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saint-siren · 2 months

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A World For Her Alone | Sisyphus

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

cw (chapter specific): child neglect, very vaguely implied forced prostitution, death, abuse, poisoning, suicide, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, arranged marriage, infidelity

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: we take a brief intermission from claude's suffering to examine what the fuck is wrong with reader's family

author's note: me and my husband we're sticking together🎵

Claude lingered around your parents’ manor like a ghost after you died. In the middle of the night, every night, he found his way to your bedroom, standing at the foot of the bed you’d died in, remembering the shape your body formed in the sheets. The room still smelled of your blood and sweat, though the room had been cleaned up by the maids as soon as your body was taken out of the room. Your absence was starker than your presence. After the funeral, Diana expressed that she wanted to go home, heavily implying she would leave if he came with her but Claude was no longer beholden to her wants. He had no reason to care whether she came or went.

He was wielding grief as the knife he held up to cut deeper into himself in hope that if he only suffered enough, his hands would wash clean of your blood. But in the end, he had already decided to live, if only because he could do nothing else. Morbid thoughts plagued him, swirling around his head like unquiet spirits begging him to give in. He thought perhaps he should cause his own ruination and this time, live with it. He thought he should make for certain that both of your houses are set aflame and collapsing on top of the lot of you, to bury and burn your sycophant parents, his helplessly selfish wife and even his own child. He thought that nothing should be spared from complicity. He knew not anymore if he truly believed that it would save you, or if this was what some divine terror was willing him to do even still, but he began to long for punishment. It became catharsis, the thought of being punished.

He roamed through the house you grew up in, searching for any trace of you that survived, as if some inkling of you would help him to save what had already been lost too many times. Even so, it was automatic for him at this point, no longer even really a choice. He had no direction, only frantic need pulling him toward the doomed task. He was trying to get to the dregs of a goblet of wine which never ran dry, he kept drinking until he was sick but never satisfied, never finished.

Your parents’ manor was an eerie place, he’d always thought. Wind blew in from an opened window in the hall and the house seemed to breathe, and its hollow bones creaked softly. Despite her gentle ultimatum, Diana could not actually follow up on it, she must have known that but she believed better of him at the time and thought that everywhere she went, he would follow her like a lovestruck teenager again. There were things to be done at manor that she could not neglect as its lady even if he chose to neglect his own duties. She had come into her own as a marchioness, no longer the shy and unassuming lady that lay in bed sick day in and day out. She would not leave the territory without management though he knew she desperately wanted him to come back home. She seemed dazed to return home without her husband for that purpose, for the lament of a sister she had infinitely more right to grieve so egregiously. Even after all those years, the silly girl was only just beginning to grow aware of the disparity of marriage.

Somehow he felt it was hard for her to reconcile that she wasn’t a precious young lady anymore. Even as he was mired in a pool of half catatonic grief, she dared ask him to leave with her because she truly expected he would do so if she did. Had she not grown out of the habit of expecting to be near worshiped no matter what that her parents instilled her? He remembered how she was after your funeral, when he was sitting in the dark of a guest room. She had come to him, tried to hold him, to kiss him; believing all this would be a comfort and not a further indignity. She’d had arrogance enough to look hurt as he pulled her from him and recoiled from her touch. She must have still believed she was the cure to all ills because she was once more in a house where she was always treated as though she truly were.

He found his way to the library where you’d spent much of your life, if Felix’s word was truth. He brushed his fingers along the spines of the books, looking for the one that he left his missive in, the one Diana read and did not want understand. He searched through the categories of books that contained subjects you three would have studied together as he could not remember which particular book it was, but even after pulling all the books and flipping through the pages, he couldn't find the letter. He wondered if you had ever even set eyes on it once before Diana got to. Had it been your catalyst to run away? Had you read the note and understood that the effort of trying to be happy at his side was a fool’s errand? Was he again the cause of your downfall?

As he gave himself to thought of you, he continued looking through your family’s collection of books. It was all fairly standard and even a bit utilitarian, lacking any of the fanciful novels so beloved by many young nobles. He assumed if there were any, they’d be in Diana’s room because they’d be bought for and read by her alone. But there was something that struck him as he roamed around the shelves, his eyes scanning aimlessly for a book that looked as if it had been perhaps been misshelved. It was subtly tucked into the highest shelf but it still stood out to him eventually among droll guides, needlework books and encyclopedias emblazon with gold lettering. It was hastily bound looking more like a journal and it was worn, unlike the rich and well maintained leather of the other books and it was small, leaving a wide gap between the top of the shelf and the top of the book. Its spine did not read a title.

When he pulled the book, he understood what it was. Its title read “The Princess and The Knight,” signifying it was some common, tawdry romance novella. Still, he began to read it, the absurdity of its place in a house so heavy and serious intriguing him. Could this book have belonged to you? Could it have been an escape for you who was locked firmly out of girlhood when you were only just betrothed? When he’d read the title, his mind flashed with the memory of your face as Felix’s body fell into the dirt in front of you. He remembered how fiercely Felix had protected you even in this life. The rage and grief in his voice when he came for retribution. Though he knew you were ever dutiful and if there was love between you and Felix, it was never more than courtly, maybe you had seen this book and it had reminded you of some place where it could be more.

The story revolved around the love affair of a princess from a bloodline with an affinity for magic fleeing her country at wartime and being assigned a knight from the neighboring kingdom she sought refuge in. The two began a passionate and sanguine love affair in secret, all while living under of the tension of war and the threat of both of them losing everything to their love. But when the war was won, thanks in part to the wits of the two characters, and peace spread over the kingdom, she and her knight were able to be wed and live happily ever after. He had been searching for you in the pages, interpreting the knight and the princess, looking for traces of a love you might have had once. He had been looking for you so closely in every word that he hadn’t realized the grander scale of things until the end; when he flipped over the last page to read the epilogue, on the blank side of the page he saw a sketch.

The drawing was finely, intricately done in ink and resembled…Diana. The owner of this book had drawn Diana so vividly, yet there were a few differences in the likenesses of the two. This woman had long spools of curly hair spilling over her shoulders and a mole near her gently smiling lips. She was older than Diana must have been when the book was written. She looked like the heroine that had been described in the novel. For some reason, he found himself fixated not in awe or admiration but in mind numbing shock. He could feel the love that went into each stroke of the pen and a knot formed in his stomach the longer he stared. It was uncanny in a house like this, to find anything that should mark vulnerability or simple folly. He recalled an occasion where your father had gifted her a portrait he’d made of her and their daughter. Though two different mediums, the style looked so similar. From what Claude saw, it seemed that your father seldom made art of anyone but Diana. Your father surely had not been so passionate about a throwaway romance that he had ignored his bias and poured so much love into an image of the heroine.

The only one who could be so brazen as to have a romance novel among his books wherein which they lovingly drew an almost intimate image of a woman, worn with the spine slightly bent from being handled so many times— not even properly hidden away, would be your father. Your father who paraded his illegitimate child, born from a mistress. The revelation gave him pause. What did Claude truly know about Diana? He couldn’t remember having ever asked her if she’d known her mother because she so resolutely accepted the countess as her only mother. But this woman sketched onto the page of a well loved romance, was this her mother? She looked as if she could be. Portraits of Diana hung in exposed parts of the house, he did not seem to care that the custom of having an illegitimate child was to have them separate from one’s “official” family, to not love a child born of one’s own lust so openly. Even if one had a particular love of their mistress and child, he would simply put them up in a nice mansion close enough for him to come and go but your father had your mother raising his illegitimate child. He celebrated her birthdays lavishly and even allowed her to go to the academy. He absolutely refused to hide her, to show shame in her. So why was this woman Claude presumed to be Diana’s mother who was clearly beloved by him even now, shut up in the back of a romance novella?

A thought occurred to him then, that perhaps the otherworldly force pulling him into Diana, entangling him in her was not otherworldly at all. Perhaps it had not originated in him alone as some primordial curse formed around him before there even was a him. He thought of just how besotted he was with Diana the first time he met her in each life, how the greater part of him felt foreign. He thought of your mother’s unusually devoted love for a child that wasn’t her’s, a product of her husband’s disloyalty. Something inside him thought that the answer lay at Diana’s feet. In her very blood, he was convinced, was the answer.

Such a tenderly written romance, signed with a carefully drawn illustration of the woman who could be Diana’s mother. The part of “The Princess and The Knight” which struck him so was the bit about the princess possessing capacity for magic. It was not mentioned much nor utilized greatly in the plot but it made an impression. Magic users had decreased over the years, their powers waning until they were unheard of entirely. To anyone else who read the novella, it must have given the story to a bit of fantasy but to Claude, it was almost uncanny. He could not take it for an unassuming romance. To him, the story hid some truth under its veneer, for it was no coincidence that the princess resembled Diana so and that it ended up under the same roof as her, worn with years of eager hands flipping back over the pages. The princess’ power was never described in detail but if she were based on a real woman, then perhaps she had something to do with his situation.

He might’ve gone to Diana right then for answers but he feared his body might be taken over again at any time. He did not want to see her, did not want to feel the familiar paralysis of affection reaching up through his body. He did not want to see himself bed her again while the memory stood frozen in his eyes. Each time he saw her after he’d been set free, he’d worried that it would happen again. That his body would betray his mind and he’d never find anything of substance to end the cycle of misery the two of you shared. And he was committed to the task of trying, even if he could never succeed. He was ready to succumb to the greater sense of careworn madness he found in you.

He decided to explore the unattended corners of your home further, thinking there would be— must be more. If ever Diana’s mother had lived here, someone left a trace that he intended to find. He might’ve asked your father directly but as much as he was a lickspittle, something told him that your father would be afflicted by the same paralysis of mind that he had when he belonged to Diana. Unable to share the love he held for her but unable to hide it either, culminating in a pathetic sort of half-baked defensiveness. He wasn’t likely to get anything out of that, even you hadn’t been able to get anything out of him when he was like that. Worse still, he might try to cover up all that he kept that ever indicated Diana’s mother had lived there once, that she had a name and a face. And then what?

No, it was better this way. Better to find it all before he got the chance to hide any of it.

Your parents were still in the house, seemingly without intention of asking him when he was going to leave but there was still a bit of anxiety in the air when they entered the room. He could tell that they very much wished for him to return to their daughter and make her happy again as she was destined to be. It was awkward that their son-in-law had a longer bereavement than your sister did. But still being the cowardly sycophants they were, they could not ask him to leave for her sake—only “encourage” him by tossing out little updates on Diana. “Diana and our grandchild miss you very much,” “Diana takes ill so easily when she works so hard, we should hope you’ll be well enough to go back to her soon,” “Diana sends her love and wants you to know she’s there for your sake.”

Claude wouldn’t care if Diana’s life hung by a thread and he was all that could spare her, frankly and he brushed off all responsibility in favor of giving himself to his task. It was shameless, he knew, but he’d given up everything inside of the barren, hollow shell of his self to save you. It was a task that had already and would yet again supersede death, birth and the enveloping void he fell backward into each time his life was ended. He waited until they inevitably visited Diana, likely to calm her worries with lukewarm supplications about his grief, to go searching in the other parts of the house uninhibited. For, even if the servants were to tell their lord and lady, he’d already have looked through every corner he intended before they’d have a chance to move things around to better hide them.

He started with Diana’s old room. When he walked in, he was surprised to find it was left exactly as childish as it had been when she was only a young miss. Just the scent of the air turned his stomach, heavy and cloying with a pungent smell of medicine that was still sitting on her night stand in a small white bottle. He frowned as something fell clumsily into place. It hit him like the stray sour note of a violin. He recognized the bottle. Where did he last see this bottle?

For how preoccupied he was with the revelation taking slow form, he did not realize that Felix had entered the room until he heard the distinctive sound of a sword unsheathed. He did not turn.

“Felix.”

“Lord Claude,” Felix acknowledged, his voice struggling to keep its softness. “I might’ve known you’d be here. You truly cannot help yourself, it’s like a sickness.”

“Yes, it is very much like that,” Claude agreed easily. “But I’m not here for what you imagine I am.”

“I’m not so sure it matters, my lord.” Felix’s voice was flat.

“Nor am I. But I need you to let me live just as long as it takes for me to make sense of this.”

Felix went quiet for a moment but nothing about the situation made Claude think it was because the knight was going to hesitate. On the contrary, he was sure that his sword would swing just as neatly. “Do you know where I found my lady chained up, my lord? There are places, you know, that they bring women who had no other place to turn. You must know. You were at her side every night when we brought her back, you saw what toll it took. You saw what had been done.” Felix took a shallow breath. “You’re asking me to spare you so that you can make sense of whatever it is your farce of a marriage is built on? When my lady was given no such pardon? I know you’re the head of your house now, honored knight of the crown and you must think yourself above your treatment of others but I assure you, this will be the last time you ever assume so.”

Claude held still, his voice firm even as fear raged through his body. It was not fear for his life or of Felix’s wrath, it was the fear of failing, yet again, to make any movement in saving you. “I know how you think of me, Felix. I know that I have failed my wife. I know that I deserve to die here and now but even so, I can’t.”

