begging for his forgiveness is to rot away in this poorly made shack, he gives you one final chance to change his mind, to beg him to take you back into his good graces.

The tatami is poorly crafted and discolored. The rafters used to construct the frame of the house already show signs of rotting and water damage. Before he allowed himself in, the tiles on the roof appeared to be hastily made and were not properly laid out. It was lightly raining outside, yet you already have a wooden bucket set up to collect leaking water.

“Can I help you?” you ask without glancing over your shoulder. He smirks at the thought of you knowing who he is by presence alone.

“No,” he smugly answers. “But maybe I can help you?”

You look back over to him with a mean glare. “You’re the one that put me here in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head to further cement his point. “You’re in here because your people thought they stood a chance against me and broke our agreement. Killing you would be an act of mercy to them. So long as I keep you alive and slowly torture you in both mind and body, they will never know peace.”

“You’re lying,” you say with certainty, with no fear. “I’ve never lied to you once. I would appreciate it if I can at least be given the same courtesy in return.”

He hates when people demand things from. Most importantly, he hates that you’re right. Your neck is always so small within his grasp, his fingers able to meet and fold over one another without strain. He keeps you suspended in the air just enough to where you can balance yourself on the balls of your feet. Whether you were tall or short, it mattered not. He always towered over you like the predator that he is.

“You want to know why you’re in this shitty home?” he sneers down. “You’re in here because you’ve begun to bore me. You amused me so much before, but the moment you started depriving me of my source of entertainment on purpose is the moment I decide to deprive you of your basic needs in return. I take what I want, when I want it, in whichever quantity I desire.

“You want out of here?” He makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “Then you better press your forehead all the way to the floor and beg for me to take you back. I’ll even tell you the exact words you need to say. ‘Please Sukuna-sama. Please allow me the privilege of sleeping under the same roof as you. Please let me breathe the same air as you.’”

He lets you go and grins when you prostrate after regaining your breathe.

“Please Sukuna-sama,” you beg.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Use your words.”

He feels a vein pop out on his forehead when you dare to look up and look at him with yet another angry grin. Without an ounce of hesitation, you say, “Please get out and leave me be.”

He nearly breaks the door from how hard he slams it shut. He abruptly turns around when he hears a roof tile fall over and splat into the muddy dirt. Those followers of his really built you a shitty home, exactly like he ordered them to do.

He feels the urge to gather them and wring their necks one by one, but he doesn’t know why.

Sukuna can’t sleep during those weeks apart. Not because of you, but because right as he drifts off into slumber he’s abruptly woken up by an intense source of cursed energy flaring up out of nowhere. But just as quickly as he feels it and wakes with a startle, it vanishes without a trace. He’ll go out onto his balcony and try to locate where the energy is coming from, but for some reason he can never pinpoint it despite his superior senses. He tries to suppress his own energy in the hopes of tricking the source into thinking he’s asleep and unsuspecting, but it would seem that they’re smart enough not to fall for the bait.

He doesn’t need sleep in the first place, so he’s tempted to just stay up and catch whoever is trying to scare him red handed and be done with them. The idea of someone getting the upper hand at him and forcing him into a position of defensiveness doesn’t sit well with him, so he decides to just let the unknown person have their fun for now and continue this little back and forth with them. Eventually they’ll grow cocky and slip up and he’ll confront them when it happens.

Because your little shack is located near the back of the temple, completely out of sight from Sukuna’s view from his balcony, Neither he nor the others notice the plumes of smoke that rise during the dead of night. No one also takes notice of the bits of metal that go missing throughout the temple.

The rise of the next full moon indicates the end of the month. Sukuna sends for someone to go retrieve you, but they never return and he’s left waiting long enough for the moon to reach its highest peak in the sky. When he orders someone else into his quarters he’s met with more silence that only further enrages him.

Just as he’s about to call for Uraume to figure out what the hell was wrong with his servants, he feels it. The cursed energy that he’s been trying to catch off guard the last few weeks. It’s willingly making itself known, practically begging him to follow its trail and meet with him. Just as quickly as he is able to identify and figure out which direction it’s originating, he notices that it strangely leads him in the direction of your poorly built home.

It’s impossible that it’s you. Cursed energy is born from negative emotions. He’s sure you still have an abundance of negative feelings towards him. Yet never did he feel even a speck of cursed energy resonate off of you. His mind immediately wonders if the individual knows of his strange obsession over you and is using you as bait. It’s foolish on their part, thinking the king of curses would yield for a mere human.

His pace quickens despite his internal dismissal, failing to notice that everyone is hiding and waiting in anticipation.

When he discovers that the cursed energy is indeed from you, he can’t help but to laugh like a crazed hyena. The sword by your side further amuses him and he’s genuinely curious as to how you got the proper materials to craft it.

