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damn-stark · 1 month ago

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Chapter 35 I live. I tell your story

Chapter 35 of Moonlight

A/N- Happy New Year and I really hope you all like it!

Warning- some angst, FLUFF!!! Talks of death. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- Past 578

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*25 YEARS LATER*

Flying in the sky is a lot like swimming in the sea. On warm days when the sun is out the sky is blue just like the body of water. The sky is endless just like the sea is. And on any random day, the sky is cold or chilly because you’re up so high, and when you’re in the water the deeper you dive the colder the waters get.

Unlike when you’re in the water though, there’s no constant need to keep surfacing for air though. True, sometimes the air in the sky gets thin, making it hard to breathe, but you don’t need to hold your breath and keep coming up and down. You’re just on your saddle, drawing in crisp air through your lungs, you’re breaking apart wet clouds, startling flocks of birds, or sometimes even joining their beautiful formation as you and your dragon become one with the endless sky touched by only you.

Isn’t it so fascinating that besides winged creatures you and Rhaena are the only ones who can touch the sky and be a part of the endless horizon?

You think about that often and always take great pride in the fact that you have your dragon now that you live so far from the sea. You might be dramatic but what would be of you if you couldn’t touch the sky whenever you wanted to?

You don’t want to know. You lost so much, but Astraea has been your constant companion since you were an infant. If she hadn’t made it—-well you don’t want to think about it.

What you will think about once you dismount your dragon is breakfast. Everyone must already be around the table—except for Jacaerys maybe. He’s never on time anywhere.

“Ser Cane,” you greet your old but fiercely loyal sworn protector.

“Good morning?” He asks as he watches you walk past him before he follows at your tail like always.

“Great,” you let him know and turn around to watch your dragon back peddle before she walks forward and flaps her giant purple wings to gain momentum before she departs for the skies again—“you were late,” you point out as you drop your gaze on the man and raise your eyebrows teasingly.

“Or you woke up earlier,” he retorts. “My Princess.”

You snicker and then turn around on your heels to face forward. “I knew you’d be here when I landed so I didn’t want to bother you before it was time.”

He sighs in defeat knowing nothing will change. The only advantage to this disadvantage is that at least his heart doesn’t strain with worry because he knows that the people of the North love you, and your dragon is fierce. You can be fierce too but you stopped carrying weapons on your person long ago, so you’re left vulnerable when you’re alone, but you ignore that.

“Cregan!” You call out when you spot him walking toward the dining hall, and he immediately comes to a stop as he hears his name. When he turns, his grey eyes brighten as he sees you picking up the skirt of your gown to run over to him.

When you reach him you throw your arm around his and then lean toward him to press a kiss on his lips, making him smile sweetly.

“How was your flight?” He asks against your lips as he savors your kiss as if he hadn’t tasted them in the morning.

“Refreshing,” you share with a smile before you turn forward and walk to the dining hall side by side now. “You’re late to the table how come? Did something come up?” You ask curiously as you look at him trying to find the answer on his face.

“Yes, some of the lads needed my help. I almost thought I wouldn’t break fast with you and the boys,” he says.

You hum and let your eyes flicker to the corridor as you walk inside the stone building. “You should have taken Jacaerys with you so he could work up the courage to talk to you.”

Cregan turns his head and probes. “About?”

You draw out a deep breath and then turn your head to look him in the eyes. “It’s not for me to say. I just wanted to let you know that he wants to talk.”

He hums and shrugs. “He’s welcome to talk to me anytime he wants. He knows that.”

You keep your eyes on him and sigh, he hears it and he sees your softened eyes full of love start to harden and create a deep crease in between your eyebrows as they furrow in response. “What?” He presses.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you say and leave him wondering what you could mean.

“Okay,” he scoffs softly.

You huff and rub his bicep with your other hand before you slip your hands away from his arm and walk ahead and enter the dining hall first, causing all the chatter to silence as all the attention falls on you and Cregan walking in a bit late.

“For once I am not the late one,” Jacaerys breaks the short-lived silence, making his older brother Maekor scoff in annoyance.

“Grandmother! Grandmother!” Maekor’s twin boys both then shout in sync with excitement, making Maekor’s wife lean down to scold them for shouting over the table in the same way their uncle just did.

“Good Morning everyone,” you announce. “Please as you were. Sorry, we’re late.”

“Good morning,” Cregan greets as he makes his way to his seat.

“Mother,” Rickon, Cregan’s first-born son with Lady Arra Norrey, greets you as you sit down between him and his father.

“Rickon,” you redirect and stroke his chin gently.

“How come it’s alright for you to be late because of your dragon riding, but it’s frowned upon when I’m out all night?” Jacaerys remarks as he reaches over the round wooden table to place food on his plate, making you sit back and slowly look at him with curiosity.

“Can you ever shut up?” Maekor hisses at his brother.

Yet you only add fuel to the matter. “Because it’s not truly the same is it? And you’re out all night without guards doing…well, I do not wish to know what.”

Jacaerys scoffs and proceeds to add. “Father and you go out at night as well—”

“Jacaerys,” Maekor cuts his brother off sharply, making the corner of your lips twitch to a smile that you share with Cregan.

When your husband sees your reaction his lips upturn to a smirk and he passes you a look that says, “that's your son.”.

You snicker in response and he then strokes your chin before he reaches over the round table without needing to be told and passes you what you wanted. After you all serve yourselves breakfast there’s a serenity that blankets the round wooden table, the oldest boy of Maekor’s twins walks over and sits between Cregan and you because he says he wants to tell you a story that never gets told because he gets sidetracked on a matter you start to make sense of before you get lost as you drift your attention to Torrhen.

Your youngest son and child has always been quieter than his other siblings, even before his dragon dreams and Greenseer notions started. Some people might even say that he blends into the room, that’s how quiet he is, he’s never expected to be the loudest one, but he’s never lost to you. He's like the brightest star in the night sky, you always find him like right now, and at this very moment he seems lost in his food as if he’s trying to decipher something within it.

You hope he’ll snap out of his stupor as he feels your eyes on him trying to decipher what thoughts might be forming in his mind, but he seems to be hundreds of years away from where he actually is. Thus you intend to call out to him to snap him out of his stupor and begin a small conversation, but just as you part your lips the dining hall doors open, and the maester walks and makes his way to you.

“Princess,” he whispers by your ear as he pushes a scroll toward you. “This just came to you from the Riverlands. It has an unknown mark on the wax.”

You grab the scroll and turn it, seeing the wax and identifying who the sender is; it’s Alys.

“Thank you, Maester,” you say back with a smile directed at the scroll.

The Maester quickly bows his head at you and Cregan before he scurries off, leaving the room to you and your family once again.

“It's Alys,” you let Cregan know since you know he’s curious about the raven scroll.

“Hm, I wonder what she could want,” he comments and you giddily smile at the scroll one more time before you tuck it away so you can read it later. As of now, you finish your breakfast with more enthusiasm since you're anticipating reading the scroll, which is why you finish quicker than the others.

“I’ll be in the Godswood,” you let Cregan know and kiss his cheek. Before you can lean back and walk off you grab his shoulder and slide your lips to his ear. “Talk to Torrhen, please my love.”

Cregan’s eyes slowly find your son and you follow his line of gaze, noticing that he’s only eaten half of his food and the rest is just sprawled around his plate as he keeps playing with it.

“He’s…having a hard time and I know he doesn’t say it or it may not look it, but he really does need you,” you continue to whisper as you focus back on Cregan. “So talk to him. Take him with you to help you, okay? And be…warm, hm.”

Your husband's grey eyes snap to you and he raises his eyebrow to question your comment.

“He’s your son. Our youngest child, keep that in mind, okay?” You press to give him some idea as to what you could mean without having to explain it right now.

“Alright,” Cregan says back with confusion but he doesn’t press on the matter, he just lets you know he comprehends, letting you leave to go read your letter and respond to Alys in the Godswood like you tend to do when she writes.

“Dear, Princess,

I write to you in regards to Prince Aemond—“

You blink repeatedly in surprise and quickly lean forward to continue reading with a new sense of urgency.

“—some of the King’s men traveled to the God’s Eye in search of your lost ancestral Valyrian sword and stumbled upon it on the lake's surface still attached to your late husband's skull. The men want to recover the blade, thus I thought I’d ask if you would want to recover his bones to do with it as you please or let them disregard it back in the lake. Let me know as soon as you can, the King’s men don’t find value in the bones of the enemy.

-Your friend, Alys Rivers ”

You blink again with surprise and sit back to go over the news the letter contained over and over again, with each time the scab over your heart tearing little by little.

For ten years all you thought of when you thought of Aemond was his death. You remembered the grief and agony that tormented you when you saw him fall into the water and never get out. You remembered how empty you felt without him. You remembered how much you missed him every time you looked into Aerion and Daenys’ eyes. Your memories were never kind until ten years passed.

After a decade of agony, you stopped aching and looked back fondly at your memories. It’s true you’ll never stop missing him or the rest of your family, you’ll be cursed to grieve them until your memory fails you or until you die, but you’re at peace, so to learn that they found his bones, rattles you. You thought you’d never get to lay his body to rest or have your two children that you share with him see him one last time…

Thus now that you can give him a proper funeral you won’t let it go to waste or have his bones return to the lake. You’ll give him a proper Valyrian funeral and have Aerion and Daenys attend. You know the Riverlands still remembers him as a terror of the trident and the rest of the realm remembers him as a kinslayer, but you don’t need them to stand next to you as you burn his bones, all you need is the children you had with him. Fuck everyone else and what they might think when they hear what you do.

As for what Cregan might think…

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

After a rather long day, after thinking about Aemond since you read that letter, and after putting your conversations with your husband aside, Cregan and you prove your son Jacaerys right and find yourselves in a discreet hot spring where you know no one will disturb you. And you know that because you only stumbled upon the hot spring when you were a ward sneaking off in the middle of the night with your lover.

“Did you talk to Torrhen?” You finally get to ask after only since you didn’t want to risk being overheard by one of your sons or anyone else eavesdropping.

“Uh,” Cregan hesitates to answer as he undresses.

You look back at the sound of his response and raise your eyebrow even though he has back-turned, letting you see his pale ass as he takes his pants off. “Cregan,” you press.

Said man turns at the sound of his name coming from your lips and lets his pants fall before he proceeds to shake them off, and then walk over to you.

“Need help?” He asks smugly.

You swat his hand away and back away as you untie your gown and let it fall around your ankles, leaving yourself in a lighter gown.

“I told you to talk to him and Jacaerys,” you press impatiently.

Cregan pulls his leather vest off and then takes off his shirts, leaving himself completely nude to jump in the hot water while also ignoring you.

“Cregan Stark,” you hiss and finish undressing before you face him from dry land with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Can you get in the water,” he counters and waves you over. “I can’t think properly when you’re like that.”

You roll your eyes and join him in the water before you look at him with irritation all over again. “Explain why you did not talk to Torrhen or Jacaerys.”

Cregan meets your gaze and his eyes wander down to your breasts so you cross your arms again and press him. “You did not have to talk to the both of them. Just one for now. Why didn’t you?”

Cregan’s grey eyes slowly scale back up to meet your gaze and he sighs deeply before he finally shares what he’s been holding back. “I…tried. I did, but I could find a way to offer him what you want me to give him. And he brushed the matter aside, I did not want to pry.”

You take long blinks as you let his words sink and when you remember that he did not have the same attention from his parents growing up, you let out a deep sigh and approach him to gently grab his arms.

The thing is that his parents were good to him, but his mother died when he was fairly young, and his father wasn’t as open and warm with him as your mother and your father were to you and your brothers. Cregan is a man and he was the eldest, he needed to be tough to face every challenge head-on, so he wasn’t talked to with sweet words laced with honey like the way your mother talked to you and your brothers. He wasn’t told to let his feelings out, they needed to be kept in, whereas your brothers had your mother's shoulders to cry on.

It’s because of that upbringing that it’s second nature for you to be present and warm in your children’s lives. It’s hard for Cregan to be so with his sons, but with your daughters it’s a different story, he was terrifyingly overprotective when your daughters still lived with you. Now they’re too far from him to be menacing to any dangers that could put them in harm's way. And! You don’t want him to be the same way with your sons, you just need him to be someone they can open up to. They need him.

“I’m not telling you to do the impossible, just be…warmer,” you explain your thought process. “Press Torrhen to open up. He really needs you, my love.”

Cregan slowly lowers his head and his eyebrows knit together as he grows conflicted. “I don’t know how to help him,” he confesses quietly and with shame laced in his voice.

“I…” you trail off and hesitate. “I admit it’s not easy. We don’t see what he can, but,” you pause and raise your hands to grab his jaw and tilt his face up so you can look him in the eyes. “Tell him you’re there for him. Be someone he can rely on, instead of someone to avoid. He thinks that you think of him as mad. That you wouldn’t understand and that he’s a burden.”

Cregan shakes his head and his eyes begin to brim with tears. “No,” his voice quivers. “Never. I know there are things in this world that cannot be explained. I mean you fly a dragon and walk through fire, my ancestors were wargs. Some of us live to fight the dead beyond the wall, he’s not mad. I just…haven’t tried I suppose. I’ve relied on you too much to be their support when…it should’ve been the both of us.”

You stroke his cheeks and nod gently. “You understand.”

Cregan raises his hands to cup yours and keep them on his cheeks as he whispers. “I love that you’re so caring to our children. I admire that about you, did you know?”

You giggle as your heart swoons even though this is all something you already heard. “I like to be reminded from time to time,” you tease him and lean in to slowly take him in for a passionate kiss, making him let one of your hands go to slither it to the back of your neck and keep you secured against him as he just deepens it and lets his tongue dance with yours.

When you wrap your arms around his neck he lets his other hand slide down to cup one of your ass cheeks and knead it as he only lets you take in small breaths before he continues to devour you completely in sync with your movements.

One would say he’s gone months or years deprived of your lips, but this morning you woke up early to fuck before you started your day. He’s just as needy as you are, so when you finally pull apart it’s after you’re both heaving from a quickie in the hot spring.

“What did your witch friend say?” Cregan finally asks, making you laugh and kiss his forearm as he has it wrapped around your neck while he keeps his chest pressed against your back.

“Alys,” you correct him with a giggle before you draw out a deep breath and go serious. “She let me know about the King's men diving in the God’s eye to recover my family’s Valyrian sword, ‘Dark Sister’, from Aemond’s skull, and she asked if I want her to have the men recover his body for me or let it sink back in.”

You feel a breath unfurl over the back of your neck before he shares what he’s thinking. “What did you respond with?”

“Yes,” you let him know without shame because it’s not like Aemond’s corpse can do anything to harm him or you—“I want to give him a proper funeral. For me and Aerion and Daenys. I sent them and Daenerys a raven to go to Harrenhal so they can be a part of it and so I can see them.”

Cregan hums and you turn around to face him whilst you remain wrapped in his arms, only now his hands are wrapped around your waist and you have your hands pressed against his chest.

“I sent a raven to Alysanne,” you say in reference to your (second) daughter and second born child with Cregan, who was named after Good Queen Alysanne because she’s someone you admire and because of her good relations to the North—“I told her to go to Harrenhal too, so maybe you and the boys can come? I’m sure Rickon can handle being Lord for a while.”