“That is no problem, I’ll do it for you.”

Claude smiled joylessly to himself at the devout knight’s words. How could you have been judged so harshly in that life for wanting to run away with him when he so clearly had a loyalty akin to love for you? “You don’t understand. You cannot possibly. But answer me this, do you know who Diana’s mother is?”

The question puzzled Felix but he stood resolutely, ready at any moment to fell Claude’s head. “Everyone else in this household has care for Lady Diana. My duty was to serve my lady, I was the only one and I did not ever lapse. You’re asking the wrong person.”

“Felix, I do not ask for my wife’s sake. I know how this will sound but I’m trying to find out just what exactly it is that Diana holds over me and everyone else. I’m trying to figure out what exactly she is. You have seen it, haven’t you? The disparity between how people treat my wife and how they treat your lady. Do you think it natural to love a daughter born from an affair more than one’s own?”

He heard Felix laugh bitterly. “You believe her to be a succubus? Is that your excuse?”

“No. I believe her to be something worse.” Claude laughed as well, though his was more hysterical than anything. “She rules everything, Felix. Even in death. No, especially so in death. I have lived this life many times. I have died and returned back to the day that I first met her at the tea party. And when I do, I am taken over by her. It feels like love at first, it really does. But then intrusion. And then a curse. It is a cycle of death and resurrection, for myself and for the lady.”

Felix was silent and Claude continued on. “In one such life, she ran away with you, you know. It was raining the night we found you two. You were holed up in some abandoned cottage out there in the countryside, the one with the patches of white clover in the yard and a missing shingle on the roof.”

“What are you saying?” Felix’s voice wavered with near disbelief at the picture he painted but he held firm.

“My knights killed you where you stood and took the lady back to my manor. Your betrothed visited her. She had asked to speak to the woman who had been responsible for your death. She told me you two had planned to get married once the lady and I were finally married and settled in. She could not even mourn you properly because you were compelled to run away with the lady and killed.”

It is clear that Felix still thought Claude had lost his mind but what shocked him was the truth seeded into his madness. How could he have known the intimate arrangements of their betrothal and marriage when even their families had not known the cause for delay? This was not knowledge he could send an errand boy to fetch him nor an illusion he couldn’t hope to keep up, this was lived. It was memory.

“What does that have to do with Diana?” Diana was more likely a seductress than a sorceress in Felix’s opinion. Such a thing as a time loop, how could a girl so weak and childish create something like it?

Claude turned slightly, slowly toward him. “I don’t know yet myself. That is what I seek to find out. So that I can perhaps end it, for the lady at least. I don’t need anything Felix, not Diana, not my child, not my house. All I need and want is for the lady to stop suffering. I only beg you not to hinder me. When the time comes, I swear I will die on my own.”

Felix had no idea what to make of it all. Much of what Claude said seemed stilted, frantic and half thought. Yet he could not help but feel there was a certain sincerity to be had even in the worthlessness of Claude’s promise. And in any case, he was not entirely unfamiliar with the concept that Claude explained but all that it implied, he was not ready to believe. He sheathed his sword again finally and Claude turned to face him with the medicine bottle in hand. “Have you any idea why this would be in Diana’s room? It’s medicine that the lady took before.”

Felix’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “It’s used to treat severe infection. It’s not supposed to be used by just anyone who gets ill. Lady Diana should not have needed that medicine, it would take effect like poison if not administered to someone battling a harsh infection. The doctor sent one of the servants to fetch it in town.”

“Yes, but this bottle is dusty, it’s mostly emptied out and the liquid inside it has congealed. It’s been sitting here for years. The medicine inside is aromatic. It has a distinct smell, doesn’t it? The lady’s room still reeks of it even with the windows opened up. Every time I went into Diana’s room when we were young, I smelled it, I tasted it. That means she was not only taking medicine she did not need but taking it regularly.” Claude said aloud, more to himself than to Felix who had bristled at the way he implied he and Diana were. “Was she…ever even sick?”

“Of course she was. Perhaps madame gave her the wrong medicine. She would not have poisoned herself, far be it from me to defend her but she did not desire to be sick. She seemed to envy the lady for her health, as she saw it.”

“…it was the lady’s mother who administered this medicine?” Claude questioned as new pieces fell together in his mind.

“I only know that the madame came to Lady Diana before bed to give her medicine. I do not know that it was that medicine, I did not see it.” Felix paused. “What is the significance, my lord?” He asked, annoyance creeping into his tone at the extensive talk of Diana.

“I intend to find out.”

He had wished to creep into the madame’s bedroom quickly and easily but the door was locked so they’d needed to fetch the key. Claude was shocked at the amount of sway he had over the servants of a house he was not a part of for the head maid simply handed over the key when he asked for it, albeit hesitantly as though she thought she might be scolded for doing so. When he took in the room, it was tidy and rather plain by aristocracy standards. The room seemed to have a chill about it, there was a draft somewhere that made it feel colder than the other rooms.

He began to pick carefully through her things, looking in every corner of the room for anything hidden. It was all mundane, droll and typical until he reached the last drawer of a dresser that was locked. Sure enough, nine bottles of unopened medicine neatly lined into rows of three. When he tried to pull the drawer out all the way and see what more he could find, it was caught on something that had been pressed against the top. Claude reached in to feel for it and pulled down what looked to be a simple leather bound, worn and yellowing journal.

Immediately he began to read. He was a bit startled at himself when he realized that he was eager to read the contents of his mother-in-law’s mind. He wanted to know how she saw you. How she justified treating you the way she did to uplift a child that was not her’s. A pitiful part of him just wanted there to be reason. He wanted cause for the rift in the relationship. He needed to believe there was a because to your suffering.

But what he read was not as he suspected. In neat, small lettering on the first page, it chronicled her life back to when she had been perhaps 19 years old but it was dated some ten years later. A reflection on her younger self written seemingly less as a journal and more a memoir.

“The princess had always been so gracious a mistress that even her tasks sounded like gifts.

When it was her time to return to her duties in her own kingdom, she resigned to it with great grace. However, she understood that the opposite would be true of her beloved knight. This fragile man only smiled in her company, protected her with wild fervor and once told her that he felt divinely guided to her. That to him, she was the symbol of god’s forgiveness and in serving her, loving her, he saw his life’s purpose. Oh, the princess lamented to me how dark a life her knight had lived, how the blood he shed as a knight haunted him with guilt. How his father had been of a violent sort in his efforts to transform his only living child into a knight of some worth to bring more prestige to their house and in his efforts to vent his own turmoil over his wife taking up with men of far more money, status and legacy than he. Her knight resembled his mother and so became the target of the ire he could not give his wife for the great protection being a mistress to such men afforded her. His mother knew what his father did, she did not care so long as it were not her. My heart came to soften for him too, the more she told me.

He had been a quiet man, shy and quite unknowingly sweet for his reputation as a ruthlessly skilled knight. He opened up to my princess like a flower toward the sun. He loved her so madly that she knew even though it was inevitable, he never intended to be where he could not protect her and stand at her side. The princess feared that their duties as princess and heir to a county respectively would give way to the knight’s devotion. She feared he’d kill himself trying to reunite with her or simply deteriorate under the burden of his own isolation but her own life was dedicated to more than just one person. It was her nation, her home of people waiting to see her return that she could not abandon. So in her stead, she asked me to stay in the kingdom and marry him. To give him a countess and to keep watch of him for anything he might do to interfere in both their duties.

It was a great honor she had given me entrusting someone so precious to me and given me a title higher than that I had been born with, I still feel that way now but I was foolish then and I did not understand the nature of what I was being asked to do. Nor would I until after it was already done.

You see (and it does, still pain me to even write such a silly thing), I did, at the time believe that I would become close to my husband. I viewed it as a matter of course, for I was far from a home I could never return to and he had no one. We were, for each other, the last traces of the princess. Though I could never think to hope for the kind of love that he gave to the princess, I believed that commonality could be nurtured into love or kinship. I wished for someone to turn to as my heart was sinking faster than a stone the longer I spent from my home. I believed it would happen. I believed he would become someone to lean on.

Though the first months of our marriage were cold, I managed to coax him into trying to have children as was our duty. I saw this as progress both in the way of our relationship as well as keeping him from the princess. I viewed even our coldness then as a sign of something beginning. It was only once, afterward, I think he worked very hard so that I would not ask him to do it again. But even so, I found that I was with child soon. I was a stupid girl then, I believed a child was what we needed to grow closer. I brought this news to him with a smile, I must have looked like an idiot.

My husband’s expression, I can never forget it. He was horrified at this revelation. He looked at me as though I’d announced a death. He looked at me as though I had wounded him. Then his beautiful eyes sparkled with unshed tears and his expression reverted to a weak, helpless smile as he said all the right things in his wavering voice.

It was then that I realized he would never love me. He was horrified at having a child with me, it was sheer terror and dread on his face when I told him. Perhaps he thought that I would not become pregnant at all, he would have preferred it that way. I hadn’t the relationship with him to truly comfort him, to know intimately what he feared about my child. I was useless in that way.

Through the following months, my apprehension was near unbearable. I kept feeling my stomach sink in dread, I kept waking up thinking that I would be home. I kept thinking that I had done something irreparable but I could think of nothing which was actually within my control. Therefore, when I finally gave birth, my relief that it was done with was greater than my joy. But that was alright with me because I had intended to deal with things in my own way."

From there, she went on to describe her rigid attention to being a diligent countess for a few droll pages. But at last, Claude came to another thing of significance. Your father had been summoned to court for political matters regarding the civil unrest which had not been quelled with the end of the war. Your mother could not follow him and leave a newborn alone so she had no choice but to simply trust in your father. She would come to regret that.

"My princess appeared like a bolt out of the blue months later. She was dressed as a peasant and had a somewhat bashful smile on her lips. Although I had missed her, all that I could think in seeing her was, "She should not be here."

But we brought her to the study so that presumably, she would tell us why she had returned when she had surely sworn that she could not. She took off her cloak and then I understood without her needing to tell me. I saw a little bump on her otherwise thin body and I was overcome. When my husband had returned to court, he had not been officially permitted to see my princess but they had met anyway and she was now with child. She had waited until she was just about to start beginning to show in order to take leave from court on the pretense of recovering from illness at her villa in the countryside.

I had been given the task of minding him but I had clearly failed. I should have gone with him no matter what. I should have taken the chance and left my child so that I could have prevented this. But my princess looked at me as faultless and took my hands in hers to assure me that she regretted nothing. She comforted my husband who apparently also knew nothing about this pregnancy until then. She knew his fears like the back of her hand, she knew exactly how to soothe them as I hadn't. He did not even have to speak. She simply knew.

Until then, I had not known that my husband dreaded having children for fear they would be cursed and afflicted with the same moral decay that his own parents had; and because he feared that having a child would bring the same thing out of him. Even if I had known, the princess was the perfect one to comfort him. She asked him if he believed a child born of her could be wicked and of course, he said no. She spun such sugary images of their child together for him with her eyes shining with joy. She told him that their child was special, that she did not fear him becoming a parent like his own because their child would change everything about being a father for him. It surely helped that my princess was glowing as she said such things, that the excitement radiating off of her grew stronger with each passing moment. He could not deny her, could not bring himself to contradict her words because he would always believe in her even if he did not believe in himself.

It went unsaid that the princess would be entrusting the child to the both of us. I had much apprehension about taking care of two babies rather than one and the secrets to be kept piling up above me but I could not complain, it had been my job for years to make everything work. I could not stop then when my princess needed me most. In any case, her presence in the manor brought life to a place that had become so eerie to me. She was the only flame in the dark and we were huddled around her, trying to preserve an ounce of warmth within ourselves. She was joyful through her pregnancy, she could not stop talking about the baby she was to have. The more she chattered, the more excited I became too as though I had any right to be. This was true of my husband too, who tentatively felt the kicks of his child and smiled, genuinely smiled as the princess did. I could see that he loved that child.

She slept in the master bedroom with him, after he left each day, I went in to help her get ready for the day. It was though I was still her maid and I suppose I wanted to be, would rather be that than a wife. But I could not bring myself to complain. I was not unlike my husband, I viewed my duties to the princess as somewhat sacred. I was as honored as I was anxious to raise the child.

On the day Diana was born, my husband was at my princess' side the entire time, as though he could protect her as her knight again. I could only marvel at him. When I had given birth, he stood at the foot of the bed stiffly and asked me what I intended to name our daughter, if I was alright and then told me that if I needed anything to have the butler prepare it at once. After Diana was born, my princess was still beautiful, perhaps even more so in her vulnerability. She held the most beautiful baby I had ever seen, close to her chest as my husband looked down at the both of them with sheer joy. It was as though all the happiness in the world existed between those three. My Diana had been born out of love and so it was easy to love her.

I left my own daughter to the maids in favor of caring for Diana when the princess rested. Her little ruby eyes and her head of soft blonde hair captivated me. Each coo or cry had my focus in a fraction of a second.