“It took a bit of convincing,” you willingly answer his question. “I made everyone believe I could stand a chance against you and they gave me all the materials and tools I needed and looked the other way. I guess watching all those traveling merchants try to hype up their goods came in handy after all,” you look out in the distance as you briefly reminisce on the bygone days of your former life.

He begins to slowly clap with one pair of hands, the other crossed over his chest in amusement. “This is by far the most entertaining performance I’ve ever witnessed. Bravo. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’d gladly accept the compliment, except this isn’t a show,” you stand to your full height and get a better grip of the hilt of your sword. “It’s the real deal.”

He erupts into yet another cacophony of wild laughter. “Do you seriously think you can kill me?”

“No,” you answer, truly throwing him off guard by the way he goes still so suddenly. “But that’s alright. I’m fine with never being strong enough to put a permanent end to you. Only one of us will be walking away from this fight, and I assure you that it’s going to be me.”

You draw your blade out and get into a low, defensive stance. Even under the lackluster light of the moon, he can see how well crafted your weapon is. He’s reminded of the craftsmanship the weapons your people carried when he slaughtered them, no better than a bunch of wooden sticks against him either way. Immediately, he regrets not bringing back one of their weapons and forcing you to expose to him your knowledge of swordsmanship and blacksmithing. Perhaps then he could have had you brandishing your blade under his command rather than against him.

Oh well, it’s better this way. It’s just as exhilarating and head swirling as those instances where you damned him with all of your being and threw things at his head. No, it’s more than exhilarating. It’s downright intoxicating seeing you readying yourself for his first move. How sweet of you to allow him the honor to make the first strike.

“You truly are something else entirely, beloved,” he dreamily sighs. “Did you honestly think you’d have the upperhand against me just because I gave you a little bit more of my attention?”

“Never,” you reply. You press your eyelids shut for a moment, and the moment you open them up the layer of dissociative numbness vanishes into a look of total focus and emotions he cannot discern. “But whether I live or die, I have no regrets about tonight.”

You really didn’t have enough strength to kill him. However, you did have enough to dismember all twenty of his fingers and seal him away. For the first time in years, the sun rises and bestows its warmth to a world in which two-faced Sukuna does not instill fear upon humanity or stain the earth in their blood. You and those who were under his servitude walk out of his temple as free people, hopeful people. As an act of gratitude for becoming their savior, nineteen others take one of Sukuna’s fingers each and swear to scatter them as far as they can so he cannot be brought back into the world.

As for yourself, you set out to rebuild your destroyed village and take up your father’s legacy as a maker of swords. Eventually you meet and settle down with a loving partner and raise children together. You pass on the family trade, your self developed cursed technique, as well as the memories of your time as Sukuna’s concubine. Those who come after you continue to carry on your will, to ensure that Sukuna can never be reborn into the world. Your sword and the old robes you kept after you were taken away are passed down as family heirlooms, but they are never used by any of your descendants.

That is until the year 2018, when Sukuna is resurrected within a compatible vessel.

Modern era

You bear not only a striking resemblance to your ancestor, but many of their memories as well. The family sword that was used against the king of curses is bestowed upon you, now dubbed the next in line to claim the title of clan leader, their preserved kimono now fashioned into a sageo that wraps around the scabbard.

Your family stays out of most affairs within the jujutsu world, but your birth and the strong connection to your ancestor eventually reaches the ears of many prominent figures within this hidden society. They think your birth a bad omen, a sign that the king of curses may return to the world one day. Most are scared, but your family pays them no attention. Even if the damnable curse did find a way to revive into the world, you and most of your family members who have inherited your ancestor’s technique will oppose him just as they did a thousand years ago.

“You don’t look too concerned,” Gojo makes his observation known to you as soon as the two of you settle in the small private room you ushered him to when he came to your family estate. He wanted to confirm the news of Sukuna’s resurrection to you himself. “None of you do, actually.”

“We all knew this day would come,” you calmly tell him as you poured him a cup of tea. “This is the risk our ancestor took when they developed their technique. In exchange for the strength and ability to seal Sukuna away, they willingly gave up the ability to deliver him a fatal and final blow against him.”

“I’m not well-versed when it comes to binding vows and heavenly restrictions,” he takes a moment of pause to sip his now cooled tea, visibly showing his disdain over it’s bitterness. “But is giving up the satisfaction of killing him really a fair exchange for a specific technique and a bit of cursed energy?”

Your lips pressed together in a grimace. “You have no idea what it was like living underneath that monster’s reign. Even if the binding vow had odd conditions skewed against their favor, every bit of what was given up was worth it if it meant regaining their freedom.”

