#This is ancient and it was meant to be crack but it makes me hurt jm sorry

[mononijikayu]

i wanna be yours — ryomen sukuna.

He paused, the words catching in his throat as if they were foreign to him. “I cannot let you go.” You felt your resolve waver under the weight of his admission, the intensity of his gaze consuming you. “Then what do you want from me, my lord?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. His lips curled into a dangerous smirk, though his eyes betrayed a deeper emotion. “Everything, little one.” he said simply. “Your body, your thoughts, your heart. I will have it all, and I will never share it with another. I want it to be mine.” Your lips trembled as your eyes bore his own. “You already know that I am yours, my lord.”

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, smut, r-18, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, parenthood, forced parenthood, hurt, physical touch, character death, sexual acts, mourning, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, toxic relationship, forced memory loss, coercion, explicit miscarriage, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of forced memory loss, depiction of coercion, depiction of explicit miscarriage, depiction of character death, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of parenthood, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, mention of sexual acts, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 19k words

NOTE: i thought about how concubine reader and sukuna have this really interesting relationship. a really interesting and painful relationship. and a lot of imbalances exist, with how sukuna has the most power. and he uses it to corrupt her. sukuna, no matter how much he loves concubine reader or make her happy, he will continue to hurt her and cause her grief. and next chapter, we will explore her response to it all, and how she rebels. and how sukuna concedes. in any case, thank you for reading!!! i love you all <3

TAGLIST: @after-laughter-come-tears, @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @sukioyakio;

main masterlist

the other woman masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

══════════════════

MANY YEARS OF MARRIAGE AND HE STILL HAS NOT FIGURED IT OUT. Ryomen Sukuna didn’t know how to put into words what churned within him when it came to you, his concubine.

You were his endless enigma wrapped in the finest of silks he could procure for you. You were a constant contradiction that pricked at the edges of his ego and lingered in the dark corners of his thoughts. 

He despised puzzles left unsolved, he hated things left undone. Yet you had become the one conundrum he could never crack. And for a long while, he had thought he would be content with that. But as the years went on, he felt maddened by it all. He didn’t know you well, not in the way he hoped. And that bothers him.

Do not get him wrong, he knew you. He knew you well enough that he had kept you around, that you were the only one that he’d ever let close, one that was never a servant. He knew every subtle glance, the cadence of your voice, the way your hands moved with grace even in the most mundane tasks.

He had memorized you like the pages of an ancient, weathered tome, and yet, for all the knowledge he’d gathered, there was something about you that evaded him. Something beyond the surface, just out of reach. It gnawed at him.

Was it fascination? Resentment? Or something far more dangerous—something he refused to name? He had thought, surely, the years would erode whatever this was. Time, after all, was the great equalizer, the eventual destroyer of all attachments. But you had not faded from his mind, nor had the mystery of you unraveled with the passage of time.

The more he let his thoughts drift to you, the more he realized it wasn’t just you he was trying to solve. It was what you made him feel, what it all meant. Was it a weakness? Power? The echo of something human he thought he had long buried? It infuriated him, how you lingered in his chest, a riddle left unanswered.

Even in the quiet hours, when no one else was watching, when his guard was down, he could never bring himself to face the truth. To admit that perhaps you were the one thing in his existence he couldn’t conquer, couldn’t master. And worse still, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

Ryomen Sukuna sat upon his throne, the flickering light of the torches casting long shadows across the stone walls. His scarlet eyes, sharp and unyielding, rested on you as you poured his drink with practiced grace.

The delicate clink of the vessel against the rim of his cup seems louder than it should have, reverberating in the silence. You didn’t look at him directly—never did—but he could sense the weight of your presence, a quiet power wrapped in submission.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight, little one.” he said, his voice a low rumble, laced with something unreadable. “A rarity.”

Your hands paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. “Am I to speak freely, my lord?” you asked softly, eyes fixed on the task before you.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “You always choose your words carefully, don’t you? Go on, then. Speak.”

You straightened, meeting his gaze for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The torchlight painted you in warm hues, highlighting the determined tilt of your chin. “I only remain quiet because I sense you prefer it that way. Am I mistaken?”

Sukuna leaned back, swirling the liquid in his cup. “You assume much, little one.”

“And yet, I am still here.” Your tone was calm, almost resigned, but it carried an edge he couldn’t ignore.

His smirk faded. There it was again. That inexplicable thing about you that unraveled his carefully constructed walls. You, with your unassuming words and quiet defiance, managed to disrupt him in ways he couldn’t name.

“Do you think you’ve won some favor with me with such a thing?” he asked, tilting his head as he studied you. “That your loyalty earns you a place above the others?”

“No.” Your answer was immediate, your gaze steady. “I know better than to believe I have power over you, my lord. But I do wonder—why keep me? If I am just another servant, just another fleeting presence in your endless existence, why let me linger?”

His jaw tightened. The audacity of your words would have earned anyone else a swift and brutal end, yet he let you speak. Why? Even he didn’t know.

“You have too many curiosities, little one.” He says, eyeing you. His red meeting your own orbs. “Ones that would be hard to satisfy a mortal like you.”

You smiled, laying your hand on your lap. “I have stayed, my lord. Do you not think I would have left long ago, had there been no satisfaction? Even with my curiosities.”

“You presume too much about that, little one.” he growled, though his tone lacked the usual venom. “You are here because I allow it. That is all you need to understand.”

“And yet……” you took a small step closer, a dangerous glint in your eyes. “You never send me away. Or let me go. When there are so many opportunities, don’t you think?”

Silence fell between you, thick with unspoken truths. Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, his sharp features betraying nothing of the chaos within. He wanted to scoff, to crush this insolence with a flick of his fingers, but the words stuck in his throat. 

You were right. He had kept you close, far closer than anyone else. And it wasn’t out of need or convenience—it was something deeper, something he didn’t dare acknowledge. It was something that he’d rather not touch upon. Not if he wants to dig a hole of possibilities he had no answers for.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, little one.” he warned, his voice a low growl.

“I only play the game you started, my lord.”

His scarlet eyes bored into yours, searching for something he couldn’t name. You stood your ground, unflinching, and for a moment, he thought he hated you for it. Hated how you made him feel… exposed. Mortal.

But instead of lashing out, he laughed. That same cold, bitter sound that echoed through the chamber. You were too familiar with it by now. “You’re a fool if you think this ends in your favor.”

“And you, my lord, are a fool if you think you’ll ever solve me. In the way you wish.” you replied, voice steady and soft, like a whisper cutting through the storm. “Fate does not work in that way.”

A sly grin appears on his lips. “Perhaps that is the case, little one. But I am no fool.”

You raised a brow, intrigued. “Oh, then what are you, my lord?”

“A husband who is intrigued about his wife.” He whispers back to you.

For a moment, your eyes blinked at his words.

Soon enough, laughter permeates through your lips.

He was fond of the sound, truthfully enough.

“You lie as easily as you breathe.” You whisper back to him, a soft ghostly smile on your lips. “My lord, I thought you only said the truth.”

He would not say anything else more, he thinks.

Ryomen Sukuna watched as you downed a cup of sake.

It was better to not dig through the mess, not at all.

══════════════════

YOU OPTED OUT OF THE SESSION IN THE AUDIENCE HALL TODAY. Sukuna had sent quite a word about it , but you knew he truly did not mind. You knew him too well, that words were more or less just what it would be.

He knew you needed a break, to breathe after such a hectic schedule with him. Not to mention that you took care of Chiharu and Chizuru at the same time all on your own, and managed Vermillion Hall by yourself. It was not easy. You needed the rest. And you were glad your husband knew that. 

The sun had already begun to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow across the Vermillion Hall. The soft hum of activity filled the air as the children were off in their lessons, their laughter and chatter drifting faintly through the hall’s open windows. The usually peaceful atmosphere was, for once, undisturbed, and yet, it felt different today. 

There was a presence in the hall that hadn't been there before—the presence of Ryomen Sukuna. But you hadn’t noticed yet. Not that he expected you to. He doesn’t visit often enough as of late to find him here. He was too dedicated to other pursuits. 

You were seated by the large window, a small wooden sewing table in front of you. The soft rustle of fabric and the rhythmic motion of your hands as you carefully worked on the intricate stitching of Sukuna's new haori made the room feel calm, despite the tension that always seemed to linger between you two. 

It wasn’t the first time you had sewn clothes for him and it wouldn’t be the last. You were the only one now left making his clothing for him. You knew what he had liked, so there was no one else who did that for him.

Everyone else’s hands were not to touch his clothing, unless to wash it. And now that his previous haori had been torn and tattered from battles, you found the need to make a new one for him.  

You were halfway through adding delicate embroidery when you heard the heavy footsteps. This is only when you heard that sound that you felt something was amiss. You didn’t look up immediately, your fingers still moving across the fabric, your mind focused on the delicate task in front of you.

You could feel his presence, though heavy and undeniable. Finally, after a moment of silence, you heard his voice, low and unhurried, as though he had no reason to be anything but calm.

"Still sewing clothes for me, are you, little one?" His voice carried a hint of amusement, though there was an undercurrent of something else in it, something almost like... curiosity?

You glanced up, meeting his gaze with a faint but questioning look. "It’s not like you’ll bother to do it yourself, my lord. You had taken the liberty of demoting all your sewing servants, other than me." you replied dryly, your eyes moving back to the thread as you continued to stitch. 

Sukuna snickers. “It is no fault of mine that they are inept at the task you do so well at. Though, I should think you would be resting more today, little one.”

"I had done all my tasks rather easily, my lord.” You tell him honestly, poking the needle through again. “And with such time, I figured it would be better for you to have something... new. I cannot keep mending that one you like so much forever."

Sukuna chuckled softly, his deep voice vibrating through the room. “You’re trying to make me more presentable, are you?” He stepped closer, his gaze following your hands as you worked. "It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? Today’s audiences have been dealt with, little one."

The tone in his voice wasn’t mocking, though—it wasn’t quite the usual arrogance you’d expect from him. Instead, it was something more playful, more curious. Something that hinted at an understanding that wasn’t quite there before. Your husband, you find, has been playful when he wants to be. But that often is a rarity done in good faith.

"Maybe so, my lord." you said softly, your fingers never pausing in their work. "But I thought it might be nice for a change. For the next audience Tis better dealt with now then left for next."

His gaze softened slightly at that, though he remained silent for a long moment, watching you as you worked, the fabric between your fingers so delicate, your focus so intense. For the first time in a long while, it seemed like Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.

“You’ve been quiet, little one.” he remarked after a moment, his voice not quite as sharp as it usually was. "Too quiet. What’s on your mind?"

You paused briefly, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking back at the haori in your lap. The question was unexpected, but not unwelcome. It felt like the first time in ages that he actually wanted to know. 

"Just thinking, my lord." you said, your voice low. "About everything, really. The way things have... changed."

His expression darkened a fraction, but the concern he tried to hide didn’t escape your notice. “Changed?” His gaze narrowed slightly as he stepped closer. “In what way?”

You took a breath, the words coming slower than you intended. "I think... I think I’ve spent so much time trying to keep everything together, trying to make sense of it. But sometimes, I don’t even know where I am anymore." 

You didn’t look up, but your voice carried a strange, vulnerable edge now—something raw that you hadn't meant to reveal. “I never asked for this. For you. For any of this. I think about that as I get older. And of course, I am content but I….”

Sukuna remained silent, and for once, you didn’t hear the usual sneer in his voice or the biting comment ready to spill from his lips. He was quiet, studying you with a strange intensity, as though searching for something he couldn’t quite understand.

"I know, little one." he said finally, his voice softer than usual, but still carrying that familiar weight. "It’s never been easy for you. I get that."

You finally looked up, meeting his gaze directly. There was no arrogance in his eyes now, no unreadable distance. Just something... real. "Do you?" you asked quietly, searching his expression. “Do you really? Because sometimes I feel like I’m just some… some afterthought to you. A thing you can’t quite get rid of, but can’t quite leave alone either.”

Sukuna blinked at your words, and though his face remained unreadable, there was a flicker of something—guilt, regret, maybe even something deeper passing through his scarlet eyes. He stepped closer, his usual intimidating presence now softened, as though in the presence of your vulnerability, he couldn’t bring himself to hold onto the same unyielding stance.

“I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, little one. Even gods are such creatures.” he said quietly, his voice lower now. “I don’t know how to make it right. But I’m not leaving. Nor shall I abandon or forsake you. You ought to know that by now, little one.”

You sighed, poking another hole onto the fabric. “You sent one of the concubines to the Cold Hall, my lord. To be abandoned till she dies.”

“For a fault of her own, harming another woman in the harem.” He shakes his head at you. “You have not done such a thing. I swear that it won't happen to you. Not in your whole life.”

“How is my lord so certain to promise—” You pricked your finger, causing you to groan. You quickly move the fabric away, to avoid the blood pouring onto the fabric. 

Sukuna sighs and crouches over to you, taking your hand onto his own big one. He takes the bleeding finger close to his lips and lets the taste of your metallic blood echo onto his tongue. Your blood has always been so sweet to Sukuna, so smooth and tender. It was honest blood. Blood which has never done any wrong against anyone or anything. 

Not even him, who has made you ever so miserable. You frowned at his act. But sooner or later, the blood isn’t pouring anymore. You take your hand off his own, muttering a small thank you as you continue to work on the haori, much more careful this time.

“You raised my child, you bore me a son. And you are close by my side at all times, doing as you are told. You won’t suffer such fate and this is proof.”

“But what if I…..”

He sighed, letting his hand rest upon your head. “You will not. For all your life, you will live well. Do not over think, little one. It shall cost more of your beauty.”

You could feel your cheeks flustered with warm scarlet. You cannot look at him, or he’ll see the extent of your reddened face.  “M–my lord, if I am pricked once more—”

His gaze softened as he stood next to you, watching the way your hands moved over the fabric with quiet concentration. “Shall I make a binding vow to you, little one? I swear to you, you would not suffer in such a way.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being honest or if this was just another of his strange ways of trying to explain himself. Sukuna was never one for soft words, never one to lay himself bare.

But there was something in the way he stood there, looking at you, something that told you he wasn’t just trying to placate you. He meant it—at least, in his own way.

You sighed, putting the needle down for a moment. “I don’t know what you want from me, my lord.” you muttered, your voice almost lost in the quiet of the room. “I don’t know what I want either.”

Sukuna didn’t answer immediately, instead watching you with a quiet intensity. His gaze softened, and after a long moment, he placed a hand on the edge of the table, his fingers just brushing the fabric of the haori.

“I can’t give you the answers you want, not in a way that would make you happy. Not in ways that would make it easier.” he said finally, his voice almost regretful. “But we will not part. I shall stand by you as you stand with me, little one. If that means anything to you.”

The words hung in the air between you two, and for a long time, neither of you spoke. The tension that had always existed between you both seemed to lessen, if only for a moment. Perhaps there was no grand gesture of reconciliation, no magic words that could undo the past. But for now, this quiet understanding was enough.

Sukuna finally took a step back, his usual air of control slowly creeping back. But the softness in his gaze remained. “Finish the haori, little one.” he said, his voice commanding, though not unkind. "I’ll wear it soon enough."

You nodded silently, and as he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a fleeting moment, whether things between the two of you might one day be different.

Whether Sukuna would ever truly change. Whether he could be more than who you know he already is. You purse your lips into a flat line, trying to focus on your stitches once more.

You would think about him for the whole night, you think to yourself.

You could not get him out of your mind for one second, even in bed.

But one thing’s for certain to you — your husband lies as much as he breathes.

Even if you love him, he will not love you in the way you want him to.

══════════════════

HE HAD SUMMONED YOU TO JOIN HIM FOR A DRINK. But it was quite obvious to you when you arrived that your husband was already far too deep into his drink already. You sighed, noticing a blue liquor.

Ah, the one Uraume prepares for him. This was the only alcohol that could get your husband drunk. He was immune to anything else. But this lets him feel human in his godly state. It makes him feel relieved. To be drunk on something even once in a while.

Sukuna's gaze lingered on you for a moment as you bowed. Everything about his expression was unreadable, yet there was something in his dark scarlet eyes. Something dangerous and raw. He raises his hand, letting you be at ease. You start to approach him with swift grace.

He hated how his thoughts betrayed him, wandering to places he had sworn to bury. Foolish. That’s what it was. Foolish and beneath him to feel this… guilt, this yearning that clawed at him like a curse more potent than any he could wield.

He had been alive far too long, seen far too much. He should have been immune to such petty human feelings by now. Desires, cravings…they were remnants of a man he had left behind when he ascended to godhood. 

And yet, when he thought of you, when his mind wandered to the softness of your body pressed against his, the warmth of that night you lay tangled together, he could feel something crack beneath his skin.

He thought he’d outgrown it, thought he’d buried whatever mortal part of him still dared to want. But it hadn’t stopped. It had only shifted, mutating into something darker, deeper.

His body betrayed him, aching with a hunger he despised. The memory of your touch, the way your smaller frame molded against his, haunted him in ways nothing else ever had.

You were a puzzle, you perhaps always will be to him. And that he could admit, was his  fleeting moment of weakness. He wanted more of you, a complete picture and now he couldn’t seem to erase that desire. He cannot quell his desires and he hates it. He despises himself over it. 

He remembered every detail of that night. The way your breaths hitched when his hands roamed over you, the softness of your skin beneath his calloused fingers. How you’d fit against him, fragile yet unyielding.

Somehow, you can tell that it was a stark contrast to his overwhelming presence. You were something too special, something he wants to taint and ruin, someone he wants to consume whole.

It was intoxicating, the memory of it. He remembers them without fail, even in a state like this. The way you surrendered without fear, how you looked at him as though he wasn’t a god or a monster, but just… a man. He hated that. Hated the vulnerability it pulled from him, the reminder that he was once human too.

Sukuna clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as if the pain could anchor him. He shouldn’t think of you this way, shouldn’t allow himself to feel this way.

But no matter how much he tried to suppress it, the truth clawed its way to the surface. He wanted you. Not just in the fleeting, carnal way he could dismiss. No, this was deeper.

And it infuriated him.

"Little one." he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. You turned to him, startled by the abruptness of his tone, but there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze.

“Yes, my lord?” you asked, your voice careful, cautious.

He rose from his throne, the sheer power of his presence making the air around you feel heavier. He took a step closer, towering over you, his dark eyes darkened by something primal. His hand reached out, rough fingers brushing against your cheek before he seemed to catch himself. He let it fall back to his side, jaw tightening.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, like the rumble of distant thunder.

You blinked, stunned by the admission. “My lord, I—”

"Silence, little one." he growled, his eyes narrowing. "Don’t speak unless I tell you to."

The command was sharp, but his hand trembled slightly before he curled it into a fist. He hated himself in that moment, hated how much power you had over him without even trying.

You were like a little doe, the way you looked at him. Almost so demure and helpless. And yet, you had the most power over him, now that Hiromi was dead. And he didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to admit that truth.

“I thought it had ended, little one.” he continued, more to himself than to you. “This… weakness. This need for something so fleeting. Yet here I am, craving you like a man, not a god. How pathetic.”

Your lips parted, but you said nothing, sensing that this moment was not yours to interrupt. Sukuna’s gaze dropped to the floor for a fraction of a second before returning to yours, molten gold locking with your wide eyes.

“Tell me, little one.” he commanded, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “Do you feel it too? Or am I the only one foolish enough to burn for something I can never truly have?”

The question hung heavy in the air, a challenge and a confession all at once. Your breath hitched as his words settled in, the weight of them pressing against you like his looming presence. Sukuna had never been one to lay himself bare, yet here he stood, his gaze cutting through you with the intensity of a man teetering on the edge of restraint.

You swallowed hard, unsure if it was bravery or recklessness that made you speak. “My lord, I…..” you began carefully, voice trembling but steady. You swallow the bile down your throat. “It would be a lie to say I haven’t thought of that night. To say I haven’t felt… something for you.”

His eyes darkened, the faintest flicker of something. Was it satisfaction, perhaps? Was it a desire which was crossing his face? He stepped closer, the space between you almost nonexistent. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his presence overwhelming.

“You have, then?” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. “You’ve thought of me… of us?”

“Yes, my lord….” you admitted, your heart pounding in your chest. “But I—”

“But what?” he interrupted, his tone sharp, his hand reaching up to grip your chin gently, forcing you to look at him. “You think I don’t see it in your eyes? The way you tremble when I’m near, yet you never pull away. You deny me nothing, yet you still hesitate to admit what you want.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, steadying yourself against the storm that was Sukuna. “I hesitate, my lord.” you said softly, your lips quivering. “Because I don’t know if what you want from me is real, or if I’m just another fleeting indulgence for you. A distraction.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly, his jaw clenching as if your words had struck a nerve. “Do you think I am a god who indulges in meaningless distractions?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet. “Do you think I would allow myself to feel this, to want—if it were something I could so easily discard, little one? Do you think of me that way?”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze once more. There was something raw in his expression, something vulnerable that he tried to mask with his usual arrogance. It was startling, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t know what you feel, my lord.” you whispered, your voice trembling now. “You are a god, my god. A force beyond comprehension. How could I ever understand what I mean to you, knowing how far away you are?”

Sukuna let out a low, bitter laugh, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You think too much, little one.” he said, his tone softer now, though his scarlet eyes remained intense. “I’ve spent centuries trying to rid myself of weakness, yet here you are, the one thing I cannot escape. You plague me, little one, and I despise it as much as I crave it.”

The confession sent a jolt through you, and before you could stop yourself, your hand reached up, lightly resting on his wrist. The contact seemed to startle him, his eyes narrowing as if to assess your boldness. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“You are mine, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “Whether you believe it or not, whether you understand it or not….you belong to me. And I—” He paused, the words catching in his throat as if they were foreign to him. “I cannot let you go.”

You felt your resolve waver under the weight of his admission, the intensity of his gaze consuming you. “Then what do you want from me, my lord?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curled into a dangerous smirk, though his eyes betrayed a deeper emotion. “Everything, little one.” he said simply. “Your body, your thoughts, your heart. I will have it all, and I will never share it with another. I want it to be mine.”

Your lips trembled as your eyes bore his own. “You already know that I am yours, my lord.”

The declaration was both a promise and a warning, and as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, you realized there was no escaping him. Not now. Not ever. He had killed and he had harmed. You do not take his threat lightly. You do not take his confession lightly.

Sukuna’s hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm and unyielding as he pulled you closer. His touch burned like fire, his fingers tangling in your hair as he forced you to look up at him. There was no hesitation in his movements, no softness in his gaze. The air between you was charged, thick with the weight of emotions neither of you dared to name.

“You drive me to madness, little one.” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you even understand what you’ve done to me?”

Before you could answer, his lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, stealing the breath from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle. Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t gentle. It was raw, primal, and overwhelming.

It was as if he was trying to claim you with every ounce of his being. His free arm snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his powerful frame, your smaller body dwarfed by his overwhelming presence.

You gasped against his mouth, the sheer intensity of him leaving you breathless. His kiss was fierce, filled with pent-up desire and frustration, a battle for dominance you knew you couldn’t win. His sharp teeth grazed your bottom lip, a warning and a tease all at once.

Your hands instinctively gripped his robes, desperate for something to anchor you as the world seemed to tilt. You felt his chest rumble against yours, a deep growl escaping him as if your touch only fueled his hunger.

When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just above yours, his breath hot and ragged. His scarlet eyes bore into yours, wild and unrestrained. “You are mine, little one.” he rasped, his voice rough with emotion. “Do you understand? No one else. Ever.”

You swallowed hard, your own breathing uneven as you tried to process the intensity of what had just happened. “I…”

Words failed you, your thoughts scrambled, but the look in his eyes demanded an answer. He wants what he wants, your husband. He was never coy with it. And that intimidated you. That burned you. And that made your heart beat, over and over.

“Yes, my lord.” you whispered finally, your voice trembling but resolute. “I’m yours. Always.”

A dangerous smile curved his lips, and his hold on you tightened. “Good.” he murmured, his voice dark and possessive. “Because I won’t let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

His lips descended on yours again, and this time, you didn’t resist. Instead, you gave yourself to him, surrendering to the storm that was Sukuna, knowing that there was no turning back

Sukuna didn’t stop. He couldn’t—no, he wouldn’t. The intensity of his desire had festered too long, clawing at him in the quiet moments, haunting him in the shadows. Now, with you in his grasp, his need consumed him entirely, and he refused to let anything hold him back.

His lips moved against yours with bruising force, his kiss deep and possessive, leaving no room for hesitation. His hands roamed your body, one gripping your waist as if to anchor you to him.

The other sliding up to cradle the back of your head. He tilted your face to deepen the kiss, his sharp teeth grazing your lips again, a feral growl rumbling in his chest.

You felt overwhelmed, every inch of your skin alight with his touch. His energy was raw and almost suffocating. Everything about it surged through you, leaving no part of you unaffected.

Despite his roughness, there was something deliberate in his actions, as if he were memorizing every curve, every shiver, every gasp you gave him. He broke the kiss just enough to look at you, his scarlet eyes darkened with unbridled hunger. His chest heaved as he fought to rein in the storm raging within him.

“You’re trembling, little one.” he muttered, his voice rough yet tinged with something almost tender. “Are you afraid?”

You hesitated, your lips swollen and breath shaky. “No, my lord.” you answered softly, your voice wavering. “Not afraid.”

His eyes narrowed, as if testing the truth of your words. “Then why do you shake?” he demanded, his thumb brushing along your jawline, a rare gentleness in the gesture that only made his intensity more suffocating. “Is it because of me? Because of what I make you feel?”

You nodded, unable to deny him even if you wanted to. “Yes, my lord.” you whispered, the confession slipping from your lips before you could think twice.

His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. It was pride, satisfaction, maybe even relief. His cheeks were red, flushed in the echoes of the drink.

“Good, little one.” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You should feel it. All of it. Because I intend to show you just how deeply I’ve burned for you.”

Before you could respond, Sukuna scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as though you weighed nothing. His hold on you was possessive, tightly locking you.

Every bit of his movements deliberate as he carried you toward the large bed at the far side of the chamber. The world seemed to blur around you, the air crackling with his power and your own anticipation.

He placed you down gently. It was an unexpected contrast to his earlier roughness but the way his hands lingered on your body betrayed the restraint he was barely holding onto. He loomed over you, his shadow swallowing you whole, his predatory gaze drinking in the sight of you beneath him.

