The Scent of Spring.
The scent of spring—light, fleeting—
That was the first thing she knew upon waking.
A breeze, soft as whispered lullabies, curled through the air, carrying with it the perfume of cherry blossoms in full bloom. Petals swayed, weightless, painting ephemeral trails against the golden light of dawn. The world felt untouched, cradled in warmth, as if time itself had chosen to pause, gifting them a fragile moment of peace.
Here she was, nestled against him, her fingers curling ever so slightly against the fabric of his robe, her breath steady, synchronized with the slow rise and fall of his chest.
He lay beside her, one arm draped lazily around her waist, the other weaving through her hair, fingertips grazing her scalp in soothing patterns.
His voice wove through the silence, warm, indulgent, the kind of tone reserved for moments only they could share.
"Did you sleep well, my sweet?"
It sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation so soft, so fragile—
She couldn’t hold his gaze. Her face burned as she turned away, a simple nod her only answer, hoping—foolishly—that he wouldn’t notice the way her heart betrayed her.
But Sukuna was never one for patience.
Rough fingers, calloused by war yet impossibly careful with her, tilted her chin upward, forcing her back into the depths of his gaze.
"You know I hate when you do that."
His voice was closer now, a hushed murmur against her lips.
"Do what?"
Closer still.
"Look away from me."
His breath ghosted over her mouth, warm and intoxicating, like the first sip of stolen wine, like fire licking at the edges of her soul, like something inevitable.
She opened her lips to speak, to deny, to say anything—
"I don’t know what you’re talkin—"
But he was already there, stealing the words from her mouth, his lips claiming hers in a kiss that left no room for protest.
And she gave in—to the heat, to the weight of him, to the way he felt like home.
It still burned.
It still felt like the very first time—
A stolen kiss beneath the treehouse, back when the war was only a whisper in the wind, back when they were nothing but foolish children clinging to dreams of forever.
The war had ended a year ago. Victory was theirs. Sukuna was king. Their wedding was near. It still felt like a dream.
"Tell me I’m not dreaming."
Her voice was a breathless whisper against his lips, her hands tightening their grip, as if afraid he would vanish like mist between her fingers.
She searched his face, desperate for an answer—for something to hold onto.
But he only smiled.
A sad, aching smile.
Her chest tightened.
"Sukuna…"
And the world cracked apart.
The scent of spring vanished, replaced by the bitter stench of blood. The warmth of his touch dissolved into air, and when she blinked—she was no longer in his arms.
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IGNITE | Sukuna
Fanfiction❝Ignite, my Disgraced One, ignite❞ Creation and destruction-two forces destined to clash. Their very nature opposes the other, yet neither can survive alone. When Subuhi, the embodiment of creation, crosses paths with Sukuna, the harbinger of destru...