Gojo isn’t moved or even impressed by your admittance. He simply shrugs before taking another sip of his tea, face contorting in displeasure once again as he forces himself to swallow the green liquid. You’re tempted to ask him why he keeps sipping if he hates the flavor, but he begins speaking again before you can voice your thoughts.

“So, about the vessel,” he leans against his closed fist, propped up by the low table underneath him. “The higher ups are willing to postpone the kid’s execution in favor of the opportunity to kill Sukuna, but they want someone from your family, preferably you, to be his second shadow so to speak. You’re the failsafe in case the plan doesn’t play out like I promised and the curse needs to be sealed again.”

“Sukuna’s vessel...is a child?” you ask incredulously.

“He’s about your age,” Gojo admits with a displaced smile, but it soon falls once you suddenly erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“That’s priceless!” you say while wiping away a stray tear. “The king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna, stuck inside some teenager’s body? I bet he’s pissed off and swearing up a storm inside the kid!”

You’re not sure who exactly is getting the most amusement at the turn of events, you or your ancestor from beyond the grave. After your laughing fit subsides and you straighten yourself out, you turn back to Gojo to ask him the burning question.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

Itadori Yuuji is the polar opposite of Sukuna. While Sukuna had a smile that both angered and scared your ancestor and those around him, Yuuji’s was like a literal ray of sunshine. He’s nice, energetic, strong willed and even humorous. You’re honestly surprised he can act so hopeful despite all that’s happened to him and has been forced upon his shoulders.

You’re not going to lie, but you honestly expected a timid and somewhat gloomy kid. Someone easy to manipulate to put it bluntly. Yuuji’s friendly personality is welcomed in your book. Though you admit that now that you’ve exchanged a few words with him, you feel bad and pitiful that he’s been marked for death and likely has to deal with Sukuna on a somewhat regular basis.

As Yuuji rambles to you about some childhood incident, the slits underneath his eyes open up and a familiar pair of red eyes meets your gaze. “It’s you,” the manifested mouth on the side of his cheek morphs into a deranged, toothy grin that is so painstakingly recognizable.

Your heartbeat picks up and your palms are coated with an instantaneous layer of nervous sweat. You contemplate saying something or simply ignoring the curse, not wanting to give him any satisfaction of hearing the voice of your ancestor acknowledge him in any way. Before you can come to any consensus, you’re amazed at how Yuuji easily slaps his hand over his cheek and tells the curse to buzz off.

Itadori further cements that he is Sukuna’s antithesis as he goes out of his way to apologize to you for the inconvenience the curse caused you (How could he tell you became nervous when Sukuna spoke only two words at you?) He even brings you a can of soda as a sort of peace offering/token of forgiveness! You’re grateful for the gesture, but you feel bad for letting him think that he’s at fault for something that wasn’t even that big of a deal to begin with.

“Still, I made you upset,” he looks down to his empty can and pouts. “If you don’t want to be around me-”

“Yuuji,” you interrupt him. “I’m fine, really. My ancestor stood their ground against him once. Surely I can do it again a millennium later.”

“Gojo-sensei was telling me about that!” his eyes sparkle with recollection. “That’s so cool! You’re basically his arch nemesis!”

You awkwardly laugh at his enthusiasm. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So, Senpai,” he looks at your with a hopeful gaze. “Gojo-sensei seems pretty certain this plan of his will work, but what do you think?”

“Well,” you take a quick sip of your drink before continuing. “Before I tell you what I think about this whole debacle, I need to make a few things thing clear regarding the two of us.”

He obediently nods, face now serious, though it takes you a considerable amount of effort not to laugh from how innocent he still looks. It’s hard to believe he’s housing the king of curses within himself.

“First and foremost, don’t call me Senpai! ” you firmly say. Don’t call me by my family name either. We’re about the same age, so just call me by my first name from now on. Understood?”

“First name, got it!”

“Second,” you put up two fingers. “This is the most important point, so pay attention,” you look at him to make sure he’s ready to commit your words into memory. “Whether the plan works out or not, you must never forget one important fact of the matter. You are not Sukuna.”

He flinches, clearly not expecting such words to be directed towards him.

“I’m sure Gojo whipped up some epic tale about my ancestor’s grudge against that two-faced monster. I not only inherited their technique, but also many of their memories during their initial life. In a way, I suppose I hate Sukuna as well, and based on my reaction from earlier when he popped out, I’m not exactly going to handle moments where he gains control with as much poise as I should.

But remember Yuuji. My discomfort will never be towards you, but the curse you are now bound to,” you reach out and pat his head in assurance. “As the saying goes ‘the enemy of my enemy is a friend.’ Which brings me to my final point!” You excitedly profess. “I want us to be friends!”

“Wait, really?” he sounds almost unsure over your insistence. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to put up with me for my sake.”