I had not yet considered the greater implications of her birth until my princess brought it to me. Diana had been born with an inordinate affinity for magic. The princess, as a member of the royal family had the capacity of a mage, it was kept secret through the death of magic that through her bloodline were those capable of miracles. I only knew after years of my proximity to the princess. This child, born in the time of civil unrest, when the queen had not yet been blessed with a child and the civil war had still bitterly divided the houses, was capable of being seen as a potential figurehead that could be used as a pawn in a new round of rebellion.

It was for me and my husband to put her above all things. Above even our own child. That, to me, went without saying for I did love Diana as my own daughter. But the princess knew that anything could happen and she used all of the strength of her magic to cast a spell over her that would be held with Diana's own great magic. My princess nearly expended all her energy to do so. Magic, she had once told me, was seen as a weak form of power because it relied so greatly upon emotion. It was the transformation of want into will. I knew not the details of the spell which bound my mistress' daughter. All my princess said was that her precious Diana would live happily, that for all the odds against her, she still had odds in her favor."

Claude felt numb as he turned the pages. He was in shock, suddenly the environment of the room felt too harsh and stimulating but he was glued to the journal. He could not dare stop reading it no matter what truths arose. So he flipped the page and read every single entry even as his hands trembled.

From then on, it was Diana, Diana, Diana. With each entry, she recorded a measurement which he assumed was the amount of medicine administered and her symptoms. She fretted over whether it was right to give her more or to give her less. She wrote about denying Diana's requests to go outside, to go to the theatre, to do much of anything besides stay in bed. It chilled him to the bone but more than that, perplexed him. He was staring at a page where your mother had seemed to write sloppily, hurried and anxious when he heard a voice.

"Lord Claude?" It was your mother, standing in the doorway.

He looked slowly up at her, at a loss for words and unable to reconcile the cold mother she was to you with her joy at being Diana's proxy mother. Unable, still, to understand why she was poisoning the daughter she loved so much.

"My lord, you should not be in here," she said softly but in her blank expression, it was apparent that she knew what he was there for. "It will look strange to others, for you to do something like this."

"You poisoned Diana," He was keenly aware of how delicately she was trying to dance around this subject but he was unwilling to indulge her.

Your mother did not even blink. "You must understand me, Lord Claude. Please understand."

"What is there to understand? You neglect your own daughter and fawn over your husband's illegitimate daughter only to poison her."

Your mother shook her head slowly as if she could not believe what he was implying. "I love that girl," she said, moving deeper into the room and shutting the door behind her. "Diana is my little princess. She is my only daughter."

A rush of rage ran up his body, carrying an unbearable desire to hurt her. "She's not your daughter at all. She's the daughter of a woman far more beloved than you."

But your mother could only smile helplessly. "Yes, but even so, she is my daughter in heart. You must trust me when I say that Diana was hopeless before."

"Hopeless?" His brow furrowed and a cold feeling creeped up his back, extinguishing his fury and replacing it with a kind of fear for the woman in front of him. "She wasn't hopeless, she was able to wed me, to live happily." He said it not as a defense of her but as an accusation.

"That poor girl. In the first place, she already had a weak constitution, because her magic was stronger than her body but it was the perfect excuse to keep inside and away from the eyes of those who would want to hurt her. But it was my eldest daughter who kept planting false hope in her. She even sent Diana before my husband to beg him to let her go to the academy because she knew very well he could not say no to her." There was venom in her voice, a sneer on her face. Claude rose to stand slowly, not knowing what he was going to do.

"He cannot say no to Diana because he loves her so, no, he loves her mother so," she sighed. "All the other one did was cause troubles. Diana had already given up but she roused such hope in the girl, false hope, cruel hope. If she had not been able to marry you...I do not know how we would have protected her. If my daughter was still alive, everything would be ruined. It was you who saved her, my lord. That is why I beg of you, don't judge me. You know that Diana is special. You must know."

"I did not want to save her, she did not need to be saved."

She remained with that pitiful smile on her face. "My husband is weak to her. He will...he will never forgive what I've done to our- his little princess. He won't understand. He will think that I have killed my princess. You know, he almost sees them as one in the same." She reached onto her desk, picking up a letter opener. "Diana will be hurt if she knows. I ask that you let the girl live her life believing as I told her. She deserves that much. I let her believe what I did because it was in her best interest. Please take care of her."

Before he could react, your mother plunged the sharp end of the letter opener into her throat.

tags: @kage-tobiuo@kreishin @rosephantomhive@yeahdrarry@splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiesss @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid@ariachaos@cerisearan@irisspade@yaesflorist@jcrml@xiaosprettygf@yevenly@amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @softbummiee@cassanderasblog @waka-babe @bananatwirl@s1mp69 @mitsuyamistress @hottiewifeyyyy @reiko69 @syyyy4ever @pinkpastel-l @dododododooosworld @gwyneveire @mvoonxlightv @noisyenthusiastface @coldpeachkitten @brightykitten @worstliving

#claude x reader #wmmap x reader #claude de alger x reader #claude de alger obelia x reader #wmmap fanfic

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cheesus-doodles · 4 months

Text

Wish

Reincarnation AU! Yandere Gojo

Masterlist | Reincarnation AU Masterlist

found myself in kind of a slump just trying to write anything, please have this in the meantime - will also be trying to answer some asks soon while i work on the longer pieces

‎‎‎

tw: violence against reader, mentions of torture, blood, dead dove do not eat

I'll grant any wish you have. That deceptively loving coo was something you had heard countless times before, combined with a gentle comb of his hand through your locks.

Sure, Gojo, would come your predicable reply, complete with a roll of your eyes, before you go back to whatever it was you did for work.

Good looks, money, power - Gojo Satoru always had had the world at his fingertips. And it would have all been yours, everything mortal possession he owned. He hadn't even asked for much in return, just your utter and completely loyalty and obedience to him. In exchange for the sun and moon, any wish that you had granted at the drop of a hat, that much seemed like a rather paltry price to pay, Gojo would think.

Yet here he was, the sorcerer mused, as he drove another nail straight into your shin almost absentmindedly, the spurt of blood that came rocketing out a tantalising shade of crimson. Your shaky gaze shot up to meet his instantly, pupils completely constricted as tears were forced from the corners of painful red eyes; your cries and whimpers had long died away despite your current obvious suffering, raw throat having lost its ability to produce any sound louder than a grunt.

Leaning over to peer down at you with those infinite crystal eyes, Gojo didn't seem the slightest bit affected by your twisted expression. "See anything yet?" The question was followed by a giggle, the look on your face already telling the man everything he needed to know. Despite your understandable fear of him, you still showed no sign of recognition of the presence of curses all around you, and that was unacceptable.

He did need to make absolute sure that you had complete belief in souls that you could reincarnate back as a curse after all, and there was no way better way than to let you see one for yourself. Some real-life ghouls would definitely make quick work of turning a disbeliever into a believer.

‎‎‎

The night outside was quiet, the ominous heavy clouds that threatened to spill at any given moment a perfect reflection of your current grim predicament. Picking up another nail, Gojo made sure to show it to you before he selected a new spot for his gruesome art, this time driving it into the top of your arm with a whistle.

He didn't want to do this, the white-haired man assured himself, that much he would swear to anyone that would care long enough to listen. Out of all the souls that roamed this mortal plane, you were the last one that he wanted to hurt, let alone kill. Not his beloved darling, his soulmate. But you left him no choice. He simply couldn't let you go, not with the way you lived in his head rent free, haunting his every thought.

Maybe, perhaps if you had been a sorcerer in this life, things would have turned out differently. You would have looked up to him as the world's most powerful sorcerer, would have been taken in by his abilities and the weighty clan name attached.

But that was fine.

"Don't worry," the man patted your mangy hair, gently rubbing two matted locks of hair apart between his fingers. "Everything'll be fine."

It'll hurt for now, that much was certain, but your pain and suffering wouldn't be for naught. Being on death's door was one way for normals to see curses, and he would make sure that your agony would be over quickly.

Taking a glance up at the starry sky that blanketed the empty skyline, Gojo breathed, the fresh air a welcome change from the iron scent of stale blood that clad his clothes. You only ever made a single teasing wish of being immortal to him before, over a cup of coffee at a cafe, before you laughed it off - and you had never made another wish after that. But Gojo was benevolent.

Once your soul was reincarnated as a curse, he was sure he could find some old tool in the depths of his clan's treasuries to force you back into your old body and grant your wish. Plus, it would be so much easier to bind you to him when you weren't quite human, and you could spend the eternity of your next life with him.

Win-win.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #yandere gojo #satoru #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #yandere gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #reincarnation jjk #reincarnation au

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crowleys-hips · 11 days

Text

Ocean

who knew that a whole ocean could be less than an inch wide? its entire depth held there in the vastness of your curious eyes i'm so afraid of drowning -all the time- but you reassure me i can breathe underwater. now it turns out i had never known oxygen until i dove into those silver blue waves and took my first breath

there inside i've found a multiverse encapsulated in the finite fragility of a human-shaped frame

that face is merely a mask and i've seen you without it there, ensconced beneath your kind gaze and gentle smile lives a fierce, ferocious passion a devotion to your convictions that bleeds into the world around you in rivulets of truths masked as embellished lies a driving force that crushes my reality into fantastic fragments of distorted visions that finally make life make sense

i see scars that resemble my own i see that deeply rooted solitude that's entrenched into our very souls pervasive and persistent throughout ages of a winless fight that singles us out as renegades

look at Us lucky Us here is our deliverance in furtive glances late nights and kisses shared from light years away

your fingerprints are indelible on my broken chest your careful digits weave golden thread through gaping wounds and fill the cracks anointing them with hallowed words

you sing, and time stops to listen your voice alone makes whole worlds bloom the hours and minutes and seconds follow the cadence of your breath and heartbeat

i wonder

if i kiss your hands would i be blessed with infinite lives across any dimension? should my tongue worship your fingertips would i find absolution?

i don't think i existed before you i have suffered a rebirth of sorts not through my despair but through the undeserved blessing of your voice calming my fears cutting through the deafening noise that besieges my crumbling mind flaring my terror of safety and gently guiding me home with your hand in mine

i'm still so afraid

but i'm not drowning now

i'm learning to swim

(i'm sorry if this was a bit much. things got out of hand.)

taglist under the cut:

@goodomensafterdark @wibbly-wobbly-blog @phantomram-b00 @crowleys-bentley-and-plants @charlotte-zophie @crowleys-curl @quoththemaiden @thewibblylever @genderqueer-hippie @lickthecowhappy @celestialcrowley @im-the-j-in-anthony-j-crowley @sabotage-on-mercury @ineffabildaddy @ineffable-rohese @rainbowcrowley @alwaysbemybae @fearandhatred @roof-of-trees @weasleywrinkles @brokewokebespoke @eybefioro @captainblou @amagnificentobsession

if you wanna be added/removed lemme knoww

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buckybarnesb-tch · 11 months

Note

Hi, can I make a request about Yandere Bucky when he is your therapist and after you tell all your shit he falls in love with you (I would like to have a little jealousy from him for the boys you are with)

Love your work <3

Yandere Therapist!Bucky

This was a very interesting one to write. I’m really starting to love writing AU’s of both Bucky and Klaus

Bucky knew very quickly that he was in love with you.

You sought out a therapist when you started having panic attacks more frequently and you met with 3 before walking into James Barnes office. He was polite, gentle and understanding in a way you had never experienced from any man in your life up to that point and that’s why you decided to come back again, and again, eventually deciding to meet with him once a week.

He was a very kind man. You talked about things with him that you had never told anyone before and he understood that, you appreciated how he would ask a question and change the subject to something lighter when you became overwhelmed, making a note to circle back to it later, never wanting you to become too upset but also pushing you just enough to begin making progress with your mental health.

You looked forward to your time with James, who had insisted on your third visit that you just call him Bucky. He made you so comfortable that you felt like you were talking to a friend and when you expressed that he told you that’s exactly what he wanted, for you to feel comfortable and safe in his office to discuss the painful experiences in your life, of which there were many.

Bucky however, by the end of your first session, he had fallen head over heels in love with you. He ensured you would be coming back to see him, it didn’t feel like work to talk to you, and he wanted to know everything there was to know about you. He could admit to himself he had become a bit obsessed…completely obsessed.

After your third session he made sure he had no other clients that evening and he hopped into his car, following you home to find out where it was you lived with the man you called your boyfriend.

Bucky hated Max.

Max was a physically and emotionally abusive asshole that you couldn’t find your way out from under. He had manipulated you into complete dependency on him and Bucky didn’t just hate him, he was Jealous. He wanted you to look at him like that, as the man to provide for you, as the man to take care of you, as the man for you to love with your whole heart.

He hated every man you had ever spoken with him about. When you and Bucky had started getting into talking about your sex life his jealousy got infinitely worse. He loved how honest you were with him, trusting him with your experiences and fantasies, even trusting him with your painful and scary experiences which he hated that you had been forced to live through. He decided he would make sure that you would never suffer again.