“He’s told you, hasn’t he? He wants to do more?” Cregan asks and you can’t help but smirk, giving away your answer.

“Perhaps, so come with me,” you plead. “Let's see our children. And our Alyssane is with child, it gives you the opportunity to see her.”

The corner of his lips pulls to a smile and he lifts his hand to grab your cheek. “If that’s what you want.”

You nod right away and look at him with a pleading look to sway him to what you want.

“We could also visit my brothers at the Red Keep while we’re out there already, and…maybe we or I can ask Alys to help Torrhen,” you share that last bit quieter as you sound desperate for anything to make Torrhen feel better about his abilities.

“If he wants to go that is,” Cregan interjects and you drop your head on his shoulder.

“If I ask him he will,” you tell him confidently before you go back to being worried. “I just hope Alys can offer him some peace of mind.”

“I’m sure she can. She’s already offered, hasn't she?”

You nod softly and he starts to caress the back of your head as he leans down to press his lips against the top of it. “See? Then there’s nothing to worry about. She’ll help him with what she can.”

You nod as you take his comfort and linger in the silence for a short while before you pull your head back to look at him giddily. “I was thinking that on our way back from Kings Landing, I could stay with Alysanne until she gives birth. I’ve been at Daenys and Daenerys' side when they had their babes, I want to do the same with Alysanne.”

He huffs and presses a kiss on your forehead. “I’m certain she’ll appreciate it.”

“That’s if she doesn’t want her father instead,” you tease the fact that your daughter favors Cregan more than she favors you.

“I’m certain she’ll want her mother there at her bedside when the time comes,” he offers reassurance. “I’ll go after and we can return home together.”

“On dragonback?” You probe as you mindlessly trace circles on his chest. “It will be quicker.”

He sighs and lolls his head down but he can’t refuse you, so he gives in. “On dragonback,” he assures you, making you giddy before you go on spewing about your failed attempt at knitting Alysanne a blanket for her babe before you both talk and enjoy the silence and your alone time together.

When the kids started getting older and you added more to your family way back then, Cregan and you would sneak off to steal time for yourselves. After all, having four children to start off with right way and then increasing that number to four, to five, to six, seven, and then eight doesn’t leave much privacy, so you had to rely on sneaking off like when you were young. Now as the kids are old and the girls have left to start their own families Cregan and you simply enjoy spending time away from the castle from time to time. Eventually, before dawn, to get some sleep in, you would return home. Just like now.

——

*SOMETIME LATER. THE RIVERLANDS*

“I have forgotten how ugly the Riverlands are,” you hear Jacaerys comment under his breath. “I do not get why people live here.”

“You’ve only been here once,” Torrhen corrects his older brother with some impatience after a long ride of dealing with him in a small carriage that only persisted of Cregan, you, him, and Jacaerys; Maekor and his family took a different carriage from the harbor, and Ser Cane is leading the way on horseback with a few other guards.

“Once was enough to dictate that I don’t like it. As to how Alysanne lives here is beyond me,” he says snobbishly.

“It was her duty to her husband. She, unlike others, understands the responsibility of duty,” Torrhen retorts sassily, causing you to lift your eyes off your book to watch the pair of brothers.

“Hm,” Jacaerys huffs as he flashes his little brother a feigned smile, “you sound like Maekor and Rickon.”

The corner of Torrhen’s lips twitch to a smirk and he counters back quickly. “They are our brothers.”

Jacaerys feigned smile falls flat and he looks back at his brother with a scowl. “Why don’t you doze off—”

“Jacaerys,” you warn him and finally lower your book to give them all your attention.

Said man drops his scowl and sighs deeply before he looks out the window and adds another comment. “I don’t think choosing to marry Ellis falls in the line of duty. Duty would be if she had to marry him, but she chose to.”

“She still has to move to Raventree Hall for her husband. She uprooted her life to come live in the Riverlands. That’s duty.”

Jacaerys eyes fall on you and he simply shakes his head. “It doesn’t bear heavy weight though, does it?”

You sigh and hold his gaze with pity as you know where he’s coming from. You just don’t add anything to the matter, choosing silence and acknowledgment instead.

“Mother,” Torrhen calls out and steals your attention. “You mentioned once that you thought of moving over here, how come?”

You put the book aside and glance at Cregan with a teasing smirk before you look back at your sons and share what you told daughters before. “Before your father and I married, when I was Regent, Lord Kermit Tully fancied me.”

“And you him,” Cregan inputs with annoyance so you nudge his arm and quip.

“No, I did not!” You chuckle. “Sure he was handsome, but I did not fancy the man. He was just someone I considered marrying to do my duty to my family.”

“But?” Jacaerys probes, letting his curiosity get the best of him.

You look at Cregan and offer a much warmer smile. “Your father and I worked out our problems and he asked me to marry him first, so I did.”

Cregan flashes you a smile before he wraps his arm around you and pulls you to him. “I would have challenged Lord Kermit for your hand, do you know that?”

“Would that have been after you had killed my grandfather or before?” You snap him as you pull your head back to shoot a pointed look.

“You wouldn’t have married me if I had?” He teases as he leans toward your lips.

You shake your head, making him smirk and quip.

“Then I would have stolen you.”

You giggle. “Oh would you have, oh, so honorable Stark?”

Cregan smiles wider and he nods as a response before he whispers. “If you had said no then, then that’s when I would have let you go.”

You hum and look at him with amusement and fondness. “It's a good thing you did not commit to killing my grandfather then,” you add, making your sons share a disgusted look that Cregan and you miss as you’re too busy gazing into each other's eyes.

“Well it’s a good thing I wasn’t born a Tully,” Jacaerys cuts in, making Cregan and you slowly peel your eyes away from each other to look at your son.

“They’re honorable people, Jacaerys,” Cregan defends them. “They’re good fighters that risked their lives for your grandmother Rhaenyra and your mother. You should not say things like that.”

Jacaerys lets his eyes linger on his father before he drifts his eyes away and turns his body to be able to look out the window some more. When Cregan is assured that his son won’t move he looks at you, making you look at him to take note of the confused look he gives in response to Jacaerys reaction.

You can’t offer him much but grabbing his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze to reassure him because you know it’ll pass quickly, he just needs to leave it be.

After that as a silence sets within the carriage, you notice the carriage slowly rolls to a stop and as you look out the window the first thing you catch a glimpse of is your firstborn, your Aerion waiting for your arrival.

You then see the grey eyes of Daenerys and behind her, you catch Alysanne with her husband Lord Ellis Blackwood, and your entire being lights up, but your attention is completely stolen by Aerion. So much so that before the carriage can come to a stop, you get up from your seat. Once the wheels stop moving against the ground you don’t wait for the doors to open, you burst out of the carriage with your eyes darting to your son.

“Aerion,” you greet excitedly before you pick up the skirt of your gown and run over to greet him with an embrace. “Aerion,” you whisper once you have him in your arms.

“Mother,” he greets in his deep gravelly voice that is like sweet music in your ears every time you hear it.

After lingering in each other's embrace you pull back and cup his cheeks. “Look at you,” muse and study his towering figure which appears to be more buff than the last time you saw him. “You’ve put on more muscle.” You point out.

He chuckles breathlessly and drops his head causing your hands to fall back to your side.

“How did the waters treat you?” He asks and lifts his head to look at you with his father's blue eyes that hit you with a wave of longing for a man who's been dead a long time.

“They were on our side, thankfully,” you assure him and caress his arms as if trying to grasp the fact that he's flesh and bones. “How was your ride here?” You redirect, causing a sparkle to shine in his eyes as he flashes you a beaming smile.

“Safe and good. Thank the gods.”

You smile softly and muse. “Yes thank the gods.”

You linger in his presence as if you hadn’t seen him a few months back for his name day and just take in the sight of him. Out of all your children who left, his departure hurt the most. Maybe it was because he was just seven years old when he went to ward with your grandfather Corlys, or maybe it was because when he was a boy he looked so much like his father, and having that beautiful reminder leave you was like losing Aemond all over again. And it was not just a temporary loss, you lost that reminder forever when Aerion stopped looking less and less like Aemond as he grew older. Now he only has Aemond’s eyes as a sole similarity, but besides that, Aemond is lost in Aerion forever.

You would argue that Daenys bears a heavy resemblance to Aemond, but the truth is she grew out of her father's looks rather quickly. She’s slim and tall just like him, and her attitude and the way she carries herself is just like him, but she hates and you mean hates when you compare her to Aemond. She takes offense to it so you stopped looking for her father within his only daughter to please her. Besides, it was easier to stop comparing the two because Daenys’ blue eyes changed when she was a babe to the same shade of brown as Alicent’s. Which must be some cruel joke the gods chose to play on you because how can you hate the woman who bore those brown eyes first but love the girl who bears them now?

In any case, you move away from Aerion and immediately take in his wife and your daughter Daenerys.

“Hello, my lovely girl,” you greet her warmly and embrace her tightly.

“I almost thought I didn't exist in the presence of my husband,” she sasses you, causing you to pull back and shake your head in response.

“Stop that,” you scold her lightheartedly and then take her face like you took Aerion’s and just admire her pretty face.

“I missed you,” she lets you know kindly, making her grey eyes soften.

“I missed you too.” You redirect without hesitation and stroke her face.

Daenerys smiles with dimples appearing on her cheeks and then lifts her eyes to the sky. “Where is she?” She asks.

You follow your daughter's line of gaze and before you can search the skies intently Astraea dives out of the cloud bank and lets out a rather greeting roar that makes all your children grin from ear to ear.

“There,” you point to your dragon flying by to most likely circle around to land close by. “Where are your kids?”

Daenerys returns her attention to you and drags out a deep breath. “Home. It’s a short trip away from home. We did not want to make it a big deal.”

You hum with a hint of sadness, but you don’t let it linger to avoid making her feel bad, instead, you think of a solution. “Well, I’ll have to pay you a visit with Astraea then.”

Daenerys smiles cheekily. “Sounds like a good idea. The kids will love it.”

You offer her a sweet smile and just as you’re going to move down the line to greet Alysanne, shouts break through the air and echo, “Aerion!” As all your sons cry out for their older brother with so much excitement before they run over and tackle him to trap him in a group embrace that he gladly welcomes as he matches their excitement.

“Dany,” you hear Cregan say before you hear him approaching his daughter who isn’t publicly acknowledged as his daughter, but is. And she, along with all your children knows that. It’s not a secret Cregan and you kept, and it’s not one that can be uncovered due to her white-silver hair and the fact that she was born at the same as Daenys, so no one is the wiser. Thankfully.

“Mother!” Alysanne calls out dramatically, making you turn to look at her and cover your mouth out of pure admiration as you take note of her little belly.

“<My little Siren,>” you greet giddily in a sing-song voice in Valyrian before you skip and jog over to catch her in an embrace as she runs over to meet you halfway.

“<Mother>,” she redirects with a hint of relief. “<How I’ve missed you.>”

You rub her back and nod gently. “I’ve missed you too. How are you feeling?” You ask right away and pull back to caress her belly. “Nauseous? Tired?”

Alysanne, who loves to be pampered and given attention to looks at you with a sweet and helpless look. “Tired. I’m always tired, but I feel much better now that you and father are here.”

You stroke her cheek and then stroke her chin. “I’m here for you now, okay?”

She sighs with more relief and nods in comprehension before her eyes dart to her father approaching her as the boys are still hogging Aerion’s attention, and she immediately looks at Cregan with a pout and her eyes brimming with tears, captivating all his attention just like a siren captures their prey

“My darling,” he coos and she coos back.

“Father.”

You roll your eyes and then finally give attention to Alysanne’s husband. “Ellis.”

“Princess,” he greets you with a bow just like his father Lord Benjicot Blackwood always did, however, Ellis’ smile is much more charming than his fathers ever was.

“How are you, my boy?” You ask him with genuine curiosity as you take him in for a short embrace.

“Honestly?” He says as you both pull away—“I’m nervous. My father says that I shouldn’t be, but I am. Alysanne is…” he sighs with concern. “Very important to me. I treasure her, and I hear what happens to women. I don’t want that fate for her.”

You swallow back nervously and remain positive yourself. “It happens, but it won’t happen to her. Just try to remain strong, and level-headed, and remember to breathe. She’ll be okay, and so will your babe. In any case, I’ll be there when she gives birth.”

Ellis lets out a relieved breath and nods in comprehension. “Good. Thank you.”

You offer him one last smile before you glance over at the others and see that Aerion now has Ser Cane captive while Cregan is talking to both Daenerys and Alysanne, letting you let out a small and content breath before you let your eyes wander to the distance to find none other than the women who summoned you here, Alys. She’s keeping to herself in the distance, letting you have your time with your family, but also making sure that you know she’s here too.

Once you make eye contact she turns away and walks away all mysteriously except there’s no mystery as to where she’s going. To avoid all the attention, she disappears into the Godswood, so you let Cregan know where you’re going and then approach Torrhen.

“Darling, meet me at the Godswood when you’re done here, okay?” You let him know as he’s still getting carried away with his brothers. “Have Ser Cane show you the way.”

Torrhen's face doesn't drop the smile he carries, he just agrees with a quick nod. “Of course mother.”

You give his arm a gentle squeeze before you watch Astraea land nearby, drawing the attention of Daenerys and Alysanne and whisking them toward her. And even though she won’t let the girls ride her, she still welcomes the attention they give her, and if the occasion arose she would protect them too just like she protects you. Therefore you’re able to leave her with your family without a second thought to walk to the Godswood to join your good friend Alys underneath the Weirwood tree.

“Hello…old friend,” you greet her as you approach her figure facing the old Heart Tree.

“Princess,” she returns in a kind voice before she turns around and shows off her face untouched by aging. “It’s a pleasure seeing you again.”

You smile brightly and when you reach her you grab her hands and caress her knuckles. “You must tell me what you do to not age. Maybe I want to live forever too.”

Alys laughs softly and with her thumb, strokes your cheek. “You age gracefully, my friend. Besides, my time will come when my flesh and bones will return to the ground and bring new life.”

You snicker teasingly at her choice of words and she catches it right away and scoffs before she moves back and points her chin to the exit. “You’re missing one. Where’s Daenys?”

You draw out a solemn breath and offer her an answer. “She couldn’t come. She said her daughter Naerys just recovered from a cold. She didn’t want to risk exhausting her so I am going to her after Harrenhal.”

Alys hums and then draws out a deep breath as her looks give a flicker of pity. “I had your husband's bones wrapped. All that’s left is you putting them on a pyre.”

You swallow thickly and nod stiffly in comprehension before you look down at the rings around your fingers. “I’ll do it after dinner. When the sun sets. I don’t want to leave him waiting longer.”

Alys nods once and as you look up at her face you see her eyes once again drift past your shoulders. You follow her line of gaze by peering over your shoulder and notice Torrhen approaching hesitantly.

“Mother?” He calls out quietly and you flash him a smile before you turn swiftly and meet him halfway to walk him toward Alys.

“Alys you remember Torrhen, don’t you?” You ask with hints of excitement as you show off your son to your friend—“Torrhen this is Alys Rivers. My friend. You met her once when you were fairly young so I don’t think you remember her, but this is her.”

There's a flicker of recognition that flashes in his grey eyes as he takes in the woman who has not aged a day since the time she went to visit Winterfell.