“You don’t understand what you do to me, little one.” he said, his voice low and almost vulnerable, a confession meant only for you. “But tonight, you will. Tonight, you’ll feel it—the depth of my hunger, my desire. All of it.”

You shivered at his words, your heart racing as his hands found you again, pulling you closer to the god who had claimed you as his own. You wrapped your arms around him and let him do what he willed with you.

This is how you worshiped him, your god. You let him ruin you, you let him take it all away from you. No matter what, you’ll worship him. Even if it hurts you in the end.

══════════════════

IT WAS BITTER TO FEEL THIS IN THE MORNING. Ryomen Sukuna’s shoulders slumped as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand cradling his forehead as though it could ease the storm brewing within him.

The room was dimly lit, the morning sun barely filtering through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows that seemed to mirror his turmoil. He glanced back at you, your form barely stirring under the silk sheets, a picture of innocence amidst the chaos he had wrought.

The guilt clawed at him like a relentless beast, tearing into the very essence of him. He had told himself countless times before that he was beyond redemption, that the sins of his godhood were unerasable.

Yet, every time he saw you lying beside him, your face softened by the vulnerability of sleep, the weight of his choices bore down on him tenfold. How innocent you looked. Almost like the most ethereal creature born to man.

And he's hurting you. He's hurt you. And he knew, it would break you. He'd done it before. He knew that. Sukuna's hands traced against his tightening jaw. How could he have done this to you?

He thought of Hiromi again, the one constant ghost that haunted him. Her face was as vivid in his mind as it had been centuries ago. The way she had looked at him with a love that had defied his monstrous nature was a memory he could never shake.

He had betrayed her over and over again, and yet her phantom presence lingered, a painful reminder of what he had lost and what he continued to desecrate.

She deserved better. And now, so do you.

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. No matter how much he wanted to justify his actions, he couldn’t escape the truth: he was selfish. He was a god who took what he wanted, who carved his desires into the world without regard for the aftermath.

But with you, it felt different. He wasn’t just stealing your body; he was robbing you of your peace, your freedom. You were becoming a reflection of the torment that plagued him, and he hated himself for it.

Uraume’s earlier hesitation gnawed at him, too. They had served him faithfully for centuries, never questioning his orders. But the way their eyes lingered on you this morning, filled with something bordering on pity, unsettled him. Even they, loyal to a fault, could see the weight of his selfishness pressing down on you.

As the door closed softly behind Uraume, Sukuna let out a low, frustrated groan. His hand reached out once more, hovering just above your sleeping form, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch you. The memory of your soft breaths against his skin, the warmth of your body entwined with his, lingered, mocking him. He craved it, and yet he despised himself for it.

This is for the best, he repeated to himself, though the mantra felt like ash in his mouth. You’ll be free. You’ll forget me, forget this moment and this pain will fade.

But as he stared at you, your peaceful expression threatening to break the last vestiges of his resolve, doubt crept in. Could he truly let you go, even if it meant erasing everything you shared? Was it really for you—or was it just another way to escape his guilt, to absolve himself of the burden of your misery?

Sukuna clenched his teeth, the internal battle raging louder than ever. His fingers twitched as he fought the urge to wake you, to hear your voice, to feel your touch just one more time.

He knew it was selfish, but the thought of you looking at him with those same accusing eyes, those eyes that didn’t understand why he had to do this—that was unbearable.

The door creaked open, and Uraume entered silently, a small vial in their hands. They approached cautiously, bowing low as they held it out to him. Sukuna took it without a word, his fingers tightening around the glass. The liquid inside glimmered faintly, deceptively harmless, yet it carried the power to wipe away everything.

Uraume glanced at you again, their expression unreadable, before speaking softly. “Are you certain, my lord?”

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes flicked to them, sharp and unyielding, though his voice betrayed a hint of hesitation. “Do not question me, Uraume.”

They bowed deeply once more, retreating without another word. The door clicked shut, leaving Sukuna alone with you again. He turned the vial over in his hands, the faint clink of the liquid inside echoing in the silent chamber. His gaze drifted back to you, his expression torn, raw in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in centuries.

“I am a fool.” he muttered under his breath, his voice bitter. “A selfish, wretched fool.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the vial dangling loosely between his fingers. The weight of the decision crushed him, every fiber of his being warring against itself. To let you forget would be to set you free, but it would also mean losing the only thing that had made him feel alive in eons. 

To let you remember would be to keep you bound to him, drowning alongside him in his endless torment. Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. He didn’t know what he hated more—the thought of losing you or the thought of keeping you. 

He was willing to take the risk of it all, if he was being honest.

He would rather let a lie continue, memories fade away forever;

He would rather do all the nasty things in this world, than lose you.

Everything else was better than finding you drowning with him like this.

══════════════════

THE MOMENT YOU WOKE UP, YOU REMEMBERED NOTHING. The memory of that night was elusive, like a fleeting shadow slipping between the cracks of your mind. You tried to recall it all from last night. Why did you end up taking your slumber in Heaven’s Hall instead of Vermillion Hall? Why had you fallen so sore and exhausted? What happened last night? 

You had pushed yourself to remember each and every time. But with all those attempts to do so left you with nothing but vague impressions. Perhaps you had been too tired to think clearly. Perhaps it wasn’t worth remembering. You had probably gotten so drunk and blacked out. Oh no, had you caused a scene? You were horrified about it all. 

You had hoped that it was going to come back to you once you have rested, once you had groomed yourself out of the mess of alcohol’s scent. Still, something about it lingered, a faint unease that you couldn’t quite place. You couldn’t piece it together and that makes you mad at yourself. How could you let this happen? How could you not remember anything?

Still, life moves forward. Your days carried on with a semblance of normalcy. The servants bustled about, tending to their endless duties, their chatter filling the quiet corners of the palace. You found comfort in routine, spending your hours with Chiharu and Chizuru, who had become your closest companions. 

Chiharu’s bright laughter and Chizuru’s sharp sense of humor made the days easier, their presence grounding you in a way Sukuna never had. In some ways, your joy comes from being their mother more than being Sukuna’s wife. Perhaps you had noticed that more and more now that your husband was too busy ignoring you again.

Yet, despite your efforts to immerse yourself in the calm, Ryomen Sukuna’s absence hung over you like a shadow. He had always been a looming presence in your life—commanding, unpredictable, impossible to ignore. But now, it was as if he had disappeared entirely. He no longer sought you out, no longer invaded your space with his suffocating intensity.

At first, you were relieved. His distance gave you a peace you hadn’t known in years. You could breathe without the weight of his gaze, could think without the distraction of his proximity. You liked the quiet. You needed it.

But as the days turned into weeks, you began to notice the emptiness his absence left behind. It wasn’t longing, not in the way you might have expected. It was something else; a nagging curiosity, an itch in the back of your mind that refused to be ignored.

Why had he stopped?

You replayed your last interactions with him over and over, searching for clues. Had you said something to offend him? Have you done something wrong? Or was this simply another one of his whims, a fleeting disinterest that would fade as quickly as it had come?

One afternoon, as you sat in the garden with Chiharu and Chizuru, the questions weighed heavier than usual. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of insects filled the air, a perfect backdrop for the idle conversation that flowed between your companions.

“The plum blossoms are so beautiful this year, mother.” Chiharu said, her voice bright with excitement. She leaned forward, her fingers brushing the delicate petals of a nearby branch. “Don’t you think so?”

“They’re the same every year, nee–sama.” Chizuru replied, rolling his eyes with a teasing smile. “You act as if it’s your first time seeing them.”

Chiharu pouted at her younger brother. “Well, maybe you’re just too jaded to appreciate them anymore, little brother!”

“Nee-sama, take that back!

“No, I won’t!”

Their banter usually brought a smile to your face, but today, their words barely registered. Your gaze drifted to the distant silhouette of Heaven’s Hall, its grandeur standing in stark contrast to the serenity of the garden. You couldn’t shake the feeling that it held answers to the questions swirling in your mind.

“Are you all right, mother?” Chiharu’s voice broke through your thoughts, drawing your attention back to her concerned expression. “You seem… distracted.”

You forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just tired, I suppose.”

Chizuru narrowed his eyes, his sharp gaze cutting through your facade. He looked almost like his father at that moment.  “Tired, or thinking about something you don’t want to say, mother?”

You shook your head, brushing off her words with a light laugh. “Nothing worth mentioning, my little love. Really.”

But as the conversation resumed, your thoughts wandered once more. Later, as you walked back to your quarters alone, your steps slowed as you neared Heaven’s Hall. The towering structure loomed ahead, its marble pillars catching the fading light of the setting sun.

You stopped, your gaze lingering on the grand doors. Something about it unsettled you, yet it also pulled at you, as if it held the answers you sought. You could almost hear the faint echo of footsteps, the ghost of something forgotten stirring in the corners of your mind.

Your hand twitched at your side, a part of you tempted to step inside, to confront whatever it was that refused to let you go. But you hesitated, the weight of uncertainty holding you back.

With a shake of your head, you turned away, forcing your feet to carry you toward Vermillion Hall. It was better not to know, you told yourself. Sukuna’s silence was a gift, a reprieve from his consuming presence. You weren’t foolish enough to disrupt it.

And yet, as the days stretched on, the questions only grew louder, pressing against your thoughts with an intensity you couldn’t ignore. What had happened that night? Why had everything changed so suddenly?

Most of all, why did it feel like Sukuna’s absence was not just a relief, but a mystery begging to be unraveled?

The day had passed uneventfully, filled with the usual duties at the main temple. You had grown accustomed to these quiet, almost meditative tasks: managing the offerings, overseeing the attendants, ensuring everything ran smoothly.

It was a peaceful life, one that was slowly allowing you to forget the intensity of the emotions that once surrounded Sukuna.

But today, the quiet seemed more oppressive than comforting, the silence pressing in around you like a weight. The questions still clung to the back of your mind, refusing to be silenced.

After completing your tasks, you found yourself seeking out Uraume. They were a quiet figure, always observing, always present but rarely speaking. Perhaps they could provide some insight into the strange distance Sukuna had placed between you.

They had been in his service long enough to know when something was amiss, and their loyalty to him was unwavering. Surely, if anyone knew what had happened, it would be Uraume.

You found them in a quiet hallway, their eyes momentarily lifting from the scroll they were reading as they noticed you approaching. Their expression remained neutral, but there was an unreadable glint in their eyes.

“Uraume.” you started, keeping your voice even. “I wanted to ask you about something. Something… personal.”

Uraume tilted their head slightly, studying you. They were always cautious around you, as though they knew that even the slightest change in your tone could signal a question they didn’t want to answer.

"What is it you wish to know, my lady?" they asked carefully, their voice soft but calculated.

You hesitated, unsure how to approach the subject without making it too obvious. But there was no time for half-measures now. You needed to know.

“That night… in Heaven’s Hall. I don’t remember much. But I know something happened. Between me and my lord. I need to understand. I need help to remember. So, if you would….please help me regain—”

Uraume's gaze shifted, their eyes briefly flicking away. For a moment, you wondered if they would say anything at all. But then they met your gaze again, a small frown tugging at the corners of their mouth. 

"My lord’s affairs are not for me to discuss with others, my lady." they replied, their tone so measured it almost felt rehearsed. "I do not know what you speak of."

The response stung, more than you expected. It wasn’t just the refusal to answer; it was the certainty in their voice, the unyielding loyalty that seemed to close off any hope of learning the truth. You swallowed the frustration rising in your chest, trying to push it back, but it simmered nonetheless.

"Uraume, I—" you began, but they had already turned their gaze away, as though the conversation was over. 

They bowed slightly, the gesture polite but distant. "If that is all, my lady, I have matters to attend to."

Your chest tightened as they made to leave, and for a moment, you considered pressing further. But something told you it would be futile. Uraume was loyal to Sukuna above all else, and their silence wasn’t accidental—it was a guard, a wall you couldn’t break. You cannot expect someone like them to choose you over their master.

Feeling the weight of your unanswered questions settle heavier on you, you turned and walked away, your thoughts swirling with a mix of irritation and confusion. The frustration you’d been pushing down surged to the surface, bubbling up in a sharp, bitter wave.

As you rounded a corner, you caught a glimpse of something that made your heart skip a beat.

From a distance, near the large pillars that lined the edge of the courtyard, you saw him. 

Ryomen Sukuna, with his dark eyes boring into your figure.

Your lord husband was watching you, with such focus.

His gaze was steady, his scarlet eyes locked onto you with an intensity that was unmistakable. There was no mistaking the weight of it, even from a distance. The way his eyes pinned you in place, as if he could see through every thought, every feeling you were trying to hide.

You stopped in your tracks. For a split second, it felt as if time slowed, the space between you and him stretching. Your breath caught in your throat as you instinctively felt the pull of his gaze, the silent command it carried. It was as if he were drawing you in, pulling you closer without saying a word.

But you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t approach him—not when everything felt so… unfinished, so raw. The frustration from your encounter with Uraume flared inside you, and the last thing you wanted was to face Sukuna with that vulnerability hanging over you. Not when he seemed to be watching you with that same detached, unreadable expression.

You didn’t wait a second longer. You turned quickly, your steps brisk as you made your way down the hall, away from his gaze, away from whatever strange pull he had over you. Your heart raced, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You had to leave before you did something foolish.

But even as you hurried down the hall, you couldn’t escape the feeling that Sukuna’s eyes never left your back.

══════════════════

RYOMEN SUKUNA CAN’T HELP IT. The smell of you that remained on this silk handkerchief was powerful. He can’t stop. Not right now. Not at this moment. The silken fabric glides over Sukuna’s fingertips, its delicate touch igniting a shiver that travels through him, a contrast to the hard lines of his frame. 

The room feels smaller, darker, as he leans into the sensation, pressing the silk to his face and inhaling slowly. The scent is intoxicating, carrying the essence of you. Something warm, elusive, and utterly tormenting. His dark scarlet eyes flutter shut as a sigh parts his lips, betraying the barrier he usually holds so tightly.

Every breath feels heavier, resonating with the silent thrum beneath his skin, a rhythm that’s more than just desire. Everything about it was a pull that shakes his control. He drags the fabric down the line of his jaw, its whisper against his skin making his pulse quicken. 

He could feel the closeness and yet distance of you driving him deeper into the edge of yearning. His own touch is rougher now, less restrained as he presses the silk to the hollow of his throat, feeling the heat rise within him, warmth spreading like a slow burn.

A groan escapes, low and gravelly, as if torn from the depths of him, echoing in the silence. The sensation of his hands moving, the silk brushing over his chest and further, turns into a private ritual of surrender.

Each sweep of the fabric sparks against nerves like embers. The ghostly presence of you envelops him, the way you would breathe against his skin, the way your fingertips would linger with a feather-light tease.

The complexity of it all is the very reason he won’t dare cross the distance between you, why this is the only way he allows himself to know the softness you carry. It’s both bliss and torment, this delicate line he walks, trembling under the weight of the scent and the way it melds into the heat of his own breath. 

His movements become slower, more deliberate, savoring every moment until there’s nothing left but the ragged edge of satisfaction mixed with the stark silence of solitude. His mind swirls with the thought of you, laid out beneath him, your skin flushed and breath coming in soft, shuddering gasps. 

"My lord….my Sukuna." you would whisper, voice low and dripping with need, eyes wide and filled with trust and anticipation. The sound of your voice in his imagination alone makes him clench his jaw, his breath catching as heat unfurls within him.

“Say it again, little one.” he imagines himself growling, his tone both a command and a plea. His hand moves, firm and deliberate, stroking along his length as he pictures the way you’d obey, the way you’d bite your lip before moaning his name once more, the sound of it desperate and broken.

“Please, my lord.” your voice echoes in his head, needy and soft. 

The thought drives him to the brink, his body responding to the phantom sound as if you were really there. The groan that slips from his lips is deep, guttural, filling the dark room. His hips bucked against his own touch, chasing the sensation, needing it, needing you.

"Look at me. Keep your eyes on me. Only me." he imagines saying, the rasp in his voice trembling at the edge of restraint. 

He pictures your eyes locking onto his, the way they’d cloud over as he takes you apart piece by piece. His pace quickens, hand swirling tighter as he lets himself fall further into the fantasy, into the imagined warmth of your skin against his, the velvet feel of your touch.

“My lord—oh, Sukuna!” you’d moan, this time louder, the way he likes. His muscles tense as he shudders, everything building to that blinding point of no return. 

The room falls silent but for the sound of his own gasps, as the pleasure crashes over him, leaving only the thrum of his heartbeat and the haunting ache of wanting more than this moment, more than just shadows and longing.

Sukuna’s breath comes in short, ragged bursts as his hips move faster, instinct guiding his hand as he chases the release that teeters just out of reach. The image of you beneath him, eyes glassy and lips swollen, clings to his mind with fierce clarity. 

He can almost feel the way your body would shudder, the way you'd gasp and cling to him, the sensation of being deep within you as you take him, body trembling and surrendering completely. The tension in him coils tighter, the thought of you so full of him that he can see it in the way your body arches, pressing against him, drawing him deeper. 

“Take it all, little one. Take all of me. Please. Please—oh…..” he imagines growling, the dark intensity of the command vibrating through the silence.

His hand moves with desperation, the slick glide mimicking the fantasy in his mind, where every breath from you is a soft plea and every moan is edged with that delicious note of submission that drives him wild.

The imagined feel of your warmth, of your walls tightening around him, pushes him over the edge. His body tenses, muscles rigid as the wave crashes through him, a guttural groan spilling from his lips, raw and deep.

Pleasure surges, blinding and consuming, leaving him breathless and sprawled in the silence that follows, the echoes of his need fading into the stillness of the room.

When the tremors subside, he opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, chest heaving. The room feels emptier now, haunted by the echoes of your phantom touch and the aching reminder that you’re not here.

The need has been sated for now, but the longing, that ever-present hunger for you, remains unsatisfied, gnawing at him with a dark, insatiable hunger.

He looks down at the silk fabric, occupied by his fluids.

Sukuna felt his lips tighten at the sight of it, so full of him.

He ruined you, he keeps ruining you — and he would not stop.

Ryomen Sukuna stood up, and looks at the potion.

He could not take it, he could not take that guilt.

His hands takes it brashly towards his lips and drank.

Ryomen Sukuna wants to forget how he hurt you.

══════════════════

YOU MAKE HASTE TO GET READY. Sukuna’s summons arrives as a simple, imperious command, and yet it sends a thrill down your spine. You looked at Uraume and merely nodded. Your husband was that sort of man. He only wishes for you when he ends up at the end of his wits. But you cannot say much about it. You ought not to.

It’s been quite a few weeks gone and past since the two of you sat together without the press of others’ watchful eyes or the weight of duties. And because of that, things would be different between the two of you, well at least until that awkward distance disappears with some comfort with some time spent together.

When you enter the grand dining hall, he’s already seated, the firelight casting a warm glow over his sharp features, softening the edge of his usual scowl. His crimson eyes lift to meet yours, something unreadable flickering behind them before he gives a subtle nod.

“Sit, little one.” he says, and though the tone is clipped, there’s a trace of something gentler woven beneath. 

You take your place across from him, and a faint smile tugs at your lips as the first drink of sake is poured for you.  Another bountiful pour of special drink for him.

It had taken some time for tongues to become loose. The silence between you is not strained but filled with anticipation, as if the weeks apart have made every unspoken word hum with importance.

The conversation unfolds slowly, naturally. The tension in his shoulders loosens as he sips from his cup, scarlet eyes softening when you speak of your children. Everything about your children brought the two of you closer. That's how it was.

You both talked abotu everything. Their laughter, their small victories at Jujutsu, the way they remind you of him in ways both stubborn and tender. Chizuru had finally learned how to control his cursed energy. Chiharu had discovered a new technique of her own, defeating her mentor. 

Your husband listens, occasionally offering a rare chuckle or a subtle smirk, and you realize just how much you missed this: the shared warmth, the unguarded moments when he’s more than the king, more than the conqueror. He perhaps did not love you. But you wanted his comfort, his warmth. In some ways, you wanted to be his. 

Not in ownership, no. But to….to have been cared for in some way by him. Of course, it would not be close to his feelings for Ryomen Hiromi. You had long accepted that. Still, you wanted warmth from him.

You wanted to carve your way through his heart, and let yourself have a home in it. At least what was left. Yet, you would never say that out loud. It was not your place. It never has been.

“Do you remember when Chiharu first tried to use her powers?” you ask, laughter bubbling in your voice. Sukuna’s lips quirk up at the memory, a shadow of pride crossing his face.

“The girl was quite fearless, I admit.” he replies, a hint of admiration in his voice. “But she still needs some work.”

You smiled. “My lord, I am certain you can find that Chiharu is one to be proud of. The work has paid off.”

“Hm. I suppose it has.” He says to you, his eyes tender. “But I cannot take the credit.”

“Nor can I, my lord.” You whisper back to him, a small smile on your lips. “I am not her only parent.”

He shakes his head. “No, no. To her, little one? You are the only one that matters.”

Everything from then seems to shrink around the two of you, the space intimate and alive with a marriage lived in many years and many dimensions — such of which the world will never know or be privy to. No. This belongs only to the two of you. No one else.

As the evening deepens, the wine flows more freely, and the conversation shifts, softening at the edges. Sukuna leans forward, his eyes catching the flicker of firelight. Your husband was studying you with a gaze that pierces through the veil of time and distance.

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are, of how his fingers drum lightly on the table, mere inches from yours. He couldn't stop, looking at you. Yearning for warmth that only you could provide.

Without thinking, you close the gap. Your hand brushes his, and before you can second-guess, you lean forward and press your lips to his. The kiss is soft at first, hesitant, as if testing the waters of familiarity, but he responds almost immediately. 

His hand moves to cup the back of your neck, deepening the kiss with a hunger that’s been banked too long. The room falls away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in the heat and urgency of reconnection, mouths moving with the desperation of lovers long apart.

When you pull back, both breathless, his eyes search yours, softer now, vulnerable in a way that’s rare and precious.

“It’s been too long, little one.” he murmurs, voice rough but honest, and you nod, a smile curving your lips as you press your forehead to his, savoring the moment and the promise of more to come.

The silence stretches between you, but it’s charged, buzzing with an unspoken need. The kiss lingers in the air, the taste of him still warm on your lips. There is no more talking now, only the thrum of anticipation as Sukuna’s eyes, deep and darkened with desire, lock onto yours. 

His hand tightens at the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his mouth crashes against yours again, fiercer this time. The room is awash in the scarlet glow of the fire, shadows dancing as if to the rhythm of your heartbeats.

Your hands find their way to his chest, fingers splaying over the hard muscle beneath his robes as you feel his heart pound beneath your touch. He shifts, rising from his chair with a graceful power that makes your breath catch.

In one swift movement, he pulls you up, the table pushed aside as if it were an afterthought, and suddenly, you're against him, your body pressed against the solid heat of his form.

Sukuna’s lips trail down your jaw to the pulse at your neck, teeth grazing as his breath comes hot against your skin. You gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer, wordlessly urging him on.

His hands roam, one sliding down your back, pressing your hips into his, while the other explores the curve of your waist, anchoring you as if afraid to let go.

Your senses blur; the feeling of his tongue tracing along the line of your collarbone sends shivers down your spine, and you arch into him, needing more. The sound of your breathless moans, mingled with the quiet growl he makes against your skin, fills the room. 

Sukuna lifts you easily, his strength effortless as he sets you on the edge of the table, stepping between your legs and pressing into you until there’s nothing but heat and the throb of shared longing.

Your eyes meet, and for a moment, the intensity softens. His thumb brushes your cheek, a surprising gentleness in the midst of the fervor, and then his lips are on yours again.

Over and over, he pushed forward with wanton desire. His lips wanted more. Tasting, claiming, as his hands slide lower, pulling you closer, drawing a shiver of pleasure that melts the last traces of restraint.

The world around you fades to nothing but the sensation of him, the rush of your bodies entwined in a dance that is both savage and intimate. Everything is raw, animalistic, as if the very air crackles with the weight of longing that has built up over the weeks apart. 

Ryomen Sukuna’s grip on you is commanding, pulling you closer, pressing you against him with a desperate need that makes you gasp, your body trembling in response.

The slick warmth of his skin against yours is intoxicating, a heady mixture of heat and urgency that makes it feel like there’s no time to waste. His lips are on you again, claiming you with a hunger that mirrors the way his body moves against yours.

Each thrust, each slow drag of his hips, drives deeper, the pressure building between you until it's unbearable. You can feel the pulse in his veins, the steady throb of him that echoes in your own body, matching the rhythm of your heart as it races wildly.

Tears slip from the corners of your eyes, but they’re not from pain, no. They’re from something deeper, something more overwhelming. The vulnerability of the moment, the overwhelming sensation of him taking you, claiming you fully, fills you with an emotion that crashes over you like a wave. 

Your breath hitches as you bite down on your lip, trying to hold back the rush of feelings threatening to break free. But Sukuna’s groan, low and almost animalistic, makes your resolve shatter, and you let go, surrendering completely to the pleasure, to the connection that binds you to him.

His body throbs with each movement, the pulse of his veins like a living thing inside you, the rhythm of it so steady and consuming that it feels as if you’re both part of the same beating heart. 

The force of it, the heat and pressure, makes you feel like you’re coming apart at the seams, but in the best way, as if every inch of you is being remade, redefined by his presence, by the way he fills you completely. There’s nothing but him now, no walls, no distance, just the two of you locked together in a way that feels timeless, primal.

You feel whole with him, in a way you’ve never felt before. The empty spaces that have haunted you, the ones you couldn’t even name; all of it seems to vanish in the intensity of the moment. How could it not, when he rules you in everything, body, heart and soul?

His body is a fierce warmth that wraps around you, grounding you, making you feel like you’ve always belonged to him, and he to you. It’s a feeling that is so deep, so consuming, that it transcends the physical, filling you with a sense of completeness that makes the rest of the world irrelevant.

The sound of his breath, deep and erratic, mingles with the rhythm of your own, and you’re both lost in the storm you’ve created. There are no words anymore, just the quiet, rhythmic echo of your bodies moving together, caught in the tide of sensation that threatens to drown you both.

And in the heart of it all, as you feel him throb inside you, a whisper of truth cuts through the haze: You are his, and he is yours, bound together in this moment of raw, unyielding connection. Nothing else can compare. And for a moment, Ryomen Sukuna had thought about it too. 