James Barnes was going to be your lover, your boyfriend, your Daddy. He was going to be your everything and you would love every minute of it.

‘I know that it’s scary for you Doll, but this relationship as you’ve described it to me isn’t healthy. You’ve told me about his abuse and his explosive rage, you’re not safe in his house, it’s not a home for you. Men are supposed to be gentle and caring with their women, that doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun in the bedroom however you want but a man should never put their hand on you in anger.’ James explained, placing his notebook down and standing up. ‘May I?’ He asked and you nodded, moving over so that he could sit beside you on the couch. ‘I want you to let me hold you, you need to experience what kind touches from a man are like. I think if you feel them, then you’ll understand a bit better how important they are. If that’s okay, of course. I would never do anything you were uncomfortable with.’

‘I…yeah, it’s okay, um…how do…?’ He smiled at your awkward feelings, holding his arms out.

‘Come here Doll, let me hold you.’ Y/n moved closer to his side, leaning into his chest and sighing as his arms wrapped around her.

‘Now what?’

‘Just enjoy it. Hold on.’ Bucky lifted her up and moved to lay himself back against the couch so she was laying on his chest and he held her firmly, pressing his lips to her forehead. ‘There you go beautiful girl, you’re safe. No one is going to hurt you. I’ll keep you safe.’ His fingers brushed through her soft hair as he fought with his cock in his mind to not get excited no matter how desperate he was to have you ride him like this. It was only about 30 seconds of cuddling before he felt her sobbing into his chest and he immediately held her tighter, rubbing her back and kissing her head. ‘I know. It’s okay Darlin, this is how it’s supposed to feel. You’re supposed to feel safe with your man.’

‘I’ve never felt safe like this…wish I had met you somewhere else.’ She teased and he chuckled along but he knew it didn’t matter where or when they had met, because Y/n was going to be his now.

Bucky kept that up as he began seeing her twice a week, every session went like that from then on. He would spend 30 minutes talking to her before moving to sit beside her and hold her to his chest once again and she never once complained, often being quite unhappy when the hour was up and it was time to go home. He loved that.

A session later he began kissing her head, then her cheek and the week after that he pressed their lips together quickly before ending that session and she was red as a tomato. He loved how sweet and innocent she was even after all of the pain she’s suffered. In their next session he found her burying her face into his neck, nuzzling as close as she could and he tested the waters a bit brushing his hand slowly from her lower back to her butt, caressing her ass gently but she never made any indication she was upset by it. He moved himself a bit and made it seem natural before bending his leg up between hers so his thigh was pressed right against her pussy. She whimpered in his ear as she fidgeted and he enjoyed her reactions quite a bit, trying to suppress his cock as it responded to her hot breath against his neck. He didn’t move again, just allowing her to be comfortable with him touching her like this no matter how difficult it was.

It was that next session that he broke her.

He had maneuvered her into the same position as 3 days ago, face in his neck, straddling his thigh before he pressed his leg more firmly into her, hearing her loud moan though she tried to muffle it. ‘Oh god! I’m sorry, I-‘

‘No, no sorries. Just relax pretty girl.’ He moved the same way once again and her hips rutted down against him as her fingers tightened into his shirt. ‘There you go. Feels good, doesn’t it?’ Y/n nodded into his neck as her body continued moving, grinding down on his leg until she was riding it like a desperate whore and Bucky was living for it. He was in heaven as his girl moved herself on him in ways he only imagined before. ‘That’s it, keep going. Use me Doll, make that pretty pussy feel good, you deserve to feel so good.’ One of his hands held her ass while the other trailed up the back of her shirt to touch her soft skin for the first time. ‘He doesn’t do this for you, does he? Does he make your cunt drip all over him?’ She shook her head frantically, so high on her pleasure he didn’t think anything could shake her out of it right now. ‘Dumbass doesn’t deserve such a pretty pussy, or such a wonderful girl. A good man would never treat you like that.’ He said it in such a way that he knew she would equate that good man to him, she was already half in love with him before, he hoped to push her over the edge today by literally pushing her over the edge. ‘Such a good girl.’ The moan that came out of her mouth was possibly the most desperate and needy sound he had ever heard, coupled with the sound of a sob and he quickly began moving his leg to help her finish faster. ‘It’s okay, just let it out, you cry if you need to precious. You’re a good girl, no matter what that idiot says. You’re so fucking good! No such thing as too needy with a good Daddy, I’m here. You’re safe baby, just…let go. Let go for Daddy.’

‘Oh God!’ She screamed, crying out in completion and desperation as she held tighter to his body. He held her to him and brushed through her hair gently as she came down from her intense orgasm and she was cuddled so close he believed she wanted to become one with his body. It was at that moment that the timer went off, letting him know that their hour was up and he slammed his hand against it to shut it up. ‘Shit!’

‘Don’t worry Y/n, it’s okay. I don’t have another client, just relax for a few minutes and-‘ she pushed herself off of him and quickly jumped up.

‘Im sorry, I should have done that! Oh God! I just assaulted you! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!’ She was frantic, moving to grab her bag as Bucky jumped up after her. ‘Don’t try and tell me it’s okay, that wasn’t okay! I’m a horrible person! You should never want to see me again-‘

‘And yet, I do. Relax Y/n, don’t you think if I didn’t want you to, I would have pushed you off? I’m plenty strong enough-‘

‘You felt sorry for me! Because of course you do! I’m so desperate for some affection that I just jumped my therapist, it’s fucking pathetic! I’m so-‘

‘If you say “sorry” one more time I’m going to take you ever my knee.’ He warned and she just whined, moving for the door. ‘Y/n!’ He caught her arm as she moved out the door and she wouldn’t look at him. ‘Please tell me you’re coming back? You’re scheduled for Tuesday and Friday, just please? Please come back?’ She hesitantly nodded before rushing out the door and leaving him to kick himself for pushing you too hard. He needs to get her back.

Tuesday came and went, she didn’t show up for the appointment and Bucky was worried. He drove passed her apartment and didn’t see any lights on, waiting there for a few hours but not once was there any movement. He called your cell and left a message for you, continuing to look for you after work Wednesday and Thursday just needing to see that you were alright.

When Friday came he was preparing to finish early that day since he assumed you weren’t coming until he heard the soft knock on his door, opening it to see you standing there with your hair covering your face which was odd, it was usually upon a ponytail or at least pinned away from your eyes. ‘Hey. I was getting worried about you, you didn’t call me back, I thought you were gonna skip out on me again.’ He moved and led her to the couch after shutting the door and sitting beside her. ‘Y/n? What’s wrong?’ Bucky moved to tuck her hair behind her ear and saw the purple color on her eye prompting him to tilt her head up. She had bruises around both of her eyes, her jaw was bruised and it looked a lot like finger shaped bruises, along with a split lip in 2 places. ‘Did he do this?’

Y/n nodded. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I…I tried to break up with him on Monday and this happened. I fell down the stairs and ended up in the ER, I stayed with my friend after that. My voice was messed up cause of the bruises on my throat, I didn’t want you to be subjected to that over the phone.’ She teased but his face let her know that he didn’t find it funny before he pulled her into his arms firmly.

‘Don’t you joke about this, this isn’t amusing to me. He could have killed you, I-I could have lost you!’ Bucky knew if there was ever a time to get to her it was now, she was already in love with him, this was the perfect moment to give her that final push. He pulled her onto his lap gently, not knowing where she was bruised and not willing to cause her harm before turning her head and pressing his lips to hers gently, not wanting to harm her split lip. She gasped against him but relaxed none the less into his body and into the kiss. ‘Please tell me you’re done with him? You can come and stay with me, I’ll take care of you! I can’t live without you anymore Princess, I just can’t!’

‘You’re my therapist, I can’t move in with you. That’s all kinds of illegal, you could get in so much trouble-‘

‘I stopped being your therapist the first time we cuddled in your session. I care about you so much Y/n, I can’t spend another minute without you in my arms. Please?’ His hand trailed up her back under her shirt as he kissed her neck over the bruises which he knew she loved.

‘Daddy…’ she whimpered, needy and desperate before Bucky couldn’t hold it in anymore. He spun them around so he pinned her to the couch, wrapping her legs around his waist, Y/n’s hands buried in his hair while his hips ground down against hers, letting her feel his hard cock pressed against her for the first time.

‘That’s right Princess, I’m your Daddy now, and you’re fucking mine!’ He couldn’t control the growl in his voice as he felt her sweet pussy pressed against him through their clothes, desperate to feel her warmth wrapped around him.

‘Oh God, I-‘ He cut her off with his hand around her throat.

‘Mine! You’re done with that fucking idiot, Daddies gonna take care of you now. Starting with taking you home and fucking this little cunt I’ve been desperate for since you sat on this couch your first day! Are you gonna be Daddies good girl?’ She nodded quickly, holding tightly to him, clearly needy for him now. Bucky knew that he wanted more than anything to fuck her in his office, however he also knew that once he felt her he would never pull his cock out of her again, he would be fucking her all night. He needed to get her home so that he could have his way with her and he knew she would do anything he asked of her right now. ‘Good.’ He yanked her up to her feet before bending down and hoisting her over his shoulder causing her to squeal before he slapped his metal hand painfully against her ass. ‘Let’s get you in the car. Daddy needs to feel your hot mouth around my cock.’

Her responding moan was all he needed. Y/n was his now and no one would take her from him, even if he needed to kill that punk asshole to ensure it.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

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anantaru · 1 year

Text

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅♡ sfw kaveh boyfriend headcanons

he‘s just amazing, point blank ૮꒰ྀི ⸝⸝ɞ̴̶̷ ·̫ ‹⸝⸝ ꒱ྀིა ‧₊˚

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, sharing kisses, a little angsty, gn! reader

+ ˚ spontaneous dates on a budget

to be frank, your lovely boyfriend kaveh never considered being short of mora to hold any sort of significant problem above his head nor did he ever regard it as something to completely wreck a well-thought out day with his beloved.

sincerely, you knew the blonde oh too well— particularly his charming tendencies to plan out your sweet dates.

as it happens, kaveh would always kindly decline your own offer to help out with any kind of planning because little do you realize was he quite fond of surprising you with his creative ideas, leaving not one stone unturned to make it into a spectacle in broad daylight, on a budget of course.

as an alternative of taking you out for a grand and pricy dinner on a warm evening in sumeru city, the architect will instead search for a nice and cozy place outside of it.

when it comes to the topic of food, he will mostly raid the freshly bought refreshments his roommate had purchased the other day when it was his turn to buy and fill up on required necessities.

now, hold on— zooming to a significant question that might float above your head right now; will kaveh tell alhaitham that he's taking some of the foods he shopped for himself? well, probably after he had already finished them with you, heh.

+ ˚ his fears

when deep rooted lovers such as kaveh and yourself strive to keep emotional and supporting tendencies for a lifetime, your bond was destined to be set in stone, to be eternal and flourishing— giving off light which was parallel to flames that breathe all the more deeply for being closer together.

in you, his loving significant other, he saw a comfortable life inherited infinitely and kaveh was quite eager to keep a balance in your relationship.

because you had been aware of his fears— the actuality was dreadful, of you leaving him behind one day.

the clear thought of such grueling despair alone was formed heavily in his blood vessel, a strong phenomena that cannot be measured throughout his own psyche.

in times like this, it's reassurance he needs, of course, you wouldn't ever leave him and he knows, yet the fear was always there— the frightening perception spreading inwardly, secretly hiding in the fathomless profundity of his heart.

+ ˚ huge cuddle (+kissies) sessions for hours

but now, to the fun part— in spite of the fact that kaveh was a passionate and emotional lover, he too had an abundantly huge love to give to you physically. quite frankly, he couldn't possibly keep his hands to himself and just had to have them encircled around your body at all times.

ever so often you catch kaveh being needier than usual but you really do not mind, you say it's cute if anything, when his cheeks surge with a heated bubbling as he walks towards you with his infamous puppy eyes, awaiting a well deserved hug.

kaveh once told you that being touch starved was one of the things he would suffer from on a daily, even though you have seen each other all the time. was he perhaps dramatic? yes, doesn't need a genius to figure that out, but that was one of the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place.

most of the times you will spend enough closeness together, hugging in your home, not his, but your home. yours was better and not plagued by the evil scribe bothering you, as kaveh had stated himself.

yet my love, do not concern yourself with outside noises, he whispers;

between an occurring storm outside the impounds of your warm home, supplemental to the wind that howls loudly through fallen leaves, in the opinion of your boyfriend, you were the gentle centre that occupied his life, and so here he was safe with you just as you were safe with him, coming to rest at his side with his scarlet eyes gleaming splendidly through the shadowed room.

aside from the cute fact of this matter, it was ridiculously amusing to you that kaveh didn't realize that he was an exceptional kisser, always giving his one hundred and ten percent. foremost, he will take things slow, leaning into your parted lips before claiming you wholly, not adding too much but the right amount was greeting you abundantly well.

you can see himself become excited the moment his movements get more uneven and unpredictable, when he feels like he needs to taste you further in order to feel somehow satiated.

above all, you see yourself becoming whole again as you slant into him, vulnerable and caring, you find yourself addicted to him, as much as he did too— but for every reason that is pure and right, none other dared to share this sweet perception of delight.

you were his safety and love, an anchor he held onto, that he tethers himself to because he so wanted to drag this moment on as long as physically possible.