“Hello, it’s nice to see you again,” he greets her kindly, making her close the gap between them by grabbing his face and looking deep into his eyes with a narrowed gaze filled with curiosity.

“Gods,” she mutters. “You look every bit like your father. Shame.”

“Alys,” you exclaim with a wobbly smile threatening to spread on your lips.

Said woman lets Torrhen go and steps away, letting your son pass you a concerned look that you try to assure by caressing his arm.

“Do you have your mother's talent?” She asks your son and his eyes dart to you before they find her again and he shakes his head.

“No.”

Alys sighs with disappointment before she turns to you and asks for your permission to take him to help him, and you of course give it to her with a single nod out of desperation.

“Torrhen,” you say and bring his attention back to you whilst Alys walks closer to the weeping face carved on the tree. “I want you to go with Alys right now and let her help you.”

Your son's dark eyebrows slowly knot together and he probes. “What? Why?”

You exhale deeply and grab his hand to offer him your explanation. “I mentioned that she can do magic and she also has visions. Do you remember?”

He nods and you sigh and continue softer.

“Well, she might be able to help you understand what you can do in ways I never could. So I need you to be honest with her, okay? Tell her everything you dream and see, hm?”

He blinks slowly and interjects with a hint of disbelief. “You told her about my visions and dreams?”

You nod and his jaw hardens as his lips form to a small and displeased pout.

“I’ve seen you, Torrhen. It all takes so much from you, especially lately. I just want to offer you a solution, okay, so please for me,” you press and touch your chest. “Let her help you. She won’t take them away but maybe she can offer some relief to all the chaos, hm?”

Torrhen clenches his jaw harder but a huff of air runs out of his nose before he faces you again and hesitantly nods.

“Good,” you whisper and stroke his cheek before you step away from him and turn your head to Alys to offer her a small smile before leaving the Godswood.

After that before dinner and during dinner, you bask in the bliss that you feel over having almost all your kids under one roof again. Rickon and Daenys are missing but you don’t let who you’re missing stop the joy bursting in your heart. You know what awaits you later, and all the feelings that will come with it so for now, before you’re riddled with grief, you find joy in the sound of all your children’s laughs.

You admire the way Cregan interacts with Maekor’s twin sons, while also helping him create those splendid memories in your grandson's minds. You coddle Alysanne as she demands your affection in what she calls her time of need, but in doing so you also feel pride and happiness as you see how much Ellis loves and cares for Alysanne. He might look intimidating as he towers over with his tall and slim figure, and with his dark hair and the mysterious way he looks at the world, but he’s really sweet, funny, and affectionate. He surely makes Alysanne feel better as she deals with a wave of different emotions during her pregnancy, and that makes you glad; it reminds you of Cregan and you when you were with child multiple times throughout your life, letting you know that you couldn’t have asked for better for your daughter because Cregan has always been so good.

Moreover, you continue to get drunk in the buzzing emotions, in the way Daenerys and Aerion look out for each other as their brothers get carried away with the wine and pull them into their madness. You watch the way Maekor’s wife fails at reining him in as he’s too driven by his high from being with his brothers. You even join Jacaerys in singing a few sailor shanties and upbeat songs.

There’s only short moments of silence here and there but life travels through the haunting halls of Harrenhal. Even when you drift away and at last bring yourself to what’s left of Aemond Targaryen; your uncle, best friend, and great, epic love of your life.

“<I'm sorry it took so long,>” you talk to the perfectly wrapped bones laid down on the stone table. “<I thought they’d never find you, but here you are. I’m sorry.>”

You get closer and closer, with each step feeling a heavy weight of grief and sorrow that you haven’t felt in a long time fall over your chest and push you down and further down while faded memories once so vivid swirl through your mind.

“<Your face is a blur,” you admit, “I’m older now, but I have not forgotten you, I swear. And I still miss you.>”

You reach the side of the table he was left on and feel your breath shudder and a grip tighten around your throat.

“<You must have been lonely, Aemond. Oh…Aemond. Why didn’t you listen to me?>” You ask a pile of hollow bones with tears crawling to your eyes and making your voice sound shaky. “<Why did you have to be so driven by your ego? We…” you pause and draw in a shaky breath. “The truth is I’m happy with the life I have. I built it. Me. Yes, there are bad moments, but I made this life I’m living now. I built my family with my husband. I have loved like my mother. I have taught my children to love the same way my brothers and I loved each other…the same way my mother taught us how to love, so I can’t say I wish my life was different, but…but…>” You sniffle and press your hands on the surface of the table.

“<…There are times when I wonder what our life would have looked like. Would it have been as beautiful?>” You ask the emptiness of the room where his ghost doesn’t even linger. It’s just the presence of his remains, you, and the dancing flames giving the chambers light.

“<I like to think so because I knew you. You had a good heart and you just wanted to be loved…>” you scoff softly and finally lift your hand off your side to very slowly and carefully lay your hand on his head, feeling a wave of sorrow hit your heart and causing streams of tears to break out of your eyes.

“<I wish my love could have been enough for you Aemond,” you whisper and lower your lips to his head. “But as selfish as you were about my love and you loving me, it didn’t satisfy you. That’s why you’re gone and I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry for everything. Even though I was unfaithful, even though I was mad you killed my brother and my grandmother, even though…so many other things I still loved you with all my heart. I still do. I love you as if you were still alive. I will love you forever.>” You finish and breathe out before you press a gentle kiss on his forehead and keep your lips pressed against the cold surface.

The door proceeds to creak as it opens, causing you to stand up to your given height and steal a peek over your shoulder. When you catch Aerion walking in you wipe the tears off your face and let out another breath before interjecting.“Are you ready?”

Aerion sighs deeply. “Mother.”

“Do you want time with him?” You ask as you think that’s why he called out to you, but when you turn around to face him he doesn’t look sorrowful, he looks like he’s dreading having to say something.

“What is it?” You ask curiously

Aerion draws out another heavy breath and takes a step forward before he swallows nervously and shares what he’s keeping inside. “I will not take part in the funeral.”

You scoff and confusion flickers on your face. “What do you mean?” You mutter. “He was your father Aerion.”

Said man shakes his head stiffly. “No. He was not. Cregan was my father, Ser Cane and Corlys were my father, Aemond Targaryen never was. He might be the reason I am here, but he is no father of mine,” he finishes with a hint of disgust and your face falls with utter disbelief.

“That’s why Daenys is not here either,” he adds and drops his head to talk to the ground. “She wanted no part in it either. We are sorry for you, mother, but we do not care for him.”

“Aerion,” you warn with no actual threat in your voice.

“Do you really expect me to grieve for a man who took part in the reason our family was killed? A man who was at fault for why my grandmother is not here?”

“He had no fault in that,” you cut in for Aemond’s defense. “You know that. He might have been against my mother, but I was too at some point.”

“But you never killed your brothers—”

“He did not kill his brothers,” you cut him off but he quickly snaps back.

“That’s not the point!” He heaves and you look at him bewildered as he meets your gaze with the same eyes of the man he despises—“He was a bad man, who left. Every chance he had to stay with us he used to turn around and leave. I will not grieve for someone like that. His blood may run through my veins but I will never call him father. I will never remember him as such, and I will never claim him as such either. I am sorry mother.”

Aerion steps toward you and cups your shoulder to lean in and press a kiss on your cheek before he abandons the room and leaves you alone, letting you let out a small sob.

What could you say to make him feel otherwise? His mind is made about his father and he has a right to feel what he wants because he’s a grown man. You can’t beg him to look at things differently, you’ll probably talk to him but never beg him.

If only he could remember how much his father really loved him, but alas…he can’t.

“I guess it is just me and you, huh?” You direct to Aemond’s remains as you turn and face him again. “It’s okay. You always preferred it that way anyway.”

You let out a deep, shaky breath and then collect his remains to walk out to the pyre that was built for you and place his remains on top.

When the remains are where you want them to be you step away and that’s when it sets that Aerion kept his word; he doesn’t come. No one does and you don’t expect anyone to join you because no one knew him but you, and he would have hated it if Cregan were in attendance so it’s just you, Ser Cane, and Astraea standing around the pyre, but you’re the only one grieving him.

Alas, in the silence of the night of Aemond’s lonely funeral, as you hesitate setting his remains ablaze, two pairs of footsteps echo as they approach, so with the little energy you have you look back and gasp softly when you see Daenerys and Alysanne are joining you.

“Maekor and the others are drunk and we didn’t want them to ruin it, so we came alone,” Daenerys shares before you can ask what she’s doing out here. “We didn’t want you to be alone. And father didn’t want you to be alone either.”

You sniffle as your heart swoons and you mewl as your emotions get the best of you. “Thank you, my girls.”

Alysanne wraps her arm around your shoulders and Daenerys holds your hand, giving you the strength you need to at last say the word to send Aemond off at long last.

“Dracarys.”

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

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transmechanicus · 3 months ago

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Girl of your nightmares~🖤

#my stuff #my face #oughhh this is so gender #also a 35 year old chilean lady recognized my powerwolf shirt under the hoodie. Very Fun!!#drank a lot. almost got sick. ave omnissiah i did not #everyone loved my contacts n shit and was so good to see friends #love how the lighting catches the skull in these #my lower face got super peeled and cracked thank god i had a hot n scary mask ready #anyways YOUR SOUL IS >MINE<#halloween #trans

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chleb-uwu · 11 months ago

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Resistance hero and his trophy immortal husband,

but I just call this AU 'Ouch, The Immortality Problem'

#sonic the hedgehog #sonadow #shadow the hedgehog #sonic x shadow #shadonic #Tails and Amy are there and they are TIRED #givin' the fighting to save the world constantly more serious vibes n aging them a bunch cuz yea #but it's still silly cuz i suck at angst even tho i make myself sad when thinking abt Shadow's immortality #Sonic got his first gray quill at 29 the intense life caught up with him #they're around 35 on these pics #Shadow went thru some changes n aging but it stops completely around 35 too and he's annoyed that Sonic is still taller #even tho there's barely any difference lmao

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sugurugetoshairbrush · 3 hours ago

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Peeping on your neighbor DILF!Getou Suguru

Here I go again starting something new when my drafts are full of WIPs...

Consider this Getou's 35th bday gift 💋

[fanart by: @polariae on X (#needhim) / cw: peeping]

Everyone has guilty pleasures—secret indulgences they hide from prying eyes, vices they pretend don’t exist.

But no matter how satisfying they may be, how deeply they scratch that internal itch, reality always comes crashing down. And when it does, it cuts deep, jagged shards of shame slicing through delusion.

The worst realizations come after you’ve sunk too far, waded too deep into depravity, so numb to your own self-indulgence that you can’t even recognize it for what it is. Like the old tale of the frog in boiling water—oblivious to its slow, inevitable demise.

And right now? Being awake before even the birds have stirred, wedged between your thick curtains and the wall, peering through the narrow slit with bated breath?

That’s your boiling water.

You lift your arm carefully, tapping your smartwatch. The dim glow illuminates the numbers.

4:55 AM.

You don’t move. You don’t breathe. Even the faintest intake of air feels like a risk, as if he might somehow sense your presence.

It’s happening.

Slowly, he stands from the black velvet club chair, folding his newspaper—the Times, maybe?—with meticulous precision before setting it on the bed. He stretches, arms lifting over his head, his body rolling fluidly as he shakes off the last remnants of sleep. A slow bounce on the balls of his feet. A lazy roll of his shoulders.

Then he moves toward the closet, flicking the light on.

You barely stifle a squeak.

Illuminated, his sleep-heavy eyes remain hooded, half-lidded with exhaustion. He crosses his arms over the hem of his faded gray sleep shirt and lifts it in one smooth motion. The fabric slides over his toned torso, revealing the defined cut of his V-line, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband. His flannel pants dip dangerously low on his hips.

Your mouth goes dry.

As he rifles through his wardrobe, his back muscles flex under the shifting light, honey-bronzed skin rippling as he moves. He pulls out a crisp, white button-up, holding it to the light. The subtle gleam of a barbell piercing peeks through his nipple.

You swallow—loudly.

The wet click of it makes you cringe in embarrassment, even though you’re entirely alone.

You sink down, sliding soundlessly against the wall until you’re curled into yourself, head in your hands.

I have got to get a grip.

𓂃۶ৎ

“You’ve got to get a grip.”

Across from you, Yu stares, wide-eyed and incredulous.

His big, brown eyes are filled with concern, lips pressed into a thin, grim line. He reaches across the table, placing a warm hand over your own, rubbing your knuckles in reassurance.

“I say this with the utmost love and care,” he begins, voice low and serious, “but you are genuinely starting to scare me.”

You tilt your head, amused despite yourself. Placing your other hand over his, you give him a saccharine smile.

“And I fear your love life is even scarier,” you quip, “considering you and Nanami are disgustingly smitten with each other but refuse to do anything about it.”

Yu groans, yanking his hand back as he slumps into his seat.

You’ve been working with Yu for five years now at a highly accredited education company, officially as tutors but often picking up shifts in the adjoining daycare. He’s been a constant source of fresh air in your life—unrelentingly optimistic, perpetually happy, and the only thing keeping you sane when bratty kids, back-talking teens, and overbearing parents strip away every ounce of your patience.

And for the past two years, a certain someone has been an added incentive to showing up.

Nanami Kento.

Tall, broad, devastatingly handsome. Blonde hair, sharp features, and an air of refined old money. He first enrolled his younger brother, Yuji, in tutoring classes two years ago, exasperated by the boy’s athletic prowess but academic struggles.

Nanami, ever the composed professional, is a bank analyst with little time to spare—especially for schoolwork. But despite his packed schedule, he always makes time to bring Yuji in himself. And, without fail, he always requests Yu as Yuji’s tutor.

Nanami never hovers, never interferes—but he stays. Every time. MacBook open, glasses perched low on his nose, working in the corner while his gaze flickers to Yuji…and, more often than not, lingers on Yu.

They’re not slick.

Yu, for all his confidence, is an absolute mess around Nanami. He stumbles over his words, turns an embarrassing shade of pink, and loses all train of thought. Meanwhile, Nanami remains perfectly composed—save for the occasional, barely-there smirk when Yu flusters himself into silence.

It’s infuriatingly adorable.

But despite their obvious mutual pining, neither of them has made a move. You’ve tried to nudge them along, but they’re both stubborn as hell. They have to get there on their own.

Maybe you should have a little chat with Yuji—

“Hey! Hey!”

Yu waves a hand wildly in front of your face, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I know that smirk! Stop scheming.” His expression darkens. “And focus—you wanted to talk about your situation, remember? I have, like, five minutes left on my break.”

Right.

You lean back, exhaling slowly. Recounting the sick, twisted ways you’ve gone from having a harmless crush on your thirty-five-year-old neighbor to full-on stalking him is…a lot.

So you clean up the details.

You leave out the part where you wake up at the crack of dawn just to watch him get dressed. Or how you happen to be outside every afternoon when his daughters get home from school, conveniently offering them sweets as if it’s just a coincidence.

Everyone has flaws. Yours just happen to feel entirely justified every time you’re blessed with the sight of Getou Suguru—all six feet of sculpted muscle, dressed in tailored suits and expensive watches, long hair pulled into a tight bun, sharp violet eyes glinting behind sleek glasses.

