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holylulusworld · 2 months

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Best bridesmaid ever

Summary: You always dreamed of letting your dirtiest fantasies become reality. Your bridesmaid makes it happen.

Pairing: fem!Reader x Nick Fowler, Ari Levinson, Lloyd Hansen, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Warnings: consensual non-con/dub-con, 18+ only, fake attack, implied kidnapping, gangbang, multiple partners, taking turns, unprotected sex, smut, doggy style, pussy slapping, creampie, oral male rec, titty fuck, cum play, anal sex, voyeurism, mentions of sex tape, mentions of callboys/prostitution, masturbation, lies, dark!fic, plot twist, open ending

Words: 4,1 k

Please read the warnings before reading the story. The story contains triggering content.

The room is crowded with your best friends. Your bachelorette party is in full swing. Still, you’re not in a cheery mood. This should be one of your best days, but it isn’t.

You put on a fake smile and try to not ruin the night for your friends too.

“Naughty, naughty,” you giggle as you unpack your best friend’s gift. She gifted you a bunny vibrator. “I will marry to have a dick around, you know.”

“A boring dick fucking you all vanilla,” she winks at you. “This is for emergencies.”

You sigh, deeply. Penelope isn’t wrong. You can’t deny that you are bored most of the time you have sex with your fiancé. He doesn’t put much effort into satisfying your needs but is a nice guy.

“You need a good fuck before you marry that boring loser,” she smirks darkly, making the others chuckle. You roll your eyes at her comment. Yes, your fiancé is boring and all vanilla, but you love him.

“That is enough,” you get up and glare at Penelope. “I know you are jealous of my relationship but that’s no reason to talk like that about him. Especially not at my bachelorette party.”

“Bitch,” she gets up to push you toward the couch. “I should take my gift and leave.” You frown deeply. Pennie never talked like that to you before.

“Maybe it’s time to teach her some manners.” You gasp as five masked men storm into the living room. They get guns out and aim them at your friends. “Come over here, little bride.” One of them aims his gun at you. “Right. Fucking. Now.”

You whimper but slowly move toward the man. He smirks and grabs your arm to drag you out of the room. “Guys, we got the honey pot. Let’s start the party!”

More men stream into the room. They pounce on your friends, but four of them follow the one dragging you with him out of the room.

“Party time,” the man purrs in your ear. He tugs his gun away and rips your dress open. “Look at this, my friends.”

“Who are you?” You try to wiggle in his grip and slap against his shoulders. ”Get off me, bastard!”

You hear your friends; they scream and holler as the man guides you toward the bedroom at the house you rented for your bachelorette party.

“Oh, sunshine,” the man purrs and dips his head as you try to find a way to escape and save your friends. “We will get inside of you, all of us. You are fair game for our cocks.”

This must be a nightmare. The men slam the door shut, locking it as you tremble under their gazes.

“I want her cunt first,” the man throws your ruined dress over his shoulder. He smirks and cups his crotch when you try to cover yourself. “You can take the lingerie off on your own, or I’ll rip it down your ass.”

Your eyes round when the men unbuckle their belts in sync. You sniffle and shake your head.

“Last warning, sunshine,” the first guy taunts, and steps toward you to grasp for your bra and rip it open. “You’ll see, if you follow orders tonight, you’ll not get hurt. Now, panties off.”

You shake your head, and he sighs deeply.

“Fine, turn around then,” he grabs your neck, holding your throat in a tight grip. You slap him and try to scratch him, but you end up on the bed, face first. “Fuck me, that’s a naughty whore.”

The man grips your ass, spreading your cheeks to get a better look at your crotchless panties. “I guess she’ll get fucked with her panties on, guys.”

“Hurry the fuck up, Hansen,” one of the other guys finally speaks. “I got a raging hard-on and don’t want to go for the bridesmaids. I want to ruin the bride.”

“Please…don’t,” you choked out a whimper when Hansen moves his hands over your ass. His hand slip between your legs to part your pussy lips. He hums as your slick covers his fingers. “I’m going to marry.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Hansen slaps your pussy, once, twice, three times. “You will stay like this and wait for my cock to fill this needy hole. And after I’m done with your hole, my friends will have a go too.”

All you can do is bite the cushion and close your eyes. If this is a bad dream, you will wake soon and go back to your life.

“Shit, look at that perfect pussy,” one of the other men says. He slaps your ass, making it sting as it feels like it’s made of metal. “Thank me when I compliment you.”

“Barnes, relax,” a third guy grunts. “She will take your dick soon enough. I want to know if Hansen is all talk or if he can fuck like a stallion.”

“You hear the other three men step closer to the bed. They unzip their pants, and you sniffle again hearing the guy named Hansen unzip his pants too. His cock slaps against your pussy lips seconds later, making your body go stiff.

“Get away from me,” you scream and try to crawl away, but Hansen grabs your legs and drags you toward the edge of the bed. He grasps for your arms, holding them behind your back.

“Give me the handcuffs,” Hansen grunts. “I gotta tame that beast of a mare. She’ll feel me in her bones for days and maybe her ass too.”

He restraints your wrists behind your back, smirking as you sniffle silently.

“Relax that cunt,” he purrs and runs his erection up and down your slit. “It’s a nice little cunt, and I’d hate ruining it.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you plea. “I’ll do anything you want to.”

He teases your entrance with the wide head, smirking as you try to wiggle away. Hansen slams home in one go, showing no mercy. You are soaked, and it helps to take his huge cock.

“Aw, there we go, sunshine. Can you feel your tight little cunt pulsing around my cock?” He grabs your restrained hands, and slowly starts rocking his hips.

The other men groan hearing tiny whimpers leave your lips. You hear one of them shuffle behind you. He steps next to Hansen to watch him ruin your cunt.

Hansen roughly fucks into you; he groans and drops his hands to slap your ass with both hands. His arms suddenly wrap around your body to bring you upright. He cups your tits, squeezing the plush flesh painfully hard.

You wiggle again and try to buck him off, but it’s no use. He ruts into you and taunts you with love confession. “I’m gonna marry this cunt, guys. It’s official, I’m in love.”

“Get off me,” you choke out a moan. He’s a bastard, but damn him, his cock hits that spot making you keen with deadly accuracy.

“No can do, sunshine,” he purrs and wraps one hand around your throat. You are helpless in his arms and can only watch one of the other men crawl onto the bed. He winks at you before kneeling on the bed to give your exposed cunt a few kitten licks.

“How does she taste, Rogers,” the man slapping your ass earlier asks. “I bet she tastes like a whore. Our whore.”

“Shut up, Barnes,” the man licking your cunt grunts. He kneels in front of you to grope your tit. “Yeah, I’m going to fuck you too, doll. Maybe missionary so you must watch me claim your body.”

“Mirror,” Hansen grunts. His thrusts become sloppy and you only hope he won’t cum inside of you. “Now!”

Two more men come into your vision. They rip the curtains hanging opposite the bed down, revealing an oversized wall mirror.

“Watch yourself get ruined, sunshine,” Hansen tightens his hold on your throat. He pushes into you, always hitting your G-spot now. You don’t recognize the woman in the mirror.

She looks like a whore getting railed by the masked man. Drool runs down your chin, and your eyes are glassy. “Fuck…no…nggh…” You try to hold the tidal wave back. The last thing you want is to gush all over the bastard’s cock.

“That’s you, sunshine,” he tilts your head to kiss you roughly. The mask scratches your face, but the worst is, that you tighten around his length, milking him dry. You sniffle, and whimper feeling his seed fill your abused cunt. “One done, Y/N. Four more to go. And after we all had our fill, we will start all over again.”

He laughs at your shocked face and pushes you off him. You land on the bed with a loud thud, fearing you won’t survive the night.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” the man named Rogers grabs you by your neck and forces you to kneel on the bed. “I want to fuck those tits first.”

“Kneel on the ground for your new husband,” Hansen grabs your arm and pushes you to the ground. You struggle to kneel with your hands still bound behind your back. “Good little cockslut.”

“Perfect,” Rogers smirks as you try to slowly move away from him. “None of this now.” He walks around you to slap his hands between your legs. He scoops a large amount of Hansen’s cum, humming as you whimper at the slightest touch.

Rogers hurriedly faces you again to smear the cum all over your tits. He hums a melody while playing with your nipples. “Rogers loves a good titty fuck,” Hansen kneels behind you to slap your ass. “Be good, and he will shoot his load before your tits are sore.”

“I—” You shake your head but have no choice but to let the man named Rogers roughly grip your chin. He smears Hansen’s cum all over your lips before greedily kissing you.

“Let me fuck those tits, doll,” he purrs and pushes his cock between your tits. He cups your plush flesh, pressing them together as he starts rocking his hips. You drop your head and watch his cock moving between your tits. Your mouth opens and you lick over his tip when he moves closer to your face. “That’s it. Be good for me.”

“Fuck those tits faster, I want her to suck me off, or her ass,” another man grabs the back of your neck. “Lick his dick, now.”

“Shit, Fowler,” the man fucking your tits grunts. “Yes, that’s so much hotter.”

“Fowler is a kinky bastard,” the last man laughs. “Wait for my cock, sweetness, Levinson will split all of your holes and ruin you forever.”

“Shut up,” Barnes grunts. He gets his dick out to run his gloved hand up and down his length.

Rogers moves his hips faster. “I want to fuck her pussy now.”

Your eyes widen at Rogers’ words. Before you can react his cock slips out from between your tits, and you get thrown onto the bed. He immediately crawls between your legs, spreading you with his hips. “Yeah, that’s how you will watch me fuck you, doll.”

Rogers impales you with one forceful thrust. He ignores that you try to wiggle your hips or that you call him a bastard. He silences your protests with his lips, almost smothering you as he starts rocking his hips. “You’re ours from now on. Not a bride but our whore.”

His lips move down to your neck, and lower to your tits. He bites your nipple, forcing a scream to tear from your throat. Rogers is a cruel lover. He bites and nips at your plush flesh, leaving marks as he fucks you deep and hard.

He speeds up with every squeak leaving your lips. Your eyes roll back as he suddenly grabs your hips to slightly lift your hips. Rogers holds you in a tight grip while violating your pulsing cunt.

“Shit, did you see that?” Barnes growls. “She gushed all over his cock like a whore.”

His load shoots into you right after you clenched around him like the whore they turned you into. “That’s it, doll. Now you know the drill.”

Rogers pulls out, leaving you tainted and panting for the next man to use you. “On your belly, ass up,” Fowler doesn’t give you the chance to take a breath. He flips you over, forces you on your hands and knees, and is on you before you can react.

Not that you’d be able to fight him.

“What do you say, Barnes?” Fowler runs his hands up and down your trembling thighs. “Ass and mouth? Let’s fill her from both ends.”

You moan but bite your tongue. Fowler slaps your ass, grunts, and calls you a slut as you dared to make a noise.

“Shut up, you don’t have a say in this,” he mocks you. “This body is ours to use. Now talking back.”

He opens the handcuffs. Fowler takes his time, gently kneading the pain out of your skin. “Barnes?”

“Mouth,” Barnes grunts. “I hope she’s good at sucking dick. I dreamed of having her lips wrapped around my dick.”

“More ass for me,” Fowler laughs as you hold your breath. “Relax, sweetness. This ass will love my cock. It’s made to take it.”

You nod and tap the bed twice. Fowler immediately grabs you by your hips to press his crotch into your ass. He grinds into you while Barnes takes off his clothes.

Barnes lies on his side, lazily stroking his cock. He watches Fowler push your face into Barnes’ crotch, smirking as you eagerly rub your face into his pubic hair. “Good little whore,” he praises. “Now open up for Bucky.”

“Barnes!” Fowler hisses. “We said no first names!”

“Fuck you! I want her to suck my dick, not for you to complain again. Get your dick inside her ass and let me and my pretty doll have some fun!” Barnes gently pats your head, encouraging you to relax and open your mouth for him.

You move a little closer to Barnes and press your knees and the palms of your hands into the mattress.

Barnes watches the man behind you open a bottle of lube. He grunts as you shyly glance at his erection. “All for you, doll.” He lazily strokes his cock, waiting for Fowler to make his move. “I bet you will look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

Heat creeps into your cheeks at his praise. You dart your tongue out to lick over the wide heat. He shudders feeling your tongue touch his sensitive tip.

“Stop playing around,” Fowler pushes against your shoulders to press your face into Barnes’ crotch. “Swallow his cock while I shove mine into your tight little arsehole.”

“Hey, she was so good to me,” Barnes complains loudly. “Right doll. You wanted to suck me good.”

“She’ll be even better with my cock up her ass.” You hear a commotion in the room. The fifth man, Levinson barks orders at Hansen and Rogers. You blend his voice out and only listen to Fowler who lubes one finger to play with your tightest hole. “Such a nice little hole for me to use.”

You whimper and bite your lower lip. It’s a new sensation feeling Fowler’s finger push into your tightest hole. He groans behind you. “Did you ever take it up your ass?” He taunts while moving his finger in and out. “I bet you didn’t.”

“Who’s toying with her now,” Barnes snaps at Fowler. “She’s a big girl and can take it. Right, doll?” He purrs the pet name. “You want him to fuck this naughty hole.”

For a moment, the room was silent. All eyes are on you, and the men watch you slowly nod.

They don’t need to know that you’re about to fulfill your darkest desires. The ones no one else could fulfill.

“I knew she was going to take all of me,” Fowler slaps your ass. You squeak and lean over Barnes’ crotch to lick over the head. He holds his cock in a tight grip, offering it to you like a present. “Now, open up for Barnes while I stretch that hole.”

Barnes cups the back of your neck and holds his cock with his free hand. He guides you down his cock, slow but his hold on your neck is tight enough to tell you he won’t accept refusal.

“Slow, doll,” Barnes moves his hand to the back of your neck. He pats you and purrs your name. “I’ll help you do it right.” He pushes your head into his crotch, forcing you to swallow him whole.

“Yeah, he’s good at guidance,” you choke around Barnes's cock. He smirks as you struggle to breathe right. “I’m better, though.”

You let Barnes guide your head up and down his length, ignoring the other men growling your name, along with profanities. You’re too far gone. Body and soul tainted by the men using you for their pleasure, you’re ruined and know it.

Fowler grips your waistline, fingertips digging into your flesh. He lubes his cock, groaning as his eyes drop to your well-fucked cunt. Rogers and Hansen’s cum runs out of your abused hole. “What a good whore you are for all of us.”

“Fuck her already, I’m still waiting for my turn,” it’s Levinson who raises his voice. “If not, I’ll take over and rip that tight little hole open.”

“Get fucked,” Fowler loses his patience. He grips your ass to spread your ass cheeks. Fowler spits onto the crack of your ass, huffing as Levinson steps toward the bed to watch you suck Barnes’ dick. You bob your head, desperate to feel his cum on your tongue.

The pressure you feel the moment Fowler pushes his cock into your tightest hole is something you’ve never felt before. He slowly moves back and forth, still, it’s a wide and uncomfortable stretch. You hear him groan and feel his hands grip your hips to push all the way in.

“Shit, she’s stuffed to the brim,” Hansen comments. He watches Barnes and Fowler use you to their liking, griping his cock to jerk off. “I could go for another round when you are done, guys. Her ass looks inviting.”

“I bet,” Fowler pants as he gives you shallow thrusts, “she stretched that perfect hole with a plug. Right, babycakes. You knew I’m into fucking ass.”

You moan around Barnes’ cock, unable to answer Fowler’s question. You’re their sex toy to use, and nothing else. You can’t move your head, because Barnes guides you up and down his length while Fowler thrusts into your ass.

They work in unison as if they had done this a hundred times before. Their cocks fill your holes, pushing as deep as possible and you get lost in your darkest fantasy. You close your eyes and let yourself fall.

“She’s there, in her little headspace, fuck,” Rogers’ says. “Slow down, make her feel all of it.” He dips his head to watch Fowler stretch your arsehole. “Make her hole gape. I want to go for a ride later too.”

“Shut up, Rogers,” Levinson barks. He stares at your naked form trapped between the others. Levinson is ready to drag them off you to get his turn, but he will wait and have the grand finale. “It’s my turn first!”

You don’t have time to think about his cum on your tongue. Fowler pushes against your shoulders, holding you down to rut into you. His cock slams into your tight hole. You whimper and beg him to slow down, but he won’t. Fowler is determined to fill you up.

“Shit…I’m gonna cum,” you groan around Barnes. He cups the back of your neck again, holding you still when his cum shoots down your throat. “She’s perfect…” He slips out of your mouth, letting you breathe.

“Butterfly?” Levinson asks, and you shake your head. “You’re such a good girl. We never had someone taking it like you did.”

“Please.”

Fowler grabs your hips. He shoves himself as deep as possible inside your ass and stills his hips. He comes with a shout of your name and slaps your ass with both hands.

It’s over as fast as it began. Fowler slips out of you and pushes your broken body onto the bed. You whimper but believe they will give you a break.

“Aw, butterfly, it’s my turn now,” you groan feeling another pair of hands grab your body. The man drags you off the bed and places you on the ground. “Hansen, help me.”

“I’m not your fucking sidekick,” Hansen grunts.

“I told you,” Levinson growls and points at you on the ground, “help me. I want to give her the best. My cum!”

“Fine, fine…” Hansen pushes a pillow under your head. He spreads your legs and presents your cum-leaking pussy to Levinson. “Satisfied?”

“Not yet,” Levinson steps toward your trembling body. He looks down at your naked form, smirking darkly as you stare up at him. The man is just like you, stark naked. “I hope you are ready for me, butterfly.”

You lick your lips, still tasting Barnes’ cum on your tongue. “Yeah…” you whimper and wait for his move.

“Good girl.”

Levinson grips his massive cock. He looks you in the eyes and starts stroking his cock. Moans leave this beautiful man’s lips as he stares at you. His grip tightens around his cock, and he fists himself faster.

Levinson has been on the edge since the moment his eyes landed on you. He wildly jerks his hips and imagines how your cunt will feel around his cock.

“Y/N,” he shouts your name and paints your body with his cum.

The moment his cream ends up on your skin, your body sizes up, and you cum untouched, whimpering as you don’t know what just happened.

“Guys, that was awesome,” Penelope coos. She smirks as the men she hired to spice the party up get dressed. “We all enjoyed your service.”

“Anytime, ma’am,” one of the callboys she paid to give your bridesmaids a good time says.

“I hope the bride got her money’s worth too,” Penelope giggles. “Five men giving her all she ever wanted. Phew…”

“Five men?” The callboy asks. “Ma’am. Every man you hired is within this room. We don’t know the others. We thought you hired someone else for the bride.”

“What?” Penelope stutters. “No. I only called you. I—I didn’t hire anyone else…”

You wake on a soft mattress. A silky nightgown covers your sore body. “Morning, sunshine,” Hansen greets you with a wink. He took the mask off, revealing the mustache you felt more than once against your clit last night. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Penelope outdid herself hiring you,” you grin. “You followed the script. I really enjoyed all of you and your service.”

You roll to your side to watch Barnes sip on his coffee. “You too, Barnes.”

“Bucky, doll,” he winks at you. “I think after I fucked all of your holes you can call me Bucky.”

“I hope Penelope paid you well. This was…phew…” you sit up to look around the room. You frown, as you are not at the bedroom of the house you rented for your bachelorette party. “Where are we?”

“Oh, that,” Nick Fowler laughs. “You see, we are not the callboys your little friend hired. We kind of hijacked your party to get back at your fiancé.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, we got the script and the guys your friend hired to fuck you gave us all the information we needed.”

“I don’t understand,” you gape at Steve who steps inside the room. He holds the script you handed to Penelope before she hired the callboys in his hands.

“Your fiancé fucked with the wrong person, so we wanted to fuck him over but,” Ari laughs at your shocked expression. “Imagine our surprise when we found out that you wanted to fuck some callboys and send your fiancé the video.”

“He cheated on me,” you snap at Ari. “He never made me cum and dared to cheat on me. I wanted to fulfill my fantasies and get back at him at the same time!”

“I knew I liked her!” Lloyd exclaims. “See, we should do her a favor and send the tape to her now ex-fiancé. He’ll freak out, but she’s safe with us.”

“What?” You huff as the men start chatting about your fiancé, how you came on their cocks, and anything in between. “Guys, where are we?”

“We brought you somewhere safe,” Ari says and turns his attention back toward his coffee. “Don’t worry, butterfly. We like you, and will always make you cum. Just relax, lean back, and enjoy how we dismantle your ex…”

Tags in reblog.