“I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends” you explain. “Since we’re going to be around each other so often, I at least want us to be on friendly terms. I want your time left in this world to be as enjoyable and carefree as possible.”

“I guess we can be friends,” he crosses his arms and stares off in deep thought. “I’m just trying to think of a good starting point to get to know you.”

“You can always keep it simple and ask me what I like,” you say, laughing at the way he suddenly has an “ah hah!’ moment and looks at you like an excited puppy.

“Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?”

Yuuji is almost offended that you didn’t know who Jennifer Lawrence is. He was utterly flabbergasted that you haven’t watched any of her movies either (“I don’t even know who she is Yuuji how the hell am I supposed to know she was in movies?”). He went on and on about every single film, but if you’re being honest his 2 minute summaries (infodumping, really) of the plots didn’t really do them justice. Out of nowhere he proposes that you and him have a movie night so he can show you exactly what you’re missing! Of course, it’ll have to be after the two of you settle into your dorm rooms.

It’s true that you were offered immediate admission into Tokyo Technical college due to your lineage, but no one but you and your family knew about this. Gojo also knew. He was the one that brought up the idea in the first place…

Oh, Gojo told him. Well now you just feel stupid.

That’s how you found yourself in the dormitory’s common area with Yuuji and your other classmates, Nobara and Megumi. Meeting them wasn’t that bad. Just kidding, it was terrifying! Megumi looks exactly the way your family often describes members of the Zen’in clan to look like, blank and unnerving. You honestly thought Nobara would beat you up just from the way she was looking at you with such an observing glare, completely forgetting the fact that you’re a descendant of the person who single handedly sealed Sukuna away.

Oh yeah, Yuuji told them that! Was he not supposed to?

“Hah?” Nobara scowls at Yuuji, who puts his hands up in defense. “You mean their old ass grandparent turned that ugly ass curse into bite sized pieces?”

“I did,” you answer, but you quickly catch your mistake and correct yourself. “They did. Along with the sword they used to cut Sukuna down I also inherited most of their memories which is...It’s not as pleasant as you would think.”

Her expression softens up a bit and she steps in front of you. She holds out her palm and makes a beckoning gesture. “The sword,” she clarifies when you look at her with confusion. “Let me hold it.”

You make a quick trip back to your room to retrieve it. She nearly doubles over into you once you pass it over to her.

“Damn! How much does this thing weigh?!” she looks at you with disbelief

“It weighs next to nothing whenever I hold it,” you explain, taking it into your hold and tossing it in the air and twirling it around to further drive your point.

“Bullshit! It’s like 50 pounds!”

“It can’t be that bad,” Megumi comments.

“Oh yeah? Here!” Nobara grabs and tosses it at him, much to your dismay. “See?” she shrills when he nearly doubles over himself. “It’s heavy!”

“Yeah, ok. This is definitely the sword that took down Sukuna,” Megumi gasps.

“My turn! My turn!” Yuuji makes grabby hands, but you push yourself between him and Megumi who’s still holding onto it before he can get too close.

“It’s probably best if you don’t touch it. Y’know?” you point back and forth between him and you.

“Oh, right,” he sheepishly remembers. “Crap, the popcorns gonna get cold!”

You sigh in relief when his attention goes elsewhere before quickly heading back to your room to put the weapon away. When you reenter the lounge, Yuuji greets you with a cheery smile before patting the empty space next to him. He wants you to sit beside him, but Nobara seems to have other plans as she sits right in your intended spot and tells you to sit next to her instead. You were honestly scared and a bit reluctant, but your fears subside once you sat down and she locked her arm with yours and leaned her head on your shoulder for the rest of the night.

She and Megumi eventually retreated back to their rooms before they could fall asleep on the couch after the second movie concludes.

“Do you want to keep going?” Yuuji asked, hands fidgeting with the next DVD case he had at the ready.

“Sure,” you nod, not tired in the slightest just yet.

“Sweet!” he gave you a toothy smile before standing up to head towards the dvd player. However, the moment he stood to his full height he went deathly still. His body contorts before swiftly relaxing. He rolls his neck a few times and lets out a relieved sigh. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, that’s when you feel that disgusting familiar aura and your heart starts beating like you just did a triathlon in a few short minutes.

“Finally, some fresh air,” he sighs in relief as he arches his back and his spine lets out a few crisp pops. His voice hasn’t changed in a thousand years and neither has your fear and disdain for it. When he turns and looks at you with those familiar blood colored irises, you involuntarily reach out to grab your weapon, but you only grab at empty air.

“Hey,” you flinch when he addresses you. No, it’s not you he’s talking to. Given your identical appearance and even your cursed energy that you manifested out of habit, in his mind he must think of you as your ancestor themself, not a distant descendant. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you want?” you somehow manage to stutter out.

“Nothing,” he admits. “’Just want a good look at you.”