And if that wasn’t enough, the way he is with his daughters—that obliterates any remaining shred of reason.

On weekends, he’s outside your apartment complex in casual clothes, guiding them along the sidewalk on their little pink tricycles. He smiles at them, warm and genuine, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

He moved in a year ago.

And in eleven months, you’ve lost a lifetime’s worth of dignity and grace thirsting over the DILF next door.

Well—not next door, but close enough. Your balconies face each other.

You discovered this little fact a couple of weeks after he moved in.

It had been a casual meeting at first—one of those neighborly exchanges where introductions are made in passing. You were returning from work, tired but relieved to be home, and he had just finished enrolling his daughters in school. He had held the lobby door open for you, a simple courtesy, saving you from the trouble of buzzing yourself in.

You’d jogged a little to close the distance, not wanting to keep him waiting. As you passed through, you turned to thank him, fully prepared to run off—but he stopped you with a radiant smile.

“Hello, I haven’t had the pleasure of introducing myself yet.” He scratched the back of his neck, letting the door swing shut behind him. “We’re new to the building.”

Then, with a gesture toward the two girls at his side, he continued, “This one’s Nanako,”—the jumpy, golden-haired child practically vibrating with energy—“and this is Mimiko.” The brunette clung to his leg, wary but curious.

“They’re adorable,” you had told them warmly.

“Now, girls, what do we say to the nice lady?”

“Thank you, nice lady!” Nanako chirped.

Mimiko mumbled a soft, “Thanks.”

Getou chuckled, ruffling her hair before leaning down to press a kiss to her crown. “Don’t be shy, honey. It’s okay.”

Mimiko tightened her grip on his leg, holding onto him as though you might whisk her father away if she let go.

As he straightened, a sharp breeze carried the scent of musky sandalwood and lavender from him, teasing your senses in a way that felt almost intimate.

“They’re still a little frazzled from the move,” he admitted in a mock whisper, “Don’t tell, but some nights I’ve been sneaking them candy for dessert—except it’s just melatonin.”

You had giggled at his confession, and his lips had ticked upward at the sound.

“I’m Getou, by the way,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “But if I’ll be seeing you often, feel free to call me Suguru—I’m not uptight.”

You’d introduced yourself, mentioning that you were native to the area and worked as a tutor, meaning you were well-versed in the local children’s events. As you spoke, he listened attentively, nodding along to every other word, his eye contact steady. You had to fight every intrusive thought about how distractingly attractive he was—how much you wanted to press your tongue to the line of his jaw, trace the length of his throat.

Not the time. Definitely not the time.

By the time numbers had been exchanged for “neighborly inquiries,” you’d realized you lived on the same floor.

“Well, would you look at that~” He had chuckled, amused by the coincidence.

You’d smiled, bid the girls farewell, and assured Getou he could reach out if he ever needed anything. But the moment you turned away—oh, God. You had to fight the urge to squeal, mouthing a silent oh my God to yourself as you hurried to your apartment, barely processing the fact that an incredibly sexy dad lived just a few doors down.

Then came the accidental discovery.

The first time you caught him dressing in front of his window had been pure chance.

You’d been up early—5 AM, thanks to your turn to let in the clean-up crew for your workplace’s monthly deep clean. Half-awake and desperate for coffee, you had shuffled into your kitchen, only to catch a flicker of movement in your peripheral vision.

And there he was.

Shirtless. Wet.

His long, damp hair fell in dark ribbons down his back, droplets clinging to his skin, catching the dim morning light. He was flipping through a newspaper, one hand resting on his chin, brow furrowed in thought. His serious expression made your brain short-circuit—sending it spiraling into dangerous territory.

A strict professor making you stay after class.

A mean dom forcing you into submission.

A strict boss calling you into his office, locking the door.

You had to physically shake the thoughts away, dragging your gaze back to your coffee like it was a lifeline.

Then he cracked his neck, flexed his fingers, and carefully laid a pair of black work pants across his bed, arranging his outfit with meticulous precision. That was when you realized—you had unintentionally learned his morning routine.

And you weren’t proud to admit that you had grown to love it.

Your favorite part? When he stood before the mirror, brushing out his hair.

He always looked so at peace during that ritual—like it was something grounding, something necessary. It was the last thing he did before spritzing on cologne and stepping out for the day.

Now, sitting across from Yu in the breakroom, you finally admit to your… situation.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend?” Yu asks, frowning. “Or—God forbid—a wife?”

You wave him off. “No way. If he had a wife, she would’ve been mentioned. Even a girlfriend—I would’ve seen her by now.”

Yu cringes. “Right.”

He places both hands flat on the table, inhaling like he is about to deliver some sage wisdom. “You need to do what I do—just keep running into him, talk to him, wear him down until you two become close.”

You give him a look. “So I can be friend-zoned for a year? No, thanks.”

Yu turns up his nose. “So rude. Even when I try to help.” He pushes back his chair dramatically. “I’ll be on my way.”

He stomps off toward the door, only to pause, his bangs brushing against his lashes as he peeks back in.

“But text me later, okay?” he says with a smirk. “We’ll figure something out if we put our heads together.”

You huff a laugh. What a sweet guy. Even your obsessive behavior hasn’t scared him away.

The rest of your shift passes in a blur. You spend the final hour tutoring Sam—a regular who somehow always smells like cheese puffs and leaves everything he touches sticky. When his dad finally picks him up, you all but shove the sign-out sheet toward him, making a beeline for the bathroom to scrub your hands clean.

𓂃۶ৎ

A hot shower is calling your name as you skillfully back into your designated parking space, humming to yourself before stepping out of the car.

The moment your foot hits the pavement, the familiar sound of drunken laughter and hollering echoes through the garage. Of course. Your downstairs neighbors—wasted out of their minds. Again. On a Wednesday.

Rolling your eyes, you make your way toward the exit, only to find yourself in full view of the rowdy group perched on the hood of a sports car parked obnoxiously across multiple spaces. Among them is a guy you’ve seen before—arguing with his then-girlfriend at ungodly hours over god-knows-what. Spiky pink hair, gelled into stiff peaks, paired with a tight white tank top despite the night chill. You’ve never spoken to him, barely spared him a glance, but tonight, for whatever reason, he has something to prove.

“YO! HEY, YO!”

You ignore him, keeping your pace steady.

“Aye, I know you hear me! C’mere real quick!”

Your jaw tightens. You shoot him a glare but don’t stop, closing the distance to the door.

“Aww, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he drawls, clearly reveling in the attention of his friends. “That’s not very neighborly. I just gotta ask you a quick question.”

You exhale sharply, finally turning to face him and his little audience. “What the fuck do you want? You can ask from there.”

He scoffs, spitting onto the pavement. “Damn, no need to be a bitch about it.” He jerks his chin toward one of his friends. “My boy here thinks you look good, wanted to get them digits, but you ain’t even all that to be actin’ like this.”

A dry, humorless laugh escapes you as you prop a hand on your hip. “Funny, ‘cause from where I’m standing, you’re the one desperate for my attention. Screams ‘bitch’ to me—but go off.”

His friends snicker, their amusement only deepening his scowl. He swings his legs off the hood, standing up with an air of aggression. The moment he takes a step forward, your fingers slip into your bag, wrapping around the familiar cylinder of mace.

Six steps to the door.

His bloodshot eyes, the reek of weed clinging to his clothes—it sends your senses into high alert. If he lunges, you’ll spray him.

“Stuck-up bitch.”

A firm hand presses against the small of your back, guiding you away just as the tension peaks.

You startle, spinning with the mace raised—only to freeze when you find yourself looking up at Getou Suguru.

And he looks pissed.

Brows furrowed, lips pressed into a firm line, the sleeves of his button-up pushed to his elbows like he’s ready to handle this personally.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Sukuna?” His voice is low, rough, demanding.

Your grip on the mace loosens as you exhale, the warmth of Getou’s hand steady on your back. You’re not helpless, but dealing with scum like Sukuna? That’s the last thing you want after a long day.

Sukuna’s posture falters for half a second before he scoffs. “Relax, man. Just wanted to talk. No need for the hero act.”

“I’m pretty sure she would’ve handled you herself,” Getou counters coolly. “But I figured I’d remind you that you’re one misdemeanor away from that assault and battery charge becoming a felony. So watch yourself.”

Sukuna’s arrogance wavers. His jaw tightens as he glances at Getou, weighing his options before choosing the safer one—retreating back to his car.

“If I catch you pulling this shit again,” Getou continues, “I’ll personally ensure you get a speedy trial—as is your constitutional right.”

The group piles into the car in tense silence. As the engine roars to life, Getou pulls his hand away from your back like he’s just realized it’s there.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to—” He sighs, shaking his head. “It just pissed me off seeing him try that with you. You don’t deserve that.”

He smiles, but there’s a quiet sadness to it, as if he’s seen too much of this before.

“I don’t think you know this,” he adds, voice softer, “but I run a non-profit for domestic violence survivors. We’ve helped house a few of Sukuna’s former partners. Got them legal support, protection. He’s—” His jaw clenches. “He’s worse than he looks.”

You take in the weight of his words. On one hand, you’re grateful for his work, knowing how important it is. On the other, the thought of Sukuna being a repeat offender makes your stomach turn.

“Don’t apologize,” you tell him, offering a small, genuine smile. “I appreciate you stepping in. Macing him would’ve ruined my whole night—pepper spray’s a bitch to wash out.”

That earns a quiet chuckle from Getou, the tension easing.

“Sure would’ve been a nuisance,” he agrees.

As you walk toward the building together, you steal a glance at him—at the way the moonlight catches in his hair, reflecting off a few stray gray strands. His jawline is sharp in the dim glow, the curve of his cheekbone accentuated in a way that makes your heart stutter. You watch as a calloused finger brushes his bangs back, tucking them behind his ear.

Ever the gentleman, he holds the door open for you and walks you all the way to your apartment. At your door, he rests a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Be safe,” he says. “And if you ever feel unsafe, don’t hesitate to reach out. Okay?”

You nod, feigning composure, but he sees right through it.

He narrows his eyes slightly. “Not good enough. Promise me.”

You huff, rolling your eyes before holding up a pinky. “Alright, alright. I promise.”

A slow smirk tugs at his lips as he hooks his pinky around yours, the warmth of his touch lingering even after he lets go.

“Good girl.”

The praise haunts you for the rest of the night, looping in your head like a broken record. You spend hours lying awake, spamming Yu with frantic, half-incoherent texts detailing every second of what just happened.

𓂃۶ৎ

The following week, you don’t see him—not in the hall, not in passing. And though you tell yourself you’re being ridiculous, the lack of interaction leaves you feeling… disappointed. You want to text him, but without a real reason, it feels weird. You’re just his neighbor, after all—and at least a decade younger than him.

Still, you catch glimpses of him in the mornings. His routine never changes, but you do notice something new—he’s started drinking tea with his morning newspaper.

You wonder what sparked the change.

Then, on Friday night, your phone buzzes with a notification. A text.

Getou Suguru Hello. This is Suguru, your neighbor. Got any eggs?

You stare at the screen, blinking. That is… certainly an approach.

You: I do! Need me to bring a couple over? I don’t mind.

Getou Suguru: Oh, thank god. Would you? You’re a lifesaver.

You: Yeah, it’s just eggs. I’ll be right over!

You toss your phone onto the counter, glancing down at your loungewear—a silk two-piece pajama set, your favorite. Soft to the touch, effortlessly comfortable. Deciding it’s appropriate enough given the hour, you slip on your slippers, grab the carton of eggs, and head for his door.

Getou’s apartment has a personalized doormat at the entrance, The Getou Family scripted in bold cursive. Cute. You knock lightly, mindful of any sleeping children. A few moments later, footsteps approach, and the door swings open.

And it’s… not what you expect.

Getou stands there, hand on the knob, dressed in a sleek black turtleneck and chocolate-brown cargos—an effortlessly clean-cut look if not for the pink, frilly “Kiss the Cook” apron haphazardly tied around his waist. His long hair is braided loosely over his shoulder, stray strands falling over his forehead, and he looks utterly defeated—his entire body dusted in flour, even in his hair.

You giggle before you can stop yourself.

“Finding humor in my misery, are we?”

You barely manage to stifle your laughter behind your hand as he steps aside, ushering you in.

“Maybe just a little.” You poke at the apron first, smirking. “Well, don’t you look adorable?”

He swats your hand away with a playful huff, taking the eggs from you and leading the way into the kitchen—which is immediately visible. And immediately disastrous.

Flour streaks the counters. Sugar coats one side of the island. Three bowls, filled with dough in various colors, sit among a chaotic spread of every imaginable baking utensil. The only thing not in complete disarray is the rest of the apartment—modern, sleek black decor, perfectly organized, with a wall full of adorable photos of the girls over the years.

You whistle, taking it all in. “My god… what did you do?”

Getou sighs, brushing off flour from his sleeve in a half-hearted attempt to clean himself.

“My buddy Gojo had the girls today. Took them to a science museum, then dinner, and spoiled them, so naturally, they will be too hyped to care about me when they get home.” He gestures vaguely to the mess. “Thought I’d win them back over with homemade cookies since they love sweets. As you can see, I’m not exactly a natural.”

You move to the island, flipping an overturned bag of flour upright, salvaging whatever hasn’t already been sacrificed to the countertop.

“Clearly.”

Getou grabs an egg and cracks it over a bowl of light caramel-colored dough.

“Hey, I can’t be good at everything.”

You squint at his movements, catching the inconsistency in his technique. “Still cocky, huh?”

You peer into the bowl. This is definitely his third attempt at the dough.

“Instead of making another batch, maybe try tasting this one first? Are you even following a recipe?”

He taps sugar-dusted fingers against his chin. “Not exactly. I was going off memory. My mom used to make cookies for me when I was little, but… I may have mixed up a few ingredients.”

Before he can stop you, you dip a finger into the dough and bring it to your mouth.

“Don’t do that!” He wags a flour-covered finger at you, scandalized. “There’s raw egg in there—you’ll get salmonella.”

You grin, unfazed. “It’s just a little taste. And I can tell you’re missing vanilla. The sweetness is off, and it’ll help bind the flavors together.”

His violet eyes widen slightly before lighting up in realization. “Oh, right! Of course! Let me add some!”

Watching him scramble around the kitchen, searching for the vanilla like a deer learning to walk, is nothing short of endearing.

Together, you tweak the recipe—adding a little cinnamon, a sprinkle of nutmeg, some roughly chopped pecans. He lifts a mixing spoon to your lips, and you taste again.

This time? Sweet, only a hint of saltiness, and the nutty pecans bring a rich depth to the dough.

“It’s perfect,” you declare. “We can roll it out now.”

You hadn’t exactly planned for your Friday night to be overtaken by this bumbling, flour-dusted dad, but somehow, you don’t mind. You take turns rolling and flattening the dough before he slides the tray into the oven. Already, you’ve started cleaning—scooping up flour piles, bagging ingredients, restoring order to the battlefield.

“You don’t need to do that,” Getou protests, frowning. “You’ve done enough. Sit down.”

You comply halfway, still gathering loose flour into the bin. He pours you a glass of water and begins wiping down his own mess.