#lloyd hansen #nick fowler #steve rogers #bucky barnes #ari levinson #smut #tw: consensual non-con #Best bridesmaid ever #dark!fic

531 notes · View notes

mcflymemes · 9 months

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"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD" PROMPTS * assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

who else knows you're still alive?

don't tell me i'm the only one that knows.

i never should have believed their lies.

how could you keep this from me?

they lied to you. they knew it would break you if i died.

i staged it all.

there's no way this is happening.

i'm never letting you go.

i promised you i'd never leave you.

but i saw you die! this is impossible!

no. no. this isn't happening. this can't be real.

i watched it. i watched you die and now you're standing here.

how is this even possible?

they might have exaggerated just a bit.

we needed to make it look like i was dead.

you just let me spend all this time thinking you were dead?

did you tell anyone else?

this was your master plan? fake your death, see what happens?

i don't know whether to be pissed or be thrilled to see you again.

i've just seen a ghost.

you saw what they wanted you to see.

you're not real. i must be dreaming.

did you look for me?

funny. i don't remember falling asleep.

you just let us all believe you were dead?

it was the only way to do this. i'm sorry.

when were you going to tell me?

i watched the life leave your eyes...

you kept this from me.

oh my god... no. no no no. this can't be happening.

how did you... how did you even do this?

someone pinch me.

you look pretty good for someone that's supposed to be dead.

i watched you die in my arms.

they told me you died.

i promised you i'd come back.

they lied to me? all this time?

trust me, i wanted to tell you. i really did.

i think i need to sit down.

i'm gonna need some time to process this.

are you real? can i touch you?

what was all this about you dying?

you've kept the truth from me all this time.

had you just told me, i could have helped you.

i begged them to let me tell you, but they said it would ruin our plans.

the blood was fake. i'm all right.

yes, i'm alive! would you please come over here and give me a hug?

i didn't think i'd survive it, either.

i knew you'd come back for me.

we had to make it believable from the start.

there was no other way.

i should have told you.

i tried to get a message out to you.

they said you'd moved on, so i figured i should, too.

i wish i had all the answers for you.

i know you expect me to be okay with this, but things have changed since you died.

[name]... i thought you were dead.

will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?

i'll never leave you again.

i swear on my life, this wasn't supposed to happen this way.

i take it you got my message.

everything got out of hand.

they didn't tell you?

glad you could make it.

i'm sorry i didn't reach out to you sooner.

all of a sudden, you come back into my life.

i'm back and better than ever.

i don't want to hear your excuses.

1K notes · View notes

slutforalastor · 19 days

Note

"Ah, he's got this problem." Your friend Mimzy waved her hand. "You know how animal demons get. I'd take care of him myself but I wouldn't want to spoil our working relationship. We go way back, you know."

Slowly, you nodded. "You'd consider it a personal favour?" That was how things worked in Hell. A consideration for a consideration. And dealing with the Radio Demon in rut was hardly a small favour, even if it did play well to your preferences.

"To me, yeah." Mimzy smiled broadly. "Just take him to a private room in the back and see that he's calmed down before it's time for the show. If he's cranky he's gonna start eating people, ugh." She fluttered her hand again. "Don't worry, though, he's an absolute sweetheart."

Seeing the Radio Demon turn sideways to get through the door, eyes glowing red and his huge rack of antlers festooned with cables, you were starting to doubt Mimzy's definition of sweetheart.

THIS POST CONTAINS MATERIAL NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS. 18+

Content: Rutting, antlerplay, role reversal, give and take, banter, mutual masturbation, light femdom, biting, marking, a lot of flowery language for smut

You'd heard the stories and rumors, saw the occasional report on VNN, but you'd yet to encounter the Radio Demon for yourself. Even pushed to the edge where something resembling humanity plunges into dark depths of depravity, he's maintaining a grip on decorum, his wavering smile barely forming the syllables when he introduces himself as Alastor, his voice impossibly mimicking the sound of a mono recording from a bygone time. Mimzy is going to owe you big-time.

"I'm doing well, sir. I have to say, you look like you've had an awful day."

"It is... most inconvenient," he stammers, shaking his head like a beached animal trying to throw off water. Just as Mimzy had requested, you'd waited for him in the private room, and you're still laying in the bed, your body draped across the two rows of firm pillows, down to your lingerie for his ease. With wobbling steps, he begins to close the distance, loosening his bowtie.

"I really must insist that this matter... stay between us." The restraint he's displaying seems as though it's taking every bit of faculties he can spare; his breathing, his sight, his ability to stand, all seem to be sustained with the minimum amount of effort possible. Even glazed in electric red, you can tell his eyes are focused intently on you.

"Who would believe me, anyhow?"

"... Too true, no one would dream of calling me a liar," he agrees, pulling his waistcoat off and leaving it in a heap on the bureau. His undershirt is the same deep red, intersecting black stripes making a cross across the center of his chest. He rolls his sleeves up, then sets his cane on top of his waistcoat. "Any... sensitivities I should know about?"

"I like being kissed on the neck," you venture, playing it safe for opening bids.

He laughs wickedly, the glow casting light further than it could reach before, his antlers growing another section in size, branching out that much closer to the ceiling. "Oh, Mimzy didn't tell me you'd be so pure. Surely you have something more entertaining than that?"

"You think I do this sort of thing often enough to have an itemized list?"

He tuts at your attempt at banter, removing his shoes and leaving them in the gap under the bed. "I don't have time for experimentation, my dear. I'm asking if you think you can handle what I have to give."

"I've handled everything so far," you smirk.

"Let's see how you handle the best, then," he mutters. With a wave of his hand, a black tentacle rises to wrap around your midsection, pinning you in place. He's climbing onto the bed, teeth bared like an animal seconds from pouncing. There's hunger in his eyes, desperation in his motion, a frantic bent to the way he's starting to falter, his kayfabe crumbling with every push of his knees. He's got your legs open, mounting you, and you can feel something alive and thrashing, barely contained by the slacks tenting away from his midsection. His eyes are narrowed in ravenous anticipation, his hips pressing him into you, etching his longing lengthwise against the fabric of your underwear. You feel your upper teeth against your lip, knowing that despite all your talk, you can't hide how appreciative you are of his straightforward approach.

With a hoarse exhale, he fumbles with his belt, the restraining tentacle slipping southward to yank your panties down. Your eyes catch a glimpse of how prepared you are for what's coming next, the evidence staining a dark spot in the light fabric. The Radio Demon hikes his slacks down to the midsection of his thighs, the tip of his firmness kissing against your entrance, his erratic movements keeping him from slipping in. You take it in your hands, which makes him rear up in ecstasy, a hissing growl punctuating the reaction, and align it directly where it needs to go. With a thrust motivated by nothing more than primal need, he forces himself deep into you, grunting in satisfaction at your breathy gasps when it settles into your apex. He gives you little time to adjust, burying himself into you with harsh, crushing strokes, the red in his eyes leaving a tracer every time you shut your eyes against the force of it. His hands are against your forearms, pinning the both of them on either side, and when your head goes back, he finds the crook of your neck with his teeth, his tongue, his lips, seasoning you with scratches, leaving welts from kisses and bites. They sting like fire, they excite like aphrodisiac.

"Is that what you mean, my dear? Is that what you're looking for?"

You whimper something that sounds close enough to assent for him to grow bolder, making a map of your body, marking a trail, carving canyons, raising landmarks that stand red and pulsing against the canvas of your skin. All this in the throes of his rutting deep into you. It drives you mad, your legs wrapping around his waist, bidding him to see just how much of his mind he can lose.

"God, your fucking taste. It'd be such a shame to just devour you, though. So many uses for the whole." Or maybe you're using the homophone of that word to make him seem kinder.

A flailing hand finds your throat, freeing your arms by necessity. You catch onto the rack of black antlers nearly driving themselves into the headboard, using them for leverage to arch your back. You can't tell if you've irritated or excited him with your little move, but the result is the same; he's pressing you with enough force that you can feel the force of it in your midsection. You're seeing red, the sound of him making a mess of you ringing in your ears, two organs vying for sensations yet to be experienced, every other part of you a mere pretense, a chorus playing ensemble to the true performance. And he's reaching the climax of it, his bucking hips shaking your entire frame. You can feel every shift of his disposition in the bone of his antlers, and you hold on for dear life as his urge rushes into your lower half, filling you with thick heat. You're moaning unconsciously, letting him keep you impaled for as long as it pulses with diminishing vigor, feeling every twitch in his shaft as it empties itself. Finally spent, he releases you, the tentacle unwinding from around your waist. Your fingers, knuckles sore from strain, release his antlers, and you extricate yourselves from one another. You can feel his seed weep from between your legs, your breathing rapid, your skin slick with sweat. He collapses onto his back, his legs still entangled with yours, the fabric of his slacks a strange texture on your drenched skin. Straining, you lift your head up, seeing that despite his exhaustion, his cock hasn't calmed one bit.

"Still... not satisfied?"

"This damnable rut..."

You pull yourself up, your lower half numb and leaving a trail of translucence as you crawl to the space between his legs. You wrap a hand around him, and he breathes a hissing inhale that tapers into a low, long groan.

"I didn't ask you..."

"You look like you're in misery, you really don't want the help?"

"I am in no position to keep going..."

"So let me handle it."

You can see the conflict playing out in his expression, but his hips gently bucking against your hand tell a different tale. "Not a soul can know about this."

You nod your assent, giving the part that needs it more of your attention. It's as lively as when he was frotting it against you, throbbing with want, coated with spend. It makes a marvelous lubricant, the wet sound of skin against slick skin nearly obscuring his quiet moans.

"I couldn't help but notice that you have sensitivities of your own, sir."

"Surely you can't mean..."

Your free hand dances like a bird across the branches in his horns, his vocalizations and submissive thrusts suggesting that you have stricken quite the nerve. He's already oozing pre into your palm, a searching hand walking a blind path between your legs, caressing you in kind. You've got a wild idea, just crazy enough to sound worth doing. There's a real chance you'll never cross each other's path again, might as well indulge. You spot a path that ends in a blunt point in his rack, and take it into your mouth, flitting your tongue against the rough material, firm and tasteless, but eliciting such a response from him that you'd not dare release it. His fingers are stroking you with all the effort they can muster, his thrusts weak but sincere.

"Cannot believe... you're getting away with this," he whines, his voice so submissive compared to the one you first heard that it threatens to send you over the edge. Why not press your luck? You straddle his waist, inching him into you margin by maddening margin. He's got no more clever quips for you, his curled claws clutching fistfuls of ruined bedsheets. The view from on high is a pleasant one. A few more motions, and you feel that sensation alighting in him once again; you're ready to join him. His whimpers go up an octave, the crackling filter in his voice thickening, distorting. For the second time, he climaxes inside of you, your own orgasm arriving in tandem. The both of you cry out, his subdued and sweet, yours unrestrained and carnal. You fold into him, his initial reaction wanting to pull away, but he grants you this favor, letting you find the crook in his neck in parallel. He speaks unfiltered, more as Alastor than as the Radio Demon.

"You know, it can be so hard to find willing assistants for these difficult times. Perhaps I could call on you again, my dear."

Maybe it should be you that owes Mimzy.

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #radio demon x reader #the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 months

Text

BTS Reaction || Finding A Pregnancy Test

BTS X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

SEOKJIN: When Jin first found the pregnancy test he'd been freaking out about the whole thing and had made an excuse so that he could get out of the house and get some time to think for himself. Sure, he'd always wanted kids with you and had imagined his little family with you but wasn't it too soon? The two of you were married, sure, but it was still too soon. You had so long to go before the two of you could have kids and he had so many places he wanted to take you before it happened. But knowing that you were pregnant was also filling him with so much joy it was battling over the dread he was thinking when it came to being a father, all of the questions and worries he had were melting away the more he thought about holding his child in his hands.

"Where did you run off to?" You giggled as your husband walked through the door holding a small bag in his hands and a giant grin on his face.

"I got you a present." He held out the bag for you and you took it, pausing your laundry task and opening the bag to find a baby growth inside. You frowned at the small piece of clothing,

"I know you were holding the test because you were scared but we can do this...together." Slowly you looked up to meet your husband's gaze but you were still just as confused as before. What test was he talking about and what did it have to do with a baby-growth?

"Do what? What test?"

"The pregnancy test...in our room, you had it in your wardrobe door." The pieces finally began to click together and you whimpered a little.

"Oh baby...T-That wasn't for me. Kat came around yesterday and she did a test, it's hers." The smile that was once spread across Jin's face was wiped clean and you could have sworn he let out a breath.

"Are you upset?" You questioned as you reached out to rub his arm, it was a conflicting feeling. It must have felt the same way to him as it did to you when you'd wake from a dream of having children only to not have them in your life.

"A little...I'm also relieved, is that bad?" His eyes shifted to yours and you smiled at him.

"No. We're still young Jin, we have plenty of time to have kids in the future, it's just not our time right now." YOONGI: As soon as Yoongi found the pregnancy test worry began to wash over him but not because of the thought of you being pregnant but because you felt as though you had to hide it from him. Not that it was really that well hidden, he'd walked into the bathroom looking for some painkillers and found the test stashed behind the first aid box.

Were you scared he was going to react poorly? The two of you had been together for almost 10 years now, maybe it was time you started to talk about having kids. It wasn't something he'd never wanted but it had always been something he put on hold for his job.

"Why would you hide this?" He questioned as he walked back into the bedroom, you stopped moisturising your face and turned to look at what he was holding up for you to see.

"I wasn't. It's not mine," You laughed a little walking over to him and looking at the test. You hadn't taken one in a month or so, since you always took one once a month or so just to make sure you weren't pregnant.

"Kat must have done it when she came by this morning." You shrugged your shoulders, reaching for your phone to let her know you'd found the test and ask why she hadn't told you.

"Ew!" The stick was quickly dropped onto the floor making you laugh at your boyfriend's reaction, he was always a little more overdramatic than he needed to be.

"It has a cap on the part where she peed, relax." You giggled shaking your head at him and picking up from the floor, listening to the phone ring as you waited for Kat to answer you. HOSEOK: Once Hoseok found the test it was like nothing could shut him up about it, it didn't matter that he hadn't checked with you whether it was yours or not, none of that mattered. What mattered was telling the boys all about it with a giant grin on his face.

"Why didn't you tell us together? Surely it's something you share?" Jimin questioned, it seemed a little strange to him and the rest of the members that you weren't also there to tell them about your pregnancy.

"I mean, Yn would have told you but she doesn't know that I know." Hoseok must not have realised how weird it sounded as the boys stared at him, blinking and wondering where to unpack that.

"What?" Jin asked finally breaking the silence,

"Yeah, that sounds weird," Taehyung added, but Hoseok shook his head at them. He was sure you were just going to tell him in your own time but he wanted to be the first one to tell the boys. He was too excited about it,

"Well I found the test and I know she's pregnant," As soon as you heard the words you placed the bags of shopping down and stared at the back of your boyfriend's head as he continued to tell the boys of your pregnancy, which wasn't true.

"For the record, I'm not pregnant." You told him as you walked into the living room and giggled as Hoseok practically jumped out of his skin when he heard you.

"And the pregnancy test you're holding is Kat's. She kept it here, she's planning on surprising her boyfriend with it." Suddenly the test was dropped onto the floor and Hoseok was wiping his hands down his jumper as if he was trying to wash germs off.

"Gross. I told you, Yn would be here if she was pregnant." Jimin laughed shaking his head at Hoseok who was running to the kitchen to wash his hands. NAMJOON: Namjoon didn't waste any time when he found the test, as soon as he saw it in the bin he came out to the bedroom where you were getting ready for the day and sat on the edge of the bed. You were doing your usual routine and he swallowed the lump that was in his throat.

The two of you had spoken about starting a family together many times but you both agreed that the time wasn't right, right now and it would be something to look forward to in the future.

"Do you have something you want to tell me?" He quizzed, you glanced at him in the mirror frowning a little. He looked so serious that it worried you a little, you hadn't seen him look this serious since he asked you to marry him.

"What?" You laughed nervously,

"I found the test. I thought we were being careful, we use everything to protect this from happening." He began to mumble on about how he was doing everything he could to stop "this" from happening but you had no idea what "this" was. As he continued to ramble you got up and sat in front of him, holding his hands in yours and forcing him to stop and stare at you,

"Namjoon, what are you talking about?"

"I found the pregnancy test yn, you don't have to pretend anymore." You thought back to the night before, you'd had the girls over for some drinks and Kat had disappeared for a while. Things finally began to click into place and you bit down on your lip.

"As cliche as this is going to sound, it's not mine."

"It's not?"

"No, it's Kat's. She must have thrown it away last night and not told me." You pouted a little, sad that your friend was hiding it from you.

"Joonie, if I thought I was pregnant I would come to you first, don't worry." You promised before kissing him softly. JIMIN: "What's taking so long? It hurts you know!" You called out to your boyfriend. You'd sent him to the bathroom to grab your tweezers so that he could pull an ingrown hair out of your leg but it seemed as though he'd gone to Narnia or something. He'd been in there for five minutes now and you were starting to worry he'd slipped and hurt himself.

"Jimin, they're on the top shelf." You whined coming into the bathroom and stalling when you saw him staring down at the four positive pregnancy tests that were in his hands. When he first saw them he hadn't even realised what they were but the closer he looked the more he began to focus on what it was and what it meant.

Were the two of you even ready for a baby? You were still in the honeymoon stage of your relationship, where everything was perfect and neither of you seemed to annoy the other one too much.

"You're pregnant?" His voice was soft as he stared at you and you shook your head, it was too soon in your relationship for it. You'd only been together for a few months,

"No! They're Kat's," You let out a breath as Jimin visibly relaxed and put the tests back where he got them from.

"She's planning on surprising Jake with the pregnancy and wanted to do the tests here." You shrugged it off,

"Good...I mean, good that she's pregnant, not good that it's not yours, not that I wouldn't be happy to have a baby with you but-" He was cut short by your lips on his and you giggled at how cute he was when he rambled.

"Relax, now can you come and get this hair out of my leg?" TAEHYUNG: "Taehyung, this is a girl's brunch." Your best friend said as your husband walked into the kitchen, he looked rather pale though which worried you a little. He'd only just gotten better, there was no way he was sick again,

"Are you feeling okay baby? Do you need some water?" You got up from the table, it didn't matter how old Taehyung was he was still your baby and when he was sick you got more worried than a mother with their child.

"Are you?" His voice cracked as he stared at you, and you frowned a little at him. What was he talking about? You felt fine and you had felt fine for weeks now.

"Do I need to do anything differently? Should I be making you food? carrying bags?" The more he spoke the further he confused you and Kat who stared at him,

"What?" You couldn't quite wrap your head around what he was asking you.

"I don't know the first thing about this. Do I need to book time off work now or do I do that when the baby comes?"

"What baby?" You screeched a little, did he know something you didn't?!

"Our baby." He said as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him to announce

"Our baby?" Your voice went up an octave as you stared at him with widened eyes

"Wait...guys." Kat tried to comment but Taehyung was quick to jump in,

"I found the test in the spare bathroom, I was looking for some shampoo and it was just there." You shook your head at him, it wasn't yours, you hadn't taken a test,

"Taehyung, it's mine!" Kat called out making you both stare over in her direction.

"Is that why you're having a virgin mimosa?" You stared at her and she nodded shyly at you,

"So it's not Yns?"

"No," Kat admitted,

"Thank god," Taehyung groaned sitting down and downing your drink in one go, making you laugh a little at him.

"Not for a while yet baby, I promise." You and Kat laughed as your husband laughed nervously along with you both. JUNGKOOK:

Jungkook wasn't sure what he was supposed to do after he found the test but he called Jin right away who came straight to the house.

"Is Yn in bed?" Jin asked as he looked at the very scared-looking Jungkook,

"Yeah, I didn't know what to do, Hyung." Jungkook was shaking as he sat in the living room staring down at the test that was on the coffee table. He'd found it this morning when he was rushing to get ready for work.

"You need to talk to Yn." He'd told him this already but Jungkook shook his head.

"But what if she's hiding it for a reason? what if she doesn't want me to know."

"What if who's hiding what?" You asked tiredly as you walked into the living room, pausing when you saw the test on the coffee table.

"Congratulations Jin!" You screamed, the tiredness completely wiped from your body as you threw your arms around Jin who seemed just as confused as Jungkook by this point.

"It's not mine." Jin laughed a little and you got up, staring at the test and then at your boyfriend.

"Oh, then who's the test?"

"Yours?" Jungkook frowned making you giggle and shake your head.

"Nah, I didn't take one." You hadn't needed to for a while since you were on the pill and used condoms. Sure there was a chance you could get pregnant but you hadn't taken a test recently at least.