If your ancestor or even your family were to see you now, you’re certain they’d be disappointed in you for going still before your greatest enemy. All those years of hating and experiencing all those horrible memories feel like a complete waste when you can’t even muster the strength to bat his hand away when it takes hold of your chin and turns your head over for him to thoroughly inspect you.

“Did you miss me?” he strangely inquires.

Finally. You feel some control over your body come back and answer with an affirmative, “No.”

“That’s too bad,” he clicks his tongue with mocking dissatisfaction. “Because I missed you.”

His face begins to lean into you, lips slightly parted, and you know that he’s going in to press them against yours. Just as you’re about to gather all the strength you can muster and push him away, his body seizes once more and the black markings cross his face and wrists begin to fade and crumble away. An in-control-again Yuuji blinks a few times before checking his surroundings to regain his bearings.

“What happened?” he looks down at you and asks, not registering the fact that he was kneeling over you and firmly pushing you back against the couch with a painful grip.

A part of you wanted to punch Yuuji and run back to your room so you can wait out the slight panic attack that overcame you once Sukuna vanished, but you had to remind yourself that you would be hurting Yuuji if you went through with your action. In all honesty, that second point you told him of remembering to never think of himself as Sukuna was more for you than for him. While your ancestor would willingingly strike down any and all who have the slightest bit of affiliation with their tormentor, you are not them. Therefore, you will not stoop down to their discriminating level, no matter how justified it may be.

The night ended on an expected awkward note. Yuuji, bless his heart, went out of his way again to make it up to you. How? He bought a bunch of snacks from a convenience store in the city and gave them to you in a pretty, gift wrapped box. Nobara and Megumi, who helped him put together the forgiveness present, thought the gift itself was dumb and lackluster, but he reasons with them by stating how you also come from a countryside town as well and how you’d definitely like to try some of the Tokyo-exclusive goodies.

Well, the way towards another’s forgiveness is through the stomach, or something like that. The exact quote is a bit lost to you since you’re too busy savoring all the odd flavored chips and candies you’ve never had the chance to taste back home. Nobara and Megumi feel the immense urge to punch you in the back of your head over how easy you are to win over, but you look so happy eating your second bag of potato chips and Yuuji looks very relieved that he’s earned your forgiveness-

Oh wow you’re offering to share your snacks with them? Don't mind if they do!

While all of you try each and every snack Yuuji gifted to you and rate them like you’re all a bunch of snack experts all of a sudden, Sukuna is brewing in his own satisfaction as he watches you through the eyes of his vessel. Nevermind the fact that you sealed him away all those years ago. He’s back now by a stroke of luck that only seemed to strike again when he saw your familiar figure through Yuuji’s vision. The cursed energy that radiated off of you, the sword you carried by your side, even your face, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the work of fate that you and him were reunited in this new era.

He made the mistake of letting you out of his sight back then, and he isn’t going to let it happen again. He wants to take control over his vessel's body each and every time he’s anywhere within your vicinity, but not only does the brat have the convenient ability to suppress him, you’re a rather cautious one. Just when he thinks Yuuji to be alone and susceptible, you appear out of thin air and keep him at a standstill from within. It’s annoying, but at the same time impressive as well.

While you may be oblivious to his vessel’s budding feelings towards you, he sees this growing fondness Yuuji is beginning to garner towards you as an opportunity, a weakness he can exploit to force a small rematch between you and him. He won’t kill you. He just wants to know if your technique that surprised and caught him off guard back then still elicits the same thrill it did then.

You are his favorite source of entertainment after all, and it’s been far too long since he’s been amused.

Sloppy and desperate. Those are the best descriptors of your cursed energy the first time he detected it. Your sword still remains as beautiful and deadly as it was, cutting through rows of trees with ease with just the slightest bit of cursed energy embedded into your attack. It makes the phantom sensation of his vessel’s freshly ripped out heart, beat faster and his grin widens to the point of his cheeks hurting from the uncontrollable strain.

Precise and brutal. That is how he would describe your energy now. He easily feels the hatred and sudden rage that began to fuel and flare up your aura oozing out of you that only further accentuates its new characteristics. Normally, you would be swearing at him with a mouth so foul that it would make the average curse blush in embarrassment. He can’t say he likes the way you silently assault him. Where is that crude vocabulary of yours?

“Senpai!” Megumi shouts for your attention as he tries to keep up with your fast paced exchange with Sukuna. “You need to call down-”

“Megumi, don’t call me your damn Senpai!” You shout in response, eyes never daring to look away from Sukuna even as you address your classmate.

“That’s more like it!” he cheers with satisfaction. “Oh, how I’ve missed your damning words beloved.”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout as you swing your right arm and impulsively punch him. He easily blocks your melee, though you send him skidding back a few feet.