══════════════════

THE POTION DIDN'T WORK FOR LONG. He remembered everything. All of it. And he thinks he felt sick. Sick to the core. He hated it. He hated himself. He knew he was a cruel man, a foolish man. How could he do that? How could he do that to you?

Everything was wrong about him. And you deserved more than him. It was a continual rinse and repeat. The cycle was suffocating, each time growing more suffused with an unspoken tension that neither of you could escape. 

Ryomen Sukuna, ever the stoic, had felt that sharp pang of guilt again. It always caught him when he least expected it, the ghost of an emotion he tried so hard to suppress. The way you looked at him was always with eyes full of tenderness, full of trust. And everything about it had haunted him in those quiet moments. 

But guilt was a weakness, a human frailty that did not belong to him. He had learned to bury it, to lock it away with all the other feelings he refused to confront. And so, once again, the weight of that emotion was swallowed by the darkness he carried within himself, and he moved on.

You, on the other hand, were trapped in a cycle of confusion. The potion was seamless, subtle in its potency. One moment, you were wrapped in a night of passion, tangled with him in a world that felt more real than anything else. 

But the next, everything was gone. No memory of his touch, of the way he had made you feel; no trace of the connection you had shared. Just a deep sense of something missing, a gnawing hole that you couldn’t understand. 

The fog in your mind only deepened when you tried to recall the details. It was as though you had forgotten how to ask the right questions, and even when you tried, the answers weren’t there. Sukuna felt bitter and sick about his own actions. 

The potion worked too well.

And so, you found yourself caught in the same pattern, over and over. Confusion, followed by fleeting glimpses of something that should be familiar but never quite is. Each time you reached out for him, whether for comfort or answers—there was a distance, an impenetrable coldness that he wrapped around himself. 

The more you tried to close that gap, the further he seemed to pull away. You would ask, softly at first, tentatively: "Why do you look at me like that?" or "What happened?" But Sukuna never answered. 

His gaze would flicker, distant, uninterested, as if the question itself were a nuisance. He would look at you for a moment, but never fully engage, never fully reach for you. The warmth you once had between you felt as though it had turned to ice.

And it stung.

You would find yourself alone in the aftermath, wondering what had changed. Wondering what you had done wrong, what you had missed. It wasn’t like him to ignore you. Not in the way he did now. His absence wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, like he had shut a door between you that you couldn’t get through. 

His indifference was sharper than any anger he could have thrown your way. Each time you tried to get closer, to break through the cold silence that had enveloped him, the distance seemed to grow. It was as if the very act of reaching out to him had become a punishment, one you didn’t understand.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed, that this time, the disconnection wasn’t just a hunch for you. No, it was not just a guess. You couldn’t even remember how many times this had happened now, but each time it was harder to ignore, harder to pretend that you weren’t losing something you could never get back. 

The confusion was maddening, the way you had to fight against your own mind to remember pieces of a night that had been so vivid, so full of promise. You could almost feel him there, his presence heavy and undeniable, but the memories always slipped away, as if they belonged to someone else.

And then, there was Sukuna. Unreachable, aloof, silent. He would turn away when you looked at him for too long, pretending not to notice the ache in your gaze, the way you waited for him to explain. He never did. 

And when you pressed, he became colder, more detached, his disinterest palpable. He ignored you, avoided your touch, and the more you tried to understand, the more he made it clear that you were not meant to.

He had been there—yes, he had been. But now, when you needed him most, when you tried to break through to him, he wasn’t. Not really.

It left you questioning everything. What have you lost? What was real? What had he erased? And why, no matter how hard you tried, did it feel as if you were always walking in circles, never getting closer to the truth? It was as though you were always on the outside of something, always knocking on the door but never able to step inside.

It wasn’t just the potion anymore. Something deeper had shifted, something that even Ryomen Sukuna couldn’t hide beneath his cold, indifferent exterior. The question now was whether you would ever get the chance to find out what.

You sit in silence, your fingers drumming on the edge of the table, eyes trained on Sukuna as he remains seated across from you. His gaze is cold, unreadable, but there's a flicker in his eyes, a subtle shift in the way he watches you, as though he's aware of the question you haven't lived yet.

The air between you feels heavier than usual, suffused with the unspoken tension that’s been building for weeks. You can’t ignore it anymore—the gnawing sense that something is slipping through your fingers, something important. And the more you try to hold onto it, the more it fades.

You finally break the silence, your voice quiet but determined.

“I… I feel like I’m forgetting things. Important things, my lord.” you admit, not meeting his gaze. The words feel heavy on your tongue, almost like admitting something you don’t want to be true.

Sukuna remains still, his crimson eyes narrowing just slightly, watching you with that same detached intensity. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t speak. You can feel the air grow thick with the weight of his silence, and it only makes the ache inside you grow sharper.

“Like what?” His voice is low, measured, but there's a faint edge to it that you can’t quite place. He knows what you’re talking about. Of course he does.

“I don’t know, my lord.” you mutter, frustration leaking into your voice. “It’s like I wake up and there’s a hole in my memory. Pieces are missing. And I—I can’t even remember what happened the night before. It’s like I’m walking through fog, like everything is just out of reach.” 

You raise your eyes to meet him, searching for something—anything—in his gaze. “I can’t explain it, but it feels like I’m losing myself.”

Sukuna leans back in his chair, his posture casual, but there's something unreadable about his expression. His fingers drum lightly on the armrest, a rhythm that matches the quickening beat of your heart.

You wait for him to say something, anything, but he remains silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on you, as though weighing something important in his mind.

“You know what’s happening, my lord.” you say, your voice suddenly a little sharper, more desperate. “You must know. I feel like you’re hiding something from me. Why—why won’t you just tell me? What am I forgetting? Why does it feel like you’re slipping away from me, every time I try to reach you?”

A dark, fleeting look crosses his face—something almost guilty, but it’s gone too quickly for you to catch it fully. Instead, his lips curl into that familiar, mocking smirk, but it’s lacking the usual bite.

“I’m not hiding anything, little one.” he replies, his voice low, but there’s an undercurrent of something dark in it. “It’s your mind, not mine. You’ve always had a tendency to forget what’s inconvenient. It's your own fault.”

Your chest tightens at his words. It’s not the answer you wanted—not even close. You lean forward, trying to control the emotions threatening to spill over. You were exhausted with this. You cannot take anymore of this.

“You can’t seriously expect me to believe that, my lord.” You shake your head, feeling a bitter frustration rise in you. “I feel like I’m going insane. One moment, everything feels so real, and the next... it’s gone. And I—I know it’s not just me. Something is happening, and you’re the only one who doesn’t seem bothered by it.”

Sukuna’s smirk fades, and for the briefest moment, something flickers across his face. It’s not guilt, but it’s close, something between acknowledgment and dismissal. He doesn’t answer right away, letting the silence stretch until it’s almost unbearable.

Finally, he speaks, his tone heavier now, more controlled. “Maybe you’re remembering things you shouldn’t, little one. You don’t need to know everything. Some things are better left forgotten.”

The weight of his words sinks into you like a stone, and you feel the truth of it in your chest, the way it sits there, cold and heavy. You swallow hard, trying to push past the confusion and hurt that swirl in your mind.

“Is that it, then, my lord?” you ask, voice breaking a little, though you try to steady yourself. “You think I should forget all of it? Forget the parts of me that belong to you? Forget about everything that could be important? My lord, that is cruel.”

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes darken, the cold distance in them sharpening again, but his expression doesn’t change. He leans forward slightly, his presence looming, like a predator assessing its prey. He doesn’t want to play his part. But it must. He had made it this far. He ought to own it.

“Stop asking questions you know I won’t answer. You know how this works.” His tone turns almost icy, cutting through the air. “What you remember doesn’t matter. Only what I allow you to remember does.”

You stare at him, the truth of it settling in like a weight in your gut. His words are like a bitter truth you can't swallow, but it doesn’t make them any less real. The distance between you widens again, suffocating, and you’re left staring at him, unsure whether to be angry or broken.

"Then why even keep me here, my lord?" you whisper, more to yourself than to him. The question feels pointless as soon as it leaves your lips, but it lingers, a sharp sting in the air. “You ought to send me to the Cold Hall. Or leave me be.”

For a moment, Ryomen Sukuna remains silent, his gaze flickering toward you with an unreadable expression. Then, he leans back, his features hardening into that impenetrable mask. 

“Because, little one…” he says, his voice low and deliberate. “I can. And I will.”

And just like that, the space between you becomes an abyss again, and you’re left wondering if you’ll ever get the answers you crave—or if, in time, you’ll forget you even asked. You turned away from him. You could feel his gaze bore a hole on the back of your head. But he noticed everything. He was no fool. 

Tears poured from your eyes.

You tried to quickly wipe them away.

But as you wiped them, more came by.

Even your body knows you were miserable.

Even your body knows something’s missing.

Something is wrong.

══════════════════

YOU ONCE MORE LOCKED YOURSELF AWAY IN VERMILLION HALL. You refused to see your husband and perhaps that was for the best. You had cried yourself to sleep for days now, the frustration eating away at you like an insidious thing. The weight of unanswered questions, the endless confusion, it had all built up and bled into your dreams.

The emotions had overwhelmed you to the point where sleep seemed like the only escape, the only refuge from the torment of not knowing. But sleep, as you soon discovered, offered no solace. It was restless and fleeting, filled with fragments of images, of faces, of a life you could never fully remember.

But when you woke, it wasn’t to the comfort of the blankets you had once found so familiar. No, you woke to an entirely different feeling—a sharp, searing pain that stabbed into your core, as if something inside you had broken open. 

It wasn’t a pain you had ever felt before, and it was so intense that it left you gasping for air, clutching at the sheets in a desperate attempt to understand what was happening to you. You felt like you were drowning, it felt like you were being stabbed.

Your mind was foggy, clouded with the remnants of your dreams and the confusion of the past days, but you didn’t need clarity to know that something was wrong. The pain was unbearable.

It was harshly crawling beneath your skin, wrapping around your insides with a terrible urgency. You frantically pulled at the blankets, your hands trembling as you tried to understand what was happening.

When you looked down, your breath hitched in your throat. Blood. It stained your sheets, pooling beneath you in stark, alarming contrast to the softness of the fabric. You groaned over and over in grievous pain.

Panic surged through you, a wave of shock and terror, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the fear choking you. You couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t wrap your mind around the sight before you.

You cried out, the sound raw and full of terror, your voice hoarse from the tears you had already shed. “Help me.” you whispered, your throat thick with panic, “Please…”

Within moments, your servants appeared soon; they were quick, frantic, their faces filled with concern and confusion. They rushed to your side, trying to assess the situation, to comfort you, but nothing they did could quell the overwhelming pain or the terror that gripped your chest.

“What happened? What’s wrong, my lady?” one of them asked, her voice trembling with concern as she hurried to help you sit up, her hands gently lifting the blood-soaked sheets away from your body.

You could barely answer, the pain making it impossible to form coherent words. All you could do was sob, clinging to them as if they could somehow stop the agony, stop the deep, hollow ache that was consuming you.

One of your servants hurried out, calling for help, while the others tried to tend to you as best as they could, offering comfort, but the fear in their eyes mirrored your own. Something was terribly wrong.

And no matter how many times you tried to explain it, tried to understand it yourself, you were left with more questions than answers. Why were you bleeding like this? What had happened to you? What were you forgetting?

The answers felt just out of reach, like a secret too dangerous to uncover. And the more you tried to grasp them, the more you sank into the unknown. You were crying endlessly, crying out in pain with or without the voice to do so.

Your servants worked swiftly, their hands trembling as they tried to stabilize you, but their movements felt like a blur, the world spinning around you. Their frantic whispers only heightened the feeling of helplessness clawing at your chest. 

One of them, a younger woman with dark eyes, pressed a cloth against your body, trying to stop the bleeding, but it felt like a losing battle. The blood stained your skin, soaking into the fabric of your nightgown and the sheets beneath you.

You could feel yourself becoming dizzy, your vision blurring as the pain intensified. Each pulse of pain seemed to radiate outward, as though it was coming from deep within, tearing at the fabric of your body, but you couldn't grasp why. Your thoughts were scattered, lost in a haze of fear and confusion.

"Stay with us, my lady. Please." one of the servants pleaded, her voice strained with panic. "We'll get help, please, just stay awake."

You barely heard her. The pain was too much, drowning out everything else. And then, a voice from the door, a voice you hadn’t heard in a long while had cut through the chaos. You couldn’t see his face. But his voice, it was the clearest it has ever been.

"Enough." Sukuna's voice rang out, cold and commanding. He appeared in the doorway, his gaze falling on the scene before him, and for a moment, everything stopped.

Your breath caught in your throat, the pain momentarily forgotten as you locked eyes with him. He looked unchanged, as imposing as ever, but there was something in his expression, something almost unreadable as he stepped closer.

“What’s going on?” His voice was low, but it was laced with an unfamiliar tension, something far removed from the indifference you’d come to expect from him.

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come, your body trembling too violently, too weak to form any coherent thoughts. Your breath hitched as another wave of pain shot through you, sharper than before.

It felt like something inside you was breaking open, tearing apart. The physical pain was unbearable, but it was the emotional toll that made you feel as if you were unraveling at the seams.

"S–she's losing too much blood, my lord." one of the servants said, trying to explain, but her voice faltered under Sukuna’s unwavering gaze. “My lady is bleeding and…we do not know why.

Ryomen Sukuna’s scarlet eyes narrowed slightly, his focus shifting to you. For the first time in a long while, something like concern flickered in his gaze, though it was masked by the familiar coldness that surrounded him.

He approached, kneeling at your side with a fluid, deliberate motion. Your cries were bellowing over and over against his ears. He could see it from where you embraced your body, the blood. 

His hand hovered over you, but he hesitated, as if unsure what to do. There was a knowing look in his eyes, as if he had known this story before. But you didn’t want to question him. You couldn’t. You were in too much pain to do so.

“What happened?” he repeated, his voice softer now, but there was an edge of command in it.

“I—I don’t know, my lord.” you gasped, each breath shallow, the words barely escaping your lips. “It hurts so much... I’m—I'm bleeding. I don’t know why.”

His eyes flickered briefly to your servants, who seemed to retreat slightly, their discomfort obvious, unsure of how to proceed. But Sukuna's attention remained solely on you, the deep crimson of his gaze scanning over your trembling form. 

The tension in his jaw tightened. He didn't speak right away, but there was something in his regal posture, there was something predatory in the way his eyes locked onto you that made it clear he was piecing something together.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice almost too calm. "What were you doing before this happened?" he asked, his words cold but controlled, as if you should have already known the answer.

You struggled to keep your focus, the pain blurring your thoughts, but the question cut through the haze. You had been trying to remember, hadn't you? You had been trying to understand what had happened between the two of you, what had led to this moment.

“I—I don’t know…I was resting and I just….” you whispered, tears slipping from your eyes as you looked at him, feeling helpless. “I was trying to understand… but I can’t. Everything’s… everything’s slipping away. It’s like I’m losing pieces of myself.”

Sukuna’s expression darkened, a flicker of something. Was it regret?—crossing his face before he masked it again. He looked at the servants and nodded once, a quick, sharp motion. You did not know. You did not wish to know.  

"Leave us. All of you." he commanded. "I’ll handle this."

They hesitated for a moment, but his tone left no room for argument. One by one, they filed out of the room, leaving you alone with him. The silence was oppressive, thick with unspoken words and tension.

Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze returned to you, and for a moment, the world felt impossibly small, the pain in your body sharp and real, but the uncertainty in your heart was just as consuming. 

“I should’ve known better, little one.” he muttered, more to himself than to you, as if grappling with something he hadn’t fully admitted.

“Please…” you breathed, the words almost a plea. “I need to understand. What’s happening to me? Why am I—”

“Stop asking questions, little one.” he interrupted, his voice commanding, but softer now. He leaned closer to you, his hand hovering over the pool of blood as if sensing something, feeling the pulse of whatever was inside you. 

There was a flicker of something darker in his eyes—something that almost felt like guilt, but Ryomen Sukuna never allowed that weakness to surface.

He turns away for a moment, to look at the clear water in the silver basin. He could see his reflection, he could see the monster. He pauses. He purses his lips in a flat line.

“You were never meant to suffer this, little one.” he said, his voice low and grave, the truth of it settling in your chest. “And now… now it’s coming back to haunt us both.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut. You couldn’t understand it. You couldn’t make sense of it. But the look in his eyes, the way his hands trembled as he reached for you, told you that the answers you sought were far more dangerous than you could have imagined.

What could be the meaning of the truth? 

Was it all truly worth it, finding out everything?

Tears pooled over your eyes, melting in with your sweat.

“I am sorry, little one.” He says, his voice low as he brushes your hair away from your eyes. He smiles with such sorrow. The most you’ve ever seen in your long life with him. “I had made you suffer again, have I?”

A guttering sob echoes from your lips, tears flowing ever more abundantly. The fear echoes in your eyes as much as the pain did. Ryomen Sukuna let his hands become submerged into the water. He takes the wet cloth and starts to squeeze away at the heavy dues of water.

“This will hurt.” He whispers to you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Forgive me.”

══════════════════

HE HADN’T FOUND THE COURAGE TO LEAVE YOU. Not like this. Ryomen Sukuna stood in the quiet of the room, watching you as you lay pale and still beneath the blankets. Finally, you had found yourself resting.

Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, the sleeping potion he'd given you working its way through your system to calm the pain and induce sleep. But sleep had come too late—too far after the damage had already been done. You were still, but the scars of what had happened remained.

He had felt it, the weight of his actions, sinking into the pit of his stomach like a stone. The guilt gnawed at him like an insistent whisper, and the more he tried to drown it out with silence, the louder it became. But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the truth clawed its way to the surface.

You had almost died once more. All because of him. All because he was a foolish man, a cruel man. An even crueler master, an even more foolish god. Everything about it was his fault and his alone. 

And because of it, there has to be a price. Fate did not care for the innocent nor the saints. It cared for retribution, for the price of the act be paid in full. And so, the life that had once flourished inside of you was gone now—taken away in a manner as cruel and sharp as the sins that had followed him throughout his existence.

Ryomen Sukuna could not even begin to process the violence of it all. The miscarriage—the life he had unknowingly torn away. The nights together, the heat of his desire, and the overwhelming need for you had been his undoing.

And now, the consequence was here, the result of his insatiable hunger for you. He had taken what was not his to take, and the cost of that was now clear.

It wasn’t just your body that had suffered. No, it was something deeper, something that would linger in him long after your recovery. The guilt, the realization that he was not invincible that his desires could bring destruction in their wake made his chest feel tight, suffocating.

He had wanted you. The way your presence made him feel alive, the way you fought him, the way you surrendered, had become a constant itch he couldn’t scratch.

But now, the price of his inability to stop, to control himself, to pull back, was laid bare in front of him. And now you suffer the consequences for him. His little one.

Sukuna reached out with a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against your forehead, lightly touching the dampness of your skin. You had no idea what had just happened.

You were unaware of the deep, catastrophic consequences of your union. And in this moment, he wished more than anything that you would wake, that he could make it right somehow.

But deep down, he knew there was no going back. This was his crime, and no amount of self-loathing could undo it.

His dark scarlet eyes, usually cold and ruthless, softened for a brief moment as they lingered on your sleeping face. He had always been a being of darkness, of overwhelming power and control. But in your presence, his control had slipped. And now, the consequences of that were too real to ignore.

Sukuna stood, the weight of his guilt threatening to collapse him under its force. He turned away, not trusting himself to stay there any longer, knowing that if he did, he might break under the pressure of what he had done. But as he left, as he retreated into the shadows, one thing was painfully clear: there was no redemption for him, not for this.

His craving for you, his sin, would always linger, a constant reminder of how even the most powerful could be undone by their own desires. Sukuna’s footsteps echoed through the quiet halls as he paced through the temple halls.

With each step weighted with a thousand thoughts that he could not escape. The dark emptiness of the space mirrored the turmoil in his mind, and the oppressive silence seemed to press in on him, suffocating him with its suffocating weight.

He had once been a king of curses, a being of unimaginable power. He had commanded nations, destroyed cities, and crushed anyone who dared oppose him. And yet, here he was. He found himself unable to leave.

He was there, standing at the edge of the abyss, unsure of what to do with the mess he had created. The guilt gnawed at him from the inside, a constant, unbearable reminder of his failure—not as a king, not as a god, but as something far more human than he had ever wished to admit.

He had wanted you. He had craved you with a hunger that was both consuming and insatiable. But now, that desire has cost you more than he could bear. Your life—your very being—had been reduced to an almost fatal casualty in the wake of his passion.

And the life that could have been, the child that had been growing inside you, was gone. All because of his weakness.

He stopped in front of a mirror, staring at his own reflection. His crimson eyes met his own, but he barely recognized the man staring back. He was no longer the powerful curse that had once ruled with an iron fist, no longer the being that felt above all others. He was just a hollow shell, a broken creature cursed by his own desires.

“You were never supposed to matter.” he muttered to himself, his voice raw with the edge of something close to self-loathing. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

His gaze fell, his hand coming up to grip the mirror's edge. His fingers curled into a fist, as if trying to destroy the reflection in front of him, to erase the reminder of his weakness.

But the image remained. The truth remained. He had been foolish, had allowed himself to feel, to need—and now, the consequences were irreversible.

He turned away from the mirror, his mind churning with the weight of everything that had happened. You had been so innocent in all of this, so unaware of what was going on behind the scenes. Of what his selfishness, his guilt, his cruelty — could do.

He could still see the confusion in your eyes when you had asked about your forgotten memories, the pleading look on your face as you tried to make sense of the fractured pieces of your past.

He had told you to forget, to accept what was happening without question. But deep down, he knew you were right. You deserve the truth. And yet, he could never give it to you.

Sukuna’s fists clenched once more, his chest tightening with the painful realization. What he had done to you, what he had done to your body, it could never be undone. The life inside you had been snuffed out before it could even have a chance to grow. And all because of him.

He could hear your soft, labored breaths echoing in his mind, the sound of your pain, your suffering. The thought of it almost brought him to his knees. But he couldn't stop. He couldn’t undo what had already been done.

He had wanted you too much, had wanted you in ways that consumed him. The guilt, the agony, it was all wrapped up in that same burning desire.

But no matter how much he hated himself for it, no matter how much he wanted to walk away and never look back, he knew he couldn’t leave you. Not when you had become so intricately tied to everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever craved.

With a deep, tortured sigh, Sukuna turned back to the door and made his way toward your room. He had no answers to give you, no redemption to offer. But he would be there. He couldn’t leave you, not now, not when he had already destroyed everything. 

The best he could do now was stay. To watch, to wait. To let the pain he had caused burn into him, until it became a part of him, a part of the inevitable price he would always pay for what he had done.

As he approached your door, he paused for a moment, his hand resting on the handle, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He wasn't sure what he expected from this encounter.

Was there still a part of him that hoped you could forgive him? Or was he simply there because, like the curse he was, he was tethered to you in ways that defied understanding?

He stepped into the room, his eyes immediately falling on you, lying so still in your slumber. The sight of you, fragile and broken, made his insides twist in a way he had never known. There was no redemption for him. Not now. Not after all of this.

But he was still here. And he would never leave.

He would never stop finding himself drawn to you.

And maybe that was the cruelest punishment of all.

══════════════════

THE HEALER HAD SAID TO REST AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. And you had done just that. The air around Vermillion Hall was thick with the sound of everyday life. Everything about it has made you feel healed more than anything. You could hear the children's laughter, servants going about their duties, and the occasional clink of crockery from the kitchen. 

The days had grown quieter since the incident, and though your body was slowly recovering, your heart still aches with the absence of what could have been. And yet, somehow, you weren’t alone. Not even when you wanted to. But perhaps, it was for the best.

Ryomen Sukuna’s presence had become an uninvited constant. At first, his decision to move to the nearby Repentance Hall had seemed insignificant. But now, with each passing day, you realized just how much of an impact it had on your life.

You were seated at a table in the sunlit dining room, carefully eating a small portion of food when Sukuna walked in, his figure tall and commanding even from across the room. His scarlet orbs flicked to you, but he said nothing as he made his way over to sit across from you. 

His posture was casual, but there was an unsettling weight in the air, as if his very presence was always carrying something unspoken. Perhaps that was just how intimidating your husband’s presence was. Everything about him was magnanimous. And it was hard to fight. It was hard to win against.

He watched you for a moment, studying the way you slowly ate. A sigh passed his lips, not one of impatience, but of something more complex. Something that was not as easy to read as before. Perhaps a silent acknowledgment of the burden neither of you had asked for. One that you would not want to talk about, not right now.

“You’re eating less, little one.” he commented, his voice low, but there was a certain sharpness to his tone.

You paused, the fork hovering in the air, before setting it down. "I’m fine, my lord." you said softly, your eyes meeting his own with a mix of weariness and frustration. “I’m just… still not hungry. I’m not used to being like this. The healer had said it was fine.”

Sukuna leaned back slightly in his chair, his dark gaze never leaving you. “It’s not about being used to it, little one.” he said, his voice colder now, as if he were speaking to a child rather than an equal. “It’s about getting better.”

“You hover upon me too much, my lord.”

“You are my concubine, my wife.” He tells you ever so bluntly. “And you are unwell. Should I just abandon you thus?”

There was a long silence between you two. His words were heavy, yet devoid of tenderness. He cared, in his own way, but never in a manner that you could decipher. His scarlet orbs tenderly flickered to the children playing outside, their sounds of joy drifting in through the window, before returning to you.

“Why did you move here, my lord?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence, your voice gentle but questioning. “The trip to the audience hall is longer than before with such a move. Heaven’s Hall is more convenient than this.”

You hadn’t asked him before; the question had never felt right, never appropriate in the swirl of chaos that had come in the aftermath of everything. Ryomen Sukuna’s lips quivered slightly at the question, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

"You really have to ask, little one?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his gaze intense now, as if daring you to probe deeper. “I told you it was better this way.”

“Better?” you echoed, shaking your head in disbelief. “For whom, exactly? You barely speak to me. You don’t even explain why you’re here or why you’re…”

You trailed off, a bitter taste in your mouth as the words you had been holding back for so long finally spilled out. “Why are you staying here? My lord, this is…. What is this? What are you doing?”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid. Sukuna did not flinch at your outburst, nor did he retreat. Instead, he remained as still as a stone, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with an almost unreadable expression.