+ ˚ conclusion and how he sees your relationship

finally yet most importantly, kaveh shares his views with you, he is incredibly transparent and never keeps a secret locked away from his significant other— he found it to be unnecessary to hide any topics that might concern you as well.

essentially in his own terms of phraseology;

“something such as transparency in a relationship was the gold key to my heart.”

archons, he's so damn in love with you it almost pains him to admit it all over again. to describe this fondness was impossible; wether its irreverent topics you'd ramble about together, funny, real as a crystal fly hiding in the rain and walking perfectly with your own dreams and fantasies.

you were bound and free with him, floating and established, laughing and sober— most of the times because if truth be told, kaveh was a terrible lightweight and couldn't hold in his liquor, ever.

but perhaps, now that he has the time to indulge in the kindness of your relationship, it is you that performs the miracles in his life.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #genshin fluff #kaveh x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact kaveh x reader #genshin impact drabbles #kaveh fluff #genshin impact kaveh x reader fluff #genshin impact kaveh #kaveh drabbles #kaveh headcanons #genshin impact headcanons

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ayaboba · 9 months

Text

YOU’RE FOREVERMORE

summary: times he appreciates you so much.

characters: albedo, ayato, xiao, wanderer, kazuha.

albedo — your endless compassion

albedo opened the door to a dimly lit bedroom, the only remaining light coming from the lopsided strings of fairy lights weakly glowing from one of the walls. crayons, costumes, and scrunched-up paper lay scattered all across the floor, leading towards the foot of the bed.

his eyes followed the trail, then softened. making sure to pick up the mess, his vision settled on two people, cozily embraced together under crimson clover covers.

then he picked up a drawing, left of the bedside table. there were plenty of people, but three people stuck out to him, their hands intertwined, smiles on their faces.

ayato — your overflowing faith in him

ayato never understood; no matter how long he spends thinking with that sharp mind of his, he’ll never know why you chose him.

he was cunning and shrewd. he held a position that frequently faced unwanted public attention without a rest. assassination attempts? too many to count.

but you knew ayato was simply too harsh on himself. in your eyes, he was a man who would do anything for his family. the family he treasured so dearly and the unrelenting love he so craved in return. perhaps you were too perfect, like someone from a dream, that he found it so hard to believe you were real.

xiao - your positivity

throughout his long, long lifetime, xiao suffered. an infinite abyss of pain and sadness indescribable. he found it hard to trust and love, those feelings rusty, yet still undeniably there.

he dreamt that all those beautifully warm emotions would somehow return. he dreamed, eyes gazing into the moonlit sky, wishing upon each star to give back what was rightfully his.

yes, the stars listened. but he would never expect that the feelings would come in the form of a human. an alluring human that never failed to brighten up his existence, always having something amusing to say—a laugh that was simply, wonderfully contagious. your positive outlook was admirable, xiao thought. he wanted to be like you. maybe not as lively, but just as happy.

wanderer - how you’re so understanding

like ayato, wanderer wonders why you stuck with him. he’s got a personality that annoyed the most patient, complimented with a sharp tongue that seemed impossible to not have something sarcastic to say. if he were you, he would steer away in the farthest direction. but it would be an outright lie to deny that he didn’t enjoy your presence next to his.

like the days when his soul feels like a void of hopelessness, you would be there, next to him, telling him in that oh-so-soft voice that he was enough, always enough for everyone and himself to appreciate.

don’t expect him to not reciprocate these actions; never has he forgotten all the things you’ve given. he’ll repay you ten times the love, because you are ten times worth it.

kazuha - your encouragement

kazuha has seen with his own eyes the cruellest and most traumatising events one could ever experience in their life. he puts on a facade of reserved tranquility and calmness, but sometimes that mask cracks just a bit, barely enough for anyone to notice. but of course, you do.

kazuha has always appreciated everything you’ve done for him; never has a moment shared with you been taken for granted. but now, the small, subtle actions and gentle words delivered at times when his heart begins to race and his palms are covered in sweat, it’s a whole new level of sympathy. he knows from the bottom of his heart that it’ll never get easier, but you make it all the more bearable. and that’s already far more than what he has ever hoped for.

#genshin fluff #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #ayato x reader #xiao x reader #wanderer x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin drabbles #anya writes ✧.*

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blueberrypancakesworld · 6 months

Text

In a relationship - Coryo,Sejanus,Lucy

warning : fluff, comfort

----------

Coriolanus Snow : He would love you just too obsessively after Lucy had betrayed him. You were the only one who had never betrayed him, who had always been there for him, who had done everything he asked of you. In return, he would reward you with gifts of clothes, jewelry, physical favors. He was the snow that always lands on top and you were his wife. No matter how much the outside appears, as soon as the doors close, he is the one who snuggles up to you. He needs your touch and loves it when you stroke his head and wipe away his tears when he mourns his friend. He gives you everything you want in return, you are the pretty jewel by his side as long as you behave yourself. But he would bring you a white rose every day with a kiss and entertain you with poems he had found in his grandmothers' old books. They were small moments but moments of love that put everything back in order at a time when the snow is stained with blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sejanus Plinth : He would look after you and care for you whether you came from a district like his or from the Capitol. You are the most important thing to him, the only person next to Snow with whom he doesn't have to put on the cold face of a winner. He wants you to see the real him, his soft, caring, maybe even his broken side the longer you're together. His parents had money, everyone knew that, but even if he used it to buy things, it was mostly things that made him see you smile. He always gently takes your hand and kisses your cheek every time he greets you before the kiss turns into an intimate one in the evening. He takes you out to his old district on dark days to show you what it's really like. What he had suffered and he tries to hide his tears on those dark, broken days. His heart only beat harder with devotion and love when he felt your gentle hands on his cheeks. You reassure him that everything is all right and pull him onto the sofa with you. He lies his head on your lap and cries silently to himself while you take away his guilt. He is infinitely grateful that you are not what this world tried to make of him. That instead of heartlessness you are devotion and love.

~~~~~~~~~~

She is your sunshine and would give anything to keep you and her safe after the games. The connection to you through the different districts because even though you are actually from District 12, you joined her. It was the Hunger Games that had separated you, but in all that time you had held on to each other. She thought of you, sang the songs on TV just for you, the expressions and gestures were all for Lucy's friend. The reunion at the lake and the concert that followed was even bigger. Lucy took you to the lake with her in summer and spring. The black-haired beauty started to play the guitar whenever she could and sang the songs. Songs that made her beloved's heart beat and knowing that it was safe, that she could trust again was one of the most important things. That even when it rained, the stones of the mountains and shadows frightened Lucy because it reminded her of the horrors of the arena, she was infinitely grateful to her muse that she had them. When she gently pulled Lucy into her arms, playing with the long strands of hair, softly murmuring a song and moving back and forth, she took away her fear. She had her songbird's softness again and Lucy was still unbroken by the love of her beloved.

~~~~~~~~~~~

@tinfairies , @darlingtulips , @tins-library , @redactedfanficarchive , @wondering-again , @qoopeeya , @oceansrose2002

#tbosas #tbosas movie #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #sejanus plinth #sejanus x reader #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x reader

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damn-stark · 23 days

Text

Chapter 40 Once there was a way to get back home

Chapter 40 of Sugar

A/N- :)

Warning- Swearing, ANGST, fluff!!, violence and blood, Sukuna, flashback, SPOILERS!!!! long chapter!

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Episode and or chapters- Chapter 257-258

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Damn stupid fucker. He almost ate your damn leg!

Fuck, fuck!

The pain is so unbearable. Not even labor hurt this damn bad! No pain you’ve ever suffered has hurt this bad, damn, damn!

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Choso tries a multiple time to distract you from the pain you so obviously express on your face no matter how hard you try to hide it.

“I can’t,” you whine. “It hurts. It hurts too bad.”

Choso draws out a deep breath to try and ignore his own pain before trying to calm you down while you heal since you don't have his healing speed. “You did great, you know that? When you fought Sukuna all by yourself, you did amazing.”

You grab your leg and blink repeatedly before watching him through tears, not knowing how to react or what to say.

“I…was in between trying to get to you and watching the fight so I wouldn’t miss anything, but what I did see was amazing, and you used the hand motion for piercing blood.” He mentions with his cheeks blazing red.

You laugh between the throbbing pain and nod. “I can be a good student when my teacher is hot.”

Choso scoffs and looks at the ground timidly. Silence passes and the pain has become less since a few seconds ago, but it doesn't pass fast enough, so you envy your husband's ability to heal so fast—You can’t even focus on Yuji and Sukuna fighting.

“You didn’t listen to me,” Choso brings up as he seems to be rummaging through his pocket. “I told you not to use your technique so you could use less cursed energy. After all, it's not infinite. You’re not like me.”

You swallow thickly, and your guilt manages to steal your attention away from your pain. Yet just as you’re about to apologize he pulls something out and surprises you. “Thank you. I was being selfish in hopes that would keep you safer, but now I know that I would’ve just killed you if you listened to me.”

You snap your eyes to look at him tenderly, but still with guilt. Even though if you asked him the same thing he wouldn’t listen either.

“Here,” Choso goes on before you can interject and leans over to grab your hand and unfurl your fingers to place the red and orange glass swan on your palm.

You remember giving it to him so he could keep it safe until you reunited, but seeing such a meaningful little swan back on your palm pulls at your heartstrings and makes you hopeful.

Someway, somehow. Even if the fight isn’t over yet, you take it as a sign of hope, and that maybe you will be able to go back home together.

You want to go home. With him.

“Choso,” you mewl, making him blink and look at you softly as he waits for what you have to say in that honey-dripping voice.

“I want to go home,” you say so quietly that he almost misses the gentle plea behind your words, but he does catch it. He sees it too in your sweet fire-kissed eyes, and it aches his soul.

So sweet you were. So vulnerable in such chaos that he once again asks himself why you ever chose him.

“Soon,” is all he can offer your pleading soul. “Soon my love. We’ll go live by a beach. Just like you want. We’ll get sheep because they’re quiet.”

You laugh softly and smile because he remembers. Even if moments ago he sounded like he was making sure to say his goodbyes and that got you furious, now, you smile over a small detail that recalls not so long ago but feels like centuries ago; even if you know that he would die today if the need arose.

“Somewhere far from Japan. I don’t want Yuji, Satori, or our twins to grow up here anymore. We’ll go someplace far. Someplace beautiful, hm? That’s all I’ve been thinking about since we got married.”

There’s nothing here for you anymore. There was only Satoru before, but he’s gone now. And Nanako and Mimiko weren’t able to be buried, and Suguru? Well, you have plans for how to put his body to rest. There’s only Shoko left, but she’s suffered too if she wants she could come with you. What’s holding her here?

Nothing is holding you back anymore so you’ll be more than happy to leave.

“I’ll love that,” you agree to Choso’s plan wholeheartedly.

Choso sighs in relief even if he should know better, and leans over to wrap you in an embrace, bringing you so much comfort in such disarray that you nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck just before he has to break this moment apart.

“It doesn’t hurt now does it?” He asks against your neck before pressing a gentle kiss on the flesh of your neck, causing you to smile giddily at the tickle of his wet lips against your warm flesh.

“No,” you point out to yourself. “You distracted me and took the pain away. You’re good at that.”

You feel his lips tug to a smile on your neck and can’t help the shivers that go down your spine.

“I’ve had practice,” he says kind of smugly.

“Other girls?” You tease.

Choso doesn’t get you're only pulling his leg and quickly counters. “No, my brothers. I used to try and distract my brothers from all the bad we felt when we were trapped.”

You hum and caress his back at the mention, making him stay pressed against you for just a bit longer to let your comfort sink in and cherish the fact that you’re alive.

When you pull away you’re only faced with the dreadful truth that you can’t escape in the comfort of each other's arms a moment longer. There’s others relying on you.

They need you now…

——

*NOT SO LONG AGO*

“Those who wanna fight need either the reverse cursed technique or anti-domain tactics,” Hakari mentions, but isn’t that obvious?

“That’s a no-go for me,” Maki says, making you slowly look at her with slight annoyance because obviously, Hakari was not referring to her.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” he grimaces.

“I believe Yuji and I will manage with reverse cursed technique,” Choso now drifts the subject to him to avoid any tension.

“Huh? Me?”

You sigh and share a knowing look with Shoko.

Choso steals your attention back to him as he says your name before going on to name three others. “Ieiri, Hakari, Okkotsu. I’ve always wondered, how is it you compensate for your lost blood when regenerating?”

“Dunno, I’m total autopilot,” Hakari answers his question, letting Okkotsu follow with more disappointing answers.