With the much needed space set between the two of you, you correct your stance to a more defensive one. Your innate technique has been actively running ever since Sukuna took over Yuuji’s body and activated his domain expansion. Your sudden bout of rage overwhelmed you after witnessing Sukuna rip Yuuji’s heart out, nearly forgetting that you’ve been barred from the ability to inflict any lasting damage against him in your frenzied state.

Your inherited technique allows you to perfectly parry his ‘Dismantle’ and ‘Cleave’, but no damage will be inflicted if you purposely strike with the intention of dealing a lethal blow as you have been for the past few minutes. Your sword is blunt upon contact, evident by the lack of any lacerations upon his skin.

He may have offered the chance to heal Yuuji if you agreed to spar with him, but you know better than anyone that it’s all a bunch of lies coming out of his stolen lips. Yuuji was lost the moment Sukuna came out and set his sight on you, or rather, who he believes you to be. You’d easily blame yourself for being the cause of his demise, but you also know that Yuuji wouldn’t like it if you blame yourself over this from the afterlife.

The least you can do to make it up to him is bring his body back so it can be properly cremated. He at least deserves a proper funeral.

“All tuckered out already?” Sukuna mockingly coos at you. “I suppose that’s to be expected. How long has it been since our last battle? I doubt there was any curse who could live up to my strength this past millennium.” He cackles when you don’t reply. He’s right. He knows he is.

You finally break your silence with an odd comment. “You really think I’m them, do you?”

Though obviously rhetoric, Sukuna gives you a questioning look. “Elaborate,” he commands.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you simply state. “I have the same technique as them, but I am not the one who sealed you away that fateful night. That person is my predecessor, while I am their descendant.”

You state your family name, then your first name, and wait. He willingly takes in this information, cupping his chin and looking up at the sky as he mulls it over before coming to his own conclusion. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t seem to accept it as the truth, evident by the way he slips his hands back in his pockets and cocks his head at you with a playful attitude.

“Whatever the punchline was, I’m afraid it fell flat,” he lets out a sympathetic laugh. “You mean to tell me that after I was sealed away, you found yourself a spouse willing to take you, a washed up whore, into their bosom and bear children with you?”

The way he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in a dismissive manner pisses you off more than watching him crush Yuuji’s heart in his bare hand. Most of the memories of your ancestor revolve around their time as one of Sukuna’s concubines. The memories you have of their life afterwards are foggy at best, but you do remember the feeling of peace as well an overwhelming amount of bliss and mutual love their spouse gave them despite their history. It was one of the happiest moments of their life and it never once faltered even after they retold their darkest memories to their children and handed down their initial will, to always oppose the king of curses, no matter the era.

People may think it cruel, selfish even, that they did not strive to develop a better technique and pass down such a heavy responsibility to their children and their children’s children. But if there’s anything those hazy memories taught you, is that they do not regret the efforts that they did make to set themselves, and the others under his servitude, free from his tyranny. Had they submitted and gave into his whims, they would have never been blessed with their children and loving spouse.

Had they not done what they did, acted the way they did, you would not be here, opposing the king of curses within this new era of curses.

“I have never lied to you,” you repeat those now ancient words. “The least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt before dubbing me a liar.”

It happened so fast that you question if it even happened or not. His eyebrows furrowed, the exact same manner when your ancestor severed the first of his twenty fingers on that fateful night.

When he began to approach you, you sheath your blade and returned to a neutral stance, feeling safe to do so as the previous hostile energy he exuded calms. Megumi stumbles in just in time to see Sukuna and you standing nearly chest to chest. He presses his palms together in preparation to summon one of his shikigami to provide support, but he stops his incantation when he notices that neither of you are exchanging blows anymore, though the two of you do exchange unfaltering glares towards each other that puts Megumi on edge even though he is merely a spectator in this situation.

“I am not them,” you firmly state. “This is the truth.”

Sukuna hums, dissatisfaction clear as you repeat your claim from earlier.

“It seems you weren’t lying,” he finally concedes. “Such a shame.”

With one final shrug, the black markings all over Yuuji’s chest and limbs begin to crumble until there's nothing but his unblemished skin. The sharper features his face takes on when Sukuna takes control and taints with his sigils turn back into those belonging to the typically boisterous boy.

“Hey,” his slightly raspy and confused voice greets you so genuinely.

“Hey,” you greet him back with a relieved, yet sad smile. His eyes follow yours that seemed focused on his chest and that’s when he finally notices the gaping hole as well as the lack of a beating heart and blood trail.

The grey clouds that have been gathering before you all were dropped off at the school finally begin to shed droplets of cold rain down on you. A drop lands perfectly on his face that looks indistinguishable to a shed tear. You instinctively reach out and wipe it away.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he pouts.