"I cannot leave. Not like this. I do not want to be near you, after all that I have done." His voice was low, but there was something in the harshness of it that made you falter. "Do you think I want to be near you after what I’ve done? But I cannot leave you….I cannot. You are……."

He stops himself, his lips turning into a flat line. You tried to open your mouth to respond, but the words failed you. He wasn’t shouting, but there was a palpable tension in his words that sent a chill through you.

The truth of what had happened. The weight of the consequences was there between you, even if neither of you could fully confront it.

"I know….." he continued, his voice softer now, but still heavy with guilt.

"You’ve suffered because of me. More than I care to admit. But it’s not like I can undo what’s been done." He paused, his eyes flickering with something close to regret. "You don’t want me here. But it’s... easier this way. For you. For me. For the children.”

You stared at him, processing his words slowly. It was an admission of sorts, though he cloaked it in his usual arrogance. He wasn’t just here for the sake of proximity; he was here because, despite everything, he couldn’t bear to be entirely distant from you. 

There was something in your husband, something primal, something deeply conflicted that kept him bound to you, even if he didn’t know how to act on it. Sickening as it all is, painful as it all is — it keeps you both together. And almost like a game, both of you do not want to lose it and leave.

"But why the children?" you asked, your voice quieter now. "Why do you walk them in the morning, share meals with them when you barely speak to me? What do you want from me, my lord?"

He looked away then, his jaw tightening as if he were fighting against something inside. "I don’t know." he muttered, almost under his breath. His voice was rougher, as if the words themselves were a struggle to form. "I don’t know what I’m doing."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you as thick as the silence that wrapped around the room. You could feel his eyes on you, and you sensed something different in his gaze.

There was an unfamiliar vulnerability there; something far less like the commanding, untouchable king you had come to know, and more like something human, something raw. Finally, after a long pause, Sukuna’s eyes softened. Even for just for a second.

"I may not have been the one you thought you needed. I cannot say what you want me to say, to do what you want me to do, little one." he said slowly, his voice surprisingly calm. "But I’ll be here. In whatever way I can. I promised you that, haven’t I?"

You blinked, unsure whether to be relieved or frustrated by his admission. His presence, while undeniably constant, was still a riddle you couldn’t solve.

But something in the tone of his voice, in the way he had dropped his usual bravado, made you feel a flicker of something—a strange, uncertain hope.

"I’m trying, little one." he added softly, looking away from you again, as though not quite able to meet your gaze. "Trying to be… better. For you. For everything."

The words hung between you two, and though the weight of everything still lingered, a small part of you wondered—perhaps hoped—that there was more to his actions than you could see.

The silence that followed hung in the air, thick and laden with the weight of unspoken truths. You watched him as he shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes now focused on something beyond you, anything, it seemed, but you. 

His admission, raw and unrefined, left you uncertain about how to respond. He had never been one to reveal vulnerability, and now, with his words lingering in the space between you, you were unsure if you should reach out or retreat.

Sukuna cleared his throat, his usual arrogance beginning to seep back into his voice, though the softness that had briefly touched his words lingered beneath.

“I don’t expect you to understand, little one.” he said, his tone rough. “But I’m here because I can’t seem to stay away. Whether I want to or not.”

Your heart twisted at that, the feeling of both connection and distance pulling at you like a string being tugged in two directions. You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to ask him how he could do that to you and then sit here, speaking in circles as if it were nothing. 

But a part of you, a small part, understood. Understood that in his own way, he was trying to show you something. Trying to make up for what had been lost, even if he didn’t have the words for it.

He leaned back, stretching his arms out behind him, his eyes momentarily closing as if contemplating the words he had just said. His gaze returned to you after a long moment, unreadable, but something was different. The guilt that had once clawed at him was still there, buried beneath layers of pride and anger, but it was no longer the overwhelming force it had been before.

"You don’t want me near, little one." he said quietly, but this time, there was an almost wistful quality to his voice, as though he were trying to make sense of the situation himself. "But I can’t leave. Not after everything."

There it was again—the implication that he was here because of his own twisted sense of responsibility, or perhaps, something else. It was hard to say. Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t exactly known for his clarity, and his motives were as layered and complex as his personality. But, for once, he didn’t seem entirely sure of himself either.

You couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Part of you wanted to lash out—demand that he leave, that he stop playing this twisted game, stop pretending to care when he had caused so much damage.

And yet, another part of you, the part that still held on to some semblance of trust, felt the ghost of something softer, something that had once existed between you two.

"Why stay, then, my lord?" you asked, your voice soft, almost pleading for some sort of clarity. "If you can’t undo what’s been done... if you can’t fix it... why bother?"

He stared at you for a long moment, his crimson eyes sharp yet distant, like a predator weighing the cost of its next move. “Because, little one…..” he began, his voice barely above a murmur. “I can’t just walk away from you. No matter how much I want to. Not even when I need to.”

His words were quieter now, as if speaking them aloud made them more real, and in that moment, you could see it. The battle inside of him. Ryomen Sukuna was always in control, always calculating, but right now, there was something else beneath his hardened exterior. Something that made him seem almost... human.

"Why?" you whispered, the question feeling like an accusation and a plea all at once. "Why me?"

Sukuna didn’t immediately respond. His gaze drifted to the window, to where the children were playing outside, their innocent laughter a stark contrast to the weight of the conversation between the two of you. After a long moment, he spoke again, his voice rough, like he was wrestling with the truth itself.

"Because... I don’t know." He chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. "I never thought I’d let anyone get this close, little one. But you... You’ve been a challenge, haven’t you?" 

His gaze met yours again, but this time there was something different in it—something more complex than the cruel amusement he so often wore. "I never wanted to admit it, but here we are. Years of suffering and pain and grief and distance, we are still here. For each other.”

His words lingered, and for a brief moment, you found yourself unsure of how to respond. There was an undeniable weight to his admission, a rawness that you rarely saw from the man who once drowned in his own untouchable power.

Ryomen Sukuna’s pride, his arrogance, had always defined him—but now it seemed as though those very traits were at odds with the reality of what had happened between you. The man who could have taken everything and given nothing was now here, trying to make sense of his own tangled emotions.

“You think this is easy for me?” he continued, his voice growing softer, more introspective. “You think I haven’t hated myself for this? For everything?”

His eyes darkened briefly, a flicker of his own inner torment flashing behind them. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But it did. And now... now I can’t just walk away. Not when there’s nothing left to fix.”

You could see the weight of his words, could feel the sincerity behind them, even if he had never shown it before. It was strange, this new side of him. Strange and unsettling. But it was real, as real as anything else in this complicated, messed-up world that the two of you seemed trapped in.

The silence stretched between you, a fragile moment of understanding that neither of you fully knew how to navigate. You wanted to speak, to offer some words of comfort or clarity, but nothing seemed adequate enough. Instead, you found yourself simply looking at him, the man who had caused so much pain and yet now seemed just as lost as you.

Finally, Sukuna spoke again, his voice quiet but firm.

"Just don’t ask me to leave, little one." he said. "I can’t do that. Not yet."

And so, there was no resolution. No sudden clarity. But there was something between you now, something neither of you could ignore, even if neither of you understood it fully. It was a strange, fragile truce, one born from guilt, from unspoken desires, from the wreckage of what had once been. 

Ryomen Sukuna was staying, whether you liked it or not. That was what he had to do, that’s what his heart was telling him to do. And for reasons neither of you could explain, that was enough—for now.

“Eat with me, my lord.” You whispered to him, pointing at your dish. “I cannot finish it all.”

He smiled at you, almost so fondly. “Very well, little one.”

[the-heaminator]

Equinox

I wrote this 2 and a half years ago and haven't touched it since, reading it makes me hurt inside. At this point I had only read ff net fics from the early 2010s I'm sorry

It was the monthly meeting of the magic trio, everything was in order. Romania was being the master of chaos he is, England was annoyed and Norway was just trying not to get cursed or hexed.

This time they were trying out the gender swap spell, they had been looking forward to it for a while and now that they had the chance to actually complete the spell they were excited, the equinox was upon them.so why the hell not. They had almost set it up, the pentacle was perfect, there were the right herbs and candles, all that needed to be done was the incantation when there was a loud knock on the door. A knock so loud, that it could be heard from all the way down in the basement.

The Englishman was obviously pissed off, so he went upstairs, along with the small bundle of chaos that is Romania to give whoever disturbed them a piece of his mind and received an unexpected surprise, the surprise that Denmark, Prussia and for some reason Hungary were there.

"Why are you here, we have things to be doing," England said, annoyed

"That's exactly why the awesome us are here, to stop you and Norway being such stick-in-the-muds."

"What in bloody hell about Romania then, he is the master of chaos so I don't think you need to do anything to him."

"We do not, but he is nearly as awesome as we are so he will have some fun with the awesome us."

"Romania is not awesome," Hungary said flatly

"Well, neither are you, frying pan," Romania said to Hungary

England yelled for Norway to come up and when the Norwegian came up grumbling and swearing and immediately put on a blank face as soon as he saw the other three.

"Why are you here?" He said rather exasperated "We were in the middle of something."

"Comeee on Norge, let us stay for a bit, we won't annoy you." Denmark did puppy dog eyes and he could tell that they worked on England by the way he looked away.

"Ja, we will just be here until you are done!" Prussia also attempted the puppy dog eyes, but failed miserably and looked like he would stab you in the stomach with a spork

"No, you guys will stay out until we are done, please and thank you," England said dismissively

"OH NO, YOU DON'T," Hungary said, she had her own agenda to be doing right now and she didn't need any more setbacks than they have already. "WE WILL COME IN AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP US."

The magic trio all swallowed and allowed them in, and explicitly told them not to annoy them. Obviously, Prussia and Denmark didn't listen and brought out some alcohol.

You see, this was all a ploy for Hungary to get blackmail material, Prussia and Denmark to get drunk as hell and for them to loosen up their uptight friends.

"Why do you have alcohol?" England asked, eyes narrowing.

"We were here to help you guys loosen up, but apparently you are too busy doing boring stuff to have fun with us!" Prussia said, pouting much like a child.

"Yes but why exactly, whenever you do something remotely nice, it usually means there is some sort of ulterior motive involved."

"I swear this time there isn't,you haven't hung out with us in a while and we want to make sure you are alright." Prussia said with utmost sincerity.

England and Norway were very good at not doing stupid things when people told them to (or so the others thought) so they went back down into the basement Both angrily mumbling something. Romania however stayed up and scrutinised the 3 and asked, "Really, why are you here?"

Gilbert and Mathias both actually wanted to help loosen up their rather uptight friends, and Vlad knew that, he was honestly more worried about Hungary. 

Because it was Hungary. Enough said.

[jjkamochoso]

It's me again lol!! What about jjk men taking the reader on an aquarium date or like a museum date! ^_^

UR MIND >>>>>>> SO ADORABLE

Also I’m now including Ino because I can’t believe I’ve been forgetting to add my pookie in these

Enjoy and thanks for the request!!! <3

JJK Men Taking You on a Date to the Aquarium/Museum

Fluff

JJK men x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Yuji:

“That fish looks like you.”

Your eyes fell to where Yuji’s finger was pointing. There was a huge fish with big, bulging eyes swimming in circles in the aquarium exhibit in front of you.

“Oh, really, does it?” You were thoroughly amused at your boyfriend’s antics, his grin widening as you played along. “This one is a spitting image of you.”

Yuji caught a glimpse of the fish you were pointing at and turned away from you, making you frown. Did you inadvertently hurt his feelings? The fish wasn’t *that* ugly. Besides, you both were joking around, but you never meant to go too far and make him sad. You tentatively put a hand on his back to get his attention.

“Yuji, I didn’t—”

He faced you again, this time sporting a quintessential fish face with his cheeks sucked in and lips protruding in a pout. You immediately started cracking up, and since laughter is contagious, especially among you two, so did he.

“There’s lots of cute fish here, but you were the cutest,” you finally said, making him blush. He grasped your hand tightly and you set off for another exhibit.

Megumi:

When Megumi asked you on a date to an art museum, you were elated. A quiet, calm activity like this was perfect for the both of you so you could enjoy each other’s company without many other people observing you. You walked side by side with the boy as you meandered through the exhibit that was showcasing artwork of animals in ancient civilizations. You stopped in front of a particularly cute sculpture of a dog, cooing softly.

“Megumi, look how adorable,” you said, and he nodded in agreement.

“Reminds me of my own,” he mused, referring to his divine dogs (you thought it was precious how close he was to his shikigami).

“Maybe we can bribe the curator with Gojo’s money to take it home with us.”

Megumi shot you a look. “Are you serious? I don’t think you can just take art like that.”

A few seconds passed.

“Can you?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “I was joking.”

Megumi was quiet as usual but the air about him seemed almost contemplative. After a few more seconds, he shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Gojo would probably break it anyway.”

“Wait, were you actually considering trying to buy it?” you questioned.

“Maybe.” The black haired boy shrugged, moving on to the next sculpture.

“Fushiguro the art collector, huh? Who would’ve thought you were so extravagant. Gojo’s spending habits must have rubbed off on you,” you teased, making him huff.

“Shut up,” he said, no bite to his tone whatsoever as you just giggled, cuddling up to his side as you continued on with your date.

Yuta:

“It’s like getting a million little kisses. I’m so in love with this creature.”

"Am I… jealous of a starfish?”

You were currently holding a starfish in your hands, its suction cups sticking to your skin, leaving behind a tickling sensation that you couldn’t get enough of. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, wasn’t a fan of your kissing analogy and was doing his best not to pout over something so silly.

“Yuta, come closer! It’s too cute not to hold.”

He couldn’t deny he was curious to see what the hype was about. People had flocked over to this exhibit in droves and you guys had waited in line to hold a sea star for an ungodly amount of time—he wasn’t going to miss out now. The handler put one in his hands too and he immediately understood what you meant earlier.

“They are really cute. I see what you meant by the whole kissing thing, that’s amazing,” he said, his voice laced with wonder and amusement as he watched the sea creature grip onto his skin. He then looked up and locked eyes with you, both of your irises alight with love.

“But I still prefer yours.”

Inumaki:

There’s plenty of fish in the sea but you’re the only one for me.

You raised an eyebrow at the words on the phone screen shoved in front of your face while you were watching some fish swim by in the aquarium tank. Toge, meanwhile, was dying laughing at his lame pick up line written in his notes app. Seeing his reaction made your lips quirk up into a mischievous grin as something came to mind. You pulled out your own phone and hurriedly began typing, thrusting it toward him when you were done.

I cod-nt imagine my life without you, Toge. You’re a reel catch.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your throat when you saw the grimace he wore.

“Fish flakes,” he said, putting his head in his hands and stifling giggles.

“My line was that bad, huh?” you asked, nudging him softly.

“Salmon,” he agreed, but the loving look he held in his eyes when they met yours again showed he was anything but bothered.

“You’re of-fish-ally the cutest boy I’ve ever seen,” you told him while ruffling his hair playfully, earning a loud groan from the blonde. He quickly typed out another sentence.

I’m so glad we go to the same school.

Noritoshi:

You were pleasantly surprised when Noritoshi asked you on a date to the aquarium. You figured he would’ve deemed it too childish or an experience not scholarly enough but you were wrong, now feeling the pull of his hand as he excitedly walked you around, pointing things out and chatting about things he had just learned.

“…and I just read that most fish don’t have eyelashes. Did you see that too?”

“Except for sharks,” you replied, a gentle smiling resting on your face.

“Exactly.”

Noritoshi took a deep breath as you led him to a bench to sit down and watch the jellyfish float around.

“I’m sorry for getting too passionate. I just feel like I can be myself here. There’s less… pressure, if that makes sense. Like I can learn things just to know them, not to impress anyone or get a good grade on something. It’s… nice.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I know what you mean,” you said, laying a comforting hand on his leg. Noritoshi rested his hand on top of yours and gave it a light squeeze, observing the entrancing dance of the jellyfish.

“They look so free,” he muttered. “I wonder what that feels like.”

Your head was now lovingly balanced against his shoulder as you squeezed his hand back.

“I promise you that one day you’ll know.”

Todo:

“Y/n! You have to watch this!”

You were happy to accompany Aoi to the local science museum for a date. You two were having a fun time exploring and trying out all the different experiments the museum had to offer. You weren’t sure what to expect when Aoi called you over to the experiment he had just done since you were enthralled in a presentation about lightning. You were confused when Aoi put his hand on a big ball, but all of a sudden, the hair in his bun became even spikier than normal.

“Static electricity!” he exclaimed, sporting a huge grin. Seeing how happy all of this made your boyfriend had you smiling from ear to ear as well. When he eventually took his hand off the orb, his hair didn’t quite go back into place.

“C’mere,” you giggled, gesturing to his hair, “I’ll fix it for you.”

“Thank you, my love,” he said, leaning over to where you could reach him. You combed the strands back into place and gave him a kiss on the cheek when you were done.

“You’re having a fun time today, right?” Aoi asked you, a rare moment of vulnerability from the muscular man.

“Of course, Aoi. Thank you for inviting me here.”

“No problem,” he replied, his cocky demeanor back as he winked at you. “Now, if you’re interested, there’s a presentation on superconductors in a few minutes. Do you want to see it?”

It always surprised you when you remembered just how smart your sometimes air-headed boyfriend really was.

Gojo:

When you invited Satoru to the science museum, he was extremely excited. Not because of the science aspect, no, but because he loved to eat the packs of freeze dried ice cream you can buy from the gift shop. You were busy reading a giant wall panel about physics when you felt the thunk of a head resting on your back and heard a sigh of exasperation.

“Are you finished yet? This is boring,” Satoru said, mumbling into your shirt.

“I’m trying to learn, Satoru. It wouldn’t kill you to learn something either. You’re a teacher, aren’t you supposed to have a thirst for knowledge?”

“I have a thirst for soda,” came a muffled reply from behind you. You rolled your eyes, going back to reading. Satoru kept fidgeting and you found yourself getting frustrated at his lack of focus.

“Since you know so much, why don’t you tell me about relativity and quantum mechanics?”

“Quantum mechanics studies the world by looking at just a few small particles like photons and electrons. Relativity is the theory of gravitation that Einstein proposed around the same time as quantum mechanics. General relativity studies the construct of space-time and gravity, while special relativity studies special conditions and scenarios, such as length contraction, which is where an object is moving near the speed of light and its length actually shortens. See, I already know this stuff, so can we pleeeease go to the gift shop now?” Satoru whined, throwing his head back in an exaggerated display of boredom. Your mind was still reeling over the fact that your boyfriend was… ridiculously good at science and never bothered to tell you?!

“I… yeah,” you said, completely dumbfounded. Satoru ignored the confusion in your voice as he cheered, grabbing your hand and leading you to the gift shop.

Geto:

You and Suguru were taking your time walking through the museum he chose for your date. It was nice to walk with him, holding hands and enjoying deep conversations about the pieces that were showcased in each exhibit. You came up to a bench in front of a particularly large infographic and took a seat, your lover sitting next to you. After he knew you were finished reading, he asked you the few little words he assumed would set you off on a passionate tangent (he was right).

“So, y/n, what are your thoughts on this topic?”

As you began to analyze everything you just learned, Suguru watched you intently, but not in a negative manner; he was just so genuinely interested in what you had to say that it was like the whole world around him disappeared every time you opened your mouth. He nodded along, hearing you bring up things he hadn’t even considered yet.

“I’m lucky to have a partner who’s so intelligent,” Suguru cooed, his thumb ghosting over your jawline, initiating this romantic moment like you two were the only people in the building. To him, you were the only people that mattered anyway, so what was the point in hiding how he truly felt?

Nanami:

“C’mon Kento, it’s not as scary as you think it is. They’re completely harmless.”

You were currently trying to get your boyfriend to pet the stingrays but he was not having any part of it. The color had drained from Kento’s face when you submerged your hand in the clear water, feeling the smooth surface of the rays under your fingertips. The blonde man wasn’t afraid, per se, but he didn’t think it was the wisest decision to be touching such a dangerous animal.

“Y/n, I just don’t think it’s a good idea. What if you provoke them?”

You were about to laugh when you saw he was genuinely distressed. Frowning, you stood up and tried to dry your wet hand the best you could before reaching out to him.

“Kento, honey, it’s alright. They have to be really angry to sting people. I promise you’ll be alright if you try it.”

Kento relented and leaned over the touch tank, hesitantly placing his hand in the water next to yours. When a ray swam under him, the rubbery texture gracing his skin, he immediately tensed up. Your unoccupied hand landed on his arm as encouragement and it seemed to help him relax a bit. A few more stingrays came over to him and Kento finally calmed down, smiling as he greeted his new friends.

Ino:

“Babe, look, that’s literally us.”

Ino caught your attention away from a particularly interesting exhibit about seaweed as he pointed to a diagram that displayed two fish with their mouths on each other.

“Ino, that’s very sweet, but I think they’re fighting.”

Your boyfriend leaned closer to read the tiny print, his hands in his pockets in a display of nonchalance that you always found supremely attractive.

“Oh, you’re right! They try to flip each other over like that. It’s like the Spider-Man kiss but more badass.”

You shook your head, lightly chuckling as you linked your arm in his and continued walking through the aquarium. All of a sudden, you gasped and tapped Ino’s arm excitedly.

“Oh my god! This is literally us!”

Ino’s eyes went wide and his smile grew bigger. You were showing him to a video that displayed otters holding hands as they drifted in the water.

“Yeah,” he said dreamily, resting his chin on the top of your head as you watched the animals on the screen, “it is.”

Choso:

You were sitting in a dark room of the planetarium, looking up at a projected sky full of stars with your handsome boyfriend. Choso had his arm wrapped tightly around your body, hand resting on your waist as your head was nestled against his shoulder. You sat there quietly, enjoying the peacefulness of the exhibit. The sight of the stars above you changed into a slow spinning view of the earth and you gasped lightly.

“Woah, look at how beautiful our world is.” You didn’t hear him reply, which was unusual, so you lowered your eyes from the spectacular scene above to look at the man next to you.

“You’re my world,” he stated bluntly, unrelenting gaze boring into your own. “You’re the brightest star in the galaxy of my life.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you said, trying not to show how flustered you got over his beautiful words. He just drew you in closer, adamant to never let you go.

Toji:

“How does this piece make you feel?”

“Like I’ve been here for hours and I’m hungry.”

Toji wasn’t the biggest fan of the art museum you dragged him to but you were glad he allowed you to take him here in the first place. It meant a lot to you that he would willingly go somewhere like this that completely disinterested him, but he would go to the ends of the earth to please you.

“There’s a cafe around here if you wanna go eat,” you said, paying him no mind as you studied the painting that grabbed your attention.

Toji scoffed. “And leave you here by yourself? No way.”

Your focus was now broken, instead trying to stifle a laugh at his overprotective behavior. “The art isn’t going to kidnap me, you know.”

“I know,” he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest, “but some dude might see a smart, attractive person like you by yourself and think he has a chance.”

“And I need my big, hot, uninterested-in-art boyfriend to keep an eye out for me?”

“Exactly.” Toji smirked at you while you rolled your eyes playfully.

“I appreciate that. I’ll finish up here and we’ll head to the cafe together then?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You went back to your contemplative state while Toji’s eyes wandered the room. He would never tell you this, but he found many of the pieces actually interesting and hoped you would take him along to more places like this in the future.

[dreamingofthewild]

100 Bloodweave Fanfic recommendations

As there are over 3,000 Bloodweave fanfics, I have been wanting to do a fanfic rec list for a while. To share some of the works I enjoyed and to offer support for the talented writers in the fandom. I opted for 100, as it is a nice number for a rec list. It was very hard to narrow it down, and there are many good fics that, unfortunately, didn't make it too the list. This is not meant as a 'Top 100' list.

The recommendations will be shared in 6 parts over 6 days as it is too much for one post and I don't want to overwhelm the tag.

Part 1: In Universe Canon Multi-Chapter - 15 fics.

I'd Burn Through the World by thisis_V. Ongoing. Slow Burn, Angst, Hurt/Comfort. Follows the events of the game as Gale Origin. A very canon exploration of Gale and Astarion's relationship throughout the game. One I would recommend to those who do not understand Bloodweave. Includes original art from the author.

Burn out Fade Away by Newperspective20. 112,500 words. Slow Burn, Time Travel. Astarion ascends, Tav takes control of the brain, and Gale sacrifices himself to save everyone from being under Tav’s control. Only he finds himself back at square one. Will he be able to change the course of fate this time?

Stitches, Threads, and the Strings that Bind us Together by Newperspective20. 136,235 words. Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Fluff. The events of the game as Astarion Origin as he learns that not everyone is out to get him.

Ash and Stardust by badmarilyn. Ongoing. Slow Burn, Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining. When the orb starts to play up, Gale is forced to confide in Astarion. They start to gravitate towards each other, realising they’re more alike than they originally thought.

Broken Together by sparklypanda98. 61,872 words. Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst. A long-form Bloodweave fic about Astarion and Gale's relationship forming during the events of Baldur's Gate 3. Plenty of fluff, but some darker stuff too.

Your Echo in My Scars by shadesofmidnightsun. 76,421 words. Angst With a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Smut. Astarion needs blood and protection. Gale just ... needs. They're both full of cracks. Where Gale and Astarion each have their own mess to work through. Will they make each other better?

Ancient Books and Horror Stories by eternalscout. 107,796 words. Slow Burn, Canon Typical Violence, Backstory Relevant Themes. What starts as a tentative friendship between Gale and Astarion, bonding over a shared love of reading, turns into the alarming realization that they may just have caught feelings for each other.

Through the Fire Together by Aria_Lerendeair. 16,646 words. Angst, Healing Together, Falling In Love. After defeating Cazador and releasing the Spawn to the Underdark, Astarion finds himself in the graveyard, waiting for whatever retribution they want to visit upon him after what he did to them.

Old Wives Tales by neo7v. 8,030 words. Mystra related content warnings. This fic explores the exploitative and grooming nature of Mystra’s relationship with Gale.