“Where’d you learn how to bake?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a baker,” you say, shrugging. “But working with kids, having treats around helps as a motivator. So I picked up a few simple recipes.”

He nods, impressed, running a damp rag over his flour-streaked shirt. His glasses have slipped down his nose, the lenses smudged from dirty hands.

“Suguru,” you say, deadpan, “go clean yourself up. I’ll finish here.”

He grimaces at the kitchen’s state, then exhales in surrender. “You’re a saint. I’d hate for the girls to see this mess when I’m always nagging them to keep their rooms spotless.” He presses a thumb to his brow. “Turns out, I’m quite the hypocrite.”

You methodically put the kitchen back in order, enjoying the gradual return to cleanliness. By the time Getou re-emerges, the only mess left is on his apron. His hair is pulled up in a loose bun, and he shoots you a wink.

“Right on time.”

As if on cue, the oven alarm dings. He pulls the tray out, setting it on the stove. The scent of buttery, warm sweetness fills the air. You inhale deeply, taking a seat at the barstool beside the counter.

Getou leans down, elbows propped against the surface, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Well, wouldn’t you say we make a per—”

“DADDY!!”

The door slams open, and Nanako barrels inside, launching herself at Getou’s waist.

“Daddy! Daddy! Guess what Satoru got us?!”

Laughing, he lifts her up, ruffling her hair as she clings to his neck. Gojo enters right behind, overloaded with shopping bags, white hair slightly tousled, Cartier shades barely hiding his mischievous blue eyes. Mimiko shuffles in, latched onto his pant leg.

Gojo smirks. “Took them on an all-you-can-grab shopping spree. Fun, right?” He inhales, pausing. “Mm, something smells good—wait. Suguru. Did you actually—” His gaze lands on you, and his smirk sharpens. “Well, well. Who’s this?”

You quickly stand, waving your hands. “Just a neighbor! Suguru needed eggs, and, well…” You gesture vaguely toward the cookies. “I took pity on his baking skills.”

Gojo snorts. “Little did you know, you probably just saved this entire building from being burned down.”

Getou shoves his shoulder. Gojo nearly drops a bag, grinning.

“Hey girls,” he calls, heading down the hall. “Make sure to thank your dad for wearing the special apron I got him! And don’t forget—no kiss, no cookie!”

Nanako gasps, eyes wide. “Oh! Before you go—you have to give Daddy a kiss too! Or no cookie!”

Mimiko nods solemnly. “No kiss, no cookie. Right, Daddy? Or were you lying?”

You laugh at Getou’s panicked expression.

With exaggerated effort, you stretch onto your toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the edge of his jaw.

“There. No lies.”

You grab your cookie and eggs, heading for the door. “Thanks for the treat! Have a good night, guys!”

As you step out, you catch one last glimpse—Getou, frozen, cheeks tinged pink, his jaw still faintly glossed from your kiss.

Munching on your cookie, you grin.

Bless those kids.

𓂃۶ৎ

The next morning, you wake up lazily, blissfully, embarrassingly late—somewhere around noon. A rare luxury. You stretch across your bed, basking in the slow start to the day before slipping into an easy, indulgent routine.

A long, hot shower.

A hearty, homemade brunch.

A carefully curated R&B playlist humming in the background.

You take your time with the little things—styling your hair, finally trying that shower steamer you’ve been saving, relishing a morning that’s just for you. It’s been a while since you’ve allowed yourself to unwind like this, especially since you’ve just started refraining from peeking in on the DILF next door.

Not that you’ve been thinking about him. Not at all.

The sun is bright today, the perfect excuse to go for a walk. Maybe you’ll drop by Yu’s place—figure out how your night will unfold from there. Something lively, hopefully.

Locking up, you head downstairs, offering nods to other tenants as you step outside. And then—

Giggling. Light, carefree, unmistakable.

You don’t even need to look to know who it is.

“Daddy, look! It’s the Cookie Lady!”

“Hi, Cookie Lady!”

You exhale, shaking your head. You vividly remember introducing yourself properly, but kids? Selective memory at its finest.

Sure enough, Nanako and Mimiko are on their pink tricycles, zooming across the pavement while Getou lingers nearby, guiding them like a watchful shadow.

You wave at the girls first, playing along. “Wow, you two are going so fast! Don’t run me over!”

They giggle, swerving dramatically around you as you pretend to stumble back. Behind them, Getou smiles—warm, effortless, like the sun overhead.

You move closer, eyes flicking over him instinctively.

Baggy denim. A beige sweater. A classic dad fit.

Only… the sweater’s losing a battle against the curve of his bicep, the fabric stretching just a little too tightly over muscle. And his arms—the shape of them, the way the fleece clings to his forearms—

You look away fast. Which is no reprieve because now you’re staring into his eyes—deep purple, sunlit flecks of magenta making them shimmer.

His lashes are obnoxiously thick. Prettier than yours, even with volumizing mascara.

Unfair.

“Any disasters for me to clean up today?” you tease, breaking eye contact.

His chuckle is low, warm, easy. His chest shakes lightly. “Not today. Yet. But can I keep you on call just in case?”

You shrug. “I’m around. And honestly? I could never say no to someone with such adorable little girls.”

Getou hums, eyes drifting toward his daughters, who are now engaged in a very serious race down the sidewalk—little hands swatting at each other as they try to throw the other off course.

“Adorable, yes. But don’t let them fool you.” He sighs. “They’re little devils in disguise.”

You laugh. “That’s just the age. They’re curious about everything. Had a kid at work raid my purse once during a session. Looked away for two seconds, and when I turned back, he was wearing a menstrual pad like a hat.”

Getou snorts. Catches himself. Coughs into his fist. “You’re lying.”

“I wish.”

His laughter fades into something softer. Thoughtful. His brows knit slightly.

“…I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but hearing stuff like that—feminine products, girl things—I get anxious. It’s hard, raising two girls alone.”

Your chest tightens at the look on his face. The quiet weight of it.

Without thinking, you reach for his hand.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean much, but I’ve worked with kids for years,” you say gently. “And I can spot a good parent a mile away. Even with our limited interactions, Suguru, you are one of the most doting fathers I’ve ever met.”

His fingers tighten around yours. Then his other hand clasps over the top, warm, grounding.

“I appreciate that,” he murmurs. “You’re pretty wise for your age.”

You scoff. “Of course. Women mature years faster than men. Be careful—your girls might surpass you before you know it.”

And then—

A piercing shriek cuts through the air.

“D-Daddy! T-The cat scratched me!”

Both of you snap to attention.

Mimiko is curled up on her bike, terrified, while Nanako sits on the pavement beside her toppled tricycle, clutching her arm. Across from her, a fat black cat hisses, back arched.

Getou is already moving. He scoops Nanako into his arms just as the cat lets out a low, guttural growl. You think you see it pounce, but it’s all a blur. You barely register Getou kicking at the ground near it before you swoop in, lifting Mimiko onto your hip and retreating toward the apartment.

By the time you make it inside, the girls’ tear-streaked faces are devastating.

Getou fumbles with his keys, cursing under his breath.

Nanako—the little mimic—parrots him perfectly.

“Shit, fuck!”

“Shi—crap!” he corrects quickly. “No, no, sweetie, Daddy said a bad word. I was just scared you were hurt.”

Inside, Getou heads straight to the bathroom, setting Nanako on the closed toilet lid while you settle Mimiko on the sink. He wets a rag, voice gentle, soothing.

“Can I see your arm, Nana?”

She nods, sniffling. Brave. Mimiko leans forward, eyes wide as she watches her sister.

Getou is careful. Tender hands. Steady voice. He dabs at the scratch, applies ointment, murmurs reassurances as Nanako flinches. A patient, loving father.

And God help you, but it makes him even more attractive.

Once the bandage is in place, Nanako puffs up proudly.

“See, Mimi? I’m too strong for that old cat!”

Getou lifts her up, but as he does, you notice—his sweater has a tear along the back. The fabric darker, wet.

Blood.

“Hey girls,” you say gently. “Why don’t you go play? I’ll help your dad clean up. You were both so brave.”

They perk up instantly, rushing out with another fit of giggles.

Getou starts to wave you off. “I’m fine, don’t—”

“Suguru,” you deadpan. “The cat sliced through your shirt. Let me clean it up.”

He sighs but relents, settling on the toilet lid.

“How do you keep ending up rescuing me?” he muses. “I thought we had a back-and-forth thing going on.”

You snort, swatting his arm before carefully lifting his shirt, rolling it up so he can hold it in place and inspect the scratch. It’s deep—deeper than you’d expect—so the cat must have been a stray with nails sharp enough to cut like that. Skimming your fingers over the wound, you feel Getou’s breath hitch. You murmur a quiet apology before rewetting the rag and dabbing at the injury to clean it properly.

You’ve seen Getou’s bare back more times than you’d like to admit, but up close like this? It’s a whole other story. And—selfishly—you envy the cat for being the one to leave marks on him instead of you.

His broad shoulders shift under your touch, deltoids flexing with every small wince. His spine curves smoothly, leading to two faint indentations at the small of his back. Back dimples.

You suppress the ridiculous urge to trace them with your fingers.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand—reapplying the ointment before resting your hands lightly on his shoulders.

“I think I’m done,” you say, voice steady despite the very unsteady state of your thoughts. “Your scratches are deeper, though, so I wouldn’t bandage them up just yet. They need to breathe so the skin can heal properly.”

Getou hums, the vibrations buzzing through your palms.

“In that case, I’ll just take this off.” He grips the fabric at the back of his collar, crossing his arms as he pulls the shirt over his head in one smooth motion—something you’ve seen him do a million times before.

But somehow, this time feels entirely different.

And suddenly, you’re questioning whether today is the best day of your life—or the worst, because temptation is sitting right in front of you, and you can’t do a damn thing about it.

You poke lightly at the scratch, half out of curiosity, half as an excuse to let your eyes wander. A few scars, pink and raised, wrap around from his ribs. A couple of small, cute moles sit just below his nape.

“—tter.”

You blink. Wait. He was talking?

“Hm?”

Getou chuckles, low and amused. “I said, poking at it like that isn’t gonna help.” His lips curve into something teasing. “Be a sweetheart and kiss it better for me?”

His deep voice lilts, gentle but dripping in lazy, playful seduction.

Heat floods through you instantly.

But you refuse to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that.

Steeling yourself, you swallow down the butterflies flapping violently in your chest and school your expression into something cool, composed.

“I don’t think that’s how healing works,” you muse, smoothing your fingers over his warm shoulder. “But if you insist…”

You lean in, lips parting as you move closer—so close that you can feel his warmth against your mouth. But just as you’re about to press the kiss to his skin, you pause. Then, with deliberate slowness, you pull back, kiss your own palm, and press it firmly against his wound instead.

“I think that’s the best I can do, Suguru,” you say, feigning innocence. “Wouldn’t want to get antibiotics all over my lips.”

He blinks, momentarily caught off guard, before huffing out a laugh.

“Clever.”

Then, before you can react, he shifts—adjusting his position so that you’re kneeling between his legs. His arms rest lazily over his thighs, dark eyes watching you with soft amusement.

He pouts.

Pouts.

Which, despite being a fully grown man, still looks unreasonably cute on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Guess we’ll have to make do,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. “Right here is also acceptable.”

He puckers his lips dramatically, raising a brow, but he doesn’t move closer. Just waits. Daring you.

So that’s how he wants to play it.

Your hands slide up to rest lightly on his knees, and you lean in—slow, deliberate. Your noses brush, and you let your breath fan against his lips, lingering.

“I’ll make it all better,” you murmur.

Then, finally, you press your lips to his—soft, warm, deliberate.

His lips are plush, moving against yours in a slow, languid rhythm. One of his hands lifts to cup your cheek, thumb grazing your jaw, keeping you there just a moment longer before you pull back.

But he doesn’t let go.

“It still hurts,” he says, voice lower, gaze heavier. “Try again.”

You let out a breathless laugh but comply, leaning in again. This time, he meets you halfway, mouth parting slightly as his tongue just barely brushes against your bottom lip. You sigh into him, fingers instinctively threading into his hair—his stupidly soft, midnight-black hair. The loose bun falls apart easily, strands tumbling over his shoulders.

When you finally pull back, his eyes are dark, half-lidded, hungry.

“Again,” he breathes.

But just as he leans in to kiss you—

“Why are you kissing Daddy?”

The two of you jolt apart like you’d been electrocuted.

Your head whips to the side, heart lurching.

Nanako stands in the doorway, arms crossed, staring point-blank at the two of you with the unimpressed authority of a child who has just caught an adult doing something stupid.

Mimiko peeks out from behind her, brows furrowed in confusion.

Getou fumbles for an excuse, visibly panicking, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Kiss the Cook?”

Nanako squints. “But Daddy, there’s no cookies.”

𓂃۶ৎ [Tentative taglist: @mentallyillcore]

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angelsanarchy · 1 year ago

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Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 1

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink

Euronymous saw her everywhere. She worked for the local grocery delivery service during the day and his favorite food place in town. He wishes he could say that it was his favorite only because of the falafal but he enjoyed the banter that they had with one another. He was too focused on Mayhem getting a new singer and getting some shows under their belts to even remotely consider the idea of courting anyone but if he had, Y/n would be the first person he would look up.

"Oystein! Make sure you take that dead plant to the garbage before you leave!" He grabbed the now brown plant and shoved it under his arm as he walked down the front steps. He noticed the grocery bike parked across the street but no sign of Y/n. He tossed the plant just as she came through the gate of the neighbors house and smiled when she saw him.

"Hi there! Heading off to make the devils music?" Y/n knew he was in a band and that metal was his favorite genre. He never understood why she wasn't afraid of him like most normal people he ran across but he wasn't going to question it.

"Of course. Just doing my part to crumble the edification of society." Euronymous said confidently with a smirk.

"Sounds like a busy day. I'd hate to interrupt." She threw her leg over the bike.

"You want a ride? You can put your bike in the back-" He gestured to the empty trunk and she shook her head.

"I'm done with my deliveries for today so I'm heading home, thanks." She appreciated the offer but she knew that wherever he was heading wasn't anywhere close to her house.

"Ah so you don't want me to know where you live? I thought we were kindred souls." Euronymous teased.

"Atheist is not the same as Satanist, Oystein. Not exactly kindred but I'd hate for you to be caught with a poser like me riding shotgun." He had never mentioned he was a Satanist but the band also frequented the Falafal joint and he's sure she's heard them discussing the direction he wanted to take Mayhem in.

And still, that didn't scare her off.

"Euronymous. My name is Euronymous." He corrected firmly. She smiled, scrunching her nose at the name like she always had.

"I'm sorry but I won't ever call you Euronymous. I just don't see it." He paused at the statement.

"See what?" He inquired.

"I know the origin of the name. You just don't give off flesh eating spirit dwelling in the underworld. Your eyes are too pretty for that one." She complimented making him cough into his hand to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

"You don't know me very well. Maybe you should come to one of my shows and you'll change your mind." He tried to sound menacing but Y/n knew just as much about Oystein as he did her.

She knew he was a good son and brother. She knew he used to get pretty decent grades when he was in school and that he's been playing his guitar since he was 10 years old. She could never see him as some cannibalistic nightmare of a person. He might think highly of himself but she had seen such a softer side of him when delivering groceries for his family.