"But, I found it in our bathroom." You stared at him and then shook your head,

"Must have been Kat's she was acting all skittish yesterday when she came round." You yawned reaching for your phone, ready to give your best friend a piece of your mind for hiding it from you.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @tinyoonsblog @whitefoxgirl @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @wolfgurl2600 @choisoorin @heyjiminnie @btsiguess-kpop @alicejustwakeup @halesandy @gothic4under4lord @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lenfilms @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @namgiswife @delulu18 @stzatzch @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @swga-ficrecs @kpopmenace143 @loveforred @b1nn1e-1s-cut3

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thisonehere · 6 months

Text

The webs we weave

You are the weaver, once a mere mortal(???) who centuries ago challenged Liu Kang to a weaving competition. The loser had to grant a request from the winner. Spoiler alert: you won. Your request: Immortality and eternal youth and beauty. The usual. Nowadays you are known across the realms for your work... among other things.

Shang Tsung, Kung Lao, Johnny Cage, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Kitana, Mileena, & Liu Kang

A/N: Serious intros mixed with flirting and just the right amount of almost-smut. Be sure to send any other ideas you might have.

Shang Tsung

Y/n: Does my skill flatter you, sorcerer?

Shang Tsung: It amuses, maybe I'll let you live after all.

Shang Tsung: I must say, now that I see your work in person. It's quite... mediocre.

Y/n: Mediocre? MEDIOCRE?

Shang Tsung: That Liu Kang lost to you speaks volumes.

Y/n: I can say the same about you losing to him.

Y/n: You're... you're very charming for a villain.

Shang Tsung: Do I make you weak in the knees, Y/n?

Shang Tsung: That silk coat you made me had acidic venom in the fibers!

Y/n: *grins* Oops.

Y/n: The silk sheets have been crafted as you requested.

Shang Tsung: Excellent, now I just need you on them to make it complete.

Kung Lao

Kung Lao: I need a new costume, something that matches my greatness.

Y/n: Of course, I think I have some leftover pieces of scrap from Raiden.

Kung Lao: You know what, I like you.

Y/n: *rolls eyes* Wow, thank you so much. Your validating me makes me feel so special.

Y/n: What would you like me to make you?

Kung Lao: A nice, big, soft cover. We'll need it for our honeymoon.

Kung Lao: Why do you have so many spiders?

Y/n: I like having company as I spin my threads.

Y/n: Keep you and your hat out of my workshop!

Kung Lao: Oh come on, all I did was accidentally cut some of the work that took you years to complete.

Kung Lao: You should come with me to Madam Bo's.

Y/n: NO. My tab with her is big enough.

Johnny Cage

Johnny: If I knew spiders could be so hot, I'd still smash them all day.

Y/n: I'll never forgive you for killing Gunter!

Johnny: I've got this sweet idea for a new look.

Y/n: Of course, but I'll need your measurements... I need you to get naked, Johnny.

Johnny: Just so you know, I'm cool with doing nudity.

Y/n: Johnny, I'm a weaver, not a sculptor.

Johnny: You got to become my costume designer, we'd kill it on the red carpet.

Y/n: That would be a dream, Johnny!

Johnny: Y/n..that's such a beautiful name. It almost makes me want to sing.

Y/n: Please don't, your musical flopped for a reason.

Johnny: I don't think Christina will ever come back.

Y/n: Remember Johnny, I'll be here for you...With open arms, open legs, and an open mouth.

Bi-Han

Y/n: I'll make nothing for you!

Bi-Han: Good, I want you, not your talents.

Bi-Han: You are living proof of Liu Kang's incompetence.

Y/n: Says the man who lost to two farmers.

Bi-Han: I was holding back against Raiden and Kung Lao.

Y/n: Oh, Bi-Han, you don't need to lie to impress me.

Bi-Han: I'll freeze your little insects and leave you defenseless.

Y/n: A. They're Arachnida, B. Pick up a book, and C. Some of us like the cold.

Y/n: Your bed must be so cold.

Bi-Han: Come lay in it with me and find out.

Bi-Han: Let me guess, you think your love can "fix me"?

Y/n: Who said I wanted to fix you?

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang: Your growing relationship with Bi-Han is concerning.

Y/n: Oh Kuai, don't tell me you're getting jealous.

Y/n: Come to me, Scorpion. I burn for you.

Kuai Liang: You've been spending too much time with Johnny.

Y/n: Perhaps you and I coul-

Kuai Liang: I'm sorry, but I'm spoken for.

Kuai Liang: Harumi loved the tapestry.

Y/n: Only the best for her.

Y/n: Are sure?

Kuai Liang: The feeling I had for you are gone now.

Kuai Liang: What have you been planning?

Y/n: Just a little present for your wedding, specifically for the honeymoon.

Kitana

Kitana: Can I hope to have your loyalty in my ongoing battle with Shao?

Y/n: I guess we both shall see.

Kitana: You beat Lord Liu Kang!?

Y/n: Of course, when it comes to combat he is my superior, but no man can best me in my craft.

Kitana: I must say, the stories about you do not do your talents or your beauty justice.

Y/n: What exactly do those stories say?

Kitana: Have you ever considered silk worms rather than spiders?

Y/n: *blech* Never, they're gross, slow, and squishy, and worse, they're all gossips.

Y/n: I already have the train ready, just needs some more embroidery.

Titan Kitana: Train? Are you making me a wedding dress?

Y/n: You and Liu Kang are so cute together.

Titan Kitana: I thank you for being so approving, but our relationship is really none of your business.

Mileena

Y/n: Why do you stare, Empress?

Mileena: I don't know, something about all those bugs around you seems...familiar...

Mileena: Your ascension to the plain of the immortals is most admirable.

Y/n: Perhaps there are some things I may be able to teach you Empress.

Mileena: Are you making wedding attire for Titan Kitana and Lord Liu Kang?

Y/n: Of course, but don't be jealous, I already have something special for you and Tanya.

Mileena: Perhaps you may stay a bit longer, teach me some of your trade.

Y/n: Of course, Empress.

Mileena: *Bloodlusted* I will rip your tongue out from through your cheek!

Y/n: Ooohhhh, cheeky.

Mileena: When I am done with you I will burn all your work to ashes for what you did!

Y/n: No, please! Mercy, MERCY!!!

Liu Kang

Y/n: You knew I'd win?

Liu Kang: I can recognize talent when I see it.

Y/n: Why did you accept my challenge even though you knew you'd lose?

Liu Kang: I was hoping for a chance to be near you.

Y/n: Who is this D'vorrah? Geras said I reminded him of her.

Liu Kang: Nothing should concern you.

Liu Kang: Please, I ask you, keep your distance from raiden.

Y/n: Why? Worried that I'll tempt your little champion?

Liu Kang: You made me a wedding dress?

Y/n: Of course, I see you as much more of a dress-wearing type of man rather than a boring old tuxedo.

Liu Kang: Be careful, Y/n, your hubris can lead to your downfall.

Y/n: What is wrong with showing a little pride in my work?

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ioveartfilm · 1 month

Text

BEYOND THE GRAVE

Summary When he first dreamed about you, Satoru knew deep down you must be wandering somewhere in the world out of his reach. However, he never thought you were lying six feet underground.

Genre Romance, Drama, Historical, Thriller.

Additional Content Mature Content, Dark Themes, Murder, One Shot, Victorian Era.

Pairing Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader

Playlist ┊ Masterlist

Author’s Note Here’s the corpse bride AU fic I promised, enjoy!!

Satoru’s hand moved effortlessly while sketching the figure of a woman that rested in his mind. Capturing every detail of hers. Being a presence he had portrayed on countless occasions. Her features linger vividly in his memories, using her as a subject to relieve his turmoils. As his gaze remains, his lingering desires do too. A yearning for her to come to life. How does a woman attain such resplendent beauty and by what mystic grace did her presence weave its way into his thoughts? His wish for her to enlighten him about her purposes, passions, and dreams persisted. Eager to learn how she landed into his deepest dreams. Why his? His nonchalant mind of his, with no creativity whatsoever.

All his drawings are composed of her presence along with the illustrations of Morpho menelaus, species of the subfamily Morphinae. A striking butterfly species with a resplendent blue that brightens through the night with its vibrant colors. The beautiful butterflies that grace his window daily, he’s lucky to witness. Satoru was the age of eighteen when he first encountered her in his dreams. He remembers the moment vividly. For an inexplicable reason, she was dressed in bridal attire, highlighting her gorgeous collarbone while gracefully embracing her form, complemented by dainty ivory gloves. A bride. Perhaps someone else’s bride. He can’t tell why that thought pains him.

“This boy, engaging in artistic endeavors like a fool.” His mother entered his chamber with an air suffused with disapprobation. “Desist from your current occupation and prepare yourself. We cannot afford to be tardy!”

Oh, that's right. He's going to finally meet his fiance today.

“Ah, my beautiful and only son. Possessing a visage of such resplendence yet lingering in an unmarried state. What an anguish! It is our poverty that people look down on us. But again, If your father haven’t went bankrupt, we wouldn’t be in this situation! Now I’m stuck with a son that wastes his days, selling books, sketching nonsense and recite poems to no one.” Throughout the entirety of their carriage ride to their destination, his mother lamented their circumstances. Regrettably, his family lacks the riches to sustain themselves after his father’s death. However, his forthcoming matrimonial alliance holds the promise of a brighter future. “Now we find ourselves lucky! The Winchester Family finally grant us a chance!”

“Mother,” Satoru called with a furrow forming on his brow. "Shouldn't Miss Winchester be marrying a Lord instead of a common man like me?" He expressed his concerns, his words tinged with uncertainty. “Don't you find it a little odd?” Is he the only who find it suspicious about The Winchester family sudden interest in them?

His mother scowled, using her fan to deliver a smack to her son’s head. “Quiet boy! Don’t pry, and be grateful for what you have.” Satoru exhaled deeply at his mother’s words, sinking back into his seat as a whirlwind of thoughts spun through his mind, there’s no use talking to his mother about this matter. He may as well let it be.

“Adelaide, I implore you to ensure our son enters into wedlock for love, not merely for monetary gain. Guide him onto the right path.”

“Oh, Octavius don’t be ridiculous! Our son’s survival is paramount. Love alone cannot sustain him; it is a whimsical fantasy.”

Satoru recalled the moment he overheard his father’s dying wish for him. Octavius had fervently wished for his son to pursue love in marriage, unencumbered by material considerations. However, Henrietta held a contrary belief. Satoru lacks personal experience with romantic affection, so he cannot voice an opinion on that matter. Opting for a marriage driven by financial considerations is the most pragmatic choice for him at present. His artistic talents and poetic inclinations offered little sustenance for his practical needs. Resigning himself he now embraces the predetermined path laid out before him.

“Pay heed,” His mother's voice resounded with a sense of urgency, her eyes drilling into Satoru with a steely resolve. “Do your utmost to appease them. Whatever you do, do not falter! This is our last opportunity to escape the perpetual hardship we face daily. We cannot afford to let this chance slip through our grasp, do you comprehend?”

“Mother you expect too much from me. I haven't even spoken to Miss Winchester before, how will I know how to please her?”

“Ah, nonsense! Women aren't as complicated as you make them out to be. Just prioritize making a favorable impression on Mr. and Mrs. Winchester.”

Mr. and Mrs. Winchester proved to be not only reserved but rather, intimidating. Satoru stood still in the middle of the room with their discerning gazes lingering on him, scrutinizing every aspect of his presence, leaving him with a growing sense of discomfort. Mrs. Winchester emitted a satisfied hum as she began to circle his form treating him like an exhibit with her head held high.

“You possess striking height and distinctive features: white hair and blue eyes. Yes, these are splendid attributes for our future grandchildren,” Mrs. Winchester commented in a stern tone. “Yet, physical appearance alone is not what we seek. We seek discipline and determination above all else, a husband who is committed to providing for his family. Do you believe you possess such traits, Mr. Gojo?”

Satoru stood proudly, suppressing any doubts that lingered within him, meeting Mrs. Winchester’s gaze with composure. “Yes, ma’am. I assure you that I possess the qualities you seek. I am committed to meeting your expectations.”

The room descended into a profound silence as their eyes locked, seemingly exchanging unspoken words. Mrs. Winchester arched an eyebrow before nodding in approval. “Good. That’s precisely the response I was hoping for. Come along, let us delve deeper into our discussion over a cup of tea.”

As Mrs. Winchester led the way deeper into their sprawling mansion, Satoru’s attention was ensnared by the sight of a magnificent piano, standing behind until the voices of his mother, Mr. and Mrs. Winchester gradually faded away. His eyes were drawn to the instrument, finding himself seated on the bench, his gaze fixated on the keys as memories flooded his mind. He recalled the days of his youth, witnessing his father play with awe and admiration. While Satoru could play the piano, he knew he could never quite replicate his father’s talent. As he sat there before the instrument, memories of his father’s music enveloped him, stirring both nostalgia and longing in his heart. Oh, how he missed the irreplaceable bond they shared through the language of music. One evening, Octavius found young Satoru ensconced in the solitude of the gardens with tears cascading down his cheeks, as he grappled with the weight of his mother’s perceived disappointment in him. Unable to further witness his son’s anguish, Octavius led him to his musical sanctuary where he sat at the grand piano. He began to play with ease a melody he composed with each note a testament to the depth of his love for his son.

“You are kind, strong, and brave.” Octavius spoke with words of reassurance and wisdom. “Allow yourself to feel and express your emotions freely. It does not diminish your worth as a man.”

For years, Satoru devoted himself to the pursuit of replicating the melody his father once played. His fingers dancing upon the keys of the piano with practiced ease. As he closed his eyes, he surrendered himself to the echoes of the past in a bittersweet embrace.

“Mr. Gojo?” The sudden intrusion of feminine voice brought Satoru’s performance to an abrupt halt, his fingers freezing upon the keys as he turned to behold the unexpected visitor. Before him, a radiant apparition graced his sight—a maiden in the prime of her twenties, adorned with cascades of chestnut tresses and eyes of a rich, earthly hue. Her figure was adorned in a breathtaking violet gown along with a delicate necklace gracing her necklace adding a touch of refinement. Satoru then began to distancing himself from the instrument, standing before her. Is she really the woman he must marry? She’s absolutely gorgeous.

“Forgive me.” He speaks flickering his gaze between the woman in front of him and the piano, feeling slightly unease under her curious gaze. “I’ve used your piano without proper permission.”

She emitted a soft chuckle and shook her head with a serene smile. “That’s quite alright. Hardly anyone ever uses it anyway.”

“Really? Such beauty should be cherished and appreciated, not left idle.”

“I agree. Lamentably, my mother holds the belief that a lady like myself should not indulge in musical pursuits.”

"How so?" Satoru couldn't help but inquire.

"My mother believes playing the piano isn't suitable for a lady," Catherine explained with a hint of resignation, "and insists that I redirect my focus towards more socially acceptable pursuits."

"That's a shame," Satoru stated sympathetically.

"It truly is."

Now as both moved to be seated by side together at the piano bench, she cast a wistful smile in Satoru’s direction before speaking with a longing voice. “I’ve always imagined my wedding would be with someone I truly love.” She confessed. “Perhaps it’s an unrealistic wish, don’t you think? Nobody marry for love nowadays.”

“Yes, it is.” Satoru agrees immediately unaware he may have been a little blunt. “I mean! No, of course not. If it’s a dream you hold dearly, do not let go of it so easily.” Even though his hopes of marrying for love have dimmed, it doesn’t mean her hopes have to be.

She hums to herself with her gaze lowered. “I’ve matured and I have learned down the way I shouldn’t be swayed by a little girl’s dreams.” She then lifts up her eyes to meet Satoru’s. “However, that doesn’t mean we should treat each other as strangers. We will soon be husband and wife, the least we can do is treat each with familiarity.”

Satoru let out a relieved sigh upon hearing her words, feeling like he could breathe again. Yes, that’s something he needed to heard. “I will be pleased to do that, I’m not quite fond of formalities. Please reference me as Satoru from now on.”

“Satoru.” She pronounced his name like it was the sweetest flavor her tongue had encountered. “Call me, Catherine.”

“Catherine,” Satoru said with a warm smile, “perhaps after we are wed, I could impart upon you the art of playing the piano.”

“You will?” Catherine inquired, her eyes brightening with anticipation. “Will you teach me the previously melody you were playing?”

“Absolutely,” Satoru responded with a firm conviction agreeing immediately at her request, his demeanor exuding confidence as he reached out to intertwine his fingers with Catherine's, while their eyes locked into each other. Meanwhile, Catherine can’t hold that long her gaze feeling flustered under his clear eyes.

“What impropriety is this?” Mrs. Winchester's voice shattered the moment they shared, causing Satoru and Catherine to hastily pull away from each other. “You two cannot be seen alone before the wedding! I trust you are aware of that, Mr. Gojo.” Mrs. Winchester asserted, her tone carrying a hint of admonition as she reminded them of the proprieties expected before their impending nuptials.

Satoru rose from the bench, executing a polite bow as a gesture of contrition. “My apologies, Mrs. Winchester. It was imprudent of me.”

“I have taken a liking to you, Mr. Gojo. It would be disheartening to be disappointed so soon. Now, there's a few minutes before rehearsal. The priest will arrive soon, so come along, and let’s not waste any more time!”

It's only a few vows, Satoru thought to himself. He had recited numerous poems before; surely, this wouldn't be too challenging. Oh, but it was. Satoru realized with a sinking feeling in his chest. Despite his earlier confidence, the weight of the momentous occasion bore down on him, making the simple act of reciting vows feel daunting.

“Rehearsal in ruins as Mr. Gojo causes chaos!Wedding rumored to be delayed.” Bloody hell—

Satoru's frustration escaped in an audible groan, as the news of the disastrous rehearsal spread throughout the town, amplifying his embarrassment. Can his day get any worse? Now everyone knows what happened at the rehearsal pointing him like a fool. Wait.

Catherine. Oh, Catherine.

She may not want to hear from him after this. He could potentially be labeled as the worst groom in history. Perhaps he wasn't cut out for marriage after all. They were only simple vows—what had gotten into him today? It was completely out of his character! The words may have seemed clear in his thoughts, but as he spoke them aloud, they twisted and faltered, a stark contrast to the eloquence he had imagined.

“With this hand, I shall partake of your elixir.” No, that's not it. Think again.

How about, “With this hand, I shall elevate your candle.” Goodness, no that's not the correct sentence! Think again!

“Come now, Satoru,” he thought, "take a deep breath and orchestrate those vows into their rightful sequence. Do not be disheartened by mere vows. You wish to marry Catherine, do you not?” He does. He may not be initially in love with Catherine taking the fact he barely knows her. Though, that doesn’t mean he can’t learn how to. If you ask him, he’s a fast learner.

“With this hand, I shall lift the burden of your sorrows,” Satoru recited, his voice steady as he embraced the weight of his commitment. He raised his ring, pledging to alleviate Catherine's burdens and share in her joys. He strides further into the depths of the dim forest he had fled, his voice a steady cadence amid the eerie silence as he continues to recite his vows with unwavering determination.

“Your cup shall never run dry, for I shall be your wine. With this candle, I shall illuminate your passage through the abyss. And with this ring, I beseech you to be mine.” With his vows flowing smoothly from his lips, Satoru breathed a sigh of relief, a satisfied smile adorning his face. Proud of his accomplishment in regaining his confidence, he stood poised and ready to embark on his homeward journey.

“Catherine,” he ruminated, a fervent resolve kindling within him, “I stand ready to entreat you to become mine.” Catherine after all, deserves the best. He pledges to himself he will be the best version of himself so he can make Catherine happy. That’s the least he can do as her future husband. If the wedding is still up, of course. What’s he gonna say once goes back? “I’m sorry I ruined away in the middle of rehearsal like an idiot?” Oh, no. What’s Mr. and Mrs. Winchester gonna think of him now? Everything felt so suffocating! But, can you really blame him? It’s almost like the universe was conspiring against him today.

The sudden cessation of the breeze arrested Satoru's steps, preventing him from moving further. However, that was not the only oddity that caught Satoru's attention. The wind picked up, its mournful wail creating a chilling symphony in the air. Simultaneously, the ground beneath him trembled. A sense of uneasiness crept into Satoru's heart. Feeling a shiver run down his spine, sensing the increasing tension in the forest. He made the choice to turn back before it was too late.

“I do.”

The sudden dulcet tones of a feminine voice brought Satoru to an abrupt halt. In that suspended interval, the passage of time seemed to yield to the captivating allure of the unknown speaker, prompting Satoru to turn with cautious deliberation, his senses keenly attuned to the mysterious presence that had disrupted the tranquil solitude of the forest. His gaze widened in astonishment at the vision of a woman adorned in bridal regalia, her face obscured by a flowing veil. Yet, upon closer inspection, he noted the disarray of her attire, with torn fabric and absent embellishments. What calamity had befallen this woman? Despite her initial distance, a sense of trepidation gripped Satoru as she drew nearer, prompting an instinctive step backward.