“It’s alright,” you withdraw your hand away from his cold and sickeningly pale cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.”

He took a deep breath as if he was about to say something else, but his eyes finally go blank and his upright body gives out and falls forward. You catch him with ease and carefully set him down on the damp soil. He’s officially gone to you, yet you take extra care to cup the back of his head and gently set him down with shaking hands. As you kneel beside his stiff body, another drop falls on his face and trickles down.

You’re not sure if it’s another raindrop or the first of many teardrops that begin to spill from your tear ducts once your brain finally registers that your best friend is lying dead before you.

A week later

Yuuji is dead, yet it is as clear as the large hole in his chest that Sukuna is still living on within the body, if only barely. Ieiri, Gojo and Ijichi can’t tell, but you can. Call it yet another inherited skill or instinct, but no amount of pitiful words or comforting pats on your back from either of them are going to make you second guess yourself on this matter.

Sukuna is alive, yet for some reason he isn’t staking his claim on the body. You know he can at any moment, but it seems he’s not entirely stupid and is trying to play his cards right.

Perhaps he’s waiting for something? Maybe a certain someone instead? It wouldn’t surprise you if he has allies that are still alive and are well aware of his resurrection. It wouldn’t surprise you either if they were gathering his other fingers in his stead. Those damn things are blinking beacons for other curses, so gathering them shouldn’t be hard even for the most mediocre of cursed beings. Even when he’s made into a bunch of inanimate objects, he can still cause some amount of chaos and grief.

Damn him.

Your claim that Sukuna still lives goes from outlandish and desperate to undoubtedly true when a faint pulse of his energy brings everyone’s attention to Yuuji’s corpse and puts you all on the defensive. It was a signal, specifically for you. He wants you to come to him, within his own playing field and without the prying eyes of your superiors or the chance for any outside interference from your teacher.

Speaking of Gojo, he’s been trying to pull you away from Yuuji’s corpse and usher you out of the room for your own protection.

“He wants to talk to me,” you state the obvious to him.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he says with finality. It’s almost adorable how he’s trying to play the role of the stern authority figure when he’s normally such an eccentric man 99% of the time. “C’mon, you need to leave.”

“Gojo-sensei,” you reach up to your shoulder that he’s tightly gripping and gently pry his hand off. “I mean no disrespect to you, or anyone at this school for that matter. But when it comes to matters regarding Ryomen Sukuna, you and the higher ups don’t know a damn thing about that monster.”

Your hand hastily reaches out and your fingertips merely graze against Yuuji’s cold and rigid skin. Just that slight contact is enough to have your surroundings shift from a stagnant and grey autopsy room to a dark and brooding domain. You blink away the dizziness from your sudden shift of reality and the first thing you notice is the pile of ox skulls. You also notice the endless rows of ribs high up in the air that further add towards the domain’s ominousness.

“I’m here!” you cup your hands around your mouth as you yell out. “The hell do you want from me you two-faced bastard?!”

“Quit screaming,” his annoyed yet strangely soft voice startles you. You abruptly turn around to meet him face to face.

“Where’s Yuuji?” you ask with command behind your infliction.

“There’s no one else but us,” he says in a poor attempt to make you drop your defensive body posture. When he notices that you aren’t relaxing, he points behind you with an annoyed glare. You turn to see nothing but the collection of dirtied animal skulls, but at the last second you see an unconscious Yuuji planted face down into the ankle deep water (blood?) at the bottom of the mountainous pile. Upon seeing the familiar tuft of pink hair, you sprint towards his unmoving body. You flip him upwards once he’s in reach, fearing he was drowning or at the very least injured in some way.

As you try to gently coax or check for any sign of life within your friend, you ignore or even fail to notice the way Sukuna observes you from behind. The boy is unconscious only due to Sukuna easily decapitating him earlier as they fought over the conditions of the binding vow he was enforcing in exchange for healing his vessel’s body and bringing him back to life. Just as he was about to uphold his end of the vow, he felt as you entered the room his vessel’s lifeless body was most definitely being stored to be later cremated.

His reaching out to you was an impulsive action on his part. He now knows that the one who stands before him is truly not you. Your energy and your descendants are near indistinguishable, so his sudden call of you was a mere force of habit and his prevailing desire to chase after you. It’s not his brightest moment, but you tend to make him act beyond what is usually his typical behavior.

As he watches your descendant talk to a half awake and delirious Yuuji, he can’t help but to examine them with a bit of awe. The one before him is your descendant of a thousand years, perhaps even more. They are your flesh and blood, and yet they retain not only your image, but even some of your memories as well. He doesn’t know what to think of this revelation, truly he doesn’t.