"Maybe." She shrugged. She had often responded to his show invites with a maybe and he was always disappointed when she never showed but he understood how busy she was. She worked two jobs to take care of herself and her family.

"I'll see you around, Y/N" He held his hand up and she mockingly gave him the devil horns she had seen his sister do so often when they were listening to the loud metal music blasting from the upstairs bedroom window. He chuckled and returned the gesture.

"See you around Oystein." She watched him pull down the street and didn't even notice he was already looking at her in the rear view mirror. He would never understand how two people who were so insanely different could have such a good rapport.

#Film: Lords of Chaos #R!Euronymous #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #One Shot Series #Alkaline One Shot Series #R!Euronymous x Y/N #If you want to be tagged please let me know #1/35

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radioisntdead · 2 months ago

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I have the worst luck with nail salons dear grace, what I wanted vs what I got

#radiorambles #first time was a couple years back they did a horrible job #flashforward today they did a worse job didn't do what I asked for and The guy that did my nails massaged my hands and MOVED MY SLEEVES UP #to MASSAGE MY ARMS the hands I get BUT MY ARMS??#dude had gell fused to my skin so it was stuck then took off half the polish and wasn't going to fix it like I asked #I SAID hey can you fix this I don't like how it is I was polite and this shit happens #I don't know if there was like a language barrier or ehat but I almost had a mental breakdown in the nail salon #thankfully the day got better me abd moons got boba and went to Barnes and nobles #it was a nice day but I'm still peeved about the nail thing #GUESS WHAT THEY CHARGED? 35 BUCKS #like??? i was supposed to get fake nails n' stuff not THAT #I hate it so much #my mom and sister were pissed #my sister does nail stuff as a hobby and shes REALLY good at it and then this professional place just this #I could do a better job on my own like what the fuck anyways ramble over I needed to get that off my chest again AAA

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nfasth · 2 months ago

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The three windows in the round corner, and the three windows to the left of it – that's where my studio is!

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stinkrascal · 1 year ago

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the person who i stopped being friends with came to my fucking house to ask me if i blocked her???? oh my fucking god lady you are 35 YEARS OLD??????

#i cant believe that fucking happened oh my god??????? she actually came to my house??????#remember how i was having a freakout about how i thought she’d come to my house n i was checking windows and shit HA i feel validated now #OH MY GOD??????? my boyfriend had to tell her to leave bc she just kept standing there at the door???????#he CLOSED THE BLINDS ON HER FACE AND STILL WOULDN’T LEAVE?????????#i cant believe that fucking happened I CANT BELIEVE A 35 YEAR OLD CONFRONTED ME IRL ABOUT BLOCKING HER PHONE NUMBER HOLY SHIT #thank god my amazing twin brother and his spouse and my boyfriend were here to help me bc id literally freak the fuck out if i was alone #i feel so unsafe now holy shit what a fucking weirdo 😭

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hatefueled · 15 days ago

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work week begins,,, so like this for an unprompted ask. multis i beg of u pls specify i dont have the brainpower to pick on my own.

#𝟎𝟎. / ooc #ill do em over the next few days.#lost my last one but im gonna bookmark this one.#35 hours this week so. it could be worse. but euughh...#it's fine if u still have an ask from me.#i like writing up asks n stuff.

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damn-stark · 10 months ago

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Chapter 35 …One says c’mon and the other says I’m tired

Chapter 35 of Sugar

A/N- Listen to Mary by Big Thief, it’ll be good I promise!

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

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

Episode and or chapters- 234-236

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*A FEW YEARS AGO*

Sneaking around with a guy at your own house is a limit you’ve really even been testing. You’re risking getting in deep trouble, but tonight will be the last night you and your late-night rendezvous will be together.

Soon you’ll leave with your mother on a trip, and when you come back you’ll start school at Jujutsu High, in Tokyo along with your older brother. Soon you will finally have a life outside of these damn walls!

“Hey, hey! Guess who, guess who!” A familiar voice startles you. A voice that belongs to a man that shouldn’t be here…but is he?!

You get off the old wooden swing and twirl around in the direction of the voice, catching your brother of all people approaching you.

Which is kind of inconvenient because you needed to end things with your boy toy, but oh well another day secretly together won’t hurt—as long as your parents or anyone else finds out that is.

“Satoru!” You greet happily and wait for him to meet up with you.

Your brother flashes you a beaming grin and suddenly stops in his tracks to pull his hands out from his back and show off a bottle of sake.

“Look what I have stolen from our parents' cabinet!” He announces and shakes the bottle with both hands before he runs on his giant legs and closes the large gap that was left between you.

Once he’s close you finally probe his surprising presence, you weren’t supposed to see each other until you started school. “What are you doing here, Satoru? Why aren’t you at school?”

“Well,” he says and takes his shades off to illuminate the night with his bright and big blue eyes. “We got sent to a mission nearby and since it’s late we got to stay at a hotel close by, so I said why not come home. I also knew you missed me.”

You roll your eyes and don’t actually deny him because it’s true. Ever since he left for school, you’ve been nothing but bored! The house is so lonely without him.

You won’t admit it though because you don’t want him to get cocky, so instead you decide to press on the fact that he says “we,”.

“So where’s your friend? The guy who understands you better than anyone has,” you mock him as you walk back to sit on the swing. “The guy who doesn’t care if you’re Satoru Gojo, the guy with the six eyes. The first real friend you’ve ever had.”

Satoru frowns and kicks you back, making you chuckle and just lean forward to swing towards him and ask seriously this time so he doesn’t get all butt hurt. “Really where’s your friend Suguru Geto? I’ve been wanting to meet this great friend of yours and see what all the fuss is about.”

Satoru opens the bottle and takes a big swig of the sake, causing you to react with surprise considering he hasn’t drank before. Not even with this beloved friend of his.

“Oh! That was…a big drink…” you trail off and watch him swallow with concern. “Why are you drinking?”

Satoru shrugs. “I'm in high school now. Why shouldn't I?” He throws out too calmly.

“Uh,” you stammer and just agree with him. He already started anyway. “Well, we can share then.”

Satoru pushes the bottle towards you, but just as you’re going to grab the neck of the bottle he pulls back and looks at you with a quizzical brow. “Since when have you drank?”

You pull your arm back to hold the swings rope and answer nonchalantly. “I drink with my friends. But not a lot, just a cup or two. We like to drink and play games.”

Satoru’s eyebrows furrow as he shoots you a pointed look of disapproval. You know he can either try and be a big brother and lecture you, or it can go the other way and he’ll just drop the subject and let you be, but you don’t want to risk it and ruin this surprise visit so you lean forward and snatch the bottle from his hand.

“Now,” you change the subject. “Your friend is he cute? You haven’t shown me a picture!”

Satoru scoffs and sits on the ground across from you, and even then he still looks like a damn giant.

When did he get so damn tall?!

“As if I would ever present you to my best friend. He’s off limits, I told you already.”

You snicker and take a small drink to take it easy unlike, the guy across from you.

“Well, I’m still gonna meet him soon, so I don’t know why you’re bitching?” You clarify. “You should've brought him.”

“No!” Satoru exclaims. “And, he didn't want to come, he had some homework to do or whatnot. I don’t know, he was being responsible.”

“Ah.” You nod in comprehension and mindlessly twist around as you take another drink before it’s snatched from your hand by your brother's giant one.

“How’s it been here?” He makes sure to ask like he always tends to do now that he’s not living here anymore. “Is training going okay? Have they been going easy on you?”

You drop your head and shift the tip of your foot on the ground as you grow pensive.

What could you say? Training is harsh because they know your brother isn’t here to defend you? That you’ve been a total failure and suck at processing with your own damn technique that’s written in your damn being?

You can say all that and he’ll listen, but he’s only here for the night and you don’t want to dump all your problems on him, so you just share something lighthearted instead. “Mother and I have gone over to the Kamo house and while I've been there I have befriended one of them that’s my age. He’s very nice.”

Satoru’s face twists in displeasure at the sound of you and some guy he doesn’t know getting close. “Ew, why?”

He’s trying to be protective but he just sounds rude.

“Because I can have friends Satoru,” you snap back and kick your foot at him.

Satoru side-eyes you before surprising you and taking another large gulp.

“Oh, bro, take it easy, man,” you warn him with genuine concern.

Satoru flicks his wrist to brush you off. “It’s very sweet,” he dismisses you. “It’s good!”

“Hm—”

“We should prank call Suguru,” he suddenly blurts and stands up, casting a large shadow over you and only making your surroundings that much darker.

“What are we?” You remark full of judgment.

Satoru shoves the bottle in your hand and yanks out his phone from his pocket to quickly navigate through his phone.

You take this time to study him and can’t really tell if he’s drunk, he looks as goofy as usual. His smile is turning goofier than usual though, besides that he looks normal. Which is good, you don’t feel like getting in trouble for him getting drunk.

“Here, here,” he says in a hushed voice and hands you his phone that you almost drop because he’s not being careful. “Tell him…”

“Why me?!” You whisper sharply as if that man you’re talking to is nearby.

“Just do it!” Satoru snaps, making you pout at how snappy he’s being. “The phone is ringing he won’t know it’s me!”

“Hello?” A deep and soothing voice answers, making chills go down your spine and a giddy smile to flash on your lips.

“Hello,” you answer back and mock that generic woman's voice you hear in machines guiding you to do something, or in voicemail boxes not set up. “This is the county police department…”

“Good, good,” Satoru whispers in approval and winks at you, making you much more excited to be doing this.

“…calling on behalf of the detainee SATORU GOJO, to inform you that the bail to release the detainee from jail will be…”

“Ten thousand,” Satoru mouths and demonstrates the number with both hands.

It’s a ridiculous amount, but you can’t think of anything on the spot so you go with it. “…ten thousand dollars.”

Satoru snickers maliciously as he nods in agreement whilst you catch a surprised gasp at the other end, making you purse your lips together so as to not laugh.

“Answer yes if you agree to pay bail, or answer no and let this call end.”

“Uh,” Geto hesitates, and somehow this reaction makes Satoru totally ruin the prank by bursting out laughing like a maniac.

There’s no way Geto could’ve missed that!

“Oh,” you assume right as he answers with a deep annoyed breath. “It’s you…make sure to be back early Satoru, or you can find your own way back to the school—“ and just like that Geto hangs up the phone, making Satoru’s laugh die down, and his lips drop to a pout.

However, this time you burst out laughing and point at your brother frowning in defeat.

“He fell for it,” Satoru defends himself.

“Oh,” you gasp for air and drop your head to continue laughing. “This makes me want to meet him that much more. What a funny guy. Oh,” you laugh until your stomach hurts.

“Whatever,” Satoru grumbles and leans over to snatch the bottle. “He fell for it.”

Your laugh slowly dies down, but you keep your head down and smile softly at the ground while the swing slowly moves back and forth as you swing your feet.

You can fill the silence with more humorous suggestions and topics, but as Satoru quiets down you bask in the calmness of the night. It's refreshing, you feel a cool breeze on your face that fights off the summer heat that once overwhelmed you.

When you look up at the sky you see that it’s clear so the moon really gets to show off and provide more light besides the distant wall lights and the garden lights. Your parents or anyone else from your family is pestering you so it’s really relaxing.

“Do you think…I’ll really be the strongest?” Satoru breaks the silence to ask you a deep insecurity. Which is…it’s not rare for him to be vulnerable with you, he doesn’t seem to be scared or ashamed to be so open with you.

And he shouldn’t, there’s so much pressure on his shoulders since he was a kid because of what he was born with. It leaves no room in people’s hearts to really care about him in a deep sense, all they see is power and glory. But you, you care deeply about your brother.

“I know so,” you assure him of his doubts that are born from him drinking that sake. “Not only because it was written in the stars, or because everyone around you says it.”

You finally look down from the sky and meet his gaze reflecting a teary gloss that softens his intense blue eyes.

“I know you’ll be strong because you have the dedication because you have a strong heart.”

“What does that have to do with anything? What does it even mean?” He remarks and averts his gaze.

You sigh and shrug timidly. “I guess it means that you don’t give up, you keep going even if you could’ve given up and abandoned this fate with all the pressure that’s put on you,” you explain quietly as you grow flustered. “You’re smart too, and you keep wanting to learn even if everything at your feet. You’ll be strong because you’re cocky and always keep your head up high, you’re also very stubborn about failing.”

Satoru scoffs and slowly drags his eyes back up to you, and you continue softly so he knows you’re not joking even a bit.

“And I know that a lot of things come easy to you, but when it doesn’t you keep trying until you get it. And most importantly you’re fearless—“

“No,” he cuts you off and shakes his head. “I have fears, just like you. But I told you that it doesn't affect your strength.”

You offer him a soft smile, but before this can turn about you you focus back on him. “You’re also brave, the bravest person I know, and trust me I know, I have known since I was a little girl.” You say and swallow back thick emotions that begin to sting your throat. “And it’s because I know you that I know all I said is why you will be the strongest. I mean that’s what already makes you strong,” you finish with an endearing smile.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I suppose you're right.”

He could’ve said thanks, but whatever, you still can’t help but smile.

A short silence then passes where he takes this time to really digest what you said, knowing that everything you just told him comes from the bottom of your heart. You could be malicious and just tell him what he wants to hear, you have every right to be that way with him with the way your family treats you compared to him, but you always pour out your heart and be genuine with him. He admires you for that.

“Hey, now that you’re here do you want to go watch a movie?” You suggest before he has a chance to black out with that bottle of sake. “I rented this comedy movie I’ve been dying to see.”

Satoru eyes flicker to you and since he can’t find a way to pour out his own heart and express his gratitude he smiles at you and nods in agreement. “Of course! But if I fall asleep, wake me up early before Suguru leaves me behind.”

You push yourself off the swing and shoot him a pointed look. “As if,” you quip. “Be responsible.”

“You sound like Suguru! And after I come all this way to visit you?!” He shouts dramatically.

You face him and nod. “Yes. Now whoever gets inside last…” you trail off to bolt away before he has a chance to win.

“Hey! You had a head start, no fair!” Satoru exclaims after you and doesn’t hesitate to bolt after you.

When you get inside he does end up winning though.

So much for your headstart, and damn his long ass legs!

——

*NOW*

You want to go back to simpler times. You want to take Satori, Choso, Satoru, and everyone you love dearly and keep close to your heart with you and just live simple lives. You can still be a sorcerer, you can still carry that trauma, the bad memories of the past, all you want is not having to worry about Satoru’s fate…

He’s home…

“He ripped off that Shikgami’s tail,” Choso kind of shares with admiration. “Why am I surprised?”

“Because he keeps getting cooler,” Yuji blurts, making Choso’s face flash on a short jealousy that twinges in his very core.

A soft laugh manages to leave your lips before you hold Choso’s arm and whisper. “I think you’re cool.”

Choso meets your gaze and a smile tugs on the corner of his lips before you lean in and press your lips on his and give him a lingering kiss.

“Thank you again,” you whisper against his lips even if you already expressed your gratitude to him for being so caring and attentive. You just know that in your lifetime you will never actually get to express how grateful you really are for him not growing tired or asking for anything in return while dealing with you, and your rollercoaster of emotions today. You certainly will try though every moment you can. He deserves to hear it.

“For what?” He asks cluelessly.