“Who are you? Do not approach further!” However, the woman paid no heed to his warning and continued to advance. Feeling a surge of panic, Satoru turned on his heels and bolted out of the forest, his heart pounding in his chest as he raced to escape whatever ominous presence lurked behind him. Was it his imagination? Was he really going paranoid? He must be! He sprinted tirelessly until his feet throbbed returning to the bridge he originally was before delving into the forest. After his run, he paused to catch his breath, his hand resting on his chest as he briefly looked back at the cityscape before him. What was that all about? Perhaps his mind is playing tricks on him due to the stress he’s enduring. Yes, that’s it. There’s no other explanation. When he turned to peer back at the forest, his heart nearly leaped out of his chest when his eyes met the sight of the previous woman standing perilously close eliciting a startled reaction that drove him to instinctively press his back against the stone walls of the bridge in a state of bewilderment. However, as soon as her fingers started to reveal her face, time itself stopped for him.

Satoru could only manage to stammer, "You—" No it cannot be. “This…this isn’t possible!” He muttered incredulously at the sight before him. Before him stood the woman he had been sketching since he turned eighteen. As she was close, he could now have a better approach to her appearance. Noticing how the bridal attire was even torn apart, patches of her skin missing on her arms and ankles, revealed exposed bones. Resembling…someone who may be dead. How is this possible? How can a dead person be walking among the living!

“I know you.” Despite her ghastly appearance, he was certain of her identity. He knew her face. How can he not? She has been all he ever draws. What happened to her? He always thought that the woman in his dreams was wandering on the world out of his reach, however, he never thought his ideal woman was lying six feet underground beneath him. A Corpse!

“Yes, it’s me!” She spoke as if she knew him, but how could that be? They never had actually met before at least not in real life—she existed only within the realm of his dreams.

“I have dreamed this day to come. At last, you've found the courage to seek my hand in marriage.” She whispered with a yearning evident in her tone, her words echoing in his troubled mind. She then approached him and cornered him with no room to evacuate. She raised her bony hands clad in tattered gloves which had lost their pure white, as she tenderly placed them upon his cold face. Everything felt surreal to him, as though he were ensnared in a waking dream. She was the last image etched into his consciousness before slipping into oblivion.

“Mother, do you have any news of Satoru?” Catherine inquired, her voice trembling with worry as she spoke with her mother. It's late, she’s afraid Satoru may not come back after he left the rehearsal without looking back. Where could he be? Leaving Catherine filled with concern for his well-being. Perhaps, he had second thoughts?

His mother huffed in response, turning to sink into the furniture facing the fireplace. “No, nothing at all.” She replied. “I should have known that boy would only bring disappointment.”

“I couldn’t agree more. It’s utterly baffling that he doesn’t even know his wedding vows. What kind of man is he?” His father agreed, echoing her mother’s sentiments. “But given the inheritance from Octavius Gojo, he’s the best option available for us. We’ll simply have to endure his foolishness until tomorrow morning. If he bothers to return.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Catherine interjected puzzled. “what inheritance are you referring to?”

Her father shook his head irritated, avoiding his daughter's confused gaze. “Why do you think we arranged your marriage to that fool? Octavius Gojo before his passing, rumors were circulating about him selling his prosperous business and leaving the proceeds to his family.”

Before Catherine can respond to his father, the conversation comes to an abrupt halt as Mrs. Gojo enters the living room, her carriage having returned from a frantic search for her son throughout the city. “I’m deeply embarrassed by my son’s inappropriate behavior. Please accept my sincere apologies on his behalf. Unfortunately, I was unable to find him.”

Mrs. Winchester hummed, motioning for Mrs. Gojo to join them. As they settled in, a tense atmosphere waiting enveloped them all, as they awaited any sign of Satoru’s whereabouts. Suddenly, a servant entered the room to deliver his message to his masters.

“Pardon the interruption, but a guest has arrived.” Mrs. Winchester exhaled deeply upon hearing the following words, expecting news of Mr. Gojo. She can only sigh and nod. “By all means, show them in.” She instructed her servant to lead the guest into the room. As soon the unexpected guest made its entrance, Mrs. Winchester’s eyes brightened immediately with recognition as she beheld the guest.

“Ah, Mr. Zenin. What a delightful surprise.” She says with genuine pleasure. “What brings you to our home?”

He nodded, a smile playing on his lips as he addressed them all with a warm greeting. “I’ve come to visit and check on how things are for the Winchester Family, especially after the news spread about your daughter’s groom fleeing. Which was a surprise to me. Never heard of a fleeing groom before, not during rehearsal at least.”

Mrs. Winchester gestured to a servant to bring a cup of tea as Mr. Zenin joined them. “Yes, it was quite unexpected. I’m grateful for your concerns.”

As they speak over a cup of tea, Mrs. Winchester’s gaze fits towards Mrs. Gojo, observing her attempt to discern Mr. Zenin’s identity. “My apologies.” She interjected. “Allow me to make proper introductions. Mr. Zenin, may I present Mrs. Adelaide Gojo, the estimated mother of the groom. And Mrs. Gojo, it is my pleasure to introduce Mr. Naoya Zenin, a confidant of our family. His father used to be a business associate of my husband before his departure abroad.”

Mr. Zenin nodded from his seat, offering a congenial smile. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Gojo.”

However, Mrs. Gojo remained composed, her expression unwavering. “Likewise.”

“Please excuse my inquisitiveness, but your surname strikes me as oddly familiar.”

“Is that so?” Adelaide replied. “It was my late husband’s name.”

“Ah, please accept my heartfelt condolences.” He responded with sympathy. I never meant to pry.”

“It’s quite alright,” Adelaide said, brushing off his concerns with a wave of her hand.

“I’ve had the misfortune of experiencing grief firsthand as yourself,” Mr. Zenin confessed, sorrow lacing in his words. “Not long ago, I had a fiancée whom I deeply cherished before she was tragically murdered.”

“Oh, my! That’s terrible.” She expresses with a sudden change in her demeanor.

“Yes, it was a devastating ordeal.” Mr. Zenin replied with a heavy heart. “However, learning to move on is a necessary part of life.”

After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, punctuated only by the crackling of the fireplace, Mr. Zenin cleared his throat and began to speak again sitting up straighter. “Catherine, my dear. I neglected to inquire about your well-being. You must be experiencing a great deal of stress not knowing the whereabouts of your fiancé.”

Standing still where she was, Catherine lowered her gaze nodding in acknowledgment. “Yes, I can’t deny that I’m worried.” She admitted softly.

Mr. Zenin nodded gravely at Catherine’s words before speaking earnestly as he glanced back at them at once. “I’m not one to indulge in gossip, but before I came here, I overheard words of a gentleman seen near the woods, accompanied by another woman. I must tell you this before you hear it from someone else. Perhaps I am wrong, let me ask does the groom possess white hair, towering height, and striking blue eyes?”

“That’s my son! Wait, that doesn’t make any sense. My son doesn’t know other women. How can that be possible?”

“What!” Mrs. Winchester exclaimed with indignation in her voice, rising abruptly from her seat. “In the arms of another woman?”

“Satoru? No, it cannot be him.” Catherine muttered distressed.

“Mr. Zenin, are you certain about this?” Mrs. Winchester questioned anxiously. “We cannot allow this information to spread any further. The potential humiliation it could bring upon us is unthinkable!”

Standing up from his seat, Mr. Zenin nodded resolutely, certain of what he had heard. “I trust in the accuracy of what I’ve heard. Pardon me for burdening you with such troubling news,” He conveyed with sincerity. He made his way towards the door, glancing back at their uneasy faces. “I believe it’s time for me to take my leave. However, please remember, that I’m always available to lend a helping hand if needed. My assistance is unconditional.” He reassured them before closing the door behind him.

As Mr. Zenin bid his farewell, Mrs. Winchester’s hand swept through her hair in a gesture of exasperation, her mind grappling with the weight of the situation. “What steps should we now undertake?” She queried her husband, momentarily disregarding Mrs. Gojo's continued presence in the room.

Mr. Winchester’s fingertips grazed his beard as he pondered the situation. “I believe we must call the wedding off.”

“Such preposterous allegations!” Mrs. Gojo exclaimed, her demeanor now imbued with a regal air of indignation. “Surely, Mr. Zenin has been misinformed. You’re aware of how dangerous gossip can be. My son is of impeccable character; he could never stoop to such levels of promiscuity. I beseech you, to grant me a chance at least until tomorrow, so I can unravel this egregious misunderstanding. I’m certain by that time, I will be able to find my son.”

“Very, well. You have until dawn.”

With eyes alight with admiration, you behold his features closely, relishing the sight of his. Unable to resist any longer, your fingertips rested on his skin exploring the contours of his face. A smile adorning your smiles as you bask in the tranquility of the moment. Finally, he's in your arms after so long.

“What do we have here? A mere trinket for idle amusement?” A derisive voice interjects, disrupting your thoughts and your tender exploration.

With a heavy sigh, you stand to face your skeletal friend. “He is not an object for amusement. I would appreciate it if you refrain from treating him such.” He chuckles in response as he joins you by your side, and together, you cast a glance at the sleeping form of the man resting upon the furniture made of bones.

“Right. Pardon me for insulting your boyfriend over here.”

“He is not my boyfriend; he’s my husband.” You assert, shooting your friend a sharp glare. “Well, my future husband. He asked for my hand in marriage. Where are the others? I want to announce the news of our engagement as soon as possible.”

“What’s the rush, dear? Your fiancé seemed to be passed out. And by the looks of it, he may not be waking up soon.”

You scoffed in annoyance, your frustration evident in the curl of your lip. “Don’t you have anything else to do? Instead of being annoying around me.”

“Love, I’m merely just looking out for you. What business do you have with a living person?”

“I already informed you. He asked for my hand—”

“Yes. But do you truly believe he means it?”

"I'm not sure what you're implying." You replied skeptical.

Your skeletal friend shakes his skull, the hollow cavities where his eyes once were fixed on you. “I only want you to understand the magnitude of your actions. He may not mean those words, not to you at least.” He advises you with a solemn tone.

“That’s nonsense.” You retort. “I was the only one in the forest when he took vows, naturally those words were directed at me.”

“For two years,” you expound, delving into the intricacies of your relationship and the reasons behind your actions, “Satoru has been my steadfast companion. Since my departure, he has frequented these woods, pouring forth his dreams and aspirations. I've tried to connect with him through his dreams, and I'm certain he feels the same way. Now, here's the ring as a testament to our bond.” You announce, lifting your bony hand to showcase the shiny band nestled upon your finger.

“(Y/N)—”

The room fell into a reverent stillness, pierced only by the plaintive groan from the unconscious man who was now struggling to regain consciousness. You rush to his side, lowering yourself to kneel beside his prone form. “Darling, are you awake?” You observe intently as his eyes flutter, revealing his clear eyes clouded with an unfocused vision.

“It’s okay, just stay still. I’m here.”

As his vision clears and meets your gaze, you witness the shift in his countenance, from one of composure to one consumed by dread. In a rash impulse, he jolts upright, drawing in sharp breaths. His eyes are wild with fear as he scans his surroundings. When you try to reach out to comfort him, he recoils abruptly.

“Where in the world am I?” He exclaimed alarmed.

Before you can utter a word, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts, accompanied by the rhythmic chants signaling the arrival of a new visitor.

“A new arrival!”

“Fascinating, his skin looks freshly new!”

“He doesn’t look dead at all.”

“Oh! can I feel his skin?”

In a state of utter disbelief, Satoru beheld the eerie scene unfolding before him. The deceased, mingling and conversing as though they were living beings, circling around him like an object for amusement. Has he finally gone insane?

“(Y/N), darling. Who’s this one with you? Why don’t you present him to us?”

You nod, rising to your feet, proudly displaying your ring adoring your finger to the gathered crowd. “Everyone, I am honored to introduce you all to my fiancé and soon-to-be husband, Satoru.”

What! Satoru thought alarmed as he went to your side, taking your hand in his to inspect the ring with his own eyes. To his astonishment, there it was—the ring he was supposed to give to Catherine. What has he done!

“What a lovely couple, I wish for both of you endless happiness!” From admits the crowd, someone with their skeletal hands clapped.

“Thank you, Lady Brown.” You acknowledged with a smile, withdrawing your hand from Satoru’s grasp, leaving him staring at empty air. “You all should have seen him reciting his vows. It was the epitome of romance! It took my breathe away! Well, if I had any.” You chuckled.

“With this hand, I shall lift the burden of your sorrows.” With a dreamy smile playing on your lips, you remark Satoru’s vows, each word spoken with heartfelt emotion. “Your cup shall never run dry, for I shall be your wine. With this candle, I shall illuminate your passage through the abyss. And with this ring, I beseech you to be mine.” With eyes brimming with love, you regard the ring before you, your well, where your heart once swelled with unbridled joy, infusing every fiber of your being with an overwhelming sense of contentment. “Aren’t I the luckiest bride?”

“Wait!” Satoru’s voice interjected, cutting through the air like a blade. “Surely, this must be a misunderstanding,” he proclaimed. “Where am I? Is this the afterlife? What’s going on here?” Finally, his eyes met yours, and a flicker of uncertainty danced in his gaze as he inquired. “Who are you?”

You emit a soft laugh, as you approach him to close the distance between you two. Sensing his cautious retreat, you reassure him. “Love, it’s me. I understand that my appearance may not be what you expected, though I’m the same woman as I was in your dreams for two years.”

"But, in the realm of my dreams," he began, his gaze lingering on your figure, still maintaining his distance from everyone. "you appeared alive. What…What happened to you?”

You offered a rueful smile. “Well, it’s kind of a long story.”

She was a beacon of vitality, an intelligent young woman hailing from a respected and affluent family. Endowed with a myriad of talents, she possessed the ability to effortlessly weave melodies from various instruments and to navigate the intricacies of literature with finesse. Despite the throng of suitors vying for her favor, her heart gravitated towards a man of modest means, yet her parents weren't in favor of their scandalous relationship. Undeterred by their disapproval and driven by an insatiable thirst for freedom, she conspired with her beloved to elope, to meet beneath the cloak of night in the depths of the forest. Carrying her mother's nuptial attire, family heirlooms, and a trove of gold. Beneath the sprawling branches of the ancient oak tree, she awaited her lover's arrival, her spirit buoyed by the promise of freedom. Yet, fate dealt a cruel blow, veiling her world in darkness as a cold blade pierced her chest, Her precious jewels vanished, and so did the very essence of her being—her heart. Resigned to an eternity of solitude beneath the tree where her life was brutally stolen, she languished in desolation, believing love to be a distant memory. Yet, against all odds, her world turned for the better with the arrival of a gentleman with a white locks like the snow and eyes as clear as the blue sky. In his presence, she found comfort and companionship, her days enlivened by his constant presence. Now, he stands here after he professes an unwavering devotion, her once-forgotten heart fluttering with newfound hope.

Everything became overwhelming to grasp as their words echoed relentlessly within his mind. Proposing to a dead bride was a scenario he never could have fathomed. With a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he seized the fleeting chance to escape this strange world of the deceased in hopes of finding his way back to the land of the living.

Or that's what he hoped for. Somehow you managed to find him easily. Now he sat there on a weathered old bench while the deceased bride droned on about the beautiful view before them. From your spot beside Satoru, you stole a glance back at him and noticed his vacant stare. Clearing your throat, you offered an apology, “I'm sorry if I've been going on too much. I tend to do that when I am overexcited.”

Satoru snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of your melodic laughter. He sat there, observing your features, marveling at how, even in death, you still exuded a radiant beauty, the same beauty from the dreams he had of you.

“I want you to know how deeply sorry I am for what happened to you. However, I really need to head home now.”

“What do you mean? This your home now!”

Satoru sighed heavily, closing his eyes briefly before he met your gaze. “I don’t even know your name.”

You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear before responding with a smile. “It’s, (Y/N).”

(Y/N).

“Now. I believe I’ve been talking too much. I will like to get to know my soon-to-be husband better!”

Satoru couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at your enthusiasm, avoiding your gaze as he glanced down at his joined hands. “Well, there isn’t much about me. You know some of it—how I used to retreat into the woodland to sketch, seeking solace in the verdant embrace of the forest.” He paused mid—sentence, stealing a fleeting glance at you before once more evading your eyes. “I never thought you were there all along.”

“What about your family?” You asked, curiosity piqued.

Ah, his family. Before he realized he started talking with ease. “I used to live with my mother and father, being the only child. But when I was seventeen, my father passed away,” he says, his voice carrying a weight of melancholy. “Don’t get me wrong, I hold a deep appreciation for my mother. But, the connection I had with my father was unmatched. While my mother often had expectations of me, my father always urged me to heed my own intuition, to follow the path that felt right to me.”

As he trailed off, your heart went out to him with sympathy. You lifted a hand as if to offer comfort, but quickly retracted it, mindful not to impose any pressure on him. “He sounded like a good man.” You whispered.

“He was indeed, one of a kind.”

Both of you sat in silence until a sudden idea struck you. You turned to meet his gaze directly and suggested. “I just had an idea! Tell me his name. Perhaps we can track him down together!”

Ah, yes. He had momentarily forgotten for a moment he was now in the realm of the departed, and his father was dead.

“Octavius Gojo.” He replied.

Your eyes widened in recognition upon hearing the mention of the familiar name. “Octavius Gojo, is your father?”

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

You gasped with exhilaration, clasping his hands in yours. “Of course. How could I not have realized sooner? You both are so alike! I had the pleasure of knowing Octavius when I was alive. He was truly the finest man I ever knew.”

“How…how did you come to know my father?”

With a wide smile, you released his hand to settle down your hands on your lap. “As you were told, I was born into a wealthy family with high expectations placed upon me. When I was thirteen, my parents sought the finest piano tutor for me, and fate led me to Octavius. From the outset, our bond transcended the typical teacher—student relationship. Octavius became a friend of mine, sharing countless stories with me. One day, he told me he had a son who shared a passion for music like myself, expressing a desire for us to meet. Unfortunately, we never got to do that as circumstances forced us to part ways. As I reached a marriageable age, Octavius faced daily challenges within his company. I was devastated to learn of his passing through the grapevine, never having the chance to bid him farewell. However, I died one year later after his passing so our paths aligned again. Now, I find myself engaged to his son!”

Satoru was rendered speechless upon learning this new revelation, his thoughts swirling with a mixture of emotions. Who would have thought, he was supposed to meet you ages ago? Thinking if he did, perhaps you would still be alive instead of falling into the wrong hands who led you to your demise. However, there’s time to think about the past and his accidental engagement with you later. Right now, he must see his father. Driven by a sudden wave of determination, Satoru firmly grasped your hand and rose from the bench. “Lead me to my father.”

“What’s our plan?” Mrs. Winchester as she paced the living room while conversing with her husband. “That boy still hasn’t returned. We can’t cancel the wedding; are you aware of the financial repercussions? We’ll be left penniless, thrown on the streets without that inheritance! And don’t get me started with Mrs. Gojo. She hasn’t even bothered to come back.”

As her husband remained silent, Mrs. Winchester’s frustration boiled over. “Say something!”

“Don’t pressure me, woman!” Her husband interjected firmly from his seat, his eyelid twitching slightly with suppressed agitation. “We will figure something out.”

“We don’t have time to figure something out! Where will we find another groom for our daughter in such short time?”

“It is lamentable for that young man to disregard dear Catherine in such a manner; it is an act that cannot be forgiven.” Mr. Zenin's refined voice interjected into their dialogue taking them out of surprise. “Please forgive my intrusion; one of your servants granted me entry. I couldn't help but overhear the woeful plight of poor Catherine, who has to endure because of the cowardice of Mr. Gojo. I have made attempts to locate him, yet regrettably, he remains elusive. It is conceivable that he has left town.”

“Oh no—”

“Nevertheless, as a longstanding acquaintance, I stand ready to assume the role vacated by Mr. Gojo, to spare Catherine from any further public humiliation,” Mr. Zenin declared. “Moreover, I am willing to extend a respectable proposal, one far superior to what the Gojo family could offer.”

“Your willingness to undertake such a responsibility is truly admirable, Mr. Zenin, but—”

“Will your father agree with your choice?” Mr. Winchester questioned.

“My father has always had faith in my judgment, trusting that I make decisions for the best. I believe he would be pleased if I had the opportunity to unite with the daughter of his trusted confidant.”

Mr. and Mrs. Winchester exchanged glances, a silent agreement made between them.

“Very well, then. Let us waste no time and proceed with the preparations.” Mr. Winchester declared decisively.