If the Cross on the Door Doesn't Scare You by Aylwyyn228. 19,113 words. Hurt/Comfort, Starvation, Found Family. Astarion gets outed as a vampire in the shadow-cursed lands. 

embracing the sun by vannral. 16,095 words. Mutual Pining, Friendships, Smut. In which people see whatever That is between Astarion and Gale and wonder. Meanwhile Astarion and Gale are oblivious. Set during Act 3.

Stop Kicking Gale (Please) by Yassha. Ongoing series. Hurt, Comfort, Fluff, Backstory Relevant Themes. AU where Astarion gets to process his emotions a bit earlier, and Gale is a bit more volatile, and those two things match up quite well.

Keep To The Shadows (your light can’t reach me there) by beepbeepsan. Denial of Feelings, Flirting. Trapped between a rock and, well, more rocks, Astarion has nowhere to run from Gale and his own feelings. But damned if he won't do his best to find a way out.

Bliss and Ignorance by ultranerdyandiknowit. 17,195 words. Dubious Consent, Hurt, Comfort, Angst, Misunderstandings. While sharing a moment of intimacy in the Shadowlands, Gale gives into the temptation to read Astarion's mind. He wants to feel their pleasure shared, to feel it amplified.

What he finds when he opens the link is nothing short of horrifying.

Shades of Romance by ClaireinSorcia. 139,829 words. Romance, Fluff, Getting Together, Drama, Backtory Relevant Themes. Astarion’s always been a flirt, so what happens when the new victim of his attentions, Gale, falls for it and takes it seriously? With Tav having turned Astarion down it should be fun to see how far this game can play out. But then what will Astarion do when he catches feelings he doesn’t even understand?

Part 2: In Universe Canon One-Shots - 17 fics.

Part 3: In Universe Canon Divergent - 16 fics.

Part 4: In Universe Post-Canon Multi-Chapter - 20 fics. 

Part 5: In Universe Post-Canon One Shots - 14 fics. 

Part 6: Alternate Universe - 18 fics.

[fishfooddude]

Wedding of the Year

Sierra and Carmy are getting married, and you and Richie play important roles in the ceremony. Of course, the two of you will find some time for some fun.

MDNI 18+

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Part 2

“It’s so pretty! He has surprisingly good taste,” you gushed as Sierra showed you the shiny platinum emerald-cut moissanite ring with small pearl details on both sides, creating a unique yet classic three-stone ring.

“I don’t think he picked it out himself, but I do love it- and him.” she smiled as she ran her thumb across the stones. “And now you have something to fidget with.” you cracked, elbowing her before you hopped down from the low brick wall the two of you had been sitting on during her lunch break from the hospital. Sierra rolled her eyes, “Downside, Dr. Dunlap is being a booty hole about me ‘being engaged to her ex’, like girl- he never even referred to you as his girlfriend. Pull the stick out of your butt, and let me be happy and in love.” 

You shrugged, “Well, I should probably get back to work. See you tomorrow night for dinner with your fiance.” you teased slightly. Sierra laughed and nodded, “Hey, Y/N, just to let you know… Richie is gonna be there. If we do a traditional wedding, Carmy wants him to be his best man… obviously you’re my maid of honor. It’s not gonna be like weird or anything, right?” 

You shook your head, “Sierra, I couldn’t care less about what that man thinks of me. He called me a whore like six months ago; it’s ancient fuckin’ history.”

Sierra shot you a concerned look. The shitty part about being twins was the fact she always knew when you were lying, even if you didn’t know it yourself. It had hurt when Richie called you out six months ago, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t something you’d thought about periodically here and there, but you’d do anything to make Sierra happy. She was your big sister- by 17 minutes- after all, and if that meant dealing with Richie for a few hours every so often, all be it.

~

Richie was frustrated about needing to go to your apartment that evening. Since he confronted you, he’s successfully avoided you like the plague, but when Carmy told him he proposed to Sierra, and she’d said ‘yes’, he knew he’d have to deal with you again at one point. “Let’s get this over with…” Richie mumbled to himself as he knocked on the door to your apartment. When you opened the door, you stood in awkward silence before moving to the side to allow Richie into your place. 

“Sorry about the mess.” you half-heartedly apologized as Richie removed his jacket and threw it on a small kitchen table separating the main room of your apartment and the open kitchen area. You crossed your arms over your chest as Richie looked around your apartment, “You have a Master’s degree?” he asked aloud as you moved toward your well-loved red couch. You nodded, “I’m working on my PhD in microbiology. I teach at The University of Chicago.” 

“That’s pretty badass… women in STEM and shit…” Richie awkwardly stammered as he noticed the pictures on the walls. He assumed some were science-related as they were rounded images of what he imagined were cells or something. He smiled when he noticed a picture of you and Sierra from what he presumed was high school or college graduation.

“Thanks. I’ve been told it’s impressive- but I’m also just a slut.” you rolled your eyes and moved to sit on the couch. You brought a box up from under the coffee table and waited for Richie to sit beside you.

“For what it counts- I’m sorry for calling you a slut. I have a daughter, and I-” You cut Richie off with a blunt scoff. “Fuck off with the pseudo feminism Richard. Let’s just go through these pictures and be pleasant for the sake of Sierra and Carmy.” 

Richie sighed, “Okay.”

Neither of you was sure how you’d gotten into this predicament. You’d gone from being at each other’s throats and looking through Sierra-provided/approved photos for some wedding slideshow to Richie being in your throat. Now you were laid back on the couch while Richie ran his tongue through your velvety folds. You pulled at the little hair he had as one of his slender fingers slipped inside of you, brushing places you could only dream of getting by yourself. You mewled at the sensation, bucking your hips against his mouth, desperate for more. Richie suckled at your clit, savoring the taste of your fluids. 

“F-fuck!” you exhaled as your legs shook as your orgasm had finally peaked. Richie hummed against your upper thigh before gently biting the sensitive skin just hard enough to leave a slight bruise. With that, Richie sat on your couch as you panted, attempting to catch your breath. He chuckled as he ran his hands over his mouth, wiping away the evidence of what he’d done. You moved to sit up and looked over at Richie, lustfully ready for round two, especially after noticing the lump in his boxer briefs. “Let’s go back to my room?” you whispered as you moved to rest your hand on his thigh.

Richie wanted to say ‘yes’, but when he looked at the clock, he remembered the babysitter was only booked until 10:30. He groaned and placed his hand over yours, “I want to, I really fuckin’ want to, but I gotta get home to my kid.” 

You frowned but nodded reluctantly, “It's okay.” 

~

Richie wanted you. He watched as you stood in a circle with some of the other bride’s maids; he breathed deeply as you brought your vape to your lips. Seeing your lips wrap around anything was getting him hot. “You okay there, Richie?” Pete bantered as he stood before Richie with one hand in his pocket and a cocktail in the other. Richie tilted his head to the side and waved off the man so he could continue staring at you, “Go for it.” Pete commented as he looked over his shoulder to see Richie had been starring at you. “You and Carmy could be brother-in-laws.”

You were talking to a group of your and Sierra’s high school friends when you felt a hand on your lower back. “Hey,” Richie greeted you warmly. You smiled in his direction and noticed one of your friends nudge the other before walking away. “Scarin’ my friends away old man.” you playfully teased as you turned to face Richie. 

“You look pretty…my kid is at her Mom’s place.” 

You clicked your tongue, “I don’t know Richie. Turns out Carmy has some REALLY hot friends… you’re not my only option.” 

Richie chuckled as he looked around the room, “Baby girl… they won’t fuck you right. Don’t you want a real man?” 

You felt your cheeks heat up as Richie’s hand got closer to your ass cheek, “You’re not wearin’ panties…” Richie mumbled into your ear. You playfully hit his chest, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” you teased. 

“Prove me wrong, Y/N.”

You looked around the room and ensured your parents were occupied before looping your finger around Richie’s belt, “Meet me in the bathroom…”

~

“Fuck your-” Richie grunted as he continued to thrust his hip into you, “your pussy’s fuckin’ perfect.” you met his compliment with soft mewls as your head bumped against the wall of the bathroom stall. Your dress was hiked up above your hips. Richie squeezed your thigh, pulling it up over his hips as he fucked you against the wall. You sank your nails into his neck as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. “Feel good, baby? Cum on my fuckin’ cock.” 

“Mmm, yes, Daddy.” you whimpered as his thrusts started to get sloppier and shorter—the bathroom filled with the sounds of slapping skin and both of your moans. “I’m gonna cum- uh fuckfuckfuck!”

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror fixing your lipstick as Richie zipped his pants and wiped his brow. “Wanna come over tonight?” he asked as you moved to fix your hair, you shrugged. Richie groaned, “Y/N, come on.” he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the bottom of your stomach and leaned against your back resting his chin on your shoulder. “How bout I take you out for dinner some time?” he offered moving to kiss your jaw. You giggled and put your hands over his, “When?” you quiered putting your head back against his shoulder as he moved to pepper soft open mouth kisses on your neck. 

“Whenever you’re free.” 

[writemekpop]

Lost Cause | Jung Jaehyun

Summary: You decide to give your ex Jaehyun a second chance. Is there time to rescue your relationship?

Genre: Angst, ex boyfriend AU

Word Count: 1k

As soon as you walked into the little Italian place, you spotted Jaehyun. 

He was stunning in his simple black suit, shadows falling under his glorious cheekbones. A flood of emotions – desire, hurt, anxiety – rushed through you when you saw him. 

“Uh… hi,” you said, sitting opposite to him. 

Jaehyun held out a glass. “Bailey’s still your favourite?”

To be honest, you’d stopped drinking Bailey’s two years ago – after you broke up with Jaehyun. 

“Sure,” you shrugged. 

Jaehyun tried to hand you the drink, but his hand shook so much it spilled on his sleeve. 

“Damn it,” he cursed. “Honestly, I’m… super nervous. It’s not every day you go on a first date with your ex.” 

“I’m nervous too,” you said, and you both chuckled, relaxing a little. 

Jaehyun grinned. “Why don’t we just pretend it really is a first date?” He held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Jaehyun. Nice to meet you.” “Hi, Jaebeom, is it?” you said, making Jaehyun laugh. “You look great.” 

“You too,” Jaehyun said, taking your hand in his and tracing your palm lines with his finger. Your heart began to race at the touch, familiar yet unfamiliar.  

“You know, I’m a model.” Jaehyun said. “We have this saying that the perfect face doesn’t exist. But, uh, clearly, the people who came up with that have never met you.” You fought a smile. “Well, I am a biology lecturer,” you added. “And evolutionarily speaking, we are hardwired to desire taller and stronger people. So, the girls must be all over you.” Jaehyun grinned. “Although, you know, evolution is only one theory. I think we have to consider creation, too.”

You snorted. 

“What?” Jaehyun said, removing his hand from yours.  

“Nothing,” you said, smoothing your dress. “I just forgot that you believe in wacko theories like that.” 

Jaehyun stared at you. “Excuse me?” 

You sighed. “No, look, I don’t have a problem with it. It’s cute.” 

“Oh, please,” Jaehyun said. “By cute, you mean that your boyfriend is dumb, but you don’t care because I’m pretty?” 

“I never said you were dumb!” you exclaimed. 

Jaehyun rolled his eyes. “I know why you didn’t invite me to those conferences. You didn’t want your fancy university friends to realise you had a stupid boyfriend.” He sniffed. “Well, you should feel lucky to get a guy like me.”

You rolled your eyes, lying back in your chair. “This again! You think I’m some ugly nerd who doesn’t deserve a boyfriend as gorgeous as you.” Jaehyun frowned. “That’s not fair.”

You shook your head. “You know what I always thought? If there are so many girls throwing themselves at you, why don’t you just sleep with one of them?” You laughed. “Oh wait. You did. You slept with your agent, for crying out loud.” Jaehyun pushed out his chair. “What was I meant to do? I had a girlfriend who was so busy with work I knew her Whatsapp profile picture better than her!”  

“At least I have a career!” you huffed. “All your little ‘modelling’ gigs got us was red letters from the bank!” 

Jaehyun rubbed his eyes. “What is happening to us?” You fell into your chair. “I’m sorry, Jaehyun. It was stupid of me to think that we could get back together.”

You sat in exhausted silence until the next round of drinks came.

“It wasn’t stupid.” Jaehyun said, taking your hand. “You were the love of my life.” You felt a twinge in your chest, pain or love or both. “You were mine, too,” you admitted.

You leaned forward and kissed Jaehyun, your hand gripping his hair, throwing yourself into it completely. 

The kiss wasn’t bad. It was gentle. Jaehyun’s lips were soft. But something, some spark was missing. It was like both of you were playing along without really feeling anything. You slowly pulled away. 

“That was…” Jaehyun started. 

“Awful,” you finished, cracking a smile. 

“Terrible,” Jaehyun agreed, with a chuckle. “Maybe it’s too late for us to start again. We’re… ancient history.” 

Although his words hurt, you knew they were true. “Well, will you share this drink with an old friend?” you asked, lifting your glass. 

Jaehyun raised his glass as well. “To old friends.”

“To old friends,” you said.   

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[mrsbrookemunson]

I have a Sebastian Sallow request for you!!! Reader and Sebastian are the top two duelers at Hogwarts, and they’re each others enemies. They always bicker and try to one up each other. Everyone is sure they hate each other. But then comes the last championship day of duels, and in the duel before she’s supposed to fight Sebastian, she gets really hurt and Sebastian panics and rushes her to the hospital wing. They realize they actually like each other and perhaps some love confessions??

You're a real one for this - aka one of my favorite writers 💕 I changed up the request a little to make it more angsty—I still hope you like it 🥹 Also - hey guys! I am new in the Hogwarts Legacy writing community, but I've been known for my James Potter and Remus Lupin fics - along with some other fan favorites.

Warnings: *Not Proofread*, Canon violence (blood, injury, fighting), insecurities, slight dark!seb in this, mentions of gameplay (slight spoiler warning), fem!reader, she/her pronouns, "MC' insert, heavy angst in the beginning and a bittersweet ending (can be left up to interpretation) This is like a complete alternative of what happened in the game. Be warned *insert evil smile*.

Word Count: 2343

Darkness.

That's all she saw in that moment. She could hear her own heartbeat, the blood rushing through her veins, her own slow, shaky, weak breaths as the pain of breathing soon subsided into numbness.

Where did it all go wrong?

The image of his eyes nearly black as the night sky, and that haunting smirk on his face that she grew so fond over.

Fond. Now that was one way to describe. No - she didn't hate him, but he hated her. Her feelings were quite the opposite, that soon behind each bicker and snicker grew a warmth in her chest - a fire that she learned to contain within herself, it would've only been a matter of time till she burnt herself.

Was it love?

It felt like life threw her warnings left, right, and center - that love only causes pain. She didn't think the pain would be so bad to the point where it led to her death. Though, as she slowly accepted the darkness behind her eyelids, she thought... maybe death wouldn't be so bad if it meant escaping the reality of heartbreak. Until she was drawn back out again.

Where did it all go so wrong?

They've been together through so much. He was the only person - besides Professor Fig - who she thought listened to her.

Oh how he listened to her...

"Let me see if I've got this straight. You have Ranrok and Rookwood after you because of something you found at Gringotts - where you ended up via a portkey. You can see traces of ancient magic that you think Ranrok is trying to harness. And now you've been witnessing memories left by 'keepers'? Oh! And this house belonged to a Hogwarts professor - who was one of these 'non-quidditch' keepers - hundreds of years ago." He shifted on his feet. "If I didn't know you - " His smile, it could send her over a million times. " - I'd think you were pulling my leg."

In that moment she couldn't believe her ears - had there really been someone in her life that truly listened to her?

"You're not listening to me!"

"Why would I listen to someone so ignorant?"

She cursed at herself, hearing the slight crack in her voice, and from her vision becoming blurry with tears. "Maybe your uncle was right... you don't know when to stop."

"Oh, I do know when to stop."

It felt like it only got worse after that. He was always disagreeing and trying to start arguments with her. Not thinking before acting. Who once always listened to her soon became a brick wall. Maybe she should've voiced her worries, maybe then she would've been able to salvage the already broken pieces of their friendship.

But, she didn't.

Instead, she chose to turn her back on him and walk away. She chose to avoid him - to ignore him. The number of letters that he sent increased every day when she simply tucked them away without reading them. Her stomach twisted and turned doing so - but it was better than the outcome that most-likely would've happened if she chose to stay.

And when the year ended, winning the battle against Ranrok, losing Professor Fig, she had the slightest sliver of hope that he would've spoken to her - grieved for her - oddly enough, she wanted him to yell at her for being stupid enough to go into such a war without his help. But, he didn't - and she felt foolish for thinking he would.

Would they ever speak again?

"MC, Mister Sallow - up onto the dueling platform," Professor Hecat instructed.

She swore she heard him grumble something under his breath. She noticed how Sebastian's physique changed over the summer after their fifth year. He became taller, his voice got deeper, his eyes became darker, and his skin got paler. Merlin, he looked sickly.

She glanced at him, cautiously before stepping up onto the platform.

She lost. He laughed. How cruel.

"She thinks just because she won a battle against Ranrok, she's the best dueler at the school."

It spread like wildfire.

Lucan was all over it. It seemed as though the two best duelers competing against each other was his way of keeping students engaged in his little 'unsanctioned' club.

It became much bigger than that.

Darkness.

"MC?" she heard a voice call out. "MC?! Wake up!"

"What have you done?"

Time slipped away from her. Seventh year came around, and no progress was made between her and the boy she desired in a way that was almost like a lucid dream. He was right there, she could touch him, feel him if she wanted to - but she knew, if she gave in - she'd wake up.

She didn't want to wake up.

Her own body didn't listen and her eyes cracked open. It was too bright to truly process her surroundings and the pain came back as if she was hit by a train. Her head hurt and it became hard to breathe again.

Why couldn't she breathe?!

Sobs escaped her when she felt something sticky on her hands. She looked down and saw blood soaking through her dueling clothes. She started to hyperventilate.

Hands came to grasp her face and she was met with brown eyes. Not the dark - nearly black - she found herself getting used to. No. Brown. Brown like honey, golden like the sun, melted chocolate she wanted to drown - merlin they were beautiful. Such eyes didn't deserve to hold tears nor look so broken, they deserved to be crinkled by smiling and closed by laughing too hard.

"S-Sebastian?" she called out in a rasp.

He shushed her and ran a hand down her head to soothe her wild, untamed hair. His eyes then widened when he pulled his hand away abruptly to glance down at his fingertips. That's when tears began to fall down his rosy, freckled cheeks. "It'll be okay, we're getting you help, okay?"

She couldn't quite understand him, like she was underwater. She felt dizzy and her eyes were getting heavy again.

"No - no - no, don't close your eyes." He patted her face. "Please, don't close your eyes. I need you to stay awake... help is on their way," he paused. "Stay awake from me."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Why would I do anything for you anymore?" she whispered.

His face contorted into one that expressed such hurt. "Wh - what?"

"After everything... why do you even care? You hate me."

His eyes widen. "H - Hate you? I never said - "

"Don't lie to me..." she cried. "You - you did this, didn't you?" She grew angry. "And to think I would've given you the world if you had just listened to me!" She struggled to raise her voice causing her to violently cough. "To think I loved you..." Her head rolled and he instinctively readjusted to keep her head steady.

"MC? MC?!" He shook her as he cried. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry - you're right - it's all my fault - "

"Step aside! Let us through!" Professor Sharp shouted over all the students panicked filled voices.

Professor Weasley, and Professor Hecat followed him.

Sebastian held onto her tight and attempted to wake her up once more. He pressed his fingers to her wrist, but couldn't find anything. Panic struck him like lightning, he leaned down to press his ear to her chest. Her heartbeat barely there. He watched as her skin was losing its color and he suddenly felt sick.

What had he done?

A couple days had passed and MC had not woken up, yet. But, she was alive... surrounded by gifts and 'get well soon' cards. Sebastian hadn't left her side and practically begged the professors to induce a punishment after she had woken. In this moment, he felt the need to be by her side.

The guilt was eating at him alive, already have gotten a lectured from the professors, Ominis, Natty, Poppy, Imelda - Hell, even Lucan was scolding him, adding the point that his club is ruined because of his actions. He couldn't stop thinking about what she said before she knocked out.

She loved him...

That thought sent butterflies throughout his whole body. And Merlin, he wishes she'd wake so he could say it back a million times over between apologies. Loved... Did she still love him? That dawned on him. He gripped her hand tightly in his as the fear crept in - this could be the last chance he has to ever act of feelings rather than insecurities.

When did it all go so wrong? he wondered.

"I love you too," he whispered to her in the dark infirmary. "I've loved you since you beat me in that duel to be honest." He chuckled, dryly. "My new charge." He smiled fondly over the memory. "That day we fought that troll, I must admit I was a little jealous. I wanted to prove to you that I could be your... 'knight in shining armor' as awful as that sounds..." He frowned. "But, you didn't need me. You never needed me." He shook his head. "You are stronger than you know." Tears began to flood his eyes. "I'm sorry I hurt you - I hurt you more times than I can count and - " He swallowed. "It will haunt me everyday pass death. Every time I close my eyes, it's a replay of what I did, a neverending nightmare where I see my reflection of who I've truly become. To the point i can't sleep or eat." He weeped. "Everyone was right. I don't know when to stop. And because of that I lose everyone around me... Maybe my uncle was right about me. Maybe I should just leave and never return." He raised her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. "As much as I'd miss Ominis, and Anne, and you - I'd probably be for the best... I'm just a disaster waiting to happen."

MC began to stir on the bed, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. "I did need you, you know," she whispered. "I needed you when it came to Ranrok, and when I lost Professor Fig - you were the only person I truly wanted to be there with me, but you weren't. And part of that is my fault... for so long - I just wanted you, it didn't matter what you had done, but I knew if I went to you my love for you would only grow and I knew that wasn't in the cards for us. You wanted so badly to save Anne, I knew I couldn't fit in there and it would've been selfish fo me to."

"I would've preferred you to be selfish rather than you shut me out."

"I never did such a thing! I tried talking to you but you'd never listen to me."

"Because i was angry - I was angry at where my life had become and who I was becoming and I knew if I opened my mouth I'd ruin everything between us."

"There was nothing between us!"

"I wanted there to be!"

"Well, I guess it didn't matter because look where we are now!"

He pulled his hand away to drag it over his face, using both hands to rub at his eyes. "What went so wrong between us?" he questioned, defeated.

They sat there in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable - but tensions were high. Thoughts coursing through both of their minds at a frantic, overwhelming pace.

MC closed her eyes to try and steady herself mentally. She sighed, "Sebastian I - "

"I want us to start over again, from the very beginning."

She looked rather surprised to hear him blurt out such a thought. "And what? Forget everything that's we've been through together?"

"No, but... we can at least try to move on." He sounded so hopeful. "At least give me a chance."

She laid back in her bed and observed him in silence. The way his eyes were practically pleading her to say yes, to give him relief of what she could tell had been weighing him down for the last two years.

"We'll get it right this time, I promise," he begged and reached out to grab her hand again. His dark circles became more prominent as they were glazed with tears. The moonlight seeping through the windows made him look like a crestfallen angel. "Please."

Her heart squeezed at the sound and sight. With hesitation she spoke, "My name is MC, I started in Hogwarts as a fifth year and crazily enough I can see traces of ancient magic and am known as the 'Hero of Hogwarts' because I defeated Ranrok and ultimately ended the Goblin War."

His smile left her breathless. Weak, yet so powerful. His shoulders lowered drastically with a shaky exhale. "That is a lot to take in... but I wouldn't mind listening to you talk for hours on hand if that's what if takes for you to tell me everything I missed."

"Quite the commitment you're willing to make..." she paused. "And your name is?"

He smiled a little wider. "Sebastian Sallow - and as a note - I am known for committing to something till the end. I don't easily give up."

She returned the smile. "Good to know."

"And to add onto that - I'd wait for you as long as the Earth spins until you are ready to accept me once again as who I once was."

She gave him a rather mocked look of suspicion. "You won't go changing on me, will you?"

He shook his head, hastily. "Never, this - what you see right here - this is what you're getting, nothing else."

She was crying along with him at this moment - but more in relief that she didn't have to carry the burden of her true feelings any long. And she knew - deep down - it would take time, step-by-step opening herself up to him as he would to her. But, she'll consider it yet another quest that she couldn't wait to finish, knowing it'll lead to the next part of their lives together. So, with a soft grin -

"How can I refuse?"

The end.

Should I make a part two - almost like an epilogue?

If you'd like to be part of my Sebastian Sallow taglist let me know!

| Requests Open |

[magicalqueennightmare]

Little Witch (Pt 3/5)

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

When you get your memories back you're determined to face this enemy alone. The Mikaelsons however refuse to accept that and set out to prove your innocence to Klaus

After you'd left the Mikaelson compound you'd ended up wandering to one of the many cemeteries around New Orleans. You'd never had any business in this certain cemetery but it had drawn you there, your magic bubbling under the surface of your skin as if it was trying to lead you in the direction you needed to go in. 

The barrier in your head was still very much a tangible thing and it made you question everything about yourself. You were a strong witch, you'd taken the brunt of a spell meant to rip Hope out of Hayley's womb and hadn't let a sob escape your lips regardless of the pain. You'd gone toe to toe with ancient witches and managed to still be standing yet someone was tearing your mind to shreds from the inside out.

When Hayley called and asked to meet you'd gladly agreed. She hadn't spoken to you in days and you wanted her to get whatever she needed off her chest. You hoped maybe Elijah and Rebekah got her to see logic but there was only one way to find out. 

You walked into Marcel's bar and Hayley sat at the bar alone. You both shared a favorite drink and two sat in front of her. When you took up a barstool leaving one between you she slid a drink down. “I believe you and Elijah” she spoke quietly. 