“I go off instinct too.”

Why did he even ask them either way? You’ve told Choso how Okkotsu got his technique and all that, and you told him about how difficult it is to really pass on knowledge to Hakari because he’s more of a visual learner. Plus! You told him about you too!

Then again he just wants Itadori to listen to your way of using RCT, which thankfully is a lot more informative.

“I learned to turn my cursed energy to blood,” you share smugly since you’re the only one who answered with actual information. “That’s the whole jist really. It’s like filtering out dirty water and turning it clean, y’know?”

“Yes!” Kirara exclaims, making you frown at them.

“Do you really?” You press and they part their lips but frown and shake their head.

You scoff in amusement and drift your gaze to Shoko beside you as she speaks up to add information to your response.

“There are tons of people who can use the Reverse Cursed Technique but can’t heal others. One reason is the fundamental difference in use. Another, the body of the target refusing the treatment. There are cases where the cursed energy of the one healing rejects the process, and cases where the cursed energy of the one being healed doesn’t respond to the conversion. That’s why the efficacy of my treatment is often case-by-case.”

Choso nods and glances at his brother before pointing at him and interjecting. “That’s what I thought. My body allows me to convert cursed energy into blood. If Yuji absorbs our brothers, he should gain a body capable of that, alongside some cursed technique.”

When he first told you about his plan to let Yuji absorb their brothers you thought he’d not end up going through with it just because he’s so attached to his brothers, but as you listen to him now there’s no ounce of hesitation in his voice. He really means to go through with his plan for his brother.

You don’t think you’d be able to do it. You would have already given them bodies if you were in Choso’s shoes.

You’re glad he’s not like you.

“That’s not all,” Choso adds as he props one hand on his hip before continuing. “Our bodies allow us to compensate for the technical aspects of the technique. That means the main limiting factor behind RCT, its immense cursed energy expense, doesn't apply to us…or so I think.”

You hum in comprehension and start to stroke your chin before adding your piece of mind. “Which is to say the hurdle for you two learning it is much lower than it is for everyone else.”

Choso offers you an agreeing nod and a sweet praise. “Exactly sweetheart.”

You flash him a giddy smile and catch Shoko’s disgusted look after witnessing such a sappy interaction, which gives a clear given as to why she and Satoru are such good friends.

Tsk.

“That’s why I’d like switch training to be done once with someone who can use RCT,” Choso mentions forgetting he hasn’t talked to his brother about it yet, he’s only conversed with you, Mei-Mei, and her brother. It’s why Itadori is so confused.

“Switch training?”

You nod and part your lips to explain in simple terms, but Kirara interrupts you. “What about our master? She’s taught us a lot and I’m sure she can help Itadori a whole bunch.”

“Yeah and why did your beloved teacher learn such a technique?” Shoko butts in making your smile droop back down.

“Spite,” you grumble. “But I didn't use it to learn to be strong or control my cursed energy flow,” you point out.

“It doesn’t matter, as a regular mentor you’re great, but I’m not sure you’re the right candidate.”

You pout and cross your arms over your chest before remarking. “Who then? Satoru? Ha!”

Shoko shakes her head. “No. Not him, Kusakabe maybe?”

“What is switch training?!” Yuji blurts because his question wasn’t actually answered.

Albeit even then no one answers him, instead you all walk away to join the others.

“I’d be a perfect candidate,” you grumble under your breath.

Hands fall on your shoulders, and a soft breath unfurls behind your ear, making you giggle.

“I bet you would be,” Choso proves your assumption right, it is him. Who else would grab you this way and press himself so close as if trying to share the breath you inhale.

“I would,” you quickly retort. “I meditate all the time. All the time. I have a great handle on my cursed energy flow, I’m in tune with my technique and everything that has to do with all your brother needs to know.”

Choso presses a kiss on the back of your ear, causing your lips to lose their battle and pull to a happy smile.

“Perhaps it’s okay to let someone else take control of this, hm? Besides you’re a woman, you need your privacy.”

You blink and slowly churn your head back to look at him with a quirked brown. “What?” You deadpan.

Choso doesn’t find a fault in that, and you can’t blame it on his cluelessness because he really isn’t, he just really believes what he says. So you can’t help but laugh.

Choso’s eyebrows slowly pinch together in confusion, but you just leave him wondering as you press a kiss on the side of his lips before walking into a different room to speak with the others about the same stuff basically. But this time Itadori finally gets his explanation.

Does he understand it though? He doesn’t seem to inherit his fathers—Mothers? And Choso’s genius.

“I see.”

“We’ve thought of the soul and body as two separate entities. If the body is the box, the soul is its contents.” Ui-Ui continues explaining in rather simple terms that anyone should understand.

“I see. I see.”

Does Itadori really see though?

“Think of that box as a person's birthday present. We can’t swipe the box’s contents of our own accord.”

“Hm.”

Oh jeez.

“Please just let him finish explaining,” you interject gently but with impatience just under the surface.

Itadori looks over at you and offers you an apologetic look before focusing back at Ui-Ui.

You sigh and Choso’s arm draped around your neck loosens so he can caress your shoulder with his hand as you both listen pressed against each other.

“However, if we have the permission of the individual, the box’s content can be taken. Which is to say, I’m able to swap the souls of two marked individuals.”

“Gwuh?!” Itadori exclaims making Ui-Ui’s eye twitch.

“What's up?” The boy finally addresses Itadori’s confusion.

“That just reminds me of the body-and-soul altering abilities of the cursed spirit I fought, Mahito,” Yuji let his sudden thought come out. “Won’t the shape of that person's body and soul be stretched if they’re swapped?”

Ui-Ui smirks and bats his lashes before assuring Itadori. “There’s no need to worry. I can swap the contents without opening the boxes. No one can tell whether or not the contents of an unopened box have been tampered with, wouldn't you say?”

“Depends how good someone is at hiding their evidence,” you remark, making the boy seeth underneath his nonchalant facade.

“Itadori,” Kusakabe interjects. “The speed of your growth as a sorcerer has been tremendous. Do you know why that is?”

“What?” Itadori clears his throat and seems to grow smug, but you don’t understand why it is.

“Erm perhaps my innate talen—“

“It was Sukuna,” Kusakabe cuts him off before he can get the wrong thing, and you can’t help but snicker, causing Choso to dart his eyes to you and press a warning look.

“It's only light teasing,” you defend yourself to your boyfriend.

Choso holds the corner of your gaze and you hum to let it be known you mean no ill will.

“Sukuna created his technique in your body,” Kusakabe continues to explain. “Which means your body remembers using extreme special-grade Jujutsu. You can thank him for your exceptionally quick understanding and growth.”

You look over at Itadori and notice that his lightheartedness turned rígid at the mention of someone so cruel.

“We’ll be doing the same practice with switch training. You’ll swap with me first. I’ll hammer into your body my cursed energy manipulation and foundational barrier technique, the simple domain.”

“Hm,” Hakari cuts in. “Isn't there a binding vow preventing simple domain from being taught to outsiders of the new shadow school?” He asks, making you finally wonder the same thing.

“Not to worry,” Mei-Mei quickly offers a solution. “I’ve taken care of that.” She smiles like never before, or like when she’s up to no good.

“Why are you so happy?” You can’t help but point out.

But Ui-Ui instead helps her avoid answering by adding something else himself. “In a single month, the limit for swapping souls is twice per one person. Please consider your pairings wisely.”

Maybe Shoko is right, maybe you’re not right to swap with, but why can’t you be the one to help Itadori? You have an innate desire to please Choso by helping his brother. So why?

Surely he’d benefit from all your abilities. You’ve worked hard to find balance, to be strong, and to be a master of your technique and the techniques that have been used for years.

Is it your vanity perhaps?

It can’t possibly be a fear for swaying his views, Sukuna lived in him, if he was going to turn evil he would’ve already.

Plus It’s not the world you hate as a whole. So why?

And why are you really thinking so hard about it? Is it because Choso would leave you over an opinion his brothers would have about you?

Maybe not. It’d hurt your ego, but again, you stand proud over your views of non-sorcerers.

But…you still want Choso to keep loving you…

But it’s not that really. It’s more…that deep trauma of your family not thinking you’re good enough scarred over your heart that’s poisoning your mind.

Shoko didn’t mean it, you know that, you just need to get over—

Your thoughts come to a sudden halt when you spot two little girls; one with brown hair and the other blond, one holding a stuffed bunny and the other holding her hand.

You stiffen and all you can see is them…Nanako and Mimiko. There’s no room for haunting traumas only ghosts that you believe are flesh and bone and yours.

A smile creeps on your lips and your eyes twinkle with blissful joy.

You take a step towards the center of the park where the twins are and part your lips to call out for them, but then their mother goes to them and the illusion breaks and you’re left alone in the breeze like a blowing tumbleweed, alone and cold.

But isn’t it funny? It hasn’t been long at all that they passed and it feels like decades ago sometimes, but when you really think about it, your grief feels like it’s barely tearing your heart apart.

Now imagine when it’s all over. When Sukuna and Kenjaku are dead when you have nothing to fight. How will your grief feel in the silence?

You sigh deeply and step back before dropping your head and slowly pulling your hand out of your coat pocket. With the twins in mind, with the ache to have them close, you use your technique as you wait for Choso and pull water droplets from the air around you to summon them on your palm and create a bunny out of water, like when you made the twins a water-made bunny for them when you first met them.

They’re not here now to see it or ignore you because they were too old for water bunnies, but when you make it out of your technique it makes you feel close to them.

However, soon your name is called so you drop the water and turn to see your boyfriend approaching you with a plastic bag in his hand and a flower in his other hand.

“Finally!” You exclaim and jog over to meet him halfway. “I thought you got lost in the store.” You laugh and peek in the bag, finding what you wanted him to get you along with other things.

“Sorry,” he quickly sputters out. “I couldn’t find a perfect flower.”

You can’t tease him about him making you wait now. Ugh! What a man.

“For you,” he offers you tenderly but doesn’t hand you the perfect and delicate red rose, he instead leans over and tucks the flower behind your left ear.

You can’t help but giggle and grin the entire time until he pulls his phone out and steals a picture of you.

“You didn’t ask for a picture,” you finally taunt him, making his face grow rigid.

“Oh—”

“I'm joking,” you can’t hold it anymore and close the gap with a tender kiss. “Thank you.” You whisper against his mouth.

Choso leans in and takes a gentle kiss from you before he steps back and just admires you.

“I thought it’d look good with your white hair,” he shares his thought process before not being able to hold back his smile.

“You’re really cute,” you coo and brush some of his bangs away, making his eyes meet your gaze as he feels the trace of your nails on his skin.

“I,” he fumbles his words. “I also got you something you might like,” he says and looks down but lets his eyes flicker back to you briefly before pulling out a comic strip that was attached to some newspaper, and hands it to you to read.

Albeit you start to snicker before you can even read it.

“Why—“ you snort and clear your throat. “Did the bunny eat the wedding ring?” You ask and meet Choso’s gaze with amusement.

“Why?” He plays along.

“Because he heard it was 18 carrots,” you say between laughs and stare into him as you wait for his reaction. “Get it?” You press.

Choso stares at you dumbfoundedly before his lips break into a soft smile and he laughs breathlessly and nods.

“Stupid,” he mutters.

You snort again and nod. “Very stupid…” you suddenly trail off as a sudden wave of emotions rams into you as your mind cruelly connects this innocent joke to what you were suffering through before he joined you, and it turns your happiness sour while stealing that laugh and leaving your mouth dry.

Choso notices right away because he’s standing so close and because he just pays attention to every detail of your face and the way it moves with every thought in your head. Yet he doesn’t comment on anything at that second, he waits to see if it was just some fleeting thing, but you then slowly look over your shoulder and your face contorts with this beautiful yet depressing agony.

When he follows your line of gaze he sees that you’re watching two little girls.

He calls out your name with worry laced in that deep voice, causing you to quickly snap your attention back to him. Before he can ask what’s wrong, you interject knowing what he was about to ask. “I'm sorry I couldn’t be enough to help your brother.”

Choso blinks in surprise and that emotion is clear on his knitted eyebrows and parted lips, but you add on softer.

“I’m strong yet I’m not enough to help.”

Your name is whispered out of his mouth and he shakes his head to argue against whatever guilt you’re carrying. “No, you have been helping enough. This swapping training doesn’t have to fall on your shoulders, you’re a master at being a sorcerer, but my love, this isn’t just your responsibility, okay?”

You swallow back thickly and from a broken part inside you, you bring yourself to ask, “you won’t hate me because I can’t be the one to help him? Does that change how strong I am?”

Choso’s heart sinks and he quickly grabs your face and counters back. “No, no. You’re helping Yuji and other students. You’re doing amazing at it too. Just because you couldn’t do this one task doesn’t change how strong you are or how much I love you.”

You draw in a shaky breath and nod in comprehension.

Choso hums and caresses your cheek before kissing your forehead and then pressing his forehead against yours, in that moment catching your eyes find those same little girls passing by hand in hand with their mother, and watching your heartbreak more through your eyes.