“Mother, father, who are you talking to?” Catherine's voice echoed as she descended the stairs, her dress trailing behind her in anticipation of news about Satoru. To her surprise, she found her parents and Mr. Zenin waiting for her.

“Darling, there's good news—there will be a wedding after all.” Mrs. Winchester announced.

“Really? You found Satoru?” Catherine asked eagerly, her hopes rising.

Suddenly Mr. Zenin stepped forward, and took Catherine's hand in his, pressing a kiss to its back. “I will be your spouse, Miss Catherine. I won't allow that Satoru boy to humiliate you any further.” he declared with a disconcerting smile that sent a chill down Catherine's spine.

“What?” she thought, her mind reeling in disbelief. “No, this cannot be happening. How could I possibly marry him?”

“I shall return tomorrow morning, please excuse me.” Mr. Zenin declared, as he bid farewell to the family.

Catherine immediately rushed to her parents after his leave, “Father, Mother, please don't make me marry him.” She pleaded earnestly.

“Silly girl, it's our only recourse.” Mrs. Winchester asserted sternly. “Or do you wish to witness your parents succumb to impoverishment? We can no longer wait for Satoru Gojo who has absconded from his obligations to this family. We must face reality. It was our mistake to pin our hopes on that family when we had a more suitable candidate for you all along. Mr. Zenin will undoubtedly make a fine husband his affluence ensuring our security.”

Catherine stood there, her words caught in her throat, realizing her fate had been sealed, and there was nothing she could do to change it.

“Take a good rest child, you will be marrying Mr. Zenin tomorrow morning. And that’s final!”

Is this really happening? Is he truly going to reunite with his deceased father after three years? Satoru pondered, feeling the relentless thud of his heart against his chest.

“He's typically lingering nearby, indulging in those rotten apples from the market,” you remarked with a gentle chuckle, reminiscing about Octavius's eating preferences. “Personally, I find the cherries to be far superior.” Satoru dismissed your words as you began to trail off, not bothering to pay full attention to you and your stories, his focus fixed on finding his father. Impatiently, he stopped his walking, retracting his hand as he shot you a glare full of annoyance. “Could you please take me where my father is? I don’t have time for idle chatter. We have been walking for a while, do you really know where he is?.” Taking in his words, your expression faltered before you quickly composed yourself with a nod. It was understandable, you thought. He hasn’t seen his father for three years. You’re his wife, and a good wife is patient and understanding even if sometimes your husband’s words may be hurtful.

“Of course, my apologies for the distraction. I completely forgotten why are we here.” Satoru realized he had been too harsh on you, and before he could apologize to you, you walked ahead of him prompting him to follow.

“What are you standing there for? Come along.”

After what felt like ages, you both came to a halt in front of a grand old library, as a rush of memories flooded Satoru’s mind. He remembered when he was younger after his lessons hours, his father would take him to buy books, nurturing his love for reading. His father harbored a deep desire for a library, along with the wish to immerse himself in the world of music. However, the demand of his job with his loan company has kept him chained to endless hours of work, until the company eventually went bankrupt. His mother claimed that his father was solely responsible for the mismanagement of his prosperous company, but Satoru thinks otherwise. He knew his father was well capable of the job. He knew his father to be intelligent and persuasive, qualities that didn’t align with the image of someone who would neglect his own company. Satoru had long suspected that something was behind his father’s bankruptcy. However, he didn’t have time to test his theories.

You stepped forward towards the door, turning to Satoru as you spoke. “Wait here. I’ll check if he’s inside.” before disappearing into the library. All Satoru could do now was wait anxiously outside the library.

As you ventured further into the library, darkness shrouded your surroundings, with only the feeble glow of the moon casting a faint illumination, making it challenging to discern your way through the dimly lit space. “Hello, is anyone here?” You called while searching for a match and a candle to provide you light. You paused your search as a faint light from upstairs caught your attention. Gradually, the silhouette of an older man emerged from the shadows, until his full figure was revealed with his inseparable crow companion perched upon his shoulder. A sense of warmth flooded over you as you smiled widely at the sight of your longtime friend.

“Octavius.”

Upon hearing your voice, Octavius turned his light towards you, his lips curling into a smile mirroring yours with the exact amount of affection. “Darling. It’s been quite some time since we last met.” He says with genuine appreciation, missing the days both of you spent together talking endlessly. It’s been months since he last saw you, as you insisted on staying buried under your usual spot under the tree, patiently waiting for Satoru’s arrival every day.

“I couldn’t agree more!”

Octavius chuckled softly, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet confines of the library. “What brings you here today, dear? Is there something I can do for you?”

“No, no. That’s not the case. I’m not here to burden you with my matters—”

“(Y/N).” his voice interposed disrupting your train of words. “You know very well that’s not true. Do not hesitate to seek my counsel, for I shall forever be at your disposal.”

Exhaling softly, you nod in affirmation to his discourse before commencing to elucidate the motives behind your visit to Octavius. “It’s a long story to tell. However, there’s someone outside whom I must introduce you—someone eagerly awaiting to meet you.”

“Oh, who might this eager visitor be?” Octavius queried with intrigue.

“You will see.”

“(Y/N), you're well aware of my distaste for surprises. Despite the fact my heart has stopped beating, this old man can still experience the sensation of a heart-stopping moment.” he quipped with a playful lilt adopting the tone of a father scolding his daughter.

You laughed.

“You're quite the dramatist, Octavius. Some things never change.” you teased, turning to exit the library and let Satoru in at once. However, just before departing, you glanced back at Octavius. “Oh, I almost forgot to mention. Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. Splendid. It has secured a place among my most cherished literary treasures.”

“I told you, didn’t I? The book is sheer perfection. Experiencing the emotions of a wronged man through the book is an incomparable feeling.”

“Indeed. I couldn't help but empathize with Dante's plight. Having your planned life ahead of you only to be taken away from wicked men.” you replied, continuing your conversation with Octavius about the recently read book he recommended to you. Reflecting on the parallels between the book's narrative and your own experiences. Your voice trailed off, standing in a moment of silence before you began to speak once again meeting his gaze. “Remarkably familiar, wouldn't you agree?”

Octavius cast a glance back at you, his gaze softened, recalling the tragedy of your fate.

“Now, now. It's not the moment for dwelling on the past, my dear.” Octavius gently intervened, pulling you out of your reverie. “Let’s welcome this special guest you’re so eager to present.” You nodded, refocusing on the purpose of your visit: to reunite your husband with his beloved father.

Noticing your prolonged absence, Octavius made his way downstairs, using the flickering light of a candle to guide him through the labyrinth of books. He sought to recommend a novel with a lighter, and more romantic storyline to uplift your spirits. After feeling a twinge of guilt because of the earlier conversation you both exchanged. With the sound of approaching footsteps echoing softly in the library, Octavius remained absorbed in his search among the books, his fingertips delicately tracing the textures “Ah, darling, I was just perusing for a new novel for you to enjoy. Considering your fondness for romance. I thought 'Middlemarch' might be a splendid choice. It boasts an excellent plot and remarkable prose. I'm certain you'll adore it.” He trailed off, turning to face you taking the book in hand. Yet as he turned, the book slipped from his bony fingers, his eyes widening in disbelief at the sight before him.

“Satoru?” Octavius gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. How was his son down here? No, he cannot be dead, his son’s skin yet hasn’t lost its color. He’s too young to be dead! It’s too early for them to meet up again. His mind reeled with confusion as he struggled to comprehend everything. Satoru's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he looked back at his father, meeting the form of his father after three long years. His poor father appeared more frail, his white hair thinner, his skin paler than ever, his bones showing off from his arms and his once vibrant blue eyes dulled with age. Despite these noticeable changes, along with the fact he’s meeting the deceased form of his father, Satoru couldn’t care less.

“Father,” Satoru called out, his voice thick with emotion, as tears of joy threatened to spill from his eyes, unable to believe they were finally reunited. Setting aside his light and his animal companion flying off his shoulder, he hurried towards his son. Without hesitation, he enveloped the tall figure of his son, holding him tightly close, still in a state of shock. Satoru released a quivering breath, his emotions overwhelming him while tears streamed down his cheeks. “Father.” he cried out once again. Satoru's embrace tightened as if he feared that loosening his grip would cause his father to vanish into thin air.

“Satoru, son.” his father whispered, his voice filled with emotion, “what are you doing here? You can't be here, not yet.”

Satoru chuckled through his tears, shaking his head as he continued to hold onto his father. “Don't worry about it, Father. I'll explain everything to you.”

For what felt like an eternity, they lingered in each other's embrace, time seeming to stand still as they reveled in the joy of their reunion.

“What!” his father's startled voice resonated through the desolate library, shattering the peaceful ambiance that had settled around them. “You're engaged to (Y/N)?”

Satoru heaved a weary sigh, nodding silently from his seat. “Believe me, Father. Everything is so confusing to me.”

“But, how?” His father's question lingered in the air, demanding further explanation. “Were you acquainted with her? When?” His father’s gaze bore into him, seeking clarity. “Did you truly exchange vows with her?”

“No!” He exclaimed, the words bursting forth. “It was all a mistake! I was meant to marry someone else.”

“Someone else? What do you mean?”

“Mother had arranged a marriage for me with the daughter of an affluent family,” Satoru lamented, his frustration evident in his speech. “We were slated to wed, yet due to a series of unfortunate circumstances, I am now entangled in an undesirable bond with a mere cadaver.”

His father absorbed Satoru’s words in silence, his eyes focused intently on the table before him. “It appears your mother failed to uphold my final wish for your future.” Raising his eyes to meet Satoru’s eyes, he asked with a solemn tone. “Do you hold affection for this woman?” His father’s question caught Satoru off guard, causing him to pause and reflect. Did he harbor genuine affection for Catherine?

“Though, my acquaintance with her may have been short. I was willing to give Catherine a chance. Love doesn’t magically appears, it grows.” Satoru confessed.

“What about (Y/N)? She didn't mean any harm.” his father reassured “Poor dear sought comfort in your presence to alleviate her solitude. You've shared a connection with her for two years, cherishing the moments you shared with her through your dreams. In a way, you've held affection for her, even if the affection you believed was for someone who didn't exist. If you were willing to give Catherine a chance, why can't you give (Y/N) a chance? Or is it because she is dead?”

“Yes, precisely because she's dead!” Satoru's voice resonated with frustration as he emphasized his point. “Can't you see? I could never marry her!”

Satoru's breaths grew heavier as he released his burdens, however, the sudden sympathetic regard from his father made him redirect his focus. Slowly turning around, Satoru saw you. As you were silently listening to their conversation. How much did you listen to? Standing there, you gaze at both of them with an expression that tugs at Satoru's heartstrings. Without uttering a word, you approached him, while avoiding his intense blue eyes. Now in front of him, you delicately disengaged the ring from your skeletal finger, bestowing it upon his palm. Your voice, scarcely more than a fragile whisper, as you said the following words, “I believe this belongs to you.”

In silence, Satoru witnessed your departure while a soft breeze gently lifted your torn veil, carrying it aloft in a poignant farewell. Despite the apparent closure, an unforeseen melancholy enveloped his spirit. He ought to have felt emancipated, liberated from a commitment borne of misinterpretation. Yet, your leaving left him feeling strangely hollow. Contemplating the ring now nestled in his hand, he was unsure of who this ring belonged to anymore.

Catherine stood before her reflection, as her maid adjusted the final embellishments of her bridal attire. Despite the turmoil within, she dared not shed a tear, constrained by the expectations placed upon her. As a bride who harbored no aspirations for matrimonial bliss, she bore the burden of her predicament with a heavy heart. In her vulnerability, her thoughts wandered to Satoru, a luminary amidst the gloom of her circumstances.

“Where are you, Satoru?” she silently pleaded, her heart yearning for his comforting presence. Despite her initial reservations about their engagement, once she met Satoru, he managed to break her walls down. The idea of facing the challenges ahead with a friend like Satoru by her side offered a semblance of comfort. Now, on the brink of union with Mr. Zenin, Catherine's spirit breaks. The prospect of forsaking the bond she shared with Satoru rents her soul asunder. Expecting her wedding day to be a harbinger of happiness, Catherine now stood in the dimly lit church, her senses dulled as she absorbed the echo of Mr. Zenin's vows. While the attendees were wearing solemn expressions, appeared eager for the ceremony to conclude as soon as possible.

Catherine now finds herself enveloped in a state of detachment, her body present but her mind adrift in a realm far removed from the present moment. The touch of Mr. Zenin's arm around her waist repulsed her. Her spirit ached for liberation from the shackles of this marital prison, She dreaded the touch of Mr. Zenin, and its suffocating weight. Following the exchange of vows and the priest's proclamation of their union, Catherine raised her gaze, tears glistening in her brown eyes. Each tear bore witness to the silent suffering she is enduring in the depths of her heart.

“Catherine, you are finally mine.” Mr. Zenin declared, leaning in to place a kiss upon Catherine's cheek. Forcing herself to stay still to receive his displays of fake affection. At that moment, Catherine came to the stark realization that she was utterly alone in the world.

As Satoru trailed after you, a tumult of emotions churned within him, burdened by the weight of guilt for inadvertently causing you pain. He had never intended to hurt you, he never meant to hurt anyone. Satoru went to the lengths of seeking guidance from the deceased, after learning your popularity among them. A man with a sword across his chest confirmed he had spotted you near their bar—the very place where you bought Satoru. He made his way to the tavern, and upon reaching its entrance, he was greeted by the delicate tones of a piano resonating in the empty locale. The melancholy melody being played for an absent audience. Satoru stepped inside, and as he advanced further, he caught sight of you at the organ, your back turned toward him. He couldn’t see your face, however it was easy to guess how you were feeling by the tones you were playing saturated with sorrow. Satoru drew nearer, positioning himself beside the organ.

“I apologize for my earlier words. I never meant to hurt you. It's just...” He paused, exhaling deeply before continuing. “Everything happened so quickly. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts.” Taking a seat beside you at the bench, he sought your gaze, yet you remained focused on the instrument, your fingers gracefully dancing across the keys. “I'm sorry for any misunderstandings. I should have been honest with you from the start—”

“It’s fine.” Your soft voice interjected as the melody ceased, though your gaze remained fixed on the keys “I shouldn’t be so naive. There's no nothing to forgive; I was the one who forced you to come down here in the first place.”

In the hush of the moment, Satoru's gaze remained fixed on the keys before him as he summoned the courage to voice one of his lingering uncertainties. “During those two years, were you there, quietly listening, keeping me company in the woods?” Your lack of response served as an eloquent confirmation.

“For two years, you stood by me, unbeknownst to me.” Satoru reflected with incredulous laughter. “I didn't know you at all, not in the physical sense. Yet, you still awaited my arrival every day for two years.”

“Why?” Satoru's question lingered, leaving you unable to provide an answer.

With a shaky sigh, you eventually admitted. “I found solace in your companionship. While listening to your poetic ramblings, as well as the way you express your emotions in solitude, believing you have no one to share them with. And your drawings, the ones you dismiss as 'not accurate,' when in truth, they are the most beautiful creations I've ever seen. And the time we've shared, even if only within the realm of your dreams... was among the most cherished experiences of my life. I simply find contentment in your presence.”

“I desired you to witness the best version of myself, fearing you might be disillusioned by my true appearance. When I heard you speak your vows, pure elation swept over me. So, I brought you here, convinced those vows were meant for me. However... I was too consumed by my own happiness to discern that your sentiments towards me were quite the opposite.” You trailed off with a wistful smile danced across your lips. “You're light, illuminating the paths of those lost in the dark. Your presence has profoundly enriched my life, without you even realizing it. In many ways, you saved me. It's quite amusing to say that when I'm already dead.” After some moments of silence, your fingers rested on the piano’s keys once again playing your previous melody.

Satoru found himself taken aback by the profound depths of your heartfelt confession, his innermost sentiments stirred by the sincerity of your words, yet incapable of expressing the intricate blend of emotions swirling within him. Observing your resumption of the melody, he was overcome by an irresistible impulse to participate, delicately extending his hand to caress the keys from his vantage point, momentarily interrupting the ethereal ambiance of your composition. Startled by this unexpected interjection, you paused and lifted your gaze to meet his, curiosity reflected in your eyes. Satoru let out a relieved smile upon seeing your eyes again. When Satoru asked if he could play a piece for you, you nodded stiffly, your hands resting on your lap as you allowed him to take over the piano. Starting softly, his notes echoed the melancholic undertones of your previous melody, but as the piece unfolded, the volume swelled and his fingers danced across the keys with practiced ease, as though the music flowed effortlessly from within him. Listening to his composition, a sense of déjà vu washed over you, recognizing the melody as something familiar, yet unable to place it. Before you knew it, your fingers found their way to the organ, seamlessly blending into Satoru's piece as the two of you created a harmonious melody together. In that sublime moment of shared musical communion, your eyes met in a silent exchange, each glance suffused with an unspoken understanding and connection that transcended the boundaries of spoken language.

Both of your fingers ceased their movements, bringing the beautiful melody to a gentle stop.

Satoru's smile grew as he spoke, “Do you happen to recognize this piece?”

You nodded, allowing a smile to grace your lips as well. “I do, but strangely, I can't recall where I heard it.”

“It was my father's cherished composition.” His words hung in the air, and at that moment, a profound memory stirred within you, unlocking a hidden piece of your past.

The sunlight on that particular day felt unusually warm, its rays enveloping you in a comforting embrace as you made your way out of the gardens. Entering the musical room, you paused at the doorway, captivated by the sight of Octavius already engrossed in playing a melody you had never heard before. Respecting his concentration, you lingered silently, allowing the symphony of notes to wash over you in a mesmerizing wave.

When Octavius eventually ceased playing and glanced back at you, “How long were you standing there, dear?” he asked.

“Long enough to witness such a masterpiece.” you replied warmly, appreciating the sentiment behind his composition.

With a gesture, Octavius invited you to join him at the bench, which you accepted without hesitation. “I composed this piece for my son.” he revealed, prompting your curiosity.

“Your son?” you inquired.

Octavius nodded, a hint of concern resting in his eyes. “Yes, my 12-year-old son. Sometimes, I worry that he feels alone in this world. So I composed this piece, so when he feels lonely he can feel my presence through it.” A gentle smile graced his lips as he continued, “Would you like to meet him? He's a polite and friendly boy, with a great passion for music and books. I'm certain the two of you will get along just fine.”

Touched by Octavius's openness and the opportunity to meet his son, you nodded eagerly, grateful for the chance to have a connection with someone who shared your love for the arts.

Lost in thought, you hadn't realized you were zoning out until Satoru's worried voice broke through your reverie, calling out to you. Startled, you blinked and refocused your attention, turning towards him with a sheepish smile.

Standing up, you extended your hand to Satoru, with a determined gleam in your eyes. “Come with me.” Satoru sensing your determination, he took your hand, ready to follow wherever you led.

“Please, Octavius. There has to be something you can do.” You pleaded.

Octavius sighed deeply, his eyes closing momentarily as he wrestled with your request. "It is unnatural and perhaps risky, but surely there's a book for it.” he conceded reluctantly.

Satoru, perplexed by the exchange, he approached with a furrowed brow and a hand gently placed upon your shoulder, urging you to face him. “(Y/N). What’s going on? What are you talking about?”

Your response was but a sheepish smile, accompanied by a gentle pat upon his hand before withdrawing. “A solution has been found.”

“Here it is—” Octavius's voice interjected after some moments of searching and inspecting the book's contents, as he descended the stairs, carrying a large book with him. “This will do.” As Octavius presented the large book containing the sought-after solution, you stepped forward to retrieve it, walking towards Satoru and extending the book to him. Puzzled, Satoru stared down at you, his confusion palpable.

“This volume contains the pathway to return to the realm of the living. There is still time, but haste is paramount.” Satoru lifted the book from your skeletal hands, a sense of unease crept over him, a nagging feeling that something wasn't right.

“I’m not going back.” Satoru declared firmly, his statement catching you off guard with its unexpectedness.

“What?”

“Son, what do you mean?” Octavius interjected, moving forward to stand beside you, both of you staring at Satoru with a blend of perplexity and apprehension.

“I said, I’m not going back. There's no point in returning.” Satoru clarified, his gaze locking onto yours with a poignant intensity. He gently took your hand in his and withdrew the ring from his pocket, the one you had given him earlier under the impression it didn't belong to you. With a tender touch, he slid it onto your finger.

“Satoru?”

“Marry me.” You stood rooted to the spot, enveloped by the weight of his request, feeling the gravity of the moment press upon you from all sides.

“Son, you must know what you are getting yourself into. As you can see, my dear (Y/N) is dead. Your marriage will pose complications; the vows are solemnized only until death do you part, and death has already parted her. For it to be an authentic union, it demands a significant sacrifice.” You released Satoru and turned to face Octavius.