You turned to look at her and she was facing you, the emotions in her eyes matched the ones you felt “You do?” You asked in disbelief and she nodded “I was just so hurt when we found you two. Not only because I love Elijah but because you're my best friend. It just didn't make sense no matter how much I thought it over. You've gone to literal war for my daughter. You love her the same as if she was yours. Hell you came here when I was pregnant just from me calling and asking for help. You're not the type of person to hurt someone you care about”

You blinked a few times to not let your emotions overwhelm you “Thank you. I'm still not sure what happened. Davina and Kol are on their way back and Freya is coming back too. I'm hoping with the three of us we can crack the barrier in my memories. If we can safely then that means we can get Elijah's memories back too and we'll know who did this”

She nodded slowly “What are you gonna do about Klaus?” You shrugged “You know him as well as I do. He's hurt and angry. He thinks two of the most important people in his life chose each other over him. I don't know how to make him see the truth without having my memories back, without having whoever did this on their knees begging for their lives as proof”

She reached for your arm and pulled you onto the stool next to her and wrapped an arm around your shoulders “Know that as far as you and I go? We're good. I love you, Hope loves you” 

You reached into your pocket and held out the necklace you'd been carrying for days “This is for Hope. It was my grandmother's. I got the antique store to chase it down. She originally wanted my dad to give it to me one day but my mother killed him when I was so young he never got the chance. It got lost for fifty or so years. I'll never have children of my own but like you said i love her just the same. Maybe if something happens to me this will help her know just how special she is to all of us”

Hayley turned the small pendant over in her hand then looked back at you “Promise me one thing?” You nodded “Of course” she half smiled “You'll survive this to give it to her yourself” you laughed lightly and held out a hand “Deal” she shook it then said “I'm holding you to it”

“I have to do what?” You asked Freya hoping you'd misheard her. “You have to lay back and let us in your mind. Davina and I will astral project in and then we break down that barrier from the inside”

You knew your eyes were probably comically large. While you trusted the two women in front of you, the idea of them being in your head, your memories freaked you out a bit. “What will you two see exactly?” 

A smirk that favored Klaus slipped onto Freya's face “Don't worry darling, I'll make sure to steer clear of anything x-rated between you and Nik” Davina nodded in agreement “Our goal will be the barrier so that's where we'll land for lack of better phrasing”

Your eyes darted towards Rebekah who stood off to the side and she gave you a nod “I'll be here to watch over your bodies and wake you should it seem like things are going bad” you took a deep breath then nodded “Let's do it”

—------------------

You laid down on the couch as Freya said and closed your eyes. The weight of the barrier was making your head throb but she had told you to concentrate on nothing but that blank space in your memory.

You could hear her voice, the spell falling from her lips. You had the sudden feeling of falling, your vision bursting with white light despite your eyes being closed tightly. About the time it registered that you couldn't hear the spell anymore you felt a hand on your arm “Wake up” 

You slowly opened your eyes or so you thought. Instead of the room you'd been in the walls were a pale blue, a long hall stretching in both directions. You slowly got to your feet facing Freya and Davina who both gave you a smile “concentrate. Which way do we need to go?”

You forced yourself to try to remember what had happened then a pain shot through the right side of your body. You motioned right before walking in that direction.

—-----------------

“How do we know we found it?” You asked after you'd passed probably two dozen white doors. Some held whispers of long ago, your grandmother's voice drifting through.

The farther you got down the hall different voices began to drift through the doors. You could hear Rebekah's voice the first time you'd met her long ago. Then Hayley's laughter, the shrill sound of Hope's cries when she was a newborn. Memories of the family you'd been born with and the one you chose fought for your attention. 

“I think we did” Davina whispered and you looked up to see the end of the hall. The bright blue and white were replaced by a dark shadow. It seemed as if it was simply a ledge falling off into an abyss should you not turn around now.

There was something familiar about the magic behind it. You took a step forward and the moment your fingertips hit the shadow a burst went through you. Voices, leading you to the cemetery. Elijah, refusing to let you go alone.

You stumbled back and Freya caught you before you hit the floor “What was it?” You were breathless as you said “My magic did this. Someone siphoned me to use it against me, against Elijah”

She looked from you to the shadow, a dark cloud passing through her eyes “Let's rip it down and find out who” 

—-----------------

Freya had already explained that once the barrier fell it would knock her and Davina out of your head and could possibly throw your body from the shock but it was worth it.

You took a step forward and felt each of them place a hand on your shoulder before you touched the barrier again. This time their power helped to focus yours. Slowly the shadow began to crack, small blossoms of light bleeding through then it was like an atomic burst. Your vision went white as you were tossed backwards.

—-------------

You gasped, sitting up where you were now on the floor. Davina, Freya and Rebekah were all standing around you with concern written on their faces “Did it work?”

Memories were blaring into your mind. The voices that led you to the cemetery, how Elijah had refused to let you go alone even when you'd promised to catch up should he want to go home to Hayley. The siphoner that was in the cemetery flashed through your head,the way she begged your forgiveness citing she had no choice then the person behind it all “I thought that bitch was long dead. Explains how someone could use my magic against me”

You hadn't realized you'd been rambling until Rebekah questioned who. You pushed yourself to your feet, meeting their eyes one by one “My mother”

Rebekah's eyes were wide, “What now?” You wiped your hands down your jeans feeling the dirt there from your memories, how you'd fought against the siphoner and how you'd tried to shield Elijah from the magic. 

You faced Rebekah and gave her a small smile “I'm going to go give Elijah his memories back then I'm going to go find my bitch of a mother and turn her inside out. Good news is this is no threat against your family or Hope. That bitch just wants me dead, she has for about two hundred years give or take”

“If it's a threat against you it is against family” Rebekah argued but you shook your head, already determined to do this alone. “I can do this alone” “But you don't have to” Freya pushed and you shook your head again “I need to go see Elijah. The faster he has his memories back the better”

You started to walk out then stopped to face the three women “Thank you for helping me” then looked at the two blondes “Klaus doesn't need to know what I'm doing or who I'm against. Not until either I kill her or we kill each other” “So lie to him?” Rebekah asked and you shrugged “Not lying if he doesn't care to ask” and with that you walked out. You knew who you were up against now, you could make a plan and even better you now knew how to free Elijah's memories as well. 

You were going to enjoy seeing her on her knees begging for mercy that would never come. She'd tried to destroy you. She almost cost your friendship with Hayley and Elijah and ripped the man you loved away from you. She'd pay for it all and you'd make sure she wouldn't be capable of being a threat ever again.

“What does he need to do?” Hayley asked after you'd explained how you could get Elijah his memories back. You motioned to the couch “Preferably lay down and I'll sit on the floor in front of the couch because if what happened with me is any indication I ended up on the floor”

She glanced towards the stairs and you knew it was because Hope was asleep having just laid down for a nap about ten minutes before you called. “It shouldn't be loud enough to wake her but with her witch side that alone may stir her”

She shared a look with Elijah and he nodded before walking over to lay down on the couch. You gave her a slight smile then walked over to the couch and kneeled down next to it facing Elijah. “Close your eyes and just trust me ok?” “Of course” was the reply he gave before he closed his eyes. You glanced back at Hayley “Just stand back in case it tosses me” she nodded, taking another step backwards.

You reached up to place the first two fingers of each hand on Elijah's temples then closed your eyes as well. Now that you knew what you were looking for, that it was your magic, this process should be easier on him than it was on you.

You didn't even have to fall into his mind. You could feel the barrier the moment you concentrated and focused on it. A slight burst happened as you fell backwards and Elijah sat up straight. 

He took a deep breath, staring at you with wide eyes. “Do you remember everything now?” He nodded and you smiled “Good” 

You got to your feet and nodded to Hayley “We both remember now” she started to take a step towards you but Hope's voice cut through calling for her mom. You looked at the stairs and Hayley smiled “You should go up. She misses you” you shook your head despite your heart aching to see the child that you'd fought for. “If something happens to me her last memory is the day I took her to the park, we made Klaus go on the slide with her and then we got her ice cream. I don't want her last memory of me being a quick hello then me leaving”

“What do you mean?” Hayley asked but Elijah answered for you “Her mother has been hunting her for years. She killed her father when she was young and means to kill her but not before stealing her magic for herself” you tilted your head towards him before saying “And if she wants it then I plan to make her come and get it herself. No siphoner and no one else being pulled into the crosshairs this is me and her”

“You can't mean to face her alone! She got inside your head and Elijah's! She's strong” Hayley argued but before you could respond Hope called out again. You looked towards the stairs then back at Hayley “Go to Hope. I promise you i will do everything I can to make it back”

—--------------

You watched Hayley walk to the stairs and started to walk out the house when Elijah called your name. You stood with your hand on the doorknob and looked back at him “You're not telling Niklaus and plan to ward it where Freya and Davina can't get into the cemetery to assist you” it wasn't a question but a statement. You hadn't realized he'd seen that while your mind was connected to him. 

“I can't let anyone else I care about be hurt by her. She almost destroyed your relationship with Hayley, my friendship with Hayley and she may have ruined my relationship with Klaus. Please Elijah, let me do this my way”

He shook his head  “You are a part of this family. None of us want to lose you. We simply need to make Niklaus see the truth” 

You glanced towards the stairs knowing if you saw Hope you'd lose any resolve you were holding onto to face this alone “Please Elijah. I've got to go” he let out a breath that was more of a sigh “When you find her you let us help you” you knew he could very well stop you from leaving if he wanted so you nodded “Deal”

Elijah knew you well enough to know when you were lying. He was on his feet by the time Hayley made it downstairs with Hope on her hip. “Where did she go?” She asked and he held her gaze, knowing she could see the answer in his eyes “I'm going to find Freya and Rebekah. I'll let you know how it goes” he kissed her on the lips, the first one they'd shared in days then left a kiss on Hope's forehead.

—---------------

Klaus was in his art studio, a half drank bottle of top shelf bourbon sat in front of him as he stared at the canvas you and Hope had painted so long ago. Flowers and butterflies decorated the pink background. It stood out amongst his work, brightness in all the darkness. 

His heart ached to see you, transgressions he could forgive. Had it been anyone other than his brother he would've simply killed them and that would've been that. 

He leaned his head back against the couch about the time he heard the front door slam open followed by all four of his siblings screaming variations of his name.  He downed the rest of the bourbon that was in his glass before standing. If Rebekah and Elijah had summoned Kol and Freya back to New Orleans this must be their stand against him. 

—------------

Elijah stood at the base of the stairs with Kol standing next to him and both men were flanked by Rebekah and Freya. “Dear brother, come to relish in your conquest of stealing my little witch?”

Before Elijah could open his mouth Kol shook his head “Come off it Nik. That girl loves you. She's went to hell and back for this family, for your daughter” Klaus spun to meet Kol “Don't tell me you plan to have her next”

Rebekah looked at Freya “Just show him! It's the only way to shut him up and prove to him that he's in the wrong” 

Klaus narrowed his eyes at his older sister “Come to play have we?” She shook her head “No. I came home to help her. She figured out who's after her but you're not going to believe words. You'll believe seeing the memories yourself” before he could ask she touched two fingers to his temple and two to Elijah's.

His vision went white then Klaus was on the sidewalk, seeing you and Elijah walk out of the antique shop. You tucked a small velvet bag into your purse then slipped your arm back through Elijah's before he nodded at your purse  “That's going to mean a lot to Hayley and Niklaus both” you smiled “I hope they like it. It's taken me about seventy years to chase it down”

The two of you walked past him and he cursed Freya for trapping him in this vision but then you doubled over in pain. He moved on instinct alone to grab you but of course he couldn't. Elijah helped to steady you and Klaus could see the worry on his brother's face “Perhaps you and Hayley should go out on a different night?” 

You straightened up and he knew instantly something was wrong. Your eyes weren't focused on Elijah or the people milling around the two of you “Go home Elijah, I'll catch up” you muttered pulling away from Elijah as you turned and started walking towards one of the many cemeteries around New Orleans. 

“Where are you going?” Elijah questioned falling in step behind you. Klaus followed the two of you into the gates of the cemetery and felt something was off right before you hit your knees again. Elijah yelled your name but when you looked up at him your eyes weren't their usual hue but a milky white “Elijah, it hurts” the broken sound of your voice twisted his heart then he heard another voice.

A woman walked into his view, she had a scar across her face and nothing but hate in her eyes as she looked at you. He saw pain ripple through Elijah holding him in place as the woman walked over to where you were on your knees and grabbed your hair roughly “My dear daughter. It's taken me so long to track you down and away from your hybrid too. Now how should I ensure your hybrid removes his protection from you? ”

You whimpered slightly both from pain and being helpless. He could feel his anger boiling inside of him watching you be abused. You were his strong little witch, able to withstand so much yet this woman had you immobile on your knees. Elijah managed to choke out your name and to ask who the woman was. “My mother” your voice was barely a whisper. 

—-----------

The vision shifted again and this time you and Elijah were walking into the compound but neither of you were speaking and your movements were robotic almost. He watched the two of you walk up the stairs and didn't need to follow to know the truth. Your mother had done this, the milky white of your eyes meant she'd had a siphoner. The way you and Elijah were acting as if you were simply puppets. He'd let someone hurt his little witch and his brother and allowed his own insecurities and pride to come before two of the most important people to him.

Klaus stumbled back from Freya feeling tears stinging his eyes and an anger boiling deep inside of him. “Where is she?” He asked, looking between his siblings. He needed to see you, beg forgiveness and hope you have it in your heart to give it to him. All this time he'd thought you'd betrayed him while he was in fact the one that betrayed you. 

“She's gone off to find her mother and face her alone. She feels she isn't part of this family and therefore not worth us fighting for” Freya answered and he shook his head “Spread out and find her. Her mother doesn't make it out of New Orleans”

@snowtargaryen @benbarnesprettygurl @svtbpbts @secretdreamlandmentality

[callmekenya]

Pairings: Mal Bertha x m!y/n

Warnings: None

_________________________________________

As the room fell silent, Y/n's eyes locked onto Audrey's peaceful face, her chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. He sat beside her, his fingers intertwining with hers, his lips brushing against her knuckles in a soft kiss. The tender gesture sent a pang of guilt through Mal's chest, but she pushed it aside, knowing that Y/n still cared deeply for Audrey.

"I'm so sorry, Audrey," Y/n whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I never meant for things to go this far."

Mal stepped forward, her eyes meeting Y/n's. "We know you didn't mean to hurt anyone, Y/n," she said softly. "But we need to focus on getting Audrey back now."

Ben nodded in agreement. "I'll send for Hades right away. He's the only one who can help us revive Audrey."

Uma spoke up from the corner of the room. "Harry, Gil, and I will head back to the Isle and make sure everything is okay there."

Celia nodded in agreement. "We'll make sure everything is taken care of while you're dealing with this."

Mal turned to her friends and former rivals. "I'm sorry for lying to all of you. I know I wasn't honest about my intentions—"

"No need to apologize, Mal," Uma interrupted with a warm smile. "We understand why you did what you did. You were trying to do what was right in your own way."

The group shared a moment of understanding before the royal guards returned with Hades by their side.

"Ah, my dear daughter," Hades said as he approached Mal and the others gathered around Audrey's bed.

“Dad," Mal replied softly.

Hades' gaze fell upon Audrey's still form before he reached out and placed a hand on her forehead.

As he began to chant in an ancient language, a warm glow emanated from his hand and enveloped Audrey's body. Slowly but surely, color began to return to her cheeks, and her eyelids fluttered open.

Audrey sat up with a gasp, looking around at the faces surrounding her in confusion.

"Tell me it was all, just a bad dream." she asked weakly.

Y/n sadly smiled and shaked his head, giving her the response to her question.

Audrey tears began streaming down her face as she apologized profusely for everything she had done while under the curse's influence.

“I've owned you an apology...for a very long time now.”

Mal stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Audrey's shoulders comfortingly as they both apologized back-and-forth like old friends reuniting after years apart.

Leah joined them soon after as well apologizing too

Hades watched this exchange unfold before speaking up once more.

"You know it is quite interesting how quickly everyone forgives those who are deemed 'good' when they do something wrong yet those who are considered 'villains' are forever judged harshly"

The room fell silent once more as everyone reflected on Hades' words.

Mal's eyes met her father's, a hint of understanding in her gaze. "You're right, Dad. It's not fair to judge someone based on their past actions or the label society gives them."

Audrey nodded vigorously, still sniffling. "I was so consumed by the curse, I didn't know what I was doing. I'm so sorry for hurting all of you."

Y/n squeezed her hand reassuringly. "We forgive you, Audrey. We know it wasn't entirely your fault."

Hades' expression softened, his voice taking on a gentle tone. "I'm glad to see that forgiveness is possible here. Perhaps it's time for me to work on my own...reputation."

Mal smiled weakly at her father before turning to the group. "We've got a lot to catch up on and discuss. But for now, let's just be grateful that Audrey is back with us."

The room erupted into a mix of relieved laughter and tears as everyone hugged and congratulated each other.

As they celebrated Audrey's return, Uma approached Mal with a curious expression.

"Hey, Mal? Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Mal replied, still grinning from ear to ear.

"So, what now, the isle needs a new protector."

Mal hesitated for a moment before glancing at Y/n and Audrey, who were chatting quietly in the corner.

"I think...you would make a great leader to the Isle.” she said finally. "There's still so much work to be done here and there, and I want us to help each other make things right between our worlds."

Uma nodded enthusiastically. "That's awesome! We'll miss you back on the Isle, but we'll support you no matter what."

As the celebration continued, Mal couldn't help but feel a sense of hope and belonging among her friends and loved ones. She knew that there would be challenges ahead, but with Y/n by her side she felt ready to face whatever came next.

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 10

Devil's Grief

Set out from the camp at sunrise and made for Red Echoes. Sona still hadn't arrived when I got there but some of the Nora had already set up a camp. Riding made even better time than I'd thought. I rested a while, changed into my new armour, and cleaned away my seeker face paint. One of the Nora scouts replaced it with the mark of a Brave. It felt fitting for the occasion, I guess.

When Sona and Varl arrived with the rest of the Braves, she gave a speech—dire and morbid, but somehow rousing, even to me. I can see why people follow her as War Chief.

I set out ahead on my own to try and clear the camps by stealth. Some of our scouts that located the camps were waiting there as well. Each were fitted with an alarm that the killers could sound to call more to them, and with each wearing Focuses, stealth was even more crucial.

I shouldn't have worried. I approached each camp like a puzzle. They weren't expecting us, and I managed to pick a few off and take out their alarms before anyone knew what was happening. Then the Nora sprang into action.

More scouts were already waiting at a camp outside the ring of metal. I made my way there with Varl and Sona first, took the opportunity to climb the ruin and found another datapoint at the top, showing the ring of metal in all its ancient glory. It hosted shows of some kind—spectacles. I'm not sure. I wish I could have seen it.

We were waiting on more of the Nora to show up at camp, so I wandered around the ruins while the rest holed up in the dark, afraid of the curse that supposedly taints the lands. I came across a hunter battling a few Scrappers and helped her out. She thanked me but wasn't all that talkative, said she was Banuk, a tribe to the far north. I remember Rost telling me about them. I wonder if he's met any of them before.

I wandered around the ruins until sunset. The way the red light hit the buildings, making their cracked and crumbling faces glow...incredible.

The roads are wider than a board house, huge thick slabs of stone stretching farther than the eye can see. I've seen the machines the Old Ones would ride around in as well, now just rusted frames in the long grass. I'll admit I was...daydreaming a bit. Thinking about what it used to be like.

I even asked Varl, later, if he ever thought about it. He said he didn't, wasn't even curious. That's what killed the Old Ones, right? Trying to take what they were never meant to have, understand what they never could. I won't accept that.

At dusk, Varl and I headed into the ring of metal alone to scope out the place and find the blaze stockpile.

Perimeter guards taken care of, Varl headed back to get the Nora in position and I snuck through to set off the blaze. Made it through without a hitch, and when the Nora ran shouting through the breach, it was probably the best I've ever felt.

Then to the hunt. The corrupters were destroyed in the blast, but there was a corrupted Bellowback and many Watchers to take care of. When the killers were downed in arrows and fire, Varl and Sona spoke to the survivors—the majority of us, thankfully. It was almost like the Blessing, the way I felt a part of something.

Over the last few days, I've seen the hurt that the killers have caused everyone in these lands, the dying people lined side by side in the villages, the struggling healers, the grieving families. I've put a stop to all of it, at least for now. Varl and Sona and the rest have their vengeance, even if mine won't come until I've killed the man who struck Rost down.

I spoke to Varl afterwards. Part of me really would like to go back with him to Mother's Crown and help the Nora rebuild. Maybe that's even what Rost would want me to do. But I have to seek out Olin and the man who killed Rost. I have to know who the woman was.

I have to get inside that door.

I rode back to the camp at Red Echoes to sleep, with many of the other Nora accompanying me, eager to get out of the tainted lands as soon as possible. Tomorrow I'll head for Daytower, clearing the corruption as I go.

[nightcolorz]

here for the armand writing tips 🙏🏽

I love u sm anon ur so iconic for this bless u 🙌🙌 I love that u saw me publicly slut shaming @butchybats + extending an invite for him to hmu so that I can info dump about armand and u were like omg I can not pass up this opportunity. Ur so real and this made my day. My bad if this is unhelpful or incoherent lmaoo I am just raw dogging this educational experience. For me writing armand has always come very naturally so this is the first time I’m thinking about this in a way I could explain to other ppl. I hope u get smth out of whatever tangent I’m about to embark on and I sincerely thank u bcus I love this and I love talking about army u r indulging tf out of me in the absolute best way. Also quick disclaimer I am going off of book armand, so tho this may be helpful to show fans (esp cuz show armand doesn’t rlly have an established personality yet) it may not specifically apply. Anyways

I understand why Armand would feel like a difficult character to write bcus part of his whole deal is that he is very strange and unknowable. No one knows what Armand’s deal is, nor does he, so how r u as the writer meant to figure that shit out. He is like a void of a person basically (affectionate). He is barely capable of conscious self reflection, most characters don’t rlly know what to make of him and those that claim to r often wrong. So I get it, feels intimidating. But for me breaking down Armand to his essentials puts it into perspective a bit. 

Armand doesn’t really know how to be a person, he is only a Thing when other people are there to give him something to work off of. So he’s a different character depending on who he is interacting with. Armand with Daniel is very different then Armand with Louis, Armand with Lestat is a whole different beast, etc. He is always playing a sort of role, with Daniel he is the boss slash master vampire commanding the mortal. With Louis he is an ancient with the answers Louis has been looking for. But the performance is often cracked, unveiled whether intentionally or not, especially by those Armand loves, so what is beneath that? Well. Kind of a child. Think of a kid in their dad’s shoes. Now imagine the kid is putting on a very deep voice and standing up all straight and professional. Then he trips, and suddenly he starts crying and screaming and yelling for mommy cuz he hurt his knee. That’s Armand, when u get down to it. Like a scary man in a suit who is secretly a little boy on stilts. But wait! There’s more.

Armand is not only an actor, he is also not a very good actor. He’s like those myths about faes replacing human children, very uncanny valley, not rlly a person. So in any given situation, armand is going to be just a little bit off. Just a little odd, a tad wrong. Think of a scenario (it can be sexual you awful heathen, or it could be like, guy is in the grocery store. Or smth) now think of something that would be a little off putting and strange to do in this situation. Chances r this would be in character for armand. I always think of him as something who doesn’t know what it means to be a person, yet is always trying to learn and understand and to pretend, but never really succeeds.

Armand also has conflicting facets of his identity that come into play in different ways and inform how he interacts with different characters. Amadeo is the beginnings of the person that was never able to completely form and grow. So Amadeo is like the normal bits of Armand, the human teenager who’s playful and funny and empathetic, a bit rude, kind of weird but he means well, likes technology. Gives Lestat a light punch on the shoulder when he ruffles his hair, etc. Amadeo rarely plays into sex for Armand, sex is very clinical for him—he approaches sex like an alien. But Amadeo is still there and when Armand is happy or care free some of the unsettlingly oddness goes away, and he seems sort of like a mortal teenager for a moment. The innocence and the moments of childishness are when Armand is most sincere. Though this is fleeting, and he often behaves cold and distant and inhuman. What I like to remember when I write Armand is that he is not unfeeling, tho he pretends to be. He acts unfeeling but it’s a mask, beneath the mask his unfiltered self is extremely feeling and emotional and sensitive. He’s as much of a cry baby as Lestat, he’s just better at hiding it. 

Andrei is also there, but he is much subtler, and he’s more so the embodied longing in armand that never really goes away. There is a need for answers and for knowledge and for guidance in armand always, and that’s Andrei, searching for his God or his family or his home or his culture, that were taken from him and never adequately replaced. Armand clings to purposes and things and people because he never learned how to fill that void left by the loss Andrei experienced, and then again Amadeo experienced due to Marius and the cult. He is the culmination of so many years of a child’s growth being repeatedly stunted by adults with selfish purposes, a child who keeps getting beaten down or molded into smth different by ppl who want to make him into smth new, until he ends up a creature without a concept of who he is at all. So he’s fractured almost, not rlly with a consistent identity since he was never permitted to grow one. Just a culmination of a bunch of identities he took on throughout the years. Im sure this sounds complicated, but the great thing about being a writer with a character like this is he may be a void, but he is also a canvas. Armand is so multifaceted that u could do sm with him and it wouldn’t be ooc

So in simpler terms, a good rule of thumb when writing armand, is to think of him as a guy who is a ball of extreme feeling and pain and joy and emotion that is being masked by a cold demeanor, that is often slightly off, a little wrong, cuz it’s first untrue. He is always trying to find a purpose to fill the void that he is, and he never rlly does for very long. 

So when it comes to portraying this? Lol uhhhh. There are some many layers of armand that exist and it’s up to you to decide which ones u want to portray in ur scenario. Say for example, ur writing a fic where armand and Lestat argue. You have to evaluate Lestat’s affect on armand, his closeness with him, the context, etc, and decide what parts of armand would slip out. If I was writing a fic like this I would think ok. So Lestat is like a trigger button for armand, they hate each other but they love each other, is a lot of big emotions and passion, and Lestat also reminds armand of the most vulnerable parts of himself that he is trying to keep under wraps. So Lestat and armand arguing? Likely armand is going to be cold and distant, but not for long, bcus quickly Lestat will get under his skin and cause him to revert to unmasked emotion ball screaming crying. How about, uh, Daniel and armand go on a fluffy date devils minion era. I’d write armand as odd, strange even, curious and excited but sort of cold and distant in a confusing way. Little slips of sincere childlike joy and emotion come out but they r brief. 

I hope this is making sense lmao.

It’s much easier when writing armand, esp if it’s smth ur not confident in, to write from someone else’s pov. Armand’s pov is a tough one, even for me. It’s not that his language or sentences r strange, it’s just that the way he thinks of the world and himself is so specific and unique that u gotta think a lot to replicate it. 