You offer him a warm and loving gaze and respond sweetly. “For today. For everything.”

Choso opens his lips and you know he’s going to say some stoic shit like well, “of course, I’ll always look out for you, it’s nothing.” So instead you cut him off and give him another lingering kiss so you can both savor the sweet taste before you bask in the comfort of his presence and lay your head on his shoulder to focus back on the screens, catching Mahoraga swing his blade and hurl rubble at Satoru. However, nothing hits him due to his infinity technique.

A flash of hits proceeds to happen that go by too quickly for you to catch so the next thing you know Satoru is in front of the second shikigami, and swings his fist so hard and so fast that the shikigami doesn’t catch him. Instead, it gets punched, causing you to react with an entertained smirk.

“You’re nothin’ but a one-trick pony,” you hear Satoru quip. He then proceeds to use the air to back away from

Mahoraga’s swing, whilst keeping a distance from the other shikigami. He then moves one leg forward and one arm back to prepare to swing at Mahoraga, but then in the blink of an eye Mahoraga swings his mighty blade with a swift woosh, and the next thing you see is part of Satoru’s arm flying away after it was cut off.

It was…

And he’s not bleeding…

His arm…

“Satoru!” you cry out and shove yourself to your feet.

“Mahoraga used his slashes?!” Kusakabe cuts in with surprise.

You grab at your chest as it feels like you’re suddenly at a loss for air.

This could mean the end…

“He struck from range?!” Yuji exclaims. “Just like Sukuna?!”

All you can see is Satoru on the screens, you can’t see anyone around you, it’s like you can only focus on him. You can hear the others fine, but there’s darkness all around you and Satoru ahead, besides you’re numbing fear.

“This is bad!” Shoko bellows and only worsens you’re already panicked state—“Gojo’s healing ability is dropping!”

Your heart pounds in your ears, and just as you feel the blood in your veins rush and make your hands tremble, a large hand cups your shoulder, feeling like a warm sun that slowly radiates warmth all over your frozen and stiff body.

“My Love,” Choso whispers, and then in a very affectionate and soothing way speaks your name before he carefully attempts to assure you. “He can heal that arm. He’s strong enough to do that. He’s okay.”

You blink and look over your shoulder to meet Choso’s gaze, feeling that tunnel vision fade, but not feeling the terror ungrasp you, it digs its claws in you and keeps your hands trembling and your mind thinking you can’t breathe.

“It’s okay, just breathe, hm? He’s still alive,” Choso adds a lot more confidently now that he sees you’re not turning him away like before. “Breathe.”

He grabs both of your shoulders and turns you to face him so you can see him slowly draw in a deep breath and slowly push it out, making you mirror his actions until you’re not heaving.

“Good,” he murmurs and slides his hands up to caress your face before he drops his hands to walk you both back to your seat and focus back on the battle with one hand still hugging his.

However, perhaps it wasn’t such a great idea returning your focus back on the screen because you catch Satoru being hurled back by Sukuna’s kick, and landing right across the other shikigami. The moment the Shikigami's eyes land on Satoru, it lunges forward and throws its giant fist, but misses due to Satoru’s infinity, which is comforting. You can breathe at the fact that you’re brother isn't slammed with another mighty swing that could have pushed him closer to the end now that he also needs to grow back an entire fucking arm!

“Ya know, what I’ve been thinkin’?” Satoru blurts with a hint of craziness and cockiness mixed together. Maybe it’s because he just lost an arm—“you just don’t fit in with this crowd!”

Your lips part as a blue glowing orb forms around his hand before in a flash your brother is upon the shikigami with his fist buried in its gut.

Mahoraga falls in front of its lord master and makes it his priority to protect him as Satoru proclaims his dangerous words. “Maximum output Blue!”

Your eyes widen with glee as Satoru’s technique drags the shikigami across a building, cutting it in half with its tremendous power as it scrapes the wall. You think it’ll fly away further, but the orb stops past the building and seems to swallow the shikigami in before it bursts and blows the shikigami to pieces, leaving Sukuna and Mahoraga left on the battlefield once again. While Satoru—well Choso was right, you could’ve realized that if it wasn’t for your panic.

Regardless Satoru grows his arm back, and his intense eyes gleam while his lips widen to a smirk as he seems to be pumped with more exhilaration and adrenaline.

Something so clear as day that you can’t help but feel a trickle of that excitement rushing through your own blood after witnessing such a feat. And it seems that the exhilaration running through your brother fuels his thirst for blood because he quickly manages to get a swing on Mahoraga. And when the giant beast gets hit he does manage to keep his feet on the side of the building but he ends up sliding back, leaving Sukuna in front of Satoru.

This time the evil man can’t maneuver himself away, so your brother zooms to him and manages to snatch his wrist before he twists his body around and swings Sukuna with him before hurling him at Mahoraga.

Of course, the beast catches him and guards him from Satoru, but nothing stops your brother from slamming his fist in Mahoraga’s forearm so hard that the beast breaks through the building and hits the wall inside with Sukuna still in his arms like a mother would protect its child.

Satoru proceeds to surprise you by not following them inside, he stays outside and instead points his finger to the sky, and sets a deadly gaze on his opponents.

“Phase. Pāramitā. Pillars of light.”

“He’s chanting again,” you proclaim and sit up as straight as a board as you’re bombarded with a rush of heart-pounding anticipation.

Is he going to hit them with his technique?

What if they swerve him and he just wastes his cursed energy on destroying more property?

But no…your brother is smarter than that, right?

Please don’t waste your energy on shooting at them…

“Cursed technique reversal,” Satoru announces and stretches his arm out to shoot a blue glowing orb from his fingers that grows in size the further it gets in the sky.

“Mahoraga!” Sukuna barks out with panicked rage, making the beast break every window and crack his surroundings as he immediately bursts out of that building to chase after Satoru’s blue technique.

You would think Satoru would chase after him to stop Mahoraga from getting in the way, but you end up gasping when Satoru shoots out a red orb too, and finally clues you in on what he’s planning to do.

He’s planning to expel his hollow technique…But not at his opponents, there’s no single target, the target is everything.

This plan can kill him too. In the same way, Yuki was killed by her own black hole.

“This better work,” you mutter and gnaw on your nail while you bounce your leg.

You can think of 3 different alternatives; one it kills Sukuna and Mahoraga at the same time but Satoru dies with them too. Two, none of them die and just get heavily wounded. Or three, this plan kills both Sukuna and Mahoraga and leaves your brother as the winner…

You want the latter.

Nevertheless, you watch Satoru get in the way of Mahoraga before it could reach blue. And the moment Mahoraga notices your brother, he blocks his face with his blade to prevent getting hit, thus letting Satoru quickly counter him by instead slamming his fist into Mahoraga’s chin.

All while that is processing though, Sukuna uses the shadows to appear behind his guardian, Mahoraga, and claps his hands together to point the tip of his fingers at Satoru’s red.

“He’s gonna hit it with piercing blood,” Choso murmurs under his breath.

You let out a deep breath, and feel your heart clench in your chest as you watch a blood arrow shoot towards red.

Satoru doesn’t seem bothered by the action, instead, he finds his way towards Sukuna and punches him across his torso.

“Too slow,” Sukuna says nonchalantly when he straightens up completely unbothered.

Once again Satoru passes him an unphased look and parts his lips to chant again. “Phase. Twilight. The eyes of prajñā.”

The blood arrow was redirected and hits blue, but following the incantations Satoru activated its output, so piercing blood is absorbed, letting you let out a sigh of relief. Albeit small, but you still sigh.

“Nine ropes,” Satoru starts to chant again, rising the way your heart already pounds.

“Polarized light. Crow and Shōmyō. The gap between within and without.”

Amid his chanting Yuta calls out your name before he interjects sincerely. “I apologize. If a burden like me were out there, he wouldn’t have done this.”

“You just wanted to help Satoru, it’s okay,” you assure him and blink to look back at the screen, catching the last words before the big explosion.

“Hollow technique: Purple.”

Your breath catches, and you squint your eyes as a blinding explosion goes off silently for the first few seconds before the stereos shake the room with the deafening blast that destroys the city with its unbelievable power, leaving nothing but rubble…and two bodies left standing.

Sukuna. And Satoru!

Mahoraga is gone, turned to nothing but dust, which turns out to be a fourth alternative you didn’t think about. A good alternative.

“Good job,” you whisper to your brother from your seat, and can’t help but share your proud smile.

This can lead to the end…

“An unlimited purple not bound by any specific target. It even hit me!” Satoru’s smug voice echoes as he walks out of a cloud of dust with smoke rising off the wounds he suffered because of the blasts.

“But sure enough, there’s a difference in damage,” Satoru goes on and comes to a stop in front of a limping Sukuna missing a part of his arm, and covered in blood, and fresh scrapes. “I guess my cursed energy pool is just that huge. Welp, all’s well that ends well! I totally crushed the improv with that remote purple don’tcha think?”

“Come on kill him already,” Choso mutters impatiently, making you lean towards him with a happy smile.

“It’s Gojo who regained his reverse cursed technique output through those black flashes,” Kusakabe breaks the stunned silence that filled the room. “Versus Sukuna with slowed healing, no Mahoraga, and an inability to do a lick of damage without amplification.”

“Satoru is just that great,” you finally admit with no urgency to keep it a secret so Satoru wouldn’t hear it and grow his grande ego.

“Does this mean…” Yuji trails off with disbelief as he watches the screen wide-eyed.

“Yeah,” Kusakabe says. “Gojo wins.”

He just needs to execute a final technique and he will win.

Just do it.

Satoru takes a step forward, and you catch a snowflake falling on the other side of the screen. The first snow of winter finally started.

Soon you can come home with Satoru, Choso, Yuji, Kirara, Hakari, and Satori, and you’ll be able to enjoy the snow; tea, or hot cocoa while you watch a movie and stay warm inside. Soon you can go home together.

You can’t help but rejoice at that thought and smile faintly to yourself.

All Satoru needs is a finishing move…

Your body eases at that relieving thought, and you draw out a deep breath and blink. Albeit, as soon as you blink suddenly a sharp whoosh of wind comes out of the stereo followed by the fulsome sound of flesh being slashed.

You fixate your eyes on a different screen and…suddenly it feels like the air is knocked out of your lungs. You abruptly freeze and your jaw drops as your eyes widen in horror.

Your surroundings vanish as your focus forces you to just stare dumbfoundedly at the top half of Satoru’s body sliding off the bottom half of his body, and hitting the floor with an awful thud that manages to disrupt your ability to hear anything.

However, what you see can’t be true, it’s not true. Your brother is not gushing blood out of his mouth on the ground. One of his arms isn’t ripped off him and on the ground across from him. He’s not lying still on the cold ground. That’s not him, it’s not real. It’s a cruel joke.

This isn’t real…

Yet no matter how much you want the screen to change to your brother ending this fight and winning, the image of Sukuna standing proudly over his lifeless body doesn’t change. So you squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head to wish for it to change back. You plead under your breath with unknowing tears rushing down your cheeks.

Choso stands in front of you and grabs your shoulders to try and aid in your distress, but you’re actually not aware of his touch, you can’t hear him repeatedly say your name as if he’s pleading for your life, you sit frozen pleading that none of this is true.

You want this to be a dream.

You want to go back. You don’t want to feel your heart breaking again. Not again. You want to go back to your family home, back when you were young because you were unaware of the anguish life had in store for you, because then Satoru still had his life ahead of him. You want to go back home…

“Please, please,” you repeat like a broken record.

Choso shakes you and finally breaks you away from the clutches of your numbing shock. You meet his gaze and see his soft and pretty brown eyes full of pity and anguish. Not for what just happened, but for you and your pain.

“Listen to me, my love, listen to me,” he murmurs and slides his hands up to grab your cheeks and try to talk you down so you can go on with the plan you have, but it’s at the feeling of his soft touch against your rigid body that you feel the sharp waves of your heart-shattering. You feel your entire being slowly wither as you realize what happened to the brother you love.

Death took him. Death took your home, your only older brother Satoru. The man who loved you when your family gave you the cold shoulder is gone. He’s not breathing no matter how long you watch in wait. He’s gone…and you can’t breathe now.

You grab at Choso’s arms for support as you gasp for air, but the weight of your anguish pushes you off your seat and knocks you down to your knees.

“Just look at me,” Choso tries to help you. He calls your name and tries to hold you up, but you slip from his hold and fall on your hands and knees to try and find a way to breathe from there.

But to no avail, you don’t feel the relief of a fresh breath running through your lungs, your mind repeats the sound of the deadly slash cutting through Satoru’s body. The image of his bleeding and lifeless body on the cold ground tortures you, sending waves of pain throughout your body that shoves you further into an abyss.

How can you be here again? First Suguru, Kiyoshi, the twins, Nanami, and Yuki.

How can you be here again?

You don’t want to feel grief's heavy shawl again. You don’t want to feel it again. You don’t want Satoru to be…gone.

You plead desperately again as you beg for a breath, leaving yourself unaware of your surroundings until Choso’s grasp startles you as he pulls you up, and pins your arms to your side.

You think he’s going to make you hold his gaze again and try to talk you down, but this time he pulls you against him and protectively wraps his arms around you to squeeze you against him with a tight force that washes you over with comfort.

So much in fact that you finally let yourself breathe as you cling onto him as if he’s life support.

“Choso,” your voice quivers.

Choso caresses the back of your head and presses a gentle kiss on the side of your head as he coos, “I know. I know. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into his back and dig your face in the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” you croak into his neck as your tears soak his flesh.

“It’s okay,” he tries to soothe you.

But you’re restless, you pull back and face him. Choso brings his hands up and cups your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” his whisper breaks. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

You grab his hands and shake your head. “No, no. Don’t say that. Please…don’t say that,” you beg with streaks of tears rushing down your face. “Please, Choso…you have to do something…please honey. Please.”

Choso swallows thickly and tears form in his eyes. Before he can only step on the shattered pieces of your heart you keep going as if trying to persuade him. “I can’t tell Satori, I can’t tell her someone else she loves is dead.”

Choso wipes your tears with his thumbs and presses his forehead against yours to talk to you like that because he knows this touch is comforting for you as much as it is for him.

“My love,” he murmurs and gently speaks your name with sadness clinging to his voice. Sadness and comfort.

Yet as much as he wants that to help, it’s no use. His voice registers in your mind, but bloody images of your brother's body flashes in your mind and it’s like getting slammed with that realization for the first time all over again.

This time though there’s no struggle to breathe, this time you don’t try to fight the truth before you. You know the truth, you feel it torturing you without mercy. This time as you slip your grasp from Choso, and drop to your hands and knees you let out a heartbroken wail that silences everyone and makes everyone be hit with another wave of anguish.

Hakari, Kirara, and Yuji see you shaking and sobbing, and the only person who can manage to say something is Hakari. Kirara is too stunned, and Yuji is also still processing what he just saw.

“Master,” Hakari calls out.

You press your lips together and swallow back a thick lump of stinging emotions before you meet Hakari’s stricken gaze. You want to say something, but you can’t find anything comforting to say. You want to tell him you’ll be okay, but that’s not true, so you can’t even form the words in your head. Tears escape you again as another wave of anguish strikes you.

“It’s not the end,” Hakari's words hit your ears.