“You mean?”

“Satoru would have to forsake the life he once knew and renew his vows in the realm of the living, partaking in the sacred wine of ages.” Octavius elucidated further.

“Poison.” you gasped, the word heavy on your tongue. Turning to Satoru, your eyes pleaded with him, filled with desperation., you begged, “Satoru, you see? You can’t do this. I could never ask you this. You’re young and have a whole life ahead of you, Our time ran out, but there’s still time for you—”

“I will do it.” Satoru interrupted firmly, his resolve unwavering.

“No. You don’t know what are you saying.” you protested.

“If it entails sacrificing my life to be with you and my father down here, then I shall do so.” Satoru declared resolutely, taking your hand once again.

Overwhelmed by his declaration, you turned to Octavius for support, “Octavius, you must get your son to think right.”

Octavius sighed. “I will respect whatever decision my son takes. There’s nothing I can do.”

Satoru pulled you towards him, his gaze softening with tenderness. “Marry me, (Y/N). Properly this time. I will not let you suffer alone anymore.”

“What about Catherine?” You whispered.

“Catherine is a part of my past, a chapter that is now being closed. What matters now is us.” Despite the sincerity in his eyes, you couldn't shake the lingering doubt that lingered within your heart. Yet you find yourself accepting in the end. For so long you have yearned for this moment, now that you have it, you can't let his chance slip through your fingers so easily.

“Gather around everybody. A proper wedding shall take place back in the realm of the living and each of you is cordially invited to bear witness. Let us unite in celebration and love as my fiancé and I will embark on this journey together.”

“Thank you all for gathering here today to celebrate my union between myself and my beloved wife, Catherine.” Mr. Zenin addressed the gathering, his words carrying a weight of solemnity. “I vow before you all to be a steadfast companion to Catherine, offering my unwavering support through every joy and trail that life may present.” As he raised his glass of champagne in a toast, the guest remained indifferent to the gloomy union, obligated to witness. As for Catherine, she was lost in thought, unmoved by her husband’s words, her gaze distant and unfocused. “This day shall forever be etched in memory as the day I am blessed to call Catherine my own, and I swear to all of you that I will—”

Before Mr. Zenin could continue, the moment was shattered by a cacophony of screams echoing from outside. Panic ensued as the guests scrambled to their feet, their expressions wrought with concern as they went out to see what was the commotion about. Once they did, their eyes widened in horror at the surreal sight that greeted them; the undead walking among them! Their grotesque forms descended upon the town. The guests fled from the wedding party seeking refuge from the nightmare unfolding before their eyes. Between the chaos, Catherine despite the lingering fear inside her, she remains calm. Her eyes fixed on the procession of the undead making their way towards the town’s church. Without hesitation, she followed in their wake, her wedding dress trailing behind her. She couldn’t care less now that her husband ran off scared. As she makes her way to see who this strange wedding belongs to.

Once their beloved guests were settled into the church of the living, Octavius stayed behind with his son before the ceremony, placing a comforting hand upon Satoru’s shoulder. “Son, are you absolutely certain about your decision?” He was sure. He was ready to take responsibility and form a life with you even if it meant he would die.

Satoru met his father’s gaze and nodded resolutely. “Yes, father. I am certain. I cannot deny that I was initially overcome by fear and frustration, unable to comprehend the unfolding events. But now, I’m sure she is the one destined to walk by my side.” He admitted, his tone tinged with a sense of vulnerability. “What I regret is that we did not cross paths sooner, thinking that if we did. Perhaps, she will still be alive. For two long years, she waited faithfully for me and now I refuse to let her wait a moment longer. Today, I shall stand as her husband.”

“Finally, my son is marrying for love. That’s all ever I wish for you.” His father expressed with a touch of emotion.

Satoru’s smile widened as he nodded at his father’s words. “I will make you proud.”

“You have already done so,” his father affirmed, his hand tenderly caressed his cheek before letting go. “Now, go and make (Y/N) yours.”

As Satoru stood at the altar, he learned a couple of things in this unexpected journey. Despite the barriers of physical appearance and mortality, his love for you remains. With a new clarity, he pledged to honor and cherish you for all eternity. That’s the least he can do for you. As you entered the church, holding the dead bouquet that had accompanied you since the day you departed from the realm of the living, Satoru’s heart swelled with awe. Despite your bones sticking out, you exuded a timeless beauty that took his breath away. He regretted not having noticed your beauty sooner. As you got closer, Satoru took hold of you, standing together now as you prepared to exchange vows properly this time.

“With this hand, I shall lift the burden of your sorrows. Your cup shall never run dry, for I shall be your wine.” He recites now with ease the vows, holding the empty cup in his hand.

You found yourself gazing into those mesmerizing eyes, each hue reminiscent of the depths of the clear sky. You began to recite your vows as well, your voice carrying the weight of your love and commitment. “With this hand, I shall lift the burden of your sorrows.” You took hold of the wine ages, to pour it down Satoru’s cup. “Your cup shall never run dry, for I shall be—” For I shall be.

What are you doing?

You halted your vows, as your eyes fell upon a feminine figure observing the ceremony from the shadows.

Catherine?

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over you. This is wrong. Satoru’s smile waned as he noticed your hesitation. He shoots you an encouraging gaze urging you to continue. Though, you still were struggling to find your voice, stumbling over your words, unable to complete your vows.

“For I shall be your wine.” Satoru finished your sentence, his hand reaching for the cup containing the deadly elixir. But you intervened before he could take a sip.

“I can’t.”

Satoru’s beating heart shattered into a million pieces. “Why?”

“This isn’t right.”

“How so?” Satoru inquired, gently lowering the cup to grasp both of your hands.

“Satoru, I was intended to belong to another. Meant to be someone else’s wife. But my dreams were stolen from me, and now…I’ve stolen them from someone else.”

“I know all about your past.” Satoru interjected squeezing your hands together. “But none of that matters to me. All that matters is the present and what we can built together.”

You shook your head stubbornly, feeling tears welling up in your eyes, unable to hold back the emotions swirling inside you. “This isn’t love. What you feel for me is empathy. For a woman who met a tragic fate. You don’t love me Satoru.”

“I do love you,” Satoru exclaimed, his voice filled with desperation. “Don’t you see that I’m willing to die for you? I may have not realized my love for you before but now I’m here to redeem my actions. My heart belonged to you the very moment I saw you in my dreams.”

Your closed your eyes, your breaths coming out heavy. “You love Catherine. Not me.”

“No, you’re wrong.”

Both you and Satoru adverted your gazes as a female voice interrupted your conversation. Catherine stepped from the shadows, making her presence known. Satoru’s eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing with questions about her sudden appearance.

“We thought if we force this feeling love eventually it will turn real love so we wouldn’t be lonely. Satoru. He wants you.”

You couldn’t fathom her assertion, shaking your head with a resigned expression. “How could you possibly know?”

“I see it.” She insisted as she approached closer. Catherine then intertwined your hand with Satoru’s, her voice carrying a solemn assurance. “His love for you is genuine. Whatever sentiments he may have harbored for me were purely friendship.”

As she offered her reassurance with her kind words, Satoru’s gaze softened as he looked down at her, a profound sense of gratitude evident in his eyes.

“I love you, (Y/N).” Satoru’s voice was filled with sincerity and earnestness as he spoke, his eyes pleading with you to understand the depth of his feelings. “Please let me marry you today.”

He cradled your countenance in his palms as he inclined to savor your frigid lips bereft of vitality, while your tears entwined with the fervent kiss. You tried to resist him, yet you find yourself powerless, unable to deny the hold he has over your heart. Thus, you yielded, the profound affection you harbor for him overwhelms your every resistance. The embrace of the kiss loosens its hold, and he still cradles your face unable to let you go.

“Have you lost your senses? You've just kissed a dead person.” You uttered with a tearful chuckle.

“Dearest soon enough, I'll be in the same state.” He leaned in, his lips meeting the icy surface of your cheek in a gentle kiss.

“Ah, weddings! A scene that never fails to moisten my eyes. Yet, I must confess, a ceremony such as this—a bride from the realm of the departed, and a groom among the living—surely stands as a unique testament to the enduring power of love. Nevertheless, do we not all cherish tales of joyful resolutions?” Naoya's unexpected entrance into the church was marked by a calculated grin, his blonde locks framing his confident countenance as he surveyed the gloomy scene, his gaze inevitably drawn to his wife, Catherine standing beside the couple.

“Catherine, my dear, it is time to return home.” He declared, his tone tinged with an authoritative command. Catherine recoiled subtly at the sound of his voice, whispering a soft denial. Mr. Zenin, displeased by her response, advanced towards Catherine, seizing her wrist with an iron grip, compelling her to comply, eliciting gasps of astonishment from the gathered guests.

“You are mine to take! Where do you think you are going? Your dowry is my entitlement; do not forget the purpose behind our union!”

Catherine struggled against his hold, fixing him with a defiant glare. “What wealth? We possess none! This marriage was intended to salvage my family from ruin!”

“What!”Mr. Zenin erupted before he could respond further.

Satoru intervened, “Release her.”

Mr. Zenin turned to face Satoru with a scowl etched upon his features, his grip tightening around Catherine's wrist. “She's my wife, and I have the prerogative to do as I please with her.”

Amid the chaos, time seemed to pause as you recognized the man before you, memories of heartache flooding back at the sight of him. “Naoya?” Your voice pierced through the clamor, drawing his gaze toward you with immediate intensity upon hearing his name spoken by your lips.

“(Y/N)?”

“Our union shall forever be thwarted by the stringent decree of our family. My dearest, I find myself incapable of enduring another fleeting moment bereft of your presence. My affection for you knows no bounds, and I shall traverse any obstacle to claim you as my own.” Naoya proclaims, enfolding you closely against his chest, his lips tenderly grazing the crown of your head.

“Your sentiments mirror the intensity of my own, my beloved. The anguish of separation rends my very soul.” You reciprocate.

Naoya relinquishes the embrace, cradling your visage as his lips tenderly caress yours with fervent ardor, leaving you breathless.

“Let us elope. We must not allow ourselves to be ensnared by the strictures imposed upon us.” He proposes, his suggestion instilling a tremor of fear within you, yet overridden by the depth of your love for him.

“We shall convene within the bosom of the woodland at the stroke of midnight. Thereafter, we shall carve out our destiny together, emancipated from the shackles of societal convention.”

“Will you ever find satisfaction?” you queried, your voice trembling with poignant emotion. “I might have eventually forgiven your plundering of my riches, leaving me bereft and awaiting our union. But why… why did you have to snatch away my life as well?”

You can still keenly remember the feeling of his sword cleaving through your chest, the excruciating pain that tore through you, and the icy tendrils of the air wrapped around you while you lay there, bleeding out no one to offer solace or bid you farewell. Surrendering yourself to the inevitability of death, you found no escape, no alternative but to embrace the abyss that awaited.

“I didn't deserve that.” You whispered, tears tracing their path down your cheeks, a silent testament of your pain.

Satoru's inner fury simmered, his sense of indignation growing with each passing moment. He couldn't fathom the selfishness of the man before him, who callously stole your life for his own desires.

“Naoya.” a voice intervened, adding another layer of intensity to the scene. Naoya's grasp on Catherine loosened, allowing her to rush to your side.

“How's that bastard of your father doing?” Octavius now asked, standing before the blond man, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Octavius?” Naoya whispered, a flicker of recognition igniting within him as he beheld the deceased form of his father's former business partner.

“I see that you've inherited his foul blood, brimming with selfishness, ugliness, and pride.” Octavius spat, his words laced with venom. “You killed an innocent woman, deceitfully leading her on false promises—with the very things she held dear. Your family is nothing but a brood of vultures, feasting on the vulnerable. Your father ruined me, stripping away every ounce of my hard earned fortune, leaving my family defenseless. But that wasn’t enough, was it? Now you’ve followed in your father’s despicable footsteps by taking (Y/N)‘s life. I pray that you and your vile kin never found peace. For I know someone as wretched as yourself will never find redemption.”

Naoya erupted into laughter, his sarcasm dripping from every word. “You’re a fool, Octavius.” He taunted. “My father merely exploited your naivety to his advantage. Don’t blame me for it.”

His laughter abruptly ceased as a firm grip seized his shoulder. “That’s enough.” Satoru interjected, his eyes ablaze with a dangerous rage.

Naoya scoffed, shrugging off Satoru’s grip on his shoulder. In a swift motion, he lunged towards one of the guests, seizing a sword protruding from their open chest. “I refuse to leave here without my wife!”

“(Y/N), take Catherine with you.”

You complied at Satoru’s command, positioning Catherine behind you.

Naoya’s eerie laughter rang inside the church, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Do I have to kill you too?” He sneered.

“Satoru!” His father’s voice thundered, hurling a sword towards his son to equalize the confrontation. Now both men were engaged in a battle of life and death, their swords clashing against each other, the metallic clang reverberating through the room. While Naoya was a skilled swordsman, Satoru was inexperienced in the art of combat. Though, he fought with raw determination, as they were both thrown around, refusing to yield. Blinded by rage, Satoru unleashed a fierce strike that sent Naoya crashing to he ground, his arm slashed by the force of the blow.

“What are you waiting for?” Naoya tainted with a mocking smile, challenging him to end his life. “Kill me!!”

He hungers to end his life for the pain his father inflicted upon Octavius, his malevolence in ending your life as well for forcing Catherine’s hand in marriage.

In a moment of clarity, the thirst for vengeance fades from his eyes, as he lowered his sword, catching Naoya off guard. “Your fate is not mine to decide.” Satoru proclaimed, turning away and motioning for you to take his sword. Descending from the altar, you approached, ready to meets out your own justice. Lifting the sword with both of your hands, you prepared to strike. Naoya gasped in fear, shutting his eyes together to the incoming attack, however it never came. Confusion etched across his face as he looked up at you, only to be met with a cold, unwavering glare.

“I refuse to let your blood stain my hands.” You declared, tossing the sword across the room, and turning to your guests with a serene smile. “My beloved guests, the celebration shall continue. Join us for an after-party.” They chattered among them with eerie and anticipated smiles, as they circled around Naoya’s fallen form. Naoya’s cries of desperation echoed through the hall, but you remained unmoved by his pleas, allowing the deceased to drag Naoya away to face the most appalling punishments reserved for those as wicked as him.

Approaching Satoru and Catherine, you initiated with a genteel squeeze of Catherine's hand, imparting a gracious smile. "I extend my deepest gratitude," you conveyed with earnestness. Catherine reciprocated with a nod, gently returning the pressure of your hand. “There's no need to thank me.”

Releasing Catherine's hand, you turned towards Satoru, who already held the chalice containing the wine of ages. Despite his prior avowal of readiness to offer himself for you, an insatiable need for confirmation lingered. Satoru nodded with a steadfast demeanor, his grasp on your hand unwavering. “Without a doubt.” he asserted with conviction.

Satoru remains true to his word, committing to spend an eternity by your side in the realm of the deceased. Perhaps, amid the vast expanse of eternity, both of you may find each other once more in another life, vowing never to forget one another. This time around, you plan to live a longer life, cherishing every moment together and appreciating the time you have without regrets.

Author’s Note Please don’t let this fic flopped I really worked hard on this one. Please check out my other works at my page, thanks for reading!!

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illyrian-dreamer · 7 months

Text

Our girl – Part 5

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Summary: You wake after succumbing to the mating bond.

Word count: 5.1k

<<< Part 4

Strands of hair tickled your cheeks, a warm, gentle breeze kissing your face as you groggily blinked awake.

A spring breeze.

You jolted upright, urgently scanning around you. It was a lavash guest room, soft white sheets settled over your body, lush pillows piled to have cradled your head. You had no idea who's clothes you wore, but you knew you were at the Spring Manor.

As if on queue, a house maid opened the doors to your room, behind her a healer. It was the same perky house maid that had greeted you when you first visited Tamlin.

“Oh good, you’re awake, she pepped. The healer wordlessly approached you, pressing her thumb to your wrist. She gave the maid a quick nod before leaving the room, without having spoken a word.

“She’s mute,” the maid explained.

Oh. You stared back at her. So were you, it seemed.

“The High Lord will be eager to hear you are awake. Will you take his visit?”

You nodded silently, unable to form the thousands of questions as your brain came to wake.

Tamlin was in your room in no less than a few minutes.

“How are you feeling?”

You blinked. You hadn't really thought about that. Looking within yourself, you felt it there, a swollen heart, alive and beating and thriving, but also aching from a deep wound. You were nautious and weak and so gods damned angry. How could the Mother be so cruel?

“How long was I asleep?”

“Just a day.”

You nodded, running your hand through your hair. “And we’re in Spring?”

Tamlin nodded. “Feyre and Rhys winnowed us here.”

You were too tired to gawk, so you blinked instead. “Pardon me?”

“And your… Azriel and Cassian are still here, waiting for you to wake.”

You must still be dreaming. “You opened your home to them?” you croaked.

Tamlin shrugged. “We wanted to bring you to your Uncle’s, but you could see to a healer faster here. Besides, there was no fitting five fae in that cabin, especially two Illyrians.”

“They could have slept outside,” you ground out, and Tamlin chuckled.

“You do… remember what unfolded at the wedding, don’t you? That Azriel and Cassian are your mates?”

“Do not call them that.” Taming the bite in your tone was beyond you, even for your friend. You had to clench your eyes shut to stop the reel in your vision, your whole body clenching as you remembered that awful, fated moment.

Tamlin didn't falter. Instead he dropped his eyes before reaching for your hand and squeezing it sympathetically. “Are you in any pain?”

“Yes. No. I don't know,” you said plainly, pinching at your nose. It did hurt, this unwanted binding to the two beings you resented most in this world. It hurt to resist them, to resist it. As if there was a home, beckoning you inside to warmth and food and comfort, and instead you stood outside in the hail and cold, despising it for ever being built.

Tamlin’s eyes were soft as he watched you shift uncomfortably. You hated that look too, as if he was sad for you, as if this bond was your fate and you had no say in the matter.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he blinked.

“As if I’m some mindless female destined to forget and forgive and go running back with a kiss to each of their cheeks.”

“I don’t think that–”

“Because I’m not, and I won’t. I still have my head, and my senses, and some gods-damned self respect.”

Tamlin sighed then. “No one can force you to do anything you don’t want to Y/N. I won't allow it.”

You cast your eyes to the roof then, blinking away the sting of tears. “And what of us, Tamlin? Suppose I was free to explore a future with you?”

Tamlin moved to hold your one hands in his, running a thumb in your palm. “You are free, sweetheart.”

“And you would court me, knowing I’m cauldron-bound to not just one, but two others?”

His thumb stopped rubbing then, and his lips pressed to a thin line.

You stared hard at Tamlin, eyes piercing. Don’t lie - that look said - we do not lie to each other.

And as Tamlin raised green eyes to yours, in their softness you had your answer.

“Your silence is answer enough,” you bit, letting out a sharp breath as tears slid down your cheeks, snatching your hand from his.

It had started – your choices, your freedom – fading away already. Curse the Mother.

“Come now Y/N, I will always love you, and we will always have each other, however our relationship might change.”

“Lies, Tamlin. Fucking lies,” your voice broke as tears streamed down your cheeks. You were flushed with anger then, kicking off the sheets that were now too hot, your skin beginning to tingle. Gods, not now you begged, holding your breath to stifle the sting at your fingertips.

“I do not lie to you, Y/N.” Tamlin said sternly.

You swung your legs from your bed, standing in a hurry as blood rushed to your head. “You’re just another disappointment,” you said coldly, pacing as you shook your hands to rid of your power.

Pain flashed in his eyes, and he recoiled slightly before straightening, his eyes hardening. “You’re being unfair.”

“You males are all the same! You treat females as if they are objects, owned by one male and therefore not to be touched by another. An unspoken exchange, as if I were cattle and not an actual fucking being.”

Tamlin pinched his nose then, his jaw tightening. “That is not what is happening here. You cannot punish me for not wanting to entangle myself in your mateship, not when I’m doing it out of respect for you.”

You were being unfair, and quite unforgiving, but your words were as unstoppable as your power in this moment, zapping and dancing at your skin.

“Is that what you define as respect, High Lord? Because despite a year of friendship, all it took was one gods-foresaken moment for you to side with what they want, and start dismissing me. You believe in the bond, and you respect Azriel and Cassian enough to house them, and agree that you won't so much as look at me again. You have chosen them over me, plain and simple.”

Tamlin’s face was grave, and you knew you were twisting an old wound of his. And perhaps you were being rash, but you didn't care. You would shut him out, or anyone who thought they knew what was best for you.