Armand, especially pre TVA, is nearly incapable of self reflection. He is so dissociated from his own experiences he sees his memories and life in fragments rather then events leading into each other that inform a larger context and “theme”. For example, in devils minion he explains to Daniel that he couldn’t explain what a time of his life “was like” because he can’t conceptualize concepts like that, tho he could tell Daniel if it rained on a specific date, cuz that is smth concrete to him. he just couldn’t identify what smth is like bcus he doesn’t reflect on his emotions and his experiences in a way that would allow him to make a judgement like that. 

He just goes through life and doesn’t look back. This is a hard pov to write from cuz these r basic capabilities a first person narrator must have for a story to make sense lmfao! Armand couldn’t say, “the day was a bad one bcus this happened and I was sad.” Especially not “this experience affected me this way and now I this this and this.” However, if u want to write from Armand’s pov u can integrate these ideas into it while retaining this part of Armand’s character. 

Tho armand can not self reflect, and his way of thinking and experiencing is a very bare bones simplistic way (think of armand saying “my soul hurt” in TVA narration then not explaining lmfao, that’s the extent of his self awareness and abilities to identify his emotions) u can convey complex ideas  through his simplistic approach. Through context clues, symbolism (armand loves symbolism), and word choice + description, it’s cool and possible to convey armand having a moment etc without using ur first person tools to have him self reflect. For example, if I were to write from Armand’s pov were he is having like, a traumatic flashback, instead of writing “the moment forced me to remember insert traumatic time here and my heart raced as it came back to me suddenly, and I felt like I was back there” or whatever, I’d write “flashes of red appaeared b4 my vision like many stabbing knives, and it felt as if I was engulfed in an ocean of red suddenly, unable to escape the waves, the blood, those voices of many pasts” whatever yada yada. Cuz red armand considers synopsis with pain and trauma (he tends to see it b4 his eyes when he’s in pain synesthesia king) ocean reminds him of dying of starvation in the brothel as a kid (he described it as the only thing he payed attention to as he died, the lapping sounds of the water). Past, etc. bad example I hope u get it 😭

U just gotta rlly think for armand pov lol. So if ur nervy about writing armand anyway I recommend starting or practicing with writing from someone else’s perspective about him. Daniel is a very good character to do this with, bcus his perception of armand is relatively accurate and he is a very bluntly descriptive and self reflective character who understands himself and others very well. Lestat is also very self reflective and his perception of armand is pretty easy to write imo lol. If u just write some shit like “armand was beautifully broken, like a discarded doll in an antique shop, and I wished sadly that he’d allow me to repair him.” Then you’ve got it down pretty well lmfao.

When it comes to more specific less big picture stuff, like how to write armand talking or what does armand fuck like Ryan save me from this hell, I recommend reading his scenes a Shit Ton until it’s rlly burned into ur brain like me. I don’t know if I can adequately explain how armand talks, it’s very blunt—he’s very blunt but simultaneously very flowery. Remember he is a guy who is trying to be distant, and doesn’t rlly understand how being normal works, but he also has a vibrant inner life and a shit ton of emotion waiting to boil over beneath the surface. Yah. Lmfao. 

I’m sorry this was so weird and confusing, I hope it was interesting or helpful lol. I’m so tired lmfao.sorry it turned in to meta 😭 It was hard trying to come up with advice for a prompt so non specific but I had a hella great time and ily for this anon. If anyone wants to ask me more specific questions about writing armand I would be so happy. Xoxoxo love y’all sm loool 

[passivenovember]

He’s drowning on dry land, barefoot on his bedroom floor. 

Panic crowds his lungs like saltwater, knowing flaps half-mast overhead, the lazy, bored eye of some ancient, smug, terrible God. 

A breath too late, Steve’s choked down to the very root of himself. His insides seize and squeeze into each other, organs shuddering to a stop and puckering as if tasting something sour for the first time.

Billy takes a deep breath and says, “I think,” like it’s all he’s been able to do for months. He hasn’t slept. Ate. Billy scrubs at his nose and tries again. “I think. There’s something wrong with me,” he says. 

Steve, in an instant, boils down to his baser instincts. He’s a caveman discovering fire.

Words might as well be alphabet soup spilled and doughy across the floor. Billy’s articulation falls flat as canned letters Steve imagines crouching to reach on the carpet, fake tomato paste under his fingernails as he works to arrange consonants and vowels into something that makes sense.

All he knows is the animal. 

The strawberry flush on Billy’s cheeks, his eyes downcast so the shadow of his lashes reaches like spider legs yearning to catch whatever else aims to fall from his lips.

The smell of him. 

Steve could wrap himself in it. Thick, woodsy. The coppery tinge of sweat beneath it all--

Fear.

Billy’s afraid and Steve’s brain latches onto the fact. Turns it over in his hands, fingertips tracing the sanded edge of something that used to be sharp enough to draw blood. They’ve done this enough times that everything is smooth, now. Formless. Even panic.

Steve swallows. Tries to ask what he means. 

What’s wrong. 

Wrong, like tugging on a pair of pants that used to fit. Wrong, like an incorrect namesake. Wrong, like Steve sitting near someone else, anyone who’s not Billy--

“I just,” Billy says, and Steve wishes he wouldn’t keep pausing like that. It’s wrong, too.

Like pain.

Like shadow monsters and flowers with teeth. Like the two of them, standing on opposite sides of a door, each speaking panicked over the other. 

“I just feel--”

“I could call Owens,” Steve says. It falls from his mouth like old pudding. Splats on the ground between them. 

Billy’s eyes are big. Blue and round, like the globe covered in an endless sea. Like polished marbles. He blinks, says, “I don’t--”

“--I don’t want to lose you--”

“--that’s not what I meant--”

“--why did you say it like that, then?” Steve leans forward, burning. In the pinpoint of his stomach, smoldering, with confusion. Hurt. “Why would you lead with that if you didn’t mean--”

“All that stuff is over,” Billy says. 

Doesn’t sound like he believes it. 

Still, he inflates himself to Steve’s height and holds his ground. Licks his lips. “I’m sorry I scared you.” Billy’s eyes search Steve’s face, losing some of their frantic edge. Billy blinks, his breath warm and sweet in the air between them. “What’d you mean when you said that?”

“Said what?”

“Y’know,” Billy says bluntly, “You said you can’t. Lose me, what did you mean when you said--”

“I meant that,” Steve snaps, feeling his words roll like loose marbles over the carpet. “I meant it. I always mean it.”

Billy and Steve. They’re smooth, these days. Nameless and shapeless as God, but just as strong. And true.

Steve expects that to be enough. 

Wants it to be enough, but then--

“You don’t even know why I’m scared,” Billy snips, and it lights a fire in Steve’s belly.

“You didn’t say you were scared,” Steve tells him, “Said you felt wrong.”

“Something is wrong.”

“Well,” Steve says dryly, “I can’t read your mind. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Billy stares at him for a minute and then frowns. “I thought you could read my mind.”

“I can’t.”

“I can read yours,” Billy tells him.

Steve stretches his legs, neck cracking loudly. “Okay, then you know what I meant when I said I can’t lose you.”

Billy sits up taller than the Empire State Building, like a-ha! Like, “You didn’t say that before. You said you don’t want to lose me, not that you can’t--”

Steve wants to grab fistfuls of his own hair and pluck it out, “You’re the one who said your thing first. We were sitting here and then you said that thing and you said it out of nowhere, all ominous. Like you were standing in shadow, and I was outside, playing in the sprinklers, or something--”

“You didn’t let me finish, Harrington.”

“I feel like you’re trying to spin me in circles,” Steve says, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, “You want me to admit something.”

“I’m just pointing out the flaw in your language--”

“Okay, this. This valedictorian bullshit? It’s not gonna work.”

Billy breaks out into a warm, golden smile, and Steve thinks he’s awful. Irritatingly awful douchebag fucker, and just. The best thing that ever happened.

Billy clears his throat, says, “I think something’s wrong with me because I’ve never wanted to stick my name on someone before, you know?”

Steve nods, not knowing. 

Billy looks at him. Through him and at him again when Billy’s sock foot nudges him playfully. “We were sitting here, though.”

“What does that mean?”

“Who the fuck cares what it means,” Billy says lightly, “I was sitting here with you, just now, and you sniffed and I could hear all the snot in your face, like, rattle up into your brain and I thought I wanna tack my name on him. Like, write my initials on a fruit sticker and put it on your nose.”

Steve starts drowning again. He’s pushed off dry land, flailing toward a rushing river, drowning or preparing to drown.

“And that’s,” He says, mouth dry enough to suck up the ocean, ‘That’s bad?”

“Not bad,” Billy determines. “Wrong.”

And maybe Steve was lying, before, about not being able to read Billy’s mind. Because he gets it, what it means, and doesn’t have to have it spelled out for him. 

It’s only wrong if Billy’s standing out there alone. 

If the waves are crashing around him. 

If Steve’s not wrapped in a life vest, dragging another on a rope behind him as he swims easily through the surf to get to Billy and take him to dry land. 

“When I said I don’t want to lose you. Before, when I said don’t, I really meant can’t.”

Billy blinks at him, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve admits, and it’s easy. Easier still to take Billy’s hand and say, “I stuck my name on you forever ago, I just. Always thought you were mine.”

They’ve never talked about it, so Billy says, “I get that,” Fingers squeezing Steve tight, “That’s how I feel, too.”

[daitranscripts]

Cole Cutscene: What Pride Had Wrought

Died and Then Didn't

Cole Masterpost Related Quest: What Pride Had Wrought

The PC finds Cole on the ramparts at night.

Cole: Corypheus died, and then he didn’t. That’s why he always felt wrong, like he didn’t fit inside himself. He wears another man’s life. I thought dying was forever.

Dialogue options:

General: It’s confusing. PC: It’s hard for any of us to make sense of. Corypheus is using ancient magic. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: You and me both. PC: So did I. Corypheus seems to break a lot of rules. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: We’ll kill him. PC: We’ll make it forever. We’re working on a plan to kill Corypheus permanently.

Cole (have not found amulet for Cole): We still need the amulet, the one Solas talked about. I can’t fight Corypheus without it. I won’t. Cole (amulet found, personal quest not completed): We still need to get the amulet working. I won’t face Corypheus without it. I can’t.

Cole: But is it him? Is he real? If a man can be dead and then not…

Cole (personal quest completed): Could I have saved the real Cole? Cole (personal quest not completed): There was a young man. He died alone. I didn’t know how to help. Could I have saved him?

Dialogue options:

General: You did all you could. PC: What happened to him wasn’t your fault. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: I don’t know. PC: I have no idea. I’m sorry. I hardly understand any of this myself. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: No. PC: Corypheus is using his connection to the blight to make himself immortal. You couldn’t do that.

Choice dependent dialogue:

Cole became more human[1]

Cole becomes more spirit [2]

Cole’s quest not completed [3]

1 - Cole became more human: Cole: His hands were bruised from beating on the wall. It was dark like the cabinet where he hid to escape his father. His belly hurt like knives, throat cracked dry. He was alone. I pushed through and held his hand. It was all I could do. He said, “Thank you.” Cole: Thank you. Scene ends.

2 - Cole becomes more spirit: Cole: It gnawed at me, hooks in the hollows, pain of not knowing like the knot in his belly. But that is a hurt, and hurts can heal. I can heal.

Cole: Forget. PC: Cole? Cole, are you… Cole: You may still use that name, if you like. I am here to help you. Scene ends.

3 - Cole’s quest not completed: Cole: I get heavy when I think of him. It pushes me down, holds me here. It would hurt less to forget.

Dialogue options:

General: Then do that. [4]

General: You need to remember. [5]

4 - General: Then do that. PC: If it helps you, Cole, let it go. Cole: Forget. Forget! PC: Cole? Cole: It’s still here. I’m still here. For a while, anyway. Scene ends.

5 - General: You need to remember. PC: That feeling is part of what makes you who you are. Don’t forget that. Cole: Heels of the hands brushed from beating on the wall. Dark like the cabinet where I hid from Father before the bad day. I will remember. Scene ends.

If the PC speaks to Cole again Cole: He meant to watch forever. He called himself Sorrow.

[edupunkn00b]

Progression, Chapter 8: You've Created a Monster

Photo by edupunkn00b

Prev - You've Created a Monster - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Last night's incident at the bar had consequences that no-one could escape. Written for @imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper's @dukeceit-week-2024, final day: Free Day. "Free" day. WC: 1190

Wet and heavy, the air outside the bar stank of rotting vegetables and piss, old paint and sweat. Fear. He shivered, sweat cooling his skin too, too quickly, even in the stuffy, muggy night. 

He almost asked to go back inside, to return to the soft lights and the loud music. To return to Jannie and Lucas’ watchful gazes. Did they see him leave? Would they be worried? 

He almost asked to go back inside, but before he could even surface the thought, Bryan urged him around the corner and into the alley, voice sweet and brushed with just a hint of heat. His lips were soft and the hand on the small of his back was warm and gentle.

Until it wasn’t.

The Muse cracked open his eyes, squinting against the cold glare of his buzzy overhead light. It hummed and crackled, some ancient thing that didn’t fritz right out under the strangling weight of his room's new shield.

Sighing, he rubbed his cheek against the carpet. It was now stiff, without the same drag and bounce it had had before Papa Bear and Virge renovated. The fresh glue stank, burning his nose and his throat.

Maybe that’s what he’d smelled. Not last night’s bar. Not last night’s—

The floor jolted beneath him, the little thud that meant the elevator had stopped on his floor. The Muse grinned. Someone was coming!

“Jannie!” The Muse cheered, racing to the door as it began to open. “Jannie, Jannie, Jannie, Jannie, Jannie, Jan—”

Papa Bear’s head stuck through and he frowned. “Sorry, Kiddo.” The cheer in his voice was thin and brittle, too high and too chilly to be real. If The Muse pushed at it, it would shatter under his hands like the old plastic cabinets had. Papa Bear raised the tray he carried and curled up his lips into something like a smile. “Just me and some dinner for you while Virge converts your stove to work in the EMF.”

His voice was rough, like he’d been shouting. Or crying. The Muse flipped backwards on a nearby chair and hung his head over the seat, watching him as he walked on the ceiling. He’d never been able to easily read Papa Bear. Not without touching him, at least, and today—tonight?—Papa Bear wore a long-sleeved hoodie, all drawn up and covered like he was cold.

A bead of sweat trailed down his temple.

He couldn’t easily read him—not without pushing, not without being noticed, and he was trying so hard to never do that, no matter how much he needed it sometimes. But he could usually make Papa Bear laugh. When he wasn’t scaring him or grossing him out, anyway. 

“Guess Jannie’s too busy bom-chicka-waow-waow , with the hubby, huh?” He grinned, waiting for a laugh or a grimace. Usually his innuendos about Papa Bear’s little brother got a bit of both.

Not today, though. “Something like that.” Papa Bear’s mouth trembled and he turned to set down the tray, a wave of grief and loss knocking Remus to the floor.

“Oh, fuck, Papa Bear…” He scrambled to his feet and moved close. “Lucas isn’t… hurt, is he?”

“No, um… Lucas is fine, Kiddo. Everything’s okay.” Papa Bear smiled through his lie. “I… I should go… I left Virge without another set of hands in the lab, um… Eat up, Re. You’re getting too skinny.” He smiled again, lips curled up softly, but cheeks pale and eyes red-rimmed. “I’ll make you anything you want, I promise.”

He squeezed his shoulder, grip firm but not very steady. It was only then that The Muse noticed his gloves. “Yeah—yeah, Papa Bear. I’ll eat this time. I…” Another wave of sadness oozed off of him, cold and sticky. Syrup left to dry or those cold compresses he’d stick on his bruises when the ice burned.

The Muse poked at the edges of Papa Bear’s hurt, feeling for the source of the thudding, throbbing ache around them. Papa Bear shrank back and shook his head, wincing, so he stopped. Tried to, at least.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay, Re,” he murmured, but didn’t move closer. “I know it’s not your fault.” His arms twitched, almost like wanted to hug him. The Muse stepped closer, unable to hold back the itchy little whine at the back of his throat. A big Papa Bear hug would feel so fucking good right now. 

But instead of moving toward him, arms open, Papa Bear shuffled backwards and palmed open the door with the new controls. “I—I—I gotta go, Kiddo,” he said, not meeting his eyes. He slipped through the door, pulling it closed behind him. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed from the other side of the door. 

“Papa Bear, wait, what hap—” The Muse rushed to the door and slammed his hand on the controls. It wouldn’t respond. He tried again, slower this time, fingers carefully spread over the surface. Nothing. 

“I’m sorry, Kiddo.” Papa Bear’s voice spilled from a little vent next to the door. “That won’t work anymore. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He pressed to the window. “Papa Bear? I—I’m sorry! Please come back! Papa Bear?”

Papa Bear’s shoulders shook as he rushed toward the elevator and disappeared. “Papa Bear?” he cried one more time, banging on the door. The elevator doors swished shut and the hallway was again bathed in darkness.

Braced against the door, one hand stretched and hopelessly tapping the door controls, he watched the hallway shadows a long, long time. The lights above the elevator dimmed and brightened almost imperceptibly, silently and dutifully marking each floor change as the elevator moved in its shaft. The lights never heralded Papa Bear’s return.

Or anyone's.

By now they would’ve told Ro what happened at the bar. But maybe… maybe Ro would still visit? Not come inside, that was too, well, it wasn’t safe not alone. they both knew that. But Ro still might come and sit outside the door like he used to, close enough to see him through the window. Close enough to imagine they still breathed the same air. Close enough for Ro to show off a new flower or dazzling lights.

He’d bragged he could make fireworks the last time they’d talked. The Muse laughed. Maybe he could show off what he could do, too.

The Muse closed his eyes and straightened, hands outstretched in front of him.

Scarred and shaking, he saw nothing but empty hands and his empty room.

He tried again, picturing the sparks of heat and light, the singe as the fireworks spread and scattered over his hands. But no matter how clear the picture was in his mind, the static pushed back against it, forcing it all back into his head. He tried again. And again. Fireworks, flowers, a fucking rock.  

Nothing worked.

He shook his head, pounding behind his eyes as his Illusions stuttered against his skull, echoing back to him instead of pouring out into the world, into his palms, alive and real. His room wasn’t supposed to do that. He had to tell Jannie.

The Muse pushed at the static surrounding his room, the new, ever-present buzz of the shield pressing against him like a soap bubble. Was it louder now? He slammed his fists against it, scratching, clawing, poking against the deafening darkness. -”Jannie?-“ he screamed against the bubble. -“Jannie, can you hear me? Jannie? Jannie?! JANNIE!!”-

[idiotwithanipad]

Breaking Down Ancient Walls

(Set after @shebeafancyflapjack 's fic Sleepover. Also with elements from her fic Exile)

The soldier had boiled his last pan. Cracked whatever shell of self control he had left. Robin knew that Cap could be rude and patronising at times, but he never thought he'd stoop so low; brushing off Amy's loss as though it were a mere fork in the road to slip around and avoid. Berating Silver when she wasn't even in the room to stand up for herself.

Prodding his little insults and condescending remarks behind her back, like a coward.

Listening to the fancy pants warble on as though everyone would agree with him, Robin began to see Cap in himself. In that moment, anyway. He'd been rude. Angry. Condescending and downright spiteful to her. His good friend who really meant no harm in anything she did.

The sincere hurt and horror in her eyes in that moment was something he didn't think he'd ever be able to forget. If he could open up his skull and pour bleach onto his ancient brain to rid himself of it... He wouldn't. He didn't want to forget it, because he wanted to remember never to treat her that way again.

"Take it easy, yeah? Just take it easy, mate" Julian soothed, surprisingly softly as he rubbed between Robin's tense shoulder blades. The caveman ran his musty fingers through his mane, exhaling sharply like an angry bull.

"I mess up. I mess up big bad.." He berated himself, screwing his eyes shut.

Julian nodded and pinched his lips together. Quite frankly, the MP didn't quite know what to say; all he knew was that he never wanted to get on Robin's bad side.

"I broke promise to Mary. I make Moonah Girl go away. Would never do that. Never!" Robin fretted, palms pressed firmly against his throbbing temples.

"She's a good girl really. I'm sure once she gets a good long sleep in she'll be right at rain in no time" Pat assured, stepping away from the still dumbstruck Captain and sitting down on the bed. Robin shook his head.

"No. It not about her sleepy. It about promise!" Robin barked, a crack in his voice.

"I promise to Mary that I not tell Moonah Girl what happen! For her sake. But I mess up! I tell Moonah Girl and make me sound like big hero... But not in good way"

A wave of realisation hit him. Hard.

"It what Stompy call-..Gas-life?. Gaslike?... "

"Gaslighting" Julian finished.

Robin nodded solemnly.

"Mary be knocking me on head if she here right now. Stompy be pulling on beard if she here right now. I'm not good friend..." Robin dropped back onto the bed beside Pat, his back stiff and rigid, shoulders trembling and knuckles cracking against his knees.

"No no, mate~" Pat shook his head and his brow creased in pity as he reached forward to pet Robin's arm.

"I shut away last 'fing of Mary I got left- make her cry- let her down.." Robin's voice trembled. His whole body trembled as he fought back hot tears. A vein in his neck popped and his shoulders seared with pain. Each individual tuft of fur on the caveman's shift seemed to slowly stand on end and they sounded like they were- buzzing?...

With a loud 'crack' the lightbuld overhead broke open and fizzled out, sending shards of glowing hot glass slicing through the bedsheets and curtains. Everyone in the Hingham Suite yelped in surprise, the whole house became shrouded in darkness as room by room, each lightbuld, each TV, each telephone blew and sparked and smoked and died.

"Heavens! Well, there goes my Luther marathon later on!" Fanny chided with an irritated flourish of her arms.

"I don't ask for much, you know, Robi-"

Fanny stopped dead in her tracks, pursing her lips and clasping her hands respectfully at her stomach, bowing her head in shame. Robin's face lie down in his palms, leant forward and trembling, his head practically between his knees, his feet tucked in tight. Sobbing.

--

"Where be Amy?" Mary hustled over to Annie who approached casually from behind.

The Puritan pointed in the direction of the thick evergreens behind her, a pleased grin on her face.

"She be over yonder. She hath found herself a clearing surrounded by oak and spruce. She do plan to conjour a home there for Lord Humphrey and herself for when he reaches this land. Once she gets in enough practice, o'course"

Mary smiled. At last, the dark girl made herself bright again.

"Spendids. But my love, we needs her, urgents" Mary said, a tone of haste in her voice as she clutched onto Annie's wrist.

Annie made the connection quickly, her eyes darting from Mary's to the waterfall over her shoulder.

"What's 'appened?"

"I did see Robin lose himself and cry. Rights in fronts of t'others. This may be our only chance to slips our ways into his noggin' and speaks to him"

Annie's eyes brightened, bringing her free hand to Mary's shoulder. They had to be fast.

The two women gathered their skirts and jogged through the trees to reach Amy.

"Little'eeeen?" Mary cooed, her voice bouncing with each time her foot struck the ground.

Amy sat, rock in her lap, legs crossed under her. Her eyes focused hard on the grass before her, her lid twitching occasionally. The shiny blue pebble and black glittering stick beside her were reminders not to give up hope of conjouring just yet. If she could conjour something that couldn't be found in nature, like the pebble and stick, then she could conjour a building. Right? If she got good enough? She had forever after all.

"C'mon you mother fuckin', ball bustin', gut punching-"

Amy's mumbling rant of concentration was interrupted as she heard the two women scrambling up behind her like headless chickens.

"Little Amy! Little Amy! We needs your projections!" Mary panted, leaning her hands on her thighs.

"Woah, woah, what's taken the skin off YOUR sack?" Amy asked, wide eyed, already gathering herself from the grass and clutching the rock to her stomach as she rose.

"There be a window of opportunity, girl. Time to make a visit to Robin at last. He sleeps now" Annie deflated, mopping her brow with her apron.

It was a pin drop moment for Amy. Silver had assured her that vengeance was unnecessary, that she didn't care anymore. But Amy cared. She hadn't let it go yet. She wouldn't let it go until she was satisfied.

"Right now?" Amy blinked, wanting a definite answer.

"Right nows. Come, girl, come forth" Mary hurried, beckoning for Amy to follow as she took off in a brisk waddle back towards the trees. Annie followed soon after, watching over her boulder to make sure Amy followed.

She did. A determines frown knitting into her thickened brows.

--

The house was dark. Damp. It hadn't looked this way for a good long while. Cobwebs and bust strung from each surface and candlestick. Tapestries and dusty rugs folded and left to mould on the floorboards. The walls were old, dark. No longer the fresh white that had been painted over them as of late. Why was it this way?

Come to think of it... The place was completely empty. Robin didn't like it empty. Empty means alone. And alone is bad. The fireplace in the Lobby was unlit and dusty. Cobwebs hung from it like Gothic streamers, floating and swaying gently in the cold breeze as it blew through in a long, lementing howl.

Robin caught eye on two chairs. Old chairs. Intricate detailing carved into them. Familiar.

He sat in one of them. Uncomfortable. Solid. Old. Alone.

It seemed like the house was a personification of himself. It would always end up empty, cold, alone and unloved. The house was like his brain; vast, large, full of memories. But none of that mattered if there was nobody inside to share them with.

Robin breathed out. Much to his surprise, a cloud of steam exited his lips. In fact, everything seemed to devolve and change around him, all the surfaces crushing over with glistening ice and frost. It creaked and squeaked as it solidified and encapsulated everything beneath it. His head switched from side to side as he pushed himself up from the chair.

"Sit down"

Robin whipped his head in the direction of the voice, but nobody was there. His jaw set. His eyes peeled for any movement. His nostrils flared for any scent. Cigarettes. Sugar. Cheap red velvet body mist. Her.

"Stompy?... That you?"

The mist leaving his lips was more like a continuous flowing vapour now. No longer the subtle whisp of warmth from just now. The place even had icicles hanging from above. Some tiny. Some lengthy. Some like fully formed stalagmites descending from the ceiling.

With the tickling sensation of someone trailing their finger up the back of his neck, Robin swirled around to face the chairs again. A figure sat, cross legged, in the chair opposite the one he got up from.

He jumped back, almost sliding on the ice and doing the splits.

"Forgotten how creepy I look in the dark already?...Thanks a lot, dick..." Amy rolled her eyes. Digging a cigarette from her pocket and striking her Zippo. The orange flame illuminating her displeased face.