Before he can investigate deeply about what’s wrong, you step away from his grasp and sit on a bench with your head down. Choso mirrors your actions, but instead, he follows by reaching over and grabbing your hand.

At the soft touch you open your other palm and right away form a bunny made of water on your hand.

“I thought I saw Nanako and Mimiko, but then I realized it was only my mind playing tricks on me.”

Choso coos your name and pulls his hand out of your grasp to wrap it around your shoulders and pull you against his side so you can lean against him.

When you rest your head on his shoulder you continue to use your technique to have that same water-made bunny hop around like you would do when the twins were little girls and they wanted you to use your technique.

“Nanako and Mimiko liked bunnies,” you whisper with longing as you watch that water-made bunny born from your cursed technique hop around.

——

*NOW*

“He no longer holds Sukuna and look how strong he is,” you can’t help but praise Yuji as you watch him completely land his fourth Black flash at will!

That’s something Satoru couldn’t do, that’s something you can't do, but something Yuji seemed to have mastered against such a terrifying demon.

“But that doesn’t take away from the fact that he still needs help,” Choso says with worry laced in his deep voice.

You nod faintly. “I know.”

Choso pushes himself off the ground, and you quickly follow him up to protest. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to help him, distract Sukuna so Yuji can land more black flashes,” he says casually as if he isn’t still hurting from tanking Sukuna’s black flash not long ago.

“Go like—”

“Trust me, I’ll be careful,” he cuts you off and turns, but you grab his arm and turn him around.

“No, I’ll go, I’ve healed enough, my leg doesn’t hurt anymore. I still have energy to use my technique,” you quickly rebuttal and dig your fingers in his arm as just under your concern lies your selfish desire to not let him go back out, to beg him to stop fighting.

“You need energy to protect the twins, if you run out you’ll be vulnerable, I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened,” he confesses with that same selfish desire inside him too.

What else can you tell him that you haven’t told him already, what he didn’t promise to keep and continue burning, but what he also negated by discreetly saying that he would die to keep his brother and you safe.

There’s, please. Simple yet so meaningful.

Your eyes paint such a deep emotion, your lips part and your lungs gather air, but it doesn’t come out of your lips, not this time.

This time you don’t beg him. You have to trust him. Trust he’ll keep his promise and not be suicidal.

But you’ll join Yuji first since you have a stronger advantage.

“I won’t stop you, but first I’ll go out and help,” you offer a compromise.

Choso holds your gaze and doesn't agree but there’s no way around you so he sighs and grumbles. “Why must you always put up a fight?” He scoffs and reluctantly nods. “Fine. But first, let's wait for your opening.”

You both mirror a smirk on your faces and before you can miss any more of the fight you bring your phone up to continue watching the broadcast, seeing Ino back in the fight getting disarmed by Sukuna with too much ease.

However, before Ino could be killed by Sukuna, or by Nanami’s weapon that Ino was getting stolen, Yuji lands a fifth black flash on Sukuna. And the strike is so powerful he sends Sukuna flying out the window.

“Nice,” you whisper to Yuji and catch a proud look on Choso’s face too.

Your pride does almost shake when you see Sukuna find his footing on the ground right away and then snap down to destroy the ground just as Yuji is about to land to disrupt his balance and probably confuse him as he lands.

However, as Sukuna appears through the rubble and swings at Yuji, the boy manages to catch Sukuna’s arm and block any advantage the demon wanted to gain, before swiftly hurling him against a brick wall.

Sukuna slashes Yuji’s face multiple times, but the boy is completely unfazed, even if they cut deep and bleed. You grow deeply worried but Yuji doesn’t even flinch, he reels his fist back with a grimace and hits Sukuna with a sixth black flash.

Which is truly amazing!

This time though, Sukuna manages to grab a part of Yuji’s face and cuts his eyes deep.

“Yuji,” Choso cries out under his breath and looks out preparing to set off, but you grab his arm first to pull him back.

“Not yet,” you tell him. “You’ll go after me. I won’t need to tell you when you’ll know when you see.”

Choso hesitates but he trusts your plan and lingers with you, letting you both barely manage to catch a seventh black flash landed by Yuji.

One which finally causes Sukuna to go off the rails. “You goddamned brat—”

Before he can finish sputtering out a storm of curses, Nanami's blade comes out of nowhere and slices Sukuna’s face.

The view then quickly changes and you’re surprised to see that it was Ino who threw it out of a broken window.

He looks terrible but because of what he did Yuji lands his eighth black flash. Eighth in a row.

That boy is truly gifted.

You almost want to wait to see if he could land more, but Sukuna will counter, and now that he’s bleeding heavily, and thrown across the building is your time to go.

“I’m going to get him from above,” you quickly sputter out to Choso as you shove your phone away.

Before he can stop you and before you can rush out you give him a peck on the lips first and then run out and join Yuji and Sukuna from above, appearing like a menacing shadow first, and then revealing your voice that booms as if it were some god coming down from above.

“You can’t get rid of me! I am no weak link!”

Sukuna’s eyes snap up and catch you descending like some divine angel with blazing eyes, veins on fire under your skin, pumping fire to the wild flames lit on your hands. He sees you still looking for a fight after all he’s done to you and grows insanely more irritated, especially because Yuji rushes at him from the ground like some untamed demon.

Yet he doesn’t falter, he prepares to block your blow, but rather than striking him to break your fall, you actually hit the ground with your fist ramming into the cement, and he grows amused by your “lack of know-how”.

Only seconds later though the ground combusts due to your technique of controlling the elements, and he succumbs to the pull, giving you a slight advantage, and giving him and Yuji an idea as to how Suguru Geto and you could destroy towns with such ease; it was your technique that gave the advantage, you and your ability to make the earth crumble, and your flames from hell.

This is why you were deemed a special-grade sorcerer right as your technique was shown to you, because you have the power to destroy the world just like your brother.

You’re death in the flesh. And you snapping down and slapping your hands on the ground to blast fire through the cracks in the rubble to try and burn Sukuna alive, proves it.

Yet Sukuna is a terror in his own right too, he fights off the flames from hell, and busts out of the rubble you trapped him under.

However, as unscathed as he is, the daze you cast on him is only worsened when Yuji jumps after him and rams his fist on his back, and manages another black flash, causing Sukuna to crash on a ledge on the floor above the one you’re on.

“Supreme art,” you proclaim with your head held high and your energy running lower, but your intent to kill this beast running rampant. “Hellspawn!”

Sukuna fixates his glare on Yuji and you staring daggers at him from below and parts his lips to probably say something born out of anger, but he’s interrupted by the distant sound of a booming roar from a beast that casts a large shadow over the vicinity.

However, Sukuna doesn’t look up at the approaching beast who’s ready to envelop him on fire, he crosses his fingers and proclaims smugly. “Domain expansion! Malevolent shrine.”

Your eyes peel back and you can’t help but gasp at the horror that slams into you at the sound of those words.

“But—” you try to argue but get interrupted by Yuji grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him to shield you with his body from the sudden explosion that sends strong waves of slashes and debris.

“New shadow style: Simple domain,” Yuji casts right away to try and counter Sukuna’s domain, but that won’t be enough. You know that from the bottom of your heart, the wild blasts of slashes run too strong and are set too sharp, so you push Yuji back as his domain is cracking and grab his arm to be able to shield him now by casting something else you have in your arsenal.

“Secret art; Falling Blossom emotion!” You bellow and manage to shield Yuji and you both from the crazy domain attacking you. The only thing on your mind now is Choso, he’s nearby and unaware of this secret art, and he can get gravely wounded.

The gusts made of slashes are so strong that they’re cutting through buildings that once stood tall. You can’t see that well because your eyesight is obscured by the thick cloud of debris, but you know everything around you is flattening. That’s how strong Sukuna’s domain is, so you almost give into your desire to find Choso to protect him too, but doing it will disrupt what protects you, leaving Yuji and you vulnerable, so even if it’s torturing you, you just hope Choso is bearing this storm like you are.

Nevertheless, Sukuna’s next words horrify you.

“Divine flames, open.”

The flames that destroyed Shibuya, he’s using them. Your secret art won’t withstand that…

But maybe you can think of something! Anything to bear through the storm!

You need to think of something to make it through his destructive fire and be able to meet up with Choso, to be able to go home to your daughter, Satori. You need to think of something! Anything!

However, through the deafening horror pumping through your blood, like some miracle you hear Choso crying out your name and the name of his brother.

“Choso,” you whisper in relief.

A/N- I'm not ready. Are you?

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest @natakina

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primojade · 2 years

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓.

“ your arms are the safest haven in this chaotic world we live in. ”

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 | Different scenarios where he questions, and discovers what love truly was, at long last.

𝐂𝐖 / 𝐓𝐖 | gn!reader x wanderer and albedo (separate); fluff, hurt to reverse comfort; cursing; self-hatred for the boys 😭; scara threatens to end ei in his mind 💦 let me know if I missed anything!

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 | this is a very self indulgent fic I thought of when watching the 3.3 live stream yesterday 😭 I just added albedo because i'm a simp, okay xD otherwise this is supposed to be scara-centric 👀

Masterlist

The Wanderer always knew that his mother viewed him as a failed creation, knew that she never loved him the way she adored her sister.

He even knew that the Raiden Shogun never loved him.

His whole life, the puppet never saw true love, never knew what true love looked like, was afraid of the aspects and emotions that caused love.

What he thought was love was so sick and twisted. What he thought was love was drowned in emotional abuse and abandonment. What he thought was love all ended up so wrong, so absolutely fucked up. How could he possibly let himself trust again?

The thing meant to do good for the people, only caused more harm in the end. He put his trust in three people once, and nothing good came out of it.

The Wanderer would—could—never trust again.

(But he did trust again.)

Despite this, a closed off boy, a nearly broken puppet beyond repair, fell in love deeply. Simply craving the affection his mother never gave him. Craving physical touches and gentle words from the strange person he recently met.

No wonder the puppet feared what he never had, never dreamed of having. Feeling anything beyond pain and suffering and loss was foreign and unnatural. Allowing such feelings when hating his mother and everyone in the world by the second felt selfish and he hated himself, hated himself, absolutely despised himself over it.

The Wanderer seemed to change by the days that passed, sometimes it felt more like merely an hour, or minutes that passed by. A boy in absolute terror who cried out for his mother in the past, wanting to hug her, to choke her by the neck, to hear her called him her son, wanted her dead, wanted her suffering in the same way he does.

He had suffered since his creation. A case of Nature vs Nurture; where nurture is superior, and the puppet is left completely alone.

The wandering eccentric persona, his persona as Kunikuzushi, the cruel Balladeer of the Fatui, the persona he showed to the Tsaritsa and her Harbingers, the persona he showed to the Dendro Archon, the persona he showed the rest of the world…the persona he showed to you.

Among them, which one was the real him?

Scientific theories stated that people have multiple facets, slightly different personalities that are all ours. Personalities that rebounded social cues curated by the situations and people we are around. Our need to fit in, our need for self fulfilling is what makes us have these multiplying and seemingly infinite forms.

So, why did it feel so wrong?

On the days when missions and commissions cut a bit too close, he wasn’t afraid to die. Nahida would give him another long lecture about not being invincible, and somewhere along, you would reprimand him for being so careless with himself. He hated how much you and the Dendro Archon could see through his tough farce.

"...Why do you even give a shit about me?"

"I give a shit about you not dying, idiot, about not having the godsdamn Fatui on our asses because you wanted to plot revenge."

"Shut up, [Name]."

Even the Wanderer knew it was a lie. You cared, Nahida cared. Even the Traveller and their annoying talking companion cared too in their own ways.

But could they really blame him? It's inevitable and hard to change, no matter how hard he tried. Worthless, incompetent beings like him were only doomed to suffer should they allow themselves to feel.

It's what he was, all he was, all he should ever be allowed to be.

"...Wanderer, I love you."

"...A horrible decision. You could have so much better. Why put yourself in so much danger? You should be with someone safe and reliable. I am a cruel man, [Name], you know that. I could kill you if I—"

"...I know you spent your entire life listening to empty promises and hurtful words. I know it’s hard for you to believe me, but it doesn’t make me love you anything less, you know. And I certainly would never leave you for it. Wanderer, I want to be with you. And I’ll show you by staying by your side, by cheering on you, by taking care of you until the end of time.

"...Why I choose you? Because you’re clever, and extremely intelligent. You’re intuitive, you know when something’s wrong with me. When you told me the truth about yourself, I never felt afraid, it made me want to stay by you, stay with you, be with you more. You love so hard, Wanderer, that you don’t realise how much you care and how much you're hurting yourself in return. You pretend to hide it away because you’ve only been hurt time and time again. But I could see it. I see beyond that ruthless persona you painted yourself into was the real you. I see the Wanderer that Nahida sees as a son. I see the Wanderer that the Traveller puts their trust into no matter how many times he had tried to hurt them.