“I thought I was helping you by allowing them here,” he said defensively. “I thought perhaps you’d feel safe here, but would still want them close, to be able to talk to them.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re gods-damned right I want to talk to them! I’ll tell them exactly what I think of this couldren-made-shackle, of what I think of the Mother if they think for one second they can–” You swayed on the spot as you spat a string of curses, vision blurring slightly.

Despite the cruel words you had cast his way, Tamlin approached, steadying you by your shoulder’s, biting down on the pain that stung him at his touch.

“I understand your anger, Y/N, I do. But you’re still unwell, you should rest now and–”

Tamlin should have know better than to test your stubbornness.

So you marched for the door, flinging it open as you stormed through the manor, using that tether you so loathed to cast out your mates. Tamlin was on your tail, trying to reason to take a moment or calm yourself before doing anything rash. But you didn't turn once as you found the room that beheld your mates, ripping the doors open without so much as a knock.

They knew you were coming of course. Azriel stood near the bed, and Cassian had just risen from the armchair he sat on in the opposite corner – their faces grave, worried, with a sickening kind of longing.

It was as if the flesh between your bones went soft, your body begging to give out or give in and relish in the proximity of being close to your mates. But you forced yourself to stay stiff, holding a glare that could cut glass.

“Wipe those looks off your faces,” you bit, stalking into the room.

Azriel cast his eyes to Tamlin who held a look that said I tried to stop her. He knew better than to linger, pulling the doors closed behind you.

“How are you fee–?” Cassian tried, but you raised a hand to silence him.

They waited in silence, and you darted your eyes between them.

“You think this means I forgive you?”

They knew better than to answer that.

“You think this means you can have me, because the Mother wishes to see us mated?” you continued, your voice laced with ice. “Well it doesn’t. I will not head to fate and forsake myself, not even for the cauldron.”

Azriel sighed then, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. “Of course you won’t,” he said plainly.

You scowled. “Is that sarcasm?” you bit, even though you felt his sincerity creeping through the tether.

“No. It’s knowing.”

You blinked.

“We know you doll,” Cassian said as he too sat back in the chair, running a strong hand through his hair – a tell sign of stress. “Not because of the bond. But because we’ve loved you for almost a decade now. We know there is not a thing that can set you apart from your principles.”

“And we would never ask that of you,” Azriel added.

You shuffled, your arms crossing defensively. “You won't try to convince me to go back with you?” you asked stiffly.

Cassian shook his head. “No, it was wrong for us to ask that of you in the first place.”

Azriel stood then, moving closer to a settee in the centre of the room. “We do ask that you might let us explain. We have so much we've wanted to tell you, even before you left Velaris. And there is a lot of truth we’ve withheld, things you deserve to know.” He slid his hands behind his back, waiting at the seats – a silent offering to join them, to hear them out.

It was a temptation you couldn't deny yourself. You moved swiftly, sitting on one side, a low reading table separating you as Cassian took a place next to Azriel.

“We had suspicions of the bond from when we first began to court you.” Azriel began. “It was so rare for us to long for the same female, but the true hint was in the lack of jealousy we felt between each other.”

Cassian nodded. “We agreed to court you as, well, as partners. It wasn't anything we had explored in our 500 years, but with you, it felt so natural.”

“And your ease too, that was a big sign,” Azriel added. “We half expected you to flee, or never speak to us again.”

“But you were so comfortable, you made it feel… right.”

You were frowning slightly. You didn't remember feeling natural or at ease at all, in fact you were sick to your stomach with nerves when you first began dating. But perhaps they had a point, exploring your first relationship with two males hadn’t added any more challenge than regular dating for you. You had put that down to your friendship of many years.

“Over the period we dated, and as we fell in love with you, we learned to love each other too. We were brothers, but you showed us how to be more than that, igniting something not even they Cauldron dared show us.”

“We wanted to tell you of our suspicions, but it didn’t feel like the right time. You were so focused on your work, so determined to do well. And I suppose we thought it was a hopeless dream – it didn't feel right to distract you with that.” Cassian explained, leaning into his elbows that rested on his knees.

You weighed up their words, eyes darting between the males. It had never occurred to you that a mating bond was at play. You would have never believed yourself to be cauldron-blessed if they had suggested it – or cauldron-cursed rather.

Azriel cleared his throat, cutting through the silence. “It wasn't until the moment that I killed Alvar, that I felt the bond snap,” he breathed out, his voice husky and his hazel eyes cast downward, grimacing as he recalled the difficult memory. “I watched the life leave his body, and then I heard a snap, a force so strong it made me falter. I was reborn in that moment, my new purpose to solely fill your needs, to care for you, protect you. I could feel your desires overriding mine, and in that your determination and hunger to avenge your sister. And I knew then, that I had made the biggest mistake of my life.”

There was a downward tug of your lips, your face muscles jerking involuntarily as you tried not to cry, imagining that moment that changed everything for the worse.

“I have dreams of Alvar, still alive and at the mercy of Trutheller. I dream that I sheath my sword and step away, returning to a world where you are waiting for me at our home. And your embrace is warm and true, because you love us, and we never did a thing to ruin it.” Azriel’s voice broke as he flashed those hazel eyes, lined with tears.

Two silent tears slid down your cheeks, your chest tight with the shallows breaths you kept to keep yourself from crumbling. You didn't respond – what could you say? Instead, you cleared your throat, grasping the arms of your chair even tighter. “And what of you?” you asked Cassian.

“It snapped for me in that same moment. But I was journeying home from the northern training camps in Illyria.”

You blinked in shock. The bond had snapped for the both of them, with that greater distance between them while Azriel was across the sea?

“As I was flying back to Velaris, and I heard the snap in my ears before I felt it course through my veins and wounding my heart. That realisation, that same pain that Azriel described, the devastation at what we had done… it sent me crashing into the thick of forest.”

You closed your eyes as you imagined the great War General, bought to his knees by such a thing.

“It seems none of us have been welcomed to this mateship gently,” you said tightly. Why had the Mother forsaken so much pain?

“I could hear Az then, speak to him through the bond in the same way Rhys and Feyre speak in our minds. I could feel his panic too, his fear of having to tell you, to break you in such a way. I calmed him down as best I could, and reassured him that we would do it together, as soon as he returned.”

Your eyes turned cold again. “But that isn’t what happened.”

“It was a cowards choice to ask Rhys to be the one tell you, we know,” Azriel said with dismay. “But the concept of hurting you, of wounding our mate so deeply? It was unfathomable.”

“Its not an excuse,” Cassian added. “But we hope you can understand, there is an instinct there that twists our concept of what is wrong and right. Rhys understood that, it was the same instinct that kept him from telling Feyre about the risk of birthing Nyx. I think that’s why he volunteered to tell you, to protect us from something that would wound us so deeply.”

“We are learning, Y/N, and we are so sorry that we hurt you,” Azriel said, hazel eyes pinning you with their intensity. “But we are trying, and we will do better by you.”

You looked between the two of them, pulling your hands to your lap as your fingers trembled. It was just all so much.

Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to say those words – I forgive you.

You could see it, relief flooding the bond and breaking those solemn gazes, their embrace and warmth and scent surrounding you, fulfilling your primal desire. Their lips on yours, their hands on your body, yours on theirs, puling each other in and never letting go. There was a thrumming in your heart, a pulsing through your veins. It felt so right.

But then you thought of the life you had made, the path you were forced to walk by yourself after what they had done. They had broken you completely, and you had put yourself back together, now stronger than ever. Your mission work, your life in Spring, the pain you endured and the scars that remained from doing it alone – it was a part of you now, and you could never let that go.

You were at a cross roads – one path leading to the overwhelming promise of unconditional love that tempted your heart, the other promising freedom and choice and sense, tempting your head.

“What are you thinking?” Cassian asked, his voice soft from where he still sat, anxiously fidgeting with his hands.

You took a deep breath. “That I am overwhelmed.”

Cassian nodded, and Azriel watched you before speaking softly. “That is understandable.”

You didn't have an answer for them, not even for yourself.

“I don't know what to do,” you whispered.

Cassian continued to nod, casting his eyes down sadly. “Whatever you decide, Y/N, we will do right by you.”

“Of course we dream of you accepting the bond, of becoming our mate, we won't deny that. But we want you to want it,” Azriel added.

You gulped, anticipating the pain that would come from your next words. “And what if I decide to break the bond?”

Cassian’s head dropped as he let out a wrangled sob. Azriel’s shadows recoiled so fast they disappeared entirely. The latter gripped the chair, his knuckles white as he slipped into that place he so often had to as the Spy Master – a place where nothing could hurt him. “The choice is yours.”

“Please,” Cassian breathed out, tears streaming down his face. It was a plea, even the thought of the bond breaking unbearable to him.

It unbearable for you too, and fresh tears slid down your face as your arms coiled tighter around the ache in your stomach. It would sicken you, perhaps almost kill the three of you. But it was what they deserved.

You were exhausted, and keeping that wall up through the bond, stopping their emotions from tampering with your own – that alone had you begging for your bed.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you said with a broken voice, guilt slipping through at the sight of the General sobbing before you.

Azriel put an arm around his brother, comforting him as best he could. “We know that, sweetheart. Of course we know that.”

You cast your eyes sideways as you blinked through more tears. “But I don't have an answer for you.”

Cassian nodded, running his hands over his face as he tried to collect himself. “Take your time,” he said after a few moments, his voice shaky and breaths forced. “We will wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“And you don't need any more bargains from Rhys or Feyre,” Azriel added. “We will respect your privacy Y/N, any and all distance you might need. Let us prove that to you.”

You nodded then, forcing yourself to your knees despite the scream of protests in all of your muscles and joints. Gods, is this how the rest of your life would be, forever fighting a higher cause? Perhaps you’d go mad before you could ever hope to forgive them.

“I will…,” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. “Good bye, Cassian and Azriel,” you forced out, your voice thick from the cry that begged at your throat.

Cassian’s lip wobbled, and Azriel’s brow broke upwards as he spoke. “Take good care of yourself, Y/N.”

Cassian’s head felt to his hands, and you forced yourself to close the doors behind you, quieting the sound of his cries.

————

You spent three weeks at your Uncle’s cabin – mostly in bed and unspeaking, even to Finbark. He dotted over you, trying to pry you from your room to spend some time outside or eat a full meal. But that familiar pain had returned, that same weight that kept you bed bound for days in your old apartment. It was grief, in all shapes and kinds.

You hadn't broken the bond, but it was rejected good and proper for now. And it hurt so gods damned much. Your waking moments were consumed with the tug and pull of what was right, a constant reeling battle that exhausted you to every extent.

The mission aid work carried on without you – you had a competent team of friends that you trusted to continue to provide care across Spring Court. You were grateful for their passion and dedication – while your desire to help others was unreachable in those moments, and you felt completely numb to what you once had thought was your life’s calling. You despised the bond for changing you so.

You wondered of the wild Geranium, if it had been harvested yet and if Tamlin or your team had made any progress on bottling its healing pigment.

And there was pain and guilt when you thought of Tamlin too. You had hurt him – you were malicious in your anger and said so many things you hadn't meant. You weren't angry at him, not really. Your anger lied with the Mother and your mates, and you could not fault him for not wanting to complicate relations and involve himself where he knew he shouldn’t. He was true to his word – he was open and honest with you – and you had punished him for it.

Tamlin hadn’t sent word, and you knew he was respecting the distance you sought, perhaps even licking his own wounds. So you would start there, apologise to him, and help just one person hurt less from the recoil of your poisonous mating bond.

You sent word to his Manor, asking him to meet you in three days time.

————

Tamlin was at the stables, brushing down his steed when you trotted up on Podie.

He wore his riding pants again, boots to his knees, a shirt tucked in at his tight abdomen, strong forearms moving the brush gently across the horses back. You cursed the Mother that the sight of him didn't have the same effect on you as it had a few months prior – the bond chipping away at what you had once known to desire.

Your heart did clench at the sight of him in a sorry way, his blond hair pulled back as he worked humbly. You had missed your friend dearly, and even the Mother could not stop you from feeling that.

Tamlin turned, his face neutral as he watched you approach, neither of you speaking. Green eyes followed your dismount, and you lingered for a moment before you rushed at him, wrapping your arms at his waist and burying your face into his chest. The scent of mountain dew and fresh cut grass filled your nose – gods you had missed that.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked before sobs overtook, muffled by his clothing.

Tamlins arms were still in the air, shocked by your approach. But he loosed a breath, bringing them to hug you, rubbing soft circles on your back.

Relief found you then, and you melted further into his touch. A sign of truce. “I’m so so sorry Tamlin.”

“Shhh, it’s alright Y/N. It’s alright.”

You shook your head, pulling away and looking up at him. “You were only trying to help, and I was so cruel. The things I said, I–”

Tamlin shook his head gently, hushing you. “I don't understand the instincts of a mating bond, but I do know what it is to say things out of anger.”

“I didn't mean them,” you swallowed with guilt.

He smiled softly. “I know.”

You took a deep breath. “Please forgive me.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes playfully then, a smirk now on his lips. “I already had.”

You tried to smile back, but it came out all wobbly, so Tamlin pulled you in again, swaying in a hug as he kissed the top of your head.

After some lunch and a stroll through the gardens, he watched your carefully as you fingered the roses.

“Do you know what you’ll do of the bond?”

You stiffened, your eyes not leaving the row of flowers before you. “No, I really don’t,” you said sadly. It was true, you hadn't a clue what to do next.

Tamlin nodded.

After a deep sigh, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “But I do know what I want for my life. I want to continue my mission work, expand my horizons and work across Prythian. I suppose I need to approach the other High Lords, and harvest the Geranium if you’re still willing?”

Tamlin smiled, his eyes warm as he seemed to find relief. “It’s all yours.”

You nodded, smiling back. There was relief for you too – you recognised your old self in those words. Your passion to help others was still alive and strong – and that meant the cauldron hadn’t changed you beyond recognition, and if you fought hard enough, it couldn't if it tried.

“I’m so grateful to have you in my life, Tam,” you confessed, your chest swelling with sincerity.

Tamlin raised his brows in question.

You gave a half smile. “You make me feel… like myself. No matter the circumstance.”

Tamlin’s face softened in a way that made you wonder how long it was since he was shown a genuine kind of love – especially after what happened with Hybern.

“You are wonderfully you, Y/N, with or without my help.”

“Always the humble High Lord,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “But I would not have made it this far without you. You’re my dearest friend.”

Tamlin reached and squeezed your hand. “You’re dear to me too, Y/N.”

You squeezed back, and you swore to yourself that the bond would not interfere in this friendship ever again.

————

6 months later

The High Lords meeting was held in Dawn, in an impressive wide cast room, marble sprawled from floor to ceiling, glassless windows arched at every wall. All seven High lords and one High Lady seated at a wide-spanning table, a cartographic map of Prythian etched within the wood.

Fingers tingling as you shook them out, and skirts kicking at your feet, you paced anxiously on the other side of the double doors to the meeting hall.

Today was the day you would propose your mission to expand refuge aid across the whole of Prythian, asking the High Lords to consider opening their borders and contributing resources and volunteers of their own.

Your team had worked tirelessly to get to this point – the wild Geranium was now harvested and a new batch was already seeding, and you had worked for months on your proposal, researching natural resources, writing guidance sheets on how to train volunteers, identifying what each court had to contribute and when.

The challenge that lay ahead of you now was to appeal to spectrum of powerful leaders waiting on the other side of those doors. You knew of their egos, of the rivalry and sensitivities between courts – this was no easy task.

“Tamlin must certainly be a terrible lover if this is how wound up he leaves you.”

You threw a scowl over your shoulder, knowing that voice and whitewood scent.

“And what of you, Eris? Waiting for daddy to finish his meeting like the good dog you are?”

Eris gave a half grin, one that didn't reach his eyes. He strolled over, leaning against the wall as he watched you try to calm yourself, delighting in your nerves. “Speaking of dogs, I heard your mates are cooped up at Night Court, the both of them suffering from wounded hearts.”

Your bared your teeth before you could think twice. Eris knowing that both Cassian and Azriel were your mates was dangerous, but the primal snarl had escaped you for that insult alone.

Eris’s eyes danced with satisfaction. “Oh, don't go feral on me now, Y/N. From what I hear, you haven't so much a secured the bond with a fuck.”

“I will–“ your hands curled into fists as you stalked up to the male, overcome with a shaking rage.

But Eris stayed leaning, cleaning his nails with arrogant nonchalance as he cut you off. “I suppose they’ll have to satisfy each other instead, how sad.”

Your hand was raised, ready to strike, and fire glowed in Eris’s eyes.

“Try that, girl, and your pathetic mission turns to dust. You can forget any allegiance from Autumn, and it’s likely others will back out too.”

You faltered, your arm swaying slightly. He was right – the prick. A sounding slap was not the way to heed your proposal.

He grinned with smug satisfaction as you lowered your arm and turned away. “Such a violent response from someone who preaches to only want to help others. Perhaps you’re not the peaceful messiah you claim to be, Y/N.”

“I’ve never had a problem defending what is mine,” you threw over your shoulder. “And my aid is offered to those in need, not to arrogant princelings, or lapdogs and the likes.”

A snarl tickled at Eris’s lips, and you were glad to have landed at least one blow, be it verbal.

“You consider those overgrown bats yours?” he asked with distaste. “So it’s true then, about the bond?”

Blinking, you played back the words that had found you so naturally. Was that how you felt?

Chewing on your lip, you decided to ignore Eris’s question. You would think of that later – you had a meeting to focus on, and you’d be damned if either the mating bond or Eris distracted you from it.

You didn’t have time to throw a final insult his way before Thesan pulled the double doors open, eight pairs of eyes now set on you, and Eris no where in sight.

“Y/N, we are ready for you,” Thesan said with a soft smile.

You gulped before straightening yourself, stepping into the room and facing the most important moment of your entire existence, whether you were ready or not.

--------

Part 6>>>

AN: SURPRISE guest appearance by Eris ;) ;) ;) Hello hello lovelies, thank you so much for your patience on this part, I know it took a while ❤️ I am so so excited to finally explore a bit of Cazriel's perspective, and get their side to the story. I hope I've done all the characters justice so far! And there's still so much to explore – I am very keen to share the next part and see how this High Lords meeting goes down (let's face it, there will be TEA). As always, I LOVE hearing your thoughts and opinions on the fic, so pretty please drop me a comment or ask anytime! Hope you're all well and are taking care of yourselves too. MWAH! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

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lunemai · 22 days

Text

•• -Mornings With You- ••

Demigod!Y/n x Luke Castellan

Summary - Waking up with Luke on your birthday in a cabin near the beach feels like a dream or at least it was going to be, until some people decided to interrupt.

Warnings - Y/n's godly parent is not specified, she/her pronouns, softness, talk of kids, kissing, no betrayal universe, teeth rotting fluff, marriage, and that's it I think.

part one - part two || can be read as a standalone. ||

•••••••••••••••••••••★•••••••••••••••••••••

The distant waves and the birds singing walking the shoreline are sounds you look forward to when waking up, this time, it was a different sound, a more annoying sound, a very familiar voice.

"I didn't even mean it like that-" Percy tries to say but is quickly interrupted by the sound of Annabeth's voice, "Yes, you did."

"Okay, you came to my house on this glorious peaceful morning to talk about your.. -marital problems?" Luke talks in between both of them. I can practically hear Annabeth's eye roll, "Of course not, we came to give your prisoner her annual 'congrats on not dying' birthday cake." right.

Everyone knows as demigods living a long and prosperous life is not guaranteed, therefore; congrats on not dying birthday cake. Though I think that's what every “normal” person gets, it's just very subtle.

“what? she’s not my prisoner.” I hear Annabeth scoff as I get up from bed and head towards the bathroom door inside mine and Luke’s room, quietly. duh.

“right.” Annabeth says, there’s a pause before Luke answers, “Right?” though he’s trying to be assertive it sounds more like a question than a statement.

there’s another pause before I hear that same voice that woke me in the first place, “So are you going to let us in or??” I hear Annabeth shove past him and Luke and head towards the kitchen where the boys also seem to follow.

since I can no longer hear their voices I finally enter the bathroom to brush my teeth and my hair, no one wants to look like a monster around Demi-gods of all people, might end up without a head.

coming out of the room I immediately hear the sound of Percy and Annabeth having a conversation about why having too much blue food coloring could ultimately be damaging.

Finally coming into view I see Luke making coffee with his back facing us and the soulmates sitting in bar stools awaiting their drinks.

Percy has a cherry muffin in front of him and Annabeth had buttery popcorn, in the morning.

“Oh hey sleepy head, I’m surprised your kidnapper lets you out of your room,” Annabeth says, Luke turns around with a coffee mug in his hand and leans against the kitchen counter while Percy simply awaits Luke’s rebuttal.