You’re left speechless with his words repeating in your head and finding some resolve. But not enough, it threatens to slip away until Choso swoops in and grabs your cheeks to lift your head and face him.

He says your name in a gentle and soothing way that makes you melt in his grasp and cry more.

“I know you just want to be here and cry,” he says, “but we need you. We need you to be strong. I need you to be strong. I know it sounds impossible, but Hakari’s right, it's not the end. There’s still plans to see through. People need you to do your part. Do you hear me?”

You hold his gaze and don’t say anything, so he enforces himself and slides one hand down to place it over your heart like you did with him when you first met and you told him for the first time that he was human. You were the first person to tell him that, you were the first person to help him feel human.

Now he’s the first person to break through your grief.

“It hurts I know,” he whispers against you as he uses his other thumb to caress your cheek. “But I need you to fight.”

You blink repeatedly and slowly lay your hand over his hand that he has pressed against your beating heart.

“Fight for him,” he says words to try and comfort you and fuel your motivation in a way he knew how. “Fight for your brother. Avenge him. And let's finish what he started.”

You nod as the words slowly sink in.

“Stand up and fight. Stand up and help Okkotsu finally get rid of Noritoshi Kamo. Fight my love so you can home to your girl. For him, your brother Satoru Gojo.”

“And you.” You say hoarsely.

Choso blinks repeatedly in disbelief and for now he pushes away how flustered you make him to comfort you. “Hm. Get up and fight. You’re strong. You have a strong heart. So live on, we need you.”

That’s right, isn’t it?

You have a duty, plans to see through to bring an end to this horror. As much as you want to curl up and cry, you can’t, you have to do as Choso says. You have to fight.

You have to get up and kill Kenjaku so you can then kill that bastard Sukuna.

You will be his demise. You will be death. Again.

“Okay,” you mutter to Choso.

Choso lets out a deep breath and offers you a gentle smile before he presses a sweet and short kiss on your lips.

“Don’t leave me okay?” You plead more than you ask.

“Never,” he promises from the bottom of his beating heart, and seals that promise with another kiss before he helps you to your feet.

And the moment you get up Shoko softly calls your name, pulling your attention to her standing close, and getting welcomed with another wave of grief as you see her own in her eyes and the tears that pool within them

Nothing is said about what happened and who you lost, but you both know you share the same deep ache just by staring into each other's soul, so you seek comfort in each other's embrace.

“Yuta’s waiting for you, okay?” Shoko says and doesn’t verbally touch on the other matter, you can’t speak on it because you’ll fall deeper into the abyss, and this time she’ll be dragged with you. That’s why you share that grief with the embrace, and when you pull back you speechlessly share your condolences in between your gleaming gazes.

“You better come back,” she says as she grabs onto you with a fear of letting go. “Please.”

She’s lost just as much, making you the last person she has close to her heart.

“I will,” you assure Shoko. “I swear.”

Shoko lets out a deep sigh and nods softly before she lets you go, letting you walk to Hakari standing close by.

“I believe in you Kinji,” you share a bit more tenderly than you intended. You wanted to be motivational considering when you come back he’ll be fighting Uraume. But oh well you don’t regret sounding too affectionate even if you are around his friends. “You have luck, and most importantly strong will. Just don’t play stupid.”

Hakari scoffs and nudges your arm. “Never. Not in my game.”

You share a soft laugh before you offer him a tender smile. “I’m proud of you. I just need you to know that. I’m proud of you, and Kirara,” you also mention them and glance over at them with the same affectionate look. “Fight hard, the both of you. And most importantly stay alive or I will drag you back just to scold you.”

Kirara chuckles before they close the gap between you with an embrace.

You’re taken back by the gesture even if you’re used to it by them, but feeling them embrace you without needing to ask for one and with an immeasurable amount of affection always surprises you.

“I’ll make it back,” you assure them as you return their embrace. “Kenjaku will hardly be an obstacle if all goes according to plan.”

“We’ll be counting on your return, master,” they whisper before they mumble, “I’m sorry for what happened.”

Your hand stiffens for a moment, but you then realize that you can’t just freeze and break down at the mention of your brother. Not right now, so you let out a shaky breath and pull back to grab their shoulders. “Be careful Kira.”

You look over at Hakari and direct the same thing at him. “You be careful too.”

“Always,” he winks at you and shoots you a smirk.

You scoff with amusement before you back away and turn to face Choso and Yuji.

Now you know you don’t have time to spare, but you have to get your point across to Yuji, so before saying your goodbyes to Choso, you instead approach his brother who is caught by surprise as he didn’t expect you to get so close.

“Listen,” you don’t take time to warm up to him. “You have a gift, Yuji, and great strength. Don’t let Sukuna tell you otherwise. But,” you add seriously while you carefully grab one of his arms and pierce your serious gaze into him so he can engrave what you say in his soul. “With this power and strength might come a responsibility that will fall on your shoulders. I wouldn’t want it to be up to you, and I know Choso doesn’t want it either, but if it falls on you, listen to your heart,” you say and point at his chest. “And your mind. Don’t get discouraged, it might happen, but fight and listen and you’ll know what to do. And whatever you choose it will be okay, it doesn’t make you any less strong. Hm?”

Yuji’s eyes soften and he doesn’t respond, but he offers you a grateful smile as he nods in comprehension.

“Good,” you say and pat his shoulder. “Be careful out there all right?”

“You too,” he redirects sweetly, making you offer him an assuring smile before you turn away from him and approach Choso, choosing to immediately meet him with an embrace.

“Please be careful,” he tells you with worry that makes his voice quiver. “Please.”

Now that you’re in his arms you lose that confidence you held for the kids and shed tears. “Please live,” you press him too. “Please. I don’t want to raise these babies without you.”

Choso pulls back to grab your face and try and comfort you the best way he can even if he’s uncertain of the future. “I promise I will fight to stay by your side. I swear it. You will not raise the twins alone.”

You lean into his touch and gently grab his wrist. “I love you,” you murmur as you hold his soft brown eyes.

A smile spreads on his face and doesn’t hesitate to say it back. “I love you.”

You offer him a wobbly grin and lift your head off his hand to slide your hand over to grab the sides of his neck and assure him of something that’s been irritating him. “When I come back I will come with a piece of Noritoshi. I will avenge you, your brothers, and your mother.”

Without saying anything and making the unbelievable possible he falls deeper in love with you at the promise of revenge for him and those he deeply cherishes.

“I give you my word,” you press and manage to smirk. “Our kids will be able to live their lives without fearing your father.”

You will also get justice for the fact that Kenjaku took Suguru’s body, and killed Yuki, but you don’t tell Choso those parts. You keep it to yourself.

“You will find peace without him roaming this earth,” you finish making him grin.

“I love you,” he asserts proudly before he leans in and crashes his lips on yours to take you in for a passionate and lingering goodbye kiss.

You almost don’t intend to pull away, but you can’t stay here a moment longer, so even if it pains you, you pull back, leaving yourselves connected by a string of saliva that he wipes off.

“I’ll make my way back,” you add one more ounce of comfort before you leave him with a peck on his lips and then walk to Okkotsu patiently waiting for you.

Before you can reach him albeit, you dig your hand into your pocket and pull out your beloved Worm cursed spirit.

“Let’s get Suguru back,” you tell him confidently as he stretches himself so you cling him on your shoulders before you walk out with Okkotsu leading the way.

You’re an unlikely pair, but it’s what has to happen to kill Kenjaku.

——

*GOJO. WHERE? UNKNOWN*

A morbid silence set upon the group of men as Satoru finally really, deeply processed what happened, how the end of his life came to be.

And he knows that there isn’t anything that could’ve been done to avoid his fate, not when it came to someone like Sukuna, but…he’s dead now. Gone!

His mind is racing with that reality, and he badly wants to share it all to make sense of the whole thing, but he also already said all he needed to say with his friends, so he’s stuck just listening to his mind make sense of the craziness that is dying.

That is until one person comes to mind, someone he hasn’t talked about, someone that now weighs down on his heart; you.

Dying without regrets is something he wants to stick to, so he won’t regret dying and leaving you, but if he could change things he would make it so he wouldn’t have left you. After all, he promised he’d protect you, didn’t he? Now that he’s gone he can longer do that…

Just like he can no longer see Satori or the other kids you are going to have. He can no longer make up for lost time, or really make up for leaving that day 11 years ago. He can’t do anything with you anymore, he can only talk about you.

“So,” he rolls out casually and slowly glances over at Suguru. “Your wife…” he trails off and Suguru blinks before setting his gaze on Satoru and directing him a questioning look.

“What about her?” Suguru asks cautiously.

Satoru huffs as he nods slowly. “11 years huh?”

Suguru narrows his gaze and starts to predict where this could go. “Yeah—”

“Thanks for the invite to your wedding by the way,” Satoru just cuts him off, making Suguru huff. “I would’ve liked to be there to walk my sister down the aisle.”

“If it’s any consolation I didn’t get invited either,” Nanami interjects with a small smile.

“Me neither,” Haibara cuts in and jokes around, making all three men look at him and snicker before the focus is drifted back on the topic.

“Anyway—”

“Anyway,” Suguru cuts Satoru off now. “You know why you weren’t invited so please just drop it.”

Satoru parts his lips to argue, but there’s no point because Suguru is right…he wasn’t invited because you didn’t talk with him, you were still mad at him, so whatever, he’ll leave it be. Now albeit! Off to something else.

“Great kid, by the way, she really has spirit.”

Satoru smiles and at the same time he swallows thickly as he thinks about you having to tell Satori he’s gone; She’s going to be so sad…

When he looks over at Suguru however before he can feel anguish, he sees that Suguru is hunched over, with his head on his hand, and his face covered so it's impossible to see his reaction on the matter.

“Yeah,” Suguru whispers softly. “She takes after her mother.”

Satoru keeps looking at Suguru to wait for a small expression, but Suguru keeps his face hidden.

“You…did good raising her, she’s a good kid,” Satoru adds. “A lot nicer than her mother.”

Suguru finally raises his head and when Satoru’s eyes set on him he sees that there’s tears welled in his brown eyes. But even still, Suguru makes sure to correct him. “It wasn’t just me who raised her,” he says, and then says your name too as a reminder of who was also there to raise his beloved daughter. “We raised her together.”

“Well,” Satoru says softly. “You guys did good…I mean it surprised me that she knew about me.”

A smile finally breaks on Suguru’s features, a soft one filled with longing. “Thanks, and…she never wanted you to be a stranger to Satori. We would tell her stories and so would Nanami. Besides everything else, your sister never stopped loving you. When Satori was born…I would see how much she wanted you to be a part of her life again.”

The ache in Satoru's heart was already deep enough, and now hearing this?

He almost wants to cry but he doesn’t let himself do so, instead, he just smiles sadly at the ground.

“Did you know that Satori talks to me every night,” Suguru lets Satoru know with a hint of sorrow but also joy. “It doesn’t matter if she’s feeling really tired, or if it's past her bedtime, and she doesn’t care where she is, she always talks to me before she goes to bed…” Suguru pauses and drops his head again, this time the tears are obvious as Satoru watches them fall on the ground.

“She tells me about her day, what made her mad or sad. She tells me about what tooth she lost or if her mother was sad or mad. She…never forgets about me…”

“I know,” Satoru whispers as he keeps his eyes set on him. “My sister never lets her forget. And she tells me too—she would tell me too.”

Suguru swallows thickly and nods while his smile never leaves his face. “I try to visit her in her dreams. She always gets happy…it will never be the same as actually seeing her, but…for a moment it feels like I’m with her again….I miss her. I miss the both of them…” he whispers in a way that Satoru would’ve missed if he wasn’t so close.

Satoru would’ve also missed the tears that still fell from Suguru’s cheeks.

And seeing him so upset over something he can only long for now made him feel the need to comfort his best friend, but he just stays in his seat and feels bad without consoling his friend. Instead, he interjects with something else. In hopes that would help. “Well, your wife is married to a short man with blood manipulation.”

Behind him, Nanami shares a judgmental click of his tongue, not to be aimed at Choso or you, but it was for Satoru’s abrupt and thoughtless change in subject.

Yet Satoru doesn’t care, he goes on to complain. “I mean it wasn't even a year since you died and she married him.”

Suguru wipes the tears off his cheeks and slowly sits up with his eyes still averted. “Yes,” he says bluntly. “I know.”

Satoru leans forward abruptly. “Does that not make you mad? I mean, my sister, your wife is with another man. Whom she’s having babies with!”

Suguru shoots him a pointed glare. “You didn’t even like me and your sister together, Satoru, why do you care now?”

Satoru sputters and then scoffs and counters. “I was just looking out for you and her. You’re my best friend and she’s my sister, I didn’t want either of you to get hurt. I didn’t want to potentially face any of that trouble. And I care now because, I don’t know, it feels like she hasn’t processed you or what happened. Her fear of being alone let her get carried away before she could even process what happened.”

Suguru meets his gaze with a hardened glare and makes sure Satoru sees his frustration and disappointment for what he just said about you.

“You don’t really know your sister do you?” He retorts.

Satoru opens his mouth but Suguru interjects before he can say something stupid. “Your sister loves her children the way she wanted to be loved. She hates the way they taught her to hate. And she grieved me with every fiber of her being. I saw her, I would see her cry every night. I saw how depressed she got, how she hid it from the girls, from you. I saw her not value her life, she contemplated dying to ease the ache. So seeing her be happy, seeing someone make her smile is not something I’m mad about, I’m glad. All I want is for her to be happy, it sounds cliche, but it’s true because I love her, why would I want her to be miserable?”

Okay yeah, Satoru deserved that one. After all, he wants you to be happy too. He didn’t really see how hurt you were, maybe that’s why it was so easy to make assumptions and be mad for someone else.

He also never let himself see how much Suguru loved you, and how much you loved him. Sure running off with him required some kind of affection, but a part of him took you leaving with Suguru as some desperate move because you had no one else to go to. But once again he’s been proven wrong and learning again that you loved each other for real and a lot deeper than he ever considered.

However, there can’t be anything done about it now. Not even regret, so he decides to press Suguru one time. For the hell of it. “It doesn’t mean you can’t be jealous. You’re not even a little mad that your wife is with someone else?”

Suguru holds his gaze for a moment with a look of annoyance and disbelief at what was just said. However, he then drops his head and sighs. “Yes, I’m jealous that my wife is married to someone else…but it’s not like she can wait on someone that’s already dead. I can’t—”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” Satoru cuts him off smugly as he sits back in his seat. “Don’t bore me with sappy shit.”

“You’re annoying,” Suguru grumbles and turns away. “Besides you killed me hence taking me away from my wife and my daughter,” Suguru is not afraid to say, making Satoru snap his head towards Suguru and gasp.

Yet there’s nothing that can be said, it’s true. As much as it hurts him, it’s true so he takes it.

Instead, he adds one more thing filled with sorrow. “I really hurt her now didn’t I?”

Suguru shifts in his seat and nods. “She knows that nothing could’ve been done to prevent what happened, but yes, you really hurt her this time.”

Satoru scratches the back of his head and whispers under his breath. “Damn it.”

A/N- I hope you guys liked it!! And thanks to @adrlsbbdbd for giving me the idea to add a Suguru and Satoru convo!!

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

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