'"...I see the Wanderer that would put his life on the line for someone he loves, who holds me close to him while we sleep at night. The one that nuzzles his head into my neck before waking up to make the best breakfast I’ve ever had. The one who wants to sit and stargaze and take care of flowers and feel the wind, though begrudgingly.

"The one who wants a normal life, a happy and safe life. Who wants a family and warmth and love and protection. I know, I love you because I know. I love you because perhaps some higher power beyond made us destined to be together despite all the hurt and betrayal. But my free will, my own heart won’t let you slip away—even you yourself say otherwise. I love you so much."

"...I…" I love you so much, too. "...A truly horrible decision, really. You will regret sticking your nose with my business, idiot."

"...Call me whatever you like. But I know I will have no regrets being with you. So, come here. Don’t hold back those tears either, I’m here no matter what."

There was so much that the once broken puppet wished he could say, but he held back for the sake of preserving whatever dignity he had left. But he was completely floored once again by you. Left speechless, and teary eyed, crying inwardly into your shoulder as you whispered comforts and soothing affirmations. Holding him close, rubbing his back in a way that made the anxieties slip away.

This wasn’t the end. He was aware that the insecurities and anger and doubts would bubble up again soon. However, you would be there even then, providing the same stability and affection he needed, he wanted. Time will just keeps on going and turning, but surely the pain, little by little, like grains of sand in a hourglass, will fade away.

Whether this unexplainable feeling was happiness, content, love, or entirely something else…perhaps it should not matter anymore.

Because not all that wanders were lost—at least not anymore. And despite lacking a physical heart, the Wanderer felt it, at long last.

Multiple theories stated that a person is either left brained or right brainedーeither drowned in the world of alchemical codes and mathematical and logical equations, or simply buried knee deep in the latest light novels and in their wildest imaginations. Those with a left brain are logical and cynical. Right brains being artistic and emotional.

Then, why was it that despite the hours spent fretting over alchemical codes, studying numerical equations, drowning x, y and z; Albedo developed a knack for the arts?

Sure enough, he was good at alchemy, so much that he could be called a genius of the century, they say. He was intellectually capable of impossible memorisation and observation. So, if learning were as easy as a-b-c…

Why was there the want, the need, to indulge himself in loving you?

The engagement to have the creative liberty and freedom to live his life with you—that wasn’t what he was known for, was it, now? That was not what he was created for.

Alchemy and calculations tossed to the side in order to succumb to a foreign feeling like a hopeless romantic, yet Albedo should not feel. He had no right to feel. Artificial humansーa homunculusーlike himself were not meant to feel.

But, what if he fell in love?

So, what if suddenly he wanted to draw romantic starry sketches about someone he pine for?

Someone that, despite his numerous attempts to gently push away, only pulled him closer?

If he were to suddenly be inspired by contemporary romance, that was no one’s concern, but his own.

Does it feel wrong, however.

Enjoying life created deep depths of bitterness and abandonment. All the sketches, his greatest achievements, and glaringly successful alchemy experiments in the world, felt absolutely meaningless when Albedo thought about his place—where he ought to stand in this world.

Perhaps that in itself became the reason for his artistic endeavors—emotions bottled up for so long they had been forgotten. It was common, he supposed. Forgetting memories was a consequence of heartless indifference after all, whether they are artificial or natural beings.

Albedo was not quite certain what to feel. Was it anger? Disappointment? Maybe self-hatred for his own existence? Did he feel love? Or was it merely compensation for the years upon years of loneliness and abandonment?

If Albedo developed feelings for you, the strange person who showed him romantic affection, was it really, truly, love? Was that what it really meant to feel this so-called…true love?

He wasn't certain, that one was for sure. The alchemist could solve an array of problems that would give the seven mysteries of Teyvat a run for its money, could pinpoint the exact ingredients for his never ending experiments, but love…

Love remained the greatest unsolved mystery for him.

Was it fair to you?

No.

Didn’t it make him feel like a hypocrite to proclaim his love to you when he didn’t even know what love truly was?

Yes.

The psychological repercussions of overthinking and intelligence becomes, if it comes to this endevours, a daily nightmare for him indeed.

As much as Albedo tried to be loving, it scared him—terrified him that you would one day wake up and leave him. That this whole thing was a mere fickle dream or a heartless trick of his mind to ease his burdens, and then he’d be alone again, abandoned and lost. Left alone in his strange fascination for alchemy and mysteries, pretending like nothing really mattered, an indifferent alchemist.

It's what he was, all he was, all he should ever be allowed to be.

"—Hey. Hey! Albedo? Hehe, you finally looked at me! Could you tell me what’s on your mind?"

"...I really should not. It would merely burden you and—"

"...Nope. Don’t start with that, silly. How many times do I have to tell you that bottling up your emotions will do more harm than good? Plus, I’m always here willing to listen to you."

That’s what he loved about you. Always caring for him. Always firm and assertive when you knew you were in the right. You never backed down, especially if the enemies came from his foreign emotions.

"...I...I'm terrified,"

"...on the inside?"

"Yes. I just—I was wondering…how do I know if I’m...truly in love with you?"

"Hmm. When I do this, what do you feel?"

"Um…well—heh—my heart starts beating faster."

"...Your cheeks are red, too."

"...And I want to kiss you, truly."

"Why is that?"

"I'm not certain. There’s this fascinating magnetic pull inside me that makes me want to hold you close to me, kiss you senseless, and never let you stray away. I want to tease you nearly to tears, then be the person you could rely on. There's this peculiar feeling that cannot wait to give you everything you ever wanted in the world. Its strange, truly strange, but even more strange enough, I felt...very content."

"Do I make you happy, then?"

"Very, very much. You have no idea."

"...Bedo, I think you just figured out what love is on your own."

My. So, he did love you.

He loved Klee, too. Albeit not the same way as you, but the way a big brother loves his little sister should have, the way family was supposed to be. He loved his Master as well in a maternal sense, and all of his friends and comrades. The want to keep them safe, the teasing, the inexplicable happiness he felt around them, it was all love, all along.

Albedo would say he had you to thank for helping him realise. But he knew you well enough that you would say that maybe you did help, but for you, it was all himself. You just patiently hinted it out to him to figure out on his own.

Albedo loved you rather intensely, he discovered. And being with you is love in and of itself, at long last.

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be added in my future works!): @samarill , @maehemthemisfit , @chocogi

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #albedo x reader #wanderer x reader #albedo #scaramouche #jaded moments—!#genshin albedo #genshin scaramouche #gender neutral reader #twilight theatre

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summermoonshine · 10 months

Text

It was late August ;

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader.

Click HERE for the AO3 version. Synopsis: the tale of a summer... and its end. Content: angst; romantic; bit of fluff; slice of life; GhostxReader; Note: I cried, bye.

It was late August ;

But before that, it was a peaceful May night that turned into June when your eyes met for the first time, and with June came the bright stars, the clean skies, the colourful flowers, the heat that turned into warmth on his torn and tattooed skin, the fresh nocturnal wind and birds chirping a less harsh dawn than the winter one.

A dawn shared, after so many years, with someone by his side.

His shoulder dropping its weight lightly on yours, and that crisp, new feeling of possibility.

In mid-June his first laugh; a real laugh, not a smile, not a smirk: a sincere laugh that made his eyes shape like two crescents.

Your heart skipped the first of many more beats, and when your hands found each other for the first time – when you two were sitting on the hood of his SUV looking at the lights of the sleeping city – you knew not to have been born by chance, and that you didn't want to spend that night alone.

After that one, many others followed.

Your clasped hands were enough, though; there was no need for anything else if you had each other.

His insomnia, always present, had become almost a gift: your profile illuminated by the first summer moon, your hair ruffled by the silk pillowcase, your little kissable nose; his arms around your little body.

''Get away from me, doll. There's still time'' - he whispered in the crook of your neck at the end of June.

Each night, every night; softly.

''Go, get away from me. You know I don't deserve you.'' He held you tight, kissed your round cheeks, full of life and sweet as juicy peaches.

''Run away, hurry, I don't have to see you…” He used to say.

“But how, how can I do it if – even if I wish you would leave me – I don't want to lose you?'', and he held you tight and close again, like no one had ever done, kissing your back.

Again, again, again.

''I'm not what you believe me to be, forgive me, doll. I didn't fall from the sky: I re-emerged from the underworld. I'm only capable of losing the ones I love the most'' – he said one night in mid-July.

His perfume, his big body curled up and sweaty stuck to yours, so gentle, healthy and clean compared to his, full of scars, cuts, history: was he sobbing?

Your long, black eyelashes, your big eyes, your relaxed face.

They were the only things that kept alive that man who had been believed dead for years, perhaps since ever, during these months.

Your delicate hands, so tiny, soft – healings, were saving him with every touch of yours.

"Touch me only with your eyes" he had whispered one evening on your doorstep with his camo still on and the tiredness of a day spent in the barracks written in the eyes, but you knew well that what he meant was something else.

So your sweet and full lips had touched his above the mask fabric and it had slipped away, his shampoo-scented dark blond curls had welcomed your hands as if it were natural, and his skin, when you began to taste it in every corner of his body, had become your favourite flavour in this universe.

"I only know how to deceive, make people suffer and make them cry. Stop before it's too late, doll", but you wanted him; and he wanted you.

You knew it and he knew it too.

That strong pain in the centre of his chest suggested it to him whenever he looked at you, whenever he loved you at night, between the creaks of an old creaky bed and a distant, barely lit, strawberry and mint scented candle; lit just like that small - but still alive - flame that lit up the big broken heart of that so big, so sad, but so damn good man for, to and with you.

The first nights of August were a continuous fire.

And there was no sun that could compare with what you and he had created: you were explosive.

Your lips spoke a sweeter and warmer tongue; the pain you didn't know was now infinite pleasure, and his kisses cured everything you thought your body couldn't handle - but in the end you always made it, and this ending was the most delicious ever. Your moans were the fuel of that tireless man and his coaxing sweet, pillow talk.

“I have no eyes, no heart for anyone. None but you, you…” and a warm tear ran down his cheeks and settled on your abdomen. He remained embraced by your hips, your pale hands in his now freshly buzzed hair for the upcoming mission.

It was almost, but his 100 kg resting on your lap reminded you that it wasn't time yet, that it wasn't the time yet, that he was still talking to you.

Because yes, he talked, he always used to talk to you at night. He thought you were asleep, but you were not.

But how? How do you do such a thing? What do you say back and why? The sunlight hardened him, pushed him away from you; the night joined your paths and his heart seemed able to beat, to come back to life. And so you had always kept silence in those moments just to hear his voice, even though you were the real chatterbox - his favourite one. A real relentless talker, always with something to say and that bright smile ready to pain his heart.

He, collector of your speeches, your words, your fears, weighed the words as if they were dangerous, but how many times would he have wanted to tell you that you were his truth, his tranquillity and his cure; that you were saving him, that there was only you, that he had placed his destiny in your hands; because he knew it would all end - that it would have to end, that he had to save you, that all this was an illusion, a delirium, the most difficult torture he would have had to face at the moment of saying goodbye, because he knew he didn't have much time left in his favour.

“Before time runs out, I want you to know that you’re the love of my life. I owe you this, I owe you everything, my doll’’ –

Simon would have wanted to tell you this each and every time that you were next to him, that you were away from him, that you crossed his mind, that he smelt your smell or just imagined it, but nothing like that had ever crossed his lips.

Too hardened as he was by the life itself, he did not feel worthy to speak of love, nor to be worthy of being loved.

It was late August when you, the girl with her head on the moon and up in the clouds, were hit by the biggest pain bomb you've ever experienced and which - you were sure - you would never get over.

Silence had stolen all your words, and that strawberry and mint candle went out at the exact moment in which the house intercom had rung and that man in a uniform, who was not YOUR man in uniform, had handed you the box that now – at this precise moment – you have in front of you, on the low wooden table in the living room crafted by none other than the man you’ve been missing for the past 3 weeks; the table where you lean as if under anaesthesia in search of support; your heavy eyes wear out at the sight of those objects rigorously placed next to each other, as if by keeping them close you could piece together a puzzle whose pieces are burning in front of you.

A crumpled, bloodstained envelope.

Inside of it: a small photo of you and a yellowed sheet: just a couple of short sentences written on it.

On the table, next to this letter-like hurtful bomb, a plastic bag with a metal plate with some letters engraved on it: a military dog tags.

''Lieutenant Simon Riley ''Ghost'', RH+, 237509, Unknown, other''.

You re-read the sentences written in black ink on the blood-stained sheet of the letter: the endearing handwriting that you loved so much and that will never again be able to hatch words, and yet another hot, stinging tear scratches your face and breaks your soul into dust:

"I know you've always been awake. I will come back to hug you every night. I promise, doll.

I am sorry, thank you and… I love you.

Yours forever,

Simon."

It was late August when silence devoured your life, when the wind turned cold and life became a distant diary memory;

It was late August when his heart stopped beating – and so did yours.

It was just late August…

🥀

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