The only thing that’s rubbing him the wrong way is the fact that they are not a product between you and him. It’s not that he has or had any sort of unfulfilled paternal desire locked deep within him. Even if he did contemplate producing a few offspring before his temporary demise, he only wanted children for the same reason he wanted a harem, as a source of amusement that he can freely manipulate however he sees fit. Perhaps he did consider impregnating a few dozen of his concubines to see if any could birth him an heir worthy of his legacy, but the entire process was too much of a hassle that he wasn’t willing to deal with at the time. He had no pure intentions when it comes to spreading his seed into the world.

So why is he angry that you went ahead and did so without him?

“Your ancestor’s spouse,” he idly mentions in an attempt to garner their careful attention. From the way they stiffen up and look at him with that familiar glare of yours, he has it. “What were they like?”

“As if I’d tell you,” they say.

“I see you inherited their stubbornness,” he huffs with annoyance, but deep down in the deepest and most hidden parts of his mind, he feels somewhat glad that your stubbornness continues to live on in the world. “Tell me, and I’ll let you return with Yuuji-”

“Their spouse was just as stubborn as they were,” they cut him off with an immediate answer. “No matter how many times they tried to ignore or downplay their advances, they continued to chase after my predecessor until it was as obvious as the sun that they truly wanted to be together with them and make them happy.”

As he expected, their recollection of your life after him is too disgustingly domestic and romanticized for his liking. What does come at a surprise is that they completely went against their earlier proclamation of remaining silent and divulged him on the information he initially asked of you rather readily. Something must have switched in their mind. Are they trying to get back at him on your behalf by proudly stating that you lived a happy life without him?

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” they say with a smug voice. “They hated you beyond comprehension, and even if they are long gone from this world, I assure you that their hatred remains just as intense as it was when they lived.”

“Don’t be mistaken, you pathetic human,” he growls, much more angrily than normal. “I could care less who they fornicated with and how many children they produced.”

“For the self proclaimed king of curses, you sure are a terrible liar,” they say, almost pitifully. “You regret the way you treated them, don’t you? Deny it all you want, I know I’m right.”

Your last comment is the final straw. With the flick of his wrist he casts you and Yuuji out of his inner domain and back into the living world. He heals Yuuji to maintain his side of the binding vow before settling back atop his rigid throne of horned skulls. He watches through Yuuji’s eyes how the two of you squeeze each other into a firm embrace after he reawakens. When Gojo makes a comment about how Yuuji is stark naked on the metal table, he feels the immense urge to grab one of the skulls and crush it into a fine dust in his bare fist as the two of you devolve into a fit of awkward but good natured laughter at the realization.

He can’t remember a time when you ever laughed or smiled like your descendant is doing now.

Does he regret never once seeing or hearing you in such a way? Maybe.

But you’re gone, so there is no point lingering on it too much.

There’s no point in having regrets now.

Bonus

Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before you and Yuuji solidified your relationship as a romantic one. Back in his prime, he behaved no differently than Yuuji did after he brought him back to life, straightforward and without a second thought. Ever since he stole you away from your family and home, every chance you took at defying him and damning his name into the fiery pits of hell invoked something within him. Something no other man or woman can or ever will be able to. And yet, each time he reached out to indulge himself further of you, you retreated into yourself and tried to cast him out of every corner of your mind while he tried to engrave your everything into his very being. Your behavior to his advances differ greatly from your descendant, who accepts Yuuji’s advances with an honest and willing smile.

He watches the relationship through the unsuspecting eyes of his vessel. Sometimes, he gags at how sickeningly affectionate Yuuji can be. Yet despite his behavior, your descendant drinks it all up and returns the hugs and the kisses tenfold. Nobara and Megumi often roll their eyes on the sidelines and comment on how they were practically made for each other. Sukuna can't help but silently roll his eyes as well as agree with their annoyed comments, even if it makes him incredibly irritated.

Will he ever admit to the latter? Never.

He does not regret the way things turned out between you and him. He cannot regret for the sake of his sanity. Instead, he often ponders about the possibilities. Had he not taken you from your home, could there have been a chance you and him could have been friends despite his reputation at the time? If he courted you properly instead of forcing you into his collection of common whores, could you look at him the same way your descendant looks at Yuuji, with so much love and tenderness that it makes his stomach twist into knots and the back of his throat burn? Despite being a curse who sustains himself on his pure carnal desires, could he have been selfless and put forth the efforts to make you happy?

During nights when they share a bed together, he sneaks control over the body and traces what was once your face with his black painted claws. Could you ever look so peaceful as your descendant does now if you laid beside him? Would you remain in his bed until the sun rises instead of fleeing? Would your body feel just as warm, fit just as perfectly in his embrace as your descendant does?

Sukuna does not regret the path he took. He cannot, for the sake of his sanity. He does wonder about the possibilities.

He wonders, could this descendant of yours have been his as well?

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