“Same, I guess I must be his favorite victim,” I say, encouraging Annabeth to jab at the fact Luke and I haven’t left our home in 2 weeks since our honeymoon.

“who’s side are you on?” Luke says with his brows furrowed. “The winning side, mine,” Annabeth answers for me.

I raise an eyebrow at Luke walking towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist once I reach him to look up at his eyes.

“Hi, baby.” He says looking down at me he places one hand on my hip, and his forehead meets mine.

“Hi handsome, you make any for me?” I say pointing at the mug in his other hand with my eyes.

he squeezes my hip his hand and nudges my nose with his, “Of course I did, you’re my favorite victim.” he meets my lips with a matching soft smile on his face, 2, 4 seconds and I hear a voice,

“Did you make any for us?” of course, it’s Percy.

sadly, Luke pulls away from the kiss to look at Percy. “You think I want you to have any more energy than you already do?”

Percy sighs in disbelief, “What energy? I’m a ball of sarcasm, not happiness.” Luke lets out a laugh and replies, “Sure Perse, there should be enough in the pot.”

Luke looks back down at me and pecks my cheek, “You want your ‘congrats on not dying cake’ or me and the beach first?”

with a soft laugh, I respond “Depends, who made it this time?” I say while turning to look at the two occupying the kitchen island.

“Me.” Annabeth says, and that’s all I need to hear, “Cake first then.” Percy shrugs and decides I have a right to say that after last year’s cake.

“I thought adding salt to things made it more flavorful or whatever, I mean they do it with chocolate milk.” even though he’s right, a whole cup of salt on a cake was not the right move.

“Right, but the point is not to aim for a salty flavor.” I have to admit, reading and following instructions will never be an easy feat for a Demi-god, dyslexia, and all that.

“That’s why you have to re-read things Percy,” Annabeth says while getting the cake out of the box.

Annabeth hands each of us a slice of red velvet cake and we all eat with glee laughter, and sarcasm since Percy and Annabeth are here.

“Okay, now that we ate and used dishes we don’t have to wash, Happy birthday prisoner, try to find an escape route soon,” Annabeth says standing up to hug me and put her dish in the sink for Luke to wash later.

“Yeah, thanks for using water in the only way I could never, Luke,” Percy says also putting his dish in the sink on top of Annabeth's.

“Don’t worry, I know I can handle water more than you, son of Poseidon,” Luke says gathering mine and his dish, to stack them atop the rest.

“Happy birthday newly kidnapped.” that didn’t sound grammatically correct, but I wouldn’t know.

“Thanks, Perse, and also thank you for not making the cake.” with a nod full of fake sympathy, Percy and Annabeth walk out the door with a last goodbye hug and a wave.

closing the cabin door, I feel arms wrap around my back, leaning against Luke I feel his chin on my shoulder.

“You know the beach will be here all day,” he says in between the kisses he’s now placing on my collarbone, all leading up towards my jawline.

“Yeah, you’re right about that one,” I say closing my eyes and enjoying the sensation of him making a path of kisses up my neck.

“so maybe, we should just go back to bed for a little while.” he finally reaches my cheek, and I open my eyes to turn my head towards his, nudging my nose against his.

“That sounds like a great plan,” I say turning around in his arms to put my hands on his chest.

“Yeah?” he says softly with a deep and passionate kiss following.

breathing heavily I manage to respond

“Yeah.”

notes: this is my first fic in sooo long!! i’m so happy to have this done, it’s 1,081 words and i’m so ducking proud of that.

Thank you sm for reading! I promise there’s many more coming.

REQUEST ARE VERY MUCH OBLIGED.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #pjo #luke castellan fic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #luke castellan fluff #annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #percy and luke #luke castellan imagine

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corvase · 2 years

Text

enemies to lovers ‘later in their life’ prompts

later in their life; post-book things like getting married, living together. feel free to use :)

“can you pass me the s—“ “no.” “………. at what point do you become mature?”

“i’m tireddd.” *in a whiny voice* “i’m tired.” *mocking them*

“hug?” “clingy, much?……” but hugs them anyway

random races. waking up and brushing? i’ll do it five hours before you even begin dreaming. walking to the kitchen to make breakfast? i can flip fifteen pancakes before you can blink.

“you said you loved me first, remember?” “…. did i?”

everything is still a competition. i don’t care if both our families are watching i can and will scarf this all down and beat you

“cant believe we fell in love. i swore i would never become this trope.” “who doesn’t love a good cliche?”

“kiss?” and an immediate joking “no” but they’re already leaning in with a small smile

both being very stubborn and like carbon copies of the other so small domestic things trip them up

^ like they’re both lying down on the couch like “who’s turn is it to do the dishes?” “… i think it’s yours.” “but i did them yesterday.” “no you most definitely did not—“

“i missed you.” and with a small smile, “really?” and an annoyed “no i’m lyin— WHAT DO YOU THINK???”

“must you argue with me about everything?” genuinely annoyed because they just want to choose what to eat for breakfast and the other one just wants to argue

BUT ALSO “must you argue with me about everything?” and it’s with the fondest smile ever as they run a hand through the other’s hair

“where are the onions?” “…. you called me at 2:00pm on a work day to ask me where the onions are??? WHEN YOU BOUGHT THEM LAST?????????” “… if you didn’t know where they were you could’ve just said that but whatever.”

“do you fancy getting married?” “do i f— DO I FANCY????? WE’RE NINETEEN.” “yeah but i love you.”

“did you do the laundry?” “did YOU do the laundry?” “oh splendid i’m married to a seven year old.”

a petty argument and the make-up being all reluctant

^ like “and by the way, i hate your new haircut.” and the other responding with a smile and a “yeah?” because they know with a glance that it’s not true at all

“i love you.” “… yeah. you too, i guess.” “….? say you love me.” “…” “i’m going to call your mom.” “… that is so low.”

it’s also important to have moments where they acknowledge that the enemies part is in the past and as much as they joke they both love each other very much

^“can we be serious for a second?” and an immediate sobering up

“i love you like, a crazy amount, you know.” “i love you even more.” “okay…. just let me have this one maybe.”

them learning each other’s hobbies & things they enjoy doing, going out of their way to learn and enjoy it too

“let’s go stargaze.” “i’d honestly rather do anything else.” but they go and just stare at the other one the whole time (and the other is aware)

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merakiui · 4 months

Text

simply business.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, slight nsfw, misogyny, power imbalance, workplace misconduct, abuse of authority, ceo azul, secretary jade note - you'll do anything for this job. mr. ashengrotto wonders if there are limits to your anything.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Ashengrotto. Thank you for making time for me today. I can’t begin to imagine how packed your schedule is,” you admit with a gentle laugh.

Just as you practiced with Trey and Riddle, you shake his hand firmly and confidently. Even if most of your poise is feigned to hide a mountain of anxieties, it manages to fool the CEO of Mostro, for he mirrors your amiable greeting with one of his own. Or maybe he sees right through your act and is choosing to remain quiet. You’re not going to think too deeply about that.

“The pleasure’s all mine. You have no idea how startled I was when your application found its way on my desk. Why, I thought I was dreaming.”

If he brings up childhood memories, talk about it. Why not? Trey advised hours earlier, serving you and Riddle individual slices of strawberry tart. Friendship is just as good a connection as the one made through sweets.

Which is very solid guidance coming from a baker.

Even so, she shouldn’t rely solely on past connections. In business, that means nothing if the connection itself isn’t stable and worthwhile enough, Riddle, ever the realist, added with a grimace. We should know. We went to school with him.

Hey, don’t sweat it. You’ll do great, Trey added when he noticed the despairing look you’d given your tart. I’ll bake you something to celebrate, so do your best, be yourself, and bring home good news.

With his and Riddle’s encouragement, you had been so certain of your abilities before, in which you proudly proclaimed you’d get the job and charm Azul in the process, but now you’re not sure. Standing here in his office, thirty-something stories in the clouds, you can’t escape the suffocating fear as it saps the oxygen from the room and renders your lungs vacant.

“I aim to surprise.”

“And surprise you have. Pleasantly, might I add.” He motions for you to sit, to which you comply and lower into the seat across from him. A mahogany desk separates you from a sparkling future. Your gaze pans from him to the man standing a few inches behind, a clipboard and pen held in both hands. Standing isn’t the right word, actually. With his height, all lithe limbs dressed darkly, he looks like a bodyguard ready to escort you to your execution should you make the wrong move. You can handle one pressed suit, but another is too much. And this one looks even more intimidating than Azul with his sharp, stoic stare. “Pay him no mind. Jade’s merely here to make note of our discussion.”

“Ah, I see. Nice to meet you, Mr. Jade.”

He nods his silent acknowledgement, two-toned eyes filling with light.

“Shall we begin?” Azul gathers a few documents, straightens them, and then dives right into the rigmarole. “I must preface this by stating our past friendship has no influence on my decision or the outcome of this interview.”

“Completely understandable,” you blurt, trigger-happy with agreement.

Don’t be a yes-man, Riddle’s words from before float through your head, stern like a parent. You’re human, not some gear meant to strengthen their corporate machine. If they can’t see that, then that’s no environment for you.

“I… Actually, it feels a little awkward talking like this,” you add with a nervous sigh. “With the stakes being so high and everything… It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, but I’m happy you’re doing well for yourself. Oh! I’m not saying that to butter you up or anything! That’s my honest opinion.”

He chuckles. “I’m also pleased to see you again. Although going forward I would like to keep this matter separate from the task at hand.”

“Right. Sorry. We got off topic.”

He flips through the papers—likely your resume and application and any other information he has on file—and hums. “It says here that you have experience managing an online platform. Would you care to elaborate?”

“Oh, that. It was for my friend’s family business. He’s a baker. The shop has a nice reputation in the neighborhood, but they don’t really have any social media presence. My friend and I thought his family could benefit from a website and a Magicam account, so we put both together. I was in charge of creating and managing the website.”

“I see.”

You notice Jade scribbling something and your heart drops into your stomach. “S-So I have experience in design and…stuff.”

Relax. Don’t pay attention to him.

“Then may I assume you’re passionate about photography and graphic design?”

“Very.”

“It’s good to have an eye for aesthetics. I can clearly see that from the samples you submitted. Your portfolio is impressive.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ashengrotto. I take pride in all of my work.”

“In that case, would you mind walking me through your portfolio?”

“I’d be happy to.” You scoot closer to his desk without thinking, gesturing to the prints he’s laid out for you. “That’s the website I designed for my friend. He wanted something simple, family-friendly, and easy to navigate. I had to appeal to both customers from the neighborhood and customers who might be visiting for the first time. Finding a balance was a little difficult, but I made it work after lots of dedicated effort.”

He gestures to another sample and you delve into the lore behind it. This carries on twice more before he indicates his satisfaction with a beaming smile.

“Aren’t you diligent?”

The delivery is more backhanded than you’d care to hear, but you choose to brush it aside. “Thank you.”

“Your baker friend… Are you employed?”

“Oh, not currently! It was just a side gig. A one-time thing.”

“Is that all?”

You open your mouth to reply and then stop. Did you hear him correctly? “Is… Is what all?”

“You may not work for him in that capacity, but you might in another capacity. ‘One-time things’ could snowball into—”

“It didn’t and it never will,” you interrupt. You realize your error seconds later and smooth out the abrasiveness in your tone. “My apologies. I meant to say that I’m not affiliated with him in any of those ways. I’m merely a friend who helped out where she could. Nothing more and nothing less.”

Azul hums flatly, as if disappointed. Jade scribbles. You swallow mounting dread.

What was that about?

“Very well. Moving swiftly on… Can you tell me about yourself? What drew you to this job?”

“I’ve always wanted to manage a social media account for a business like yours. There are so many branches. I think it’d be a very fulfilling experience.”

“Is there a particular branch you’re interested in?”

“Definitely one of your restaurants. I’ve worked with food websites and accounts before, so I have the necessary qualifications you might be seeking.”

“Social media is no easy task. It can be stressful to manage any platform in which you have a following. With that in mind, may I ask how you normally handle stressful or challenging situations?”

“I don’t get stressed very easily. I’m normally very level-headed.”

Liar. I’m so stressed right now. Sweating like crazy and everything!

As if listening in on your thoughts, Jade drags his pen across paper.

“But in the event that you might face such a situation?”

“If such a thing were to occur, I’d take a step back, analyze everything objectively, and see what I can do to mitigate the stress or difficulty that’s cropped up. If it’s a team effort, I’d gather everyone involved for a meeting so that we could discuss together.”

“And if it was an individual effort?”

“It depends on the severity of the stress. If it comes down to it, I’d have no problem notifying my supervisor or manager of the issue firsthand. The sooner you’re made aware of something, the easier it is to draw up a plan of action, right?”

“That can be true, yes.” Azul shuffles his files. “How would others describe you? From the perspective of a friend, perhaps? Or a spouse? Are you married?”

That’s…way too personal. Is that even an interview question? So far he’s asked everything Riddle went over in our mock interview. What’s up with this sudden shift?

You force a stiff laugh. “Not married yet, no…”

“Do you plan to be?”

“Um… I…don’t know. I’m focused on my career right now.”

“Ah, a career woman. Most women your age often settle down. Not you, though. Ambitious thing, aren’t you?”

Your lips twitch into the beginning of a scandalized grimace, but before you can allow your tactful façade to slip you hurry to paste an unruffled grin on your countenance. “I’m passionate,” you smoothly correct. You don’t miss the way Jade’s pen halts before he continues his duty as scribe. “If I may, Mr. Ashengrotto, did you not say you wanted to keep work and personal matters separate?”

“Forgive me. I was only testing you.”

Just what kind of test is that?

“O-Oh. Well, I hope I passed.”

“With flying colors.” He clears his throat. “Now then, what motivates you, Miss (Name)?”

“My friends and family. Myself. The food waiting for me at home.” He quirks a slight smile at that. “I always strive to do my best.”

“A fine attitude to have.”

“Mhm! I like what I do. Every day’s exciting and I love a good challenge.”

No, I don’t. I almost cried on the way here. This is too much of a challenge for me. I didn’t even think I’d get an email back from you…

“You seem like quite the optimist.” He straightens the papers once more and then clips them together. “I appreciate your insightful, honest answers.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes, right! Of course! Thank you for your time.” You practically jump out of your seat to shake his hand.

That was good, right? It felt so fast, but I did well. Right?

“If I may ask one final question…”

“Sure thing!”

Azul smiles. “Just how badly do you want this job?”

More than anything. I need this job. I’m unemployed and desperate. Please, Azul. You have to help me out.

Obviously you can’t phrase it like that, even though the spineless side of you wants to.

“I…would benefit greatly if I was hired. Working for you and your successful company would be an amazing honor.”

“Is that right?” He releases your hand. “All right. The job is yours.”

You blink at him, shocked. “Wait. It is?”

“On one condition.” Azul sits back in his plush office chair. It’s the expensive type. The one with cushions and reclining abilities. “Strip for me.”

Your blood crystallizes in your veins; your heart almost stops. “Excuse me?”

Surely he didn’t just say that. Surely he meant to say something else. Something like…strip all of your worries and accept this position? Your eyes drift over to Jade. He blinks back at you, a razored smile hidden behind his clipboard.

“If you’re willing to go to extremes for this job, prove it.”

“Mr. Ashengrotto… I…” You laugh, but nothing about this is funny. Bile rises in your throat, scalding with sickening acid. “I…”

“Go on then.” Azul waves his hand impatiently, deceptively youthful features twisting with annoyance. “I haven’t got all day.”

Your hands curl into fists, and you dig your nails into your palms so roughly that you break skin. He can’t be serious. He really can’t.

And yet he’s watching you like he expects it.

Again, you look to Jade for help. He lowers his clipboard. “It’s not polite to make one wait, Miss (Name). We pride ourselves on timely efficiency here.”

“But…” You swallow thickly, your hope slowly waning. “But this… This is absurd! I… You must be joking. I can’t possibly—”

“You can,” Azul interjects. “If you want this job, you will do just as I’ve said. Well? The choice is yours. I’ve played my hand.”

Warmth drains from your person until all that’s left is creeping cold.

Oh, you think with devastating resignation, it’s this kind of management. So this is how everyone survives here.

Inhaling through your nose, you steel yourself. Your fingers twitch towards the buttons on your blazer.

“Will I truly get the job?”

“That depends.”

“On what?” you ask, dreading the answer.

“On how far you’re willing to go.”

“C-Can he leave?”

Azul glances at Jade, a sticky smile spreading his lips wide. “Oh, you’ll hurt his feelings with that. How cruel. I can already see the tears brimming in Jade’s eyes.”

“Heartless,” Jade echoes with a sniffle.

You school your scowl into something friendly. “I… I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable with him here…”

“And you do with me? I’m flattered, but our past has nothing to do with this. I’m grateful you bothered to give me a Valentine every school year, but those days are behind us. So stop wasting my time. It’s money, and every second you spend stalling is a Madol lost.”

Your lip trembles, but you don’t cry. You won’t give either of these rotten monsters the satisfaction.

“H-How much do I have to undress to get the job?” You toy with a button, regret pooling in your stomach.

It’s not worth it. I should leave.

You should, but can you?

“We’ll see. I’m feeling generous today, so your fortune may just be favorable.”

Hopeless, you shut your eyes, exhale a defeated breath, and harden your features into something unshakeable.

I’m sorry, Riddle. I’m not a gear here. I’m not even human.

Slowly, while holding unbreakable eye contact, you undo each button on your blazer. You shrug out of it seconds later, dropping it to the floor unceremoniously. Azul and Jade follow your movements like expert predators ensorcelled by prey.

Here, in this hellish bathyal zone, I’m just a whale fall.

From there, you move to your blouse next. You untuck it from your pencil skirt, allowing the fabric to fall freely. Deft fingers work at the buttons, traveling further down until there’s nothing left of the garment protecting your nudity. That, too, joins the slowly forming heap on the floor. The action leaves both men transfixed, and they eye your lacy white bralette as if attempting to sear the sight into their retinas. At one point, Jade decides to write something down. You fondly contemplate all the ways in which he should die.

“Will that be all?”

“Keep going.”

“Haven’t I done enough?”

“If you have room in that mouth to voice complaints, you can stuff it with my—”

You yank your pencil skirt down, silencing the sin that was ready to spill from Azul’s lips. Jade doesn’t muffle his snicker. Again, you fantasize about pushing him out the window.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

With trembling hands, you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra. It’s peeled from your chest then, exposing your tits for their ravenous leering. Their silence says enough. After what feels like an eternity, Azul stops you when you start to slide your panties down.

“I’ve seen enough.”

“On the contrary, I’ve yet to have my fill.” Jade smiles at you, hiding behind his clipboard like the coy bastard he is.

You stand there, clutching your bra so tightly your knuckles ache. “Is… Is it over?”

“For now.”

At that, you fall to your knees, wrap your arms around your chest, and suck in great gulps of air. Fixing your stare on the floor, you find yourself unable to meet his azure hues. If you do, you may just vomit. Footsteps click their way over to you. He pauses; you can feel his gaze burning through you. And then his fingers ghost over your bare shoulder, dancing like playful puppets.

“You start Monday. Bright and early,” Azul says. There’s a detached, clinical edge to the fluff. “I expect wonderful things from you, Miss Marketing Manager.”

As if his words have materialized to topple you—to shatter what’s left of your dignity—you almost collapse. Your arms shoot out to catch you; your palms press against the icy tiles. Still, you don’t cry. Jade’s leather shoes enter your line of sight, which immediately dries your ducts. You don’t have to look to see the satisfied smirk sharpening on his lips because you hear it.

“I must thank you for the entertaining show. Perhaps you should have considered a career in acting.” He drapes your blazer over your shoulders for added effect.

It’s the loudest fuck you in the quietest sentence.

I hope you die a million painful deaths, you despotic, disgusting dickhead.

When you finally stagger out of the building—fully clothed and gutted—dropping thirty-something floors from heaven to the sensible earth below in a compact lift, you fish your phone out of your bag. You’re moving on autopilot when you press his contact. Trey answers on the third ring.

“I was waiting for this call. So what’s the news? Am I baking a celebration cake or a consolation cake? I’m ready for either one. Just say the word.”

The tears are already streaming down your face. You wipe them away, smudging your makeup in the process. “No consolation needed. I… I got the job…”

“See? I knew you’d get it. This’ll be the best celebration cake you’ve ever tasted. Just you wait and—hey, you okay? You don’t sound good.”

You open and close your mouth, unable to pull a reply from the dry depths of your throat. For one minute, Trey listens to your soft, hiccuping sobs. “I’m just—” you sniffle— “I’m so happy… I can’t wait to eat cake.”

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