For a brief second, Robin grinned, delighted and in awe. How was she back? She's gone, she went up to the stars? Scabby basement guy say so.

"I'd wipe that grin off your face if I were you. I didn't come here to have a laugh, mate"

Robin's face cracked and his grin faltered. He blinked.

"How you come back? You go up to stars. We not see you in while now. Head say-"

"Don't you say his name" Amy spat, pointing her cigarette in his direction, her eyes pinned angrily on the chair opposite hers.

Robin sucked in a breath and stepped closer. Daring.

"But- how you here?" He pressed, stepping closer to the chair.

"Same as you can blow the power, I can come into people's dreams. I can control them" Amy dumped ash down onto the floor with a flick. Somehow, it didn't melt the frost, it just froze over as well.

Robin stood in silence, processing it all. Amy's eyes finally glided over to him, those blue eyes anything but happy to see him.

"Sit the fuck down"

She was serious. He could tell. She wasn't even this angry when he'd wake her up in the morning, jumping on her and tickling his grubby fingers into her ribs.

"What happen-?"

"I said sit down"

Like a naughty boy sent to the headmaster's office, he gingerly stepped around the corner of the chair and sank down onto it slowly. His eyes fixed hard on her as she took another drag of the nicotine stick.

"Wanna fill me in on anything I missed? Any- events?" Amy asked, but something in her voice and the way she scoweled at him made it seem like she already knew everything, she was simply biding her time, waiting for the moment when he would try to slip around his actions with a cheeky lie.

He broke eye contact and gave a limp shrug.

"There must be something. I've been gone for three months. You lot can't go a week without one of you fucking up somehow" Amy spoke, calmly, sinisterly.

Again, another halfhearted shrug.

"Really?... Well, how's Silv?"

His heart stopped. Oh no.

"She asleep" He replied quickly.

"I gathered that. How's she been? Gotten over it yet? She was always quite sentimental" Amy added, matter of fact.

Robin rubbed his knuckles up and down his furs. He was cracking. She could tell.

"She sad. Cry big long time"

Getting closer. Maybe she should play at him a little bit? He still had a heart. He must have a least one string left in it to tug at?

"Same. I almost ripped all the skin on my arm off because I wanted to come back so bad. Oh well, at least she still has you and Kitty. You two won't let her down. Will you, Robin?"

...

"Will you, Robin?..."

The caveman couldn't look at her anymore, he was ashamed. He shook his head.

"Don't ignore me, Robin" A small growl rippled in Amy's voice.

The caveman pushed himself up from the chair and turned to walk away through the wall behind him.

"I said DON'T ignore me"

Amy was right in front of him now, he caught on, walking chest first into her face.

He jolted back.

"... Okay..." He yielded.

"I- lost temper-.."

Amy blinked.

"How? What happened?"

"Moonah Girl get so sad without you that she start to talk to Head bit. Then Body bit. Walk straight past me and ignore me" He admitted.

"And then?" Amy tilted her head.

Robin's nostrils flared and his lip trembled.

"I get angry. Tell her she silly little girl. She treat Body bit like a toy, great big teddy bear. But- she stop talk to me and I feel-"

"Left out? " Amy finished.

Robin looked terrible. His eyes widened and he winced at the monotone drone in Amy's voice. Somehow her monotone was worse than her anger.

"So that was it, was it?" Amy's hand threw the cigarette to the frozen floor.

"You were jealous and you just couldn't lose a fight?"

"Was just- Mary make me promise to take care of Moonah Girl till she go up to the stars. But Body bit keep 'finking she was you!" The savage defended, flourishing his mits to the edgy teen.

"Then you should've stepped up... "Amy Grit her teeth, stepping closer to him, her eyes burning with rage.

"If you wanted to help her you should've helped her. This is all on you. If you had just been there for her, she wouldn't have to have you shouting at her like a fucking five year old" Amy sneered.

"Was a misTAKE!" Robin blurted, stamping his foot.

"Don't fucking shout at me, scumfuck!" Amy growled back, pointing her finger under his chin.

The two former friends stood, almost chest to chest, glaring each other down. Amy's face was stony and solid, but her heart cracked. She didn't want to have an exchange like this with him, but Robin had placed himself up on a high horse. And she hated that attitude.

You can either be the person groveling at the rocks or the person on the high horse. But Amy took it upon herself to be the person who knocks the horse over, sending the high and mighty to crumble down to grovel like the rest.

Would that make her the one on the high horse? Was she going too far? Had she become everything she hated in her former mother like she'd feared?

She shouldn't have come here. She should've just left Robin alone. Followed Silver's advice and just let it slip. He was probably thinking up an apology before she even got to him. And now she'd wrecked him.

Tears sprang to Amy's eyes.

"Did you even care about Silver and me at all? Kitty? Elysabeth?"

Robin's eyes set on her.

"How you know abou-"

"Or were we just a means to an end? A way for you to get over your guilt and move on? Were we all just little ways for you to prove to yourself that you weren't a terrible guy? Just tell me the truth"

Had that been the way he'd come across? The girls were just a way for him to start over and repent? A second chance, maybe?

Amy felt like she had been winded as the caveman stepped forward, flinging his arms around her in a crushing embrace. Her tears slipped and fell into his furs and she held her breath.

"Didn't mean for any of it. Didn't want hurt any of you. 'Specially you girls. Was just- I felt like I not needed no more"

Amy could kick herself in her fucking throat. He'd felt unwanted? Unneeded? Out of date and washed up? Was all of this because he liked to feel needed?

This was all just a misunderstanding. Amy wept. Surprisingly, Robin pulled back slightly and glanced down at her. He was about to reach a hand up to wipe her tear, but she pulled away weakly.

"The way you treated Silver was fucked up and you know it." Amy looked over at him in sadness and guilt.

"Just please- don't do that again. I don't wanna see my best friends at each others throats"

Robin nodded, already looking ready to wipe the past clean and start over.

"Just promise me something, Robin?" She didn't look like the Amy he knew. She looked vulnerable and puppy eyed, strangely cute in a sinister way.

"What? What me promise?" He asked, stepping closer, looking for any way to earn forgiveness.

"Don't be afraid to care"

Robin blinked.

"Silver will forgive you, I know it. Fuck the Tory off for those three days and go talk to her, go for a walk, chase squirrels I dunno, just- don't leave her alone and come back moping when she loses interest, yeah?"

She was right; Julian was constantly there. Those three days wouldn't be a total loss would it?

"If you keep shutting yourself off from her, you'll cut yourself off from Mary too. Mary would want you to care"

"'Kay. I promise, Stompy. Won't break"

Amy nodded, rubbing her cuff under her eye to get rid of the tear streaks.

"We all love you, Robin, just in case you forgot that. You fucking moron" Amy managed a chuckle, behind her sobs. He exhaled and gave a nod, the corner of his mouth twitching into a tiny smile.

"I want you to be there for her when she wakes up. If Humphrey's body is there just talk softly to him, he can feel vocal vibrations so long as they're above waist height. He won't think you're a threat then"

The room around them started to tremble and fade. The ice turning to powder and evaporating.

Robin glanced down at the boards beneath his furry boots as though preparing for them to split and swallow him up.

Amy let her eyes go of kilter briefly, still disheartened.

"Please promise me, Robin... "

He nodded.

"I promise. Moonah Girl get big apothecary-"

"Apology"

"Apology- when she wake up. Won't let her cry no more. 'Less she need to..."

Amy gave a soft smile finally. That was all she wanted to hear. The room faded and rattled into blackness as the caveman's subconscious fluttered away. The sun must be coming up. Only Amy's voice remained.

"Don't be afraid to care, Robin. Don't shut yourself away and you won't get hurt"

[hbyrde36]

Chapter 15!

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

ao3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Whoever was at Steve’s front door was persistent. They rang the bell over and over again as he rushed around, shoving his legs into a pair of sweatpants so he wouldn’t have to greet whoever it was in his underwear. He wasn’t expecting anyone this morning. Robin hadn’t texted and Wayne wasn’t due to pick him up for hours.

He padded barefoot to the door and was so annoyed by the constant buzzing that the second he reached it he threw it open wide. He couldn’t have been more surprised to find Jane, the scary young girl from Henry Creel's house standing on his doorstep.

“What, uh, can I, um, do for you, Jane?” Steve stuttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

She didn’t say a word in reply, just smiled and raised her hand palm-up in front of her face and made a little oh with her lips. Steve had a fraction of a second to notice the black powdery substance she was holding before she was suddenly blowing it right in his face. 

Whatever that stuff was, whatever she had done to him, the effect was immediate. The world around Steve swam and he felt himself begin to fall. He waited for the pain to hit him but it never came, blackness overtook him before he ever hit the floor. 

Steve came-to in a dark room with a dirt floor. It was cold enough to make him shiver and wish he had thought to throw on a t-shirt before answering his front door. In his defense he hadn’t expected to be abducted today. It smelled damp and musty and the word cellar came quickly to mind. He could feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was being watched, but he hadn’t turned his head yet to confirm who it was and so far had been careful to only open his eyes a crack.  He kept his breath even as he took stock of himself. 

He’d been knocked out plenty of times before, and in a few different ways, but the weird thing about this time was, he remembered everything and he felt…fine. 

It was no different than waking up from a nap. Nothing hurt, and he wondered if he had ever even hit the ground or if Jane had floated him away once he passed out like she had done with the objects in Creel’s house. There was also no fuzziness to his thoughts like there usually was when he got hit too hard in the head. He had the hysterical thought that he wished more bad guys would use the stuff she had.  

He finally opened his eyes and turned over. In the low light of a few candles he could see Jane sitting on top of a box no more than a few feet away. 

No, not a box. A coffin. 

Right, so it was still daylight outside. The question was, who was in the coffin? Henry didn’t seem to need to hide from the sun nor did Steve think a man like that would lower himself to rest in a place like this. 

Only one way to find out.

Steve cleared his throat. “Who’s in the box?”

“Oh, so I see you’re done pretending to be asleep now.” Jane said.

Steve sat up, still a little amazed at how good he felt. 

He decided to act dumb, though it was only partly an act because he really didn’t know what the hell was going on. “All this wasn’t necessary, I told Henry I would think about his offer and I meant it, but I haven’t decided yet. He promised me time, so what’s with the kidnapping routine?”

Jane grimaced at the mention of the ancient vampire’s name. “I am no longer on Henry’s side, although he does not know that yet. I don’t know if you’ve met my friend Angela.” She said, patting the box beneath her. “She’s promised to free me and my sister from him. We had a plan, but neither of us expected him to get his hands on a real live necromancer, so we had to improvise. When I met you yesterday at the house I knew I had to stop you from joining him.”

Okay. He didn’t really understand what she meant, or what made him so special, but he couldn't worry about that now. His top priority was to get the hell out of there before Angela woke. She was old and powerful and would likely rise before sunset. He didn’t know what time it was now, he didn’t know how long he’d been out of it, he just knew he needed to hurry. 

He didn’t want to hurt Jane if he could avoid it. Maybe she could be reasoned with.

“I haven’t agreed to help him yet.” Steve repeated, glad that he was telling the truth and hoping the sincerity carried through in his voice. “What if I promise not to help him, will you let me go then?”

Jane sighed as if she suspected this conversation was coming, but wasn’t looking forward to it. “I’m sorry, but It’s more complicated than that now I'm afraid. We can’t have you helping your Master of the City either. Angela must kill him and rise to the position herself to have any hope of defeating Henry.”

Steve knew what was coming next. Jane would ask for his cooperation to put Angela in charge, which he was never going to do. He felt for Jane, in a way. If she really was doing all this to gain her and her sisters freedom, he could almost understand. Though, even the bad guys had families sometimes and he couldn’t afford to assume anything about this girl just because she loved her sister. 

But, maybe he could try to convince her that Angela couldn’t be trusted. 

“Jane, I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know much about your situation, but I have met Angela and I can assure she is not your friend. If Henry is bad, then she is worse. She…”

Jane cut him off. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. She is my friend! She promised!”

“Angela and her people have murdered innocents, Jane. Did you know that? Did she tell you what she did to them? Her and her friends attacked me and an older man, unprovoked. She almost killed us. And when we did manage to get the upper hand she was going to let us kill one of her friends. She didn’t care what happened to him.” 

“You’re making that up. You're trying to trick me!” She shouted

"No honey, I swear I’m not. I also swear that if you let me go I will do everything in my power to help you and your sister. It’s part of my job, to help people who are in trouble with vampires. Please, just let me go before she wakes, we can both go. I’ll keep you safe.”

Jane threw her hands over her ears and screamed wordlessly, trying to drown out what he was saying. As she did, things began to explode all around them. Glass mason jars, tins of screws, and barrels full of liquid. 

She hopped down off the coffin and stood glaring down at him with eyes simmering with fear and anger. “She warned me you would do this! She told me not to talk to you alone but you woke too early! She will be up soon and you will see. You will have to join us or die. There is no other choice. Anything else puts Kali at risk, so you better start preparing yourself for whatever fate you choose.”

Jane walked off to the other end of the space and sat down…on the bottom step. He hadn’t noticed it before but there were three short steps that led to a set of metal doors, only the barest hint of outdoor light visible around the edges. She had closed her eyes and seemed to be meditating.  

Steve wracked his brain for what to do. He was pretty sure he could overpower the girl physically, but Jane was a witch and he didn’t know the limits of what she could do. He had his own power he could try to tap into, but if he did that she would probably sense it and he would lose any element of surprise. 

There was one thing he could do. The one bit of magic he could do better than anyone else, it was as easy as breathing and required only the smallest amount of his power. He dug his fingers into the dirt floor and could sense the bodies that lay beneath it. He didn’t know if they were more of Angela's victims or if the house that stood above them had once belonged to a serial killer, but there were several sets of bones under this ground and one of them lay right under Jane’s feet.

He pushed his fingers further into the earth and called to the bones, releasing only the barest hint of his power. The zombie didn’t need to look good, it just needed to rise and do his bidding. In his mind he whispered to the dead man what he wanted him to do, along with an apology for using his earthly body this way. 

The zombie was ready, itching to burst towards the surface but Steve held him fast, told him to wait, wait for just one more minute.

Steve got to his feet and slowly approached the girl, better to be as close to the doors as possible before he gave away his advantage. 

Her eyes shot open at his movement. “What are you doing?” She asked, and she sounded appalled as if stunned he would move from his spot without permission. If she had really expected him to stay put maybe she should have tied him down. She wasn't very good at this. Maybe it was her first kidnapping. 

“You looked upset, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He lied. 

She tilted her head staring at him with furrowed brows. 

A few more steps and he’d be right in front of her, it was time. He let go of the metaphorical leash he was holding and instantly a bony hand broke through the packed dirt and grabbed on hard and fast to her ankle. 

Jane cried out and tried to wrench her leg from its grip. Steve dodged around her, praying that the door wasn’t somehow locked from the outside. It wasn’t, but there was a chain wrapped around the pull handles secured with a padlock. It was old and rusted, Steve yanked on it but the links didn’t break. He scanned the room sure there would be something around to help him break through, and he was right. There was a shovel with a metal head leaning against the wall only a few feet away. 

He lunged for it as he listened to Jane continue to struggle with his zombie. It had now completely escaped its shallow grave and had its arms locked around her waist. She was screaming in terror. He wondered why she wasn’t using her powers. Maybe all she had was telekinesis or maybe wrestling with an animated dead body that was nothing more than bones and bits of flesh was just frightening enough to make her forget about everything else.

He hit the chain with the head of the shovel as hard as he could. Three or four good whacks and the links snapped. He started to unwind the remaining length of chain from the door when the lid to Angelas coffin popped open with a crash. He’d hoped she would go for Jane first, to help free her from the zombie but of course she didn’t. She went right for Steve. He tossed the chain aside and quickly snapped the shovel handle in half over his leg. He may not have shoes or a shirt, but now he had two wooden stakes. It was better than nothing.

Angela grabbed Steve by the throat and slammed him into the steps, hissing in his face. His back hit the edge of one of the wooden planks and it hurt like a motherfucker but he managed to hold on to his only weapons. He jammed one of the bits of wood into her side, digging it in as deep as he could. It wasn’t a killing blow, but that wasn’t the goal here. He just needed to distract her long enough to get the doors open. The daylight would do the rest. 

She reared back, shrieking in pain and yelling at Jane to help her. Steve scrambled backwards up the final step and rammed his shoulder into the center of the double doors pushing them open and sending sunlight cascading into his end of the cellar. 

Angela shrieked again and threw herself further back into the shadows of the opposite end of the cellar.

Steve struggled to his feet, back aching and more than one splinter in the bottom of his foot, but he did it and ran out into the backyard of a small house. Autumn leaves crunched under his feet and the sound echoed behind him. He looked back over his shoulder to find Jane standing a few feet outside of the cellar watching his escape. He expected her to at least run after him, or worse, but she just stood there and shouted to him. 

“The black powder is deadly.” It was enough to slow him down, to give him pause. He turned to face her from twenty feet away. “There is no antidote, but I know a spell that will heal you. Otherwise, you’ll die within hours. Stay, agree to bond with Angela and I’ll save your life.”  

Steve wasn’t buying it, he felt fine. She was just trying to scare him into turning back. He was bathed in sunlight, Angela couldn’t get to him, and Jane seemed reluctant to leave her. 

He wouldn’t fall for it. He turned his back on her and ran.

Steve had been walking on the side of the road for only about ten minutes when a car pulled up beside him. He’d started out running, and kept it up until he could no longer see the abandoned house and he was sure that Jane wasn’t going to give chase, but his feet were getting torn up in the process and eventually he’d been forced to slow down.

“You look like you could use a ride.” A familiar female voice called out to him through the open car window.  

He stooped down to peer at the driver and sure enough, it was Nancy. He wasn’t in any position to refuse the help so he got in the car, albeit a little reluctantly. 

What was she doing out here? 

Wherever here was.

She looked him up and down before pulling the car back onto the road. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?” She asked. 

Apart from the pain in his back and his scratched up feet he was fine. Well that, and there was a tightness to his chest that was new, but that was probably from the running. “How did you know I was out here, Nance?”

“How do you know I wasn't just out for a drive and got lucky?”

He stared at her in silence, unblinking. 

She glanced between him and the road a few times and let out a long breath. 

“Fine. I saw the girl take you from your house. I followed you here. I swear I was going to come to the rescue, I just wanted to see what…”

“What the fuck Nance you followed me here? How did you see her take me, were you staking out my fucking house?”

“Yes! Alright? Yes, I've been watching you. I’m sorry. Look, I took the contract and I know you were hesitant to help me outright so I thought…”

“Stop!” Steve shouted. The whole thing was giving him a throbbing headache. “Just…stop talking and take me home.”

 “Are you sure it’s safe for you to go home right now?”

She had a point. 

He wasn’t sure why that hadn’t occurred to him yet. He felt tired and a little foggy. It was probably the fading adrenaline. Oh well, whatever he decided to do would be none of her business after the stunt she’d just pulled. 

“Just drive.” He said, turning to look out the window. They made the rest of the long drive in complete silence.

He slammed the passenger door of Nancy’s rent-a-car and stood in his front yard watching until she had driven out of sight. He knew he should get inside and pack and bag. Call Robin or Wayne to pick him up. He could easily stay with one of them for a few days until he figured out what to do. He was so tired though. He stumbled his way over to his front porch steps and sat down. He’d just rest for a minute, catch his breath, then he’d go inside and take care of things. 

Distantly he heard the door to the house open behind him, and felt footsteps as someone walked across the porch. He tensed, not sure he was up to fighting anyone else off right now 

“Steve?” 

It was Robin. Relief flooded through him and he wanted so badly to turn and look at her, but his body wouldn’t cooperate and his head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He tried to say her name but something caught in his throat and he began to cough uncontrollably. Something hot and sticky dribbled down his chin. 

Robin came bounding around the side of him so she could see his face. She gasped and fell to her knees next to him. His vision blurred and he saw only red as she took his head in her hands. She was screaming his name and he wanted to respond to her, he really did but he was so tired. He couldn’t even sit up anymore. He slid sideways and landed in her lap. He closed his eyes and realized how quiet it had gotten. He couldn’t hear Robin anymore, just the rush of blood in his ears until he drifted away, and then that was gone too.

Steve woke up and had no idea where he was. It was becoming the theme of his life at this point and one he was desperate to stop. He was lying on his back in an unfamiliar king sized bed made up with black silk sheets and far too many pillows. 

He stared at the ceiling and tried to think. What was the last thing he remembered? He wasn’t sure, but something about the ceiling and what he could see of the walls was familiar. He shook the feeling off and tried to concentrate. He remembered the doorbell ringing, and Jane standing on his doorstep. It all came rushing back, the cellar, Angela, Nancy, her dropping him off at home. Robin. 

“Robin.” He tried to sit up, gasping her name. 

Suddenly someone was at his side, supporting his back and stroking his hair. 

“Hey, hey, hush. Take it easy, sweetheart. Robin’s just fine, she’s in the other room resting, it’s been a long night.”

Steve looked up and met Eddie’s deep brown eyes with his own. He looked nervous, scared even. He ran the vampire's words over again in his head. A long night? The last Steve knew was the middle of the day. What the hell happened?

He pushed away from the other man and tried to sit up on his own, happy to find that he could. In fact, the longer he was awake the better he felt, which he had a feeling should not have been the case.

Eddie scooted away from him too, widening the distance between them. Steve was pretty sure that was a first. 

He cleared his throat and wrapped his arms around himself to keep them from shaking. 

“Why am I here, Eddie?”

“Robin brought you to me.”

Steve didn’t like the way he said her name like it was common to his tongue, like he knew her. He’d managed to shield Robin from this part of his life for so long, and now here she was in the thick of it. She knew of Eddie of course but Steve had never intended for them to meet. It was enough that he let her around Dustin. He was safe, but Eddie…

“Don’t look at me like that, Steve.”

“Like what?”

“As if I'd hurt her.”

Steve ignored the pain in the vampire’s voice and asked the next logical question.

“Why would she bring me…” He trailed off looking again at the familiar fixtures on the walls. He had been here before, but the room had looked a lot different then. Billy’s coffin room. Now it looked more like a very large master bedroom. There was even a bathroom built into one corner of the room now. ”Here?”

Eddie hesitated, eyes guarded. “You were dying, Steve. Do you not remember?”

He did then, it was all coming back to him in snippets. Sitting down on the front step because he’d gotten tired, coughing and watching blood droplets splatter the white concrete, Robin looking horrified as he collapsed into her, red seeping into his eyes as he passed out. 

“I remember.” He muttered. He'd been so sure he was a goner but it had all happened so fast he hadn’t even had time to be afraid. Fear gripped him now though as he realized what may have been done to save his life. 

“Eddie. How is it that I'm sitting here, now, alive?”

The vampire heaved a great sigh. Steve felt a prickling of pain in his wrist. He looked down and found it wrapped in gauze. He already knew the answer but he needed Eddie to say it. 

To admit to what he’d done. 

Again.

“I think you already know.” Eddie admitted, weakly.

“Say it.”

“The third mark.”

Steve shook his head, he almost couldn’t believe it though the evidence was right in front of him. “You bit me. You fucking fed from me.”

“I had to.” 

“You son of a bitch.”

“I saved your life.”

“You drank my blood while I was unconscious.”

“Yes. I did. And I'd do it again.”

Steve sucked in a breath ready to tear into Eddie for what he'd done, but then the door sprang open and Robin came tumbling into the room. She jumped right up onto the bed and threw her arms around him.  

“Oh my god, Steve! You’re alright! I really thought this was it, that I'd never see you again!” He hugged her back and settled for glaring at Eddie over her shoulder for now. 

Robin sobbed into his chest as she began to ramble. “I’m sorry Steve, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what had happened to you, and I was going to take you to the hospital but I thought, what if they got it wrong, what if it wasn’t a medical thing at all. I didn’t know what to do but I knew Eddie had saved you before so I thought… I'm sorry, Steve, I was just so scared and I didn't want to lose you.” She sniffled and her body shook as she ran out of words. Steve rocked them back and forth as he rubbed her back. 

He wasn’t happy that she’d brought him here but he couldn't be mad at her when he was the one who almost died in her lap.

“It’s okay, Rob, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” He pulled back, smiling at her as he wiped the tears from her face. “Can you wait for me outside? I need to talk to Eddie alone. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Robin glanced nervously from him, to the vampire, and back again, looking like she wanted to say something but ultimately held her tongue. She nodded and left in a hurry, though he was sure she wouldn’t go too far. 

Steve rounded on Eddie the second the door closed. “I can’t blame her for bringing me here, I know she couldn't stand to see me like that and would do anything to save me, but you KNEW how I felt about this! You knew I would have refused if I could have and still, you did it anyway!” He was shouting at the top of his lungs by the end of his speech, chest heaving. 

Eddie remained calm in the face of his anger. It was infuriating.

“Is it not possible, Steve, for you to believe that maybe I also couldn’t stand to see you like that? That I couldn't stand the thought of losing you either?” The vampire said softly.

“Fuck you.” Steve spat. “Don't try to turn this into something it’s not. You want me because of what I can do for you, the power I can give you. You never gave a shit about me, if you did you would have respected my wishes.” 

“Let you die, you mean? Steve, please listen to me, I..”

“No! Shut up, I don't want to hear any more. Just tell me what this means, what new fun surprises I have to look forward to and then I'm leaving.”

Eddie laid back against the sheets staring up at the ceiling as he answered. “More of the same. We’ll be able to speak to each other seamlessly mind-to-mind now when we’re close if we choose, and we’ll be able to share minds and bodies as we did with the snake with a greater ease as well. You are very hard to kill now. No poison, venom, or illness can touch you. You’ll still age, but much slower. You’ll be able to keep me out much more easily too, if you wish.” 

“Well thank god for small blessings.” Steve hopped off the bed and walked straight for the door without looking back. He felt great, better than he had in days, physically at least. 

“Wait,” Eddie said as he zipped to his side and tried to grab his arm.

Steve side-stepped him easily, moving quicker than he ever had in his life as he felt Eddie's presence move towards him as if in slow motion.

He opened the door and only then turned around to face the vampire one last time.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Eddie. I mean it.”

The ride home in Robin’s car was tense. He wasn’t mad at her, exactly, but he was mad, and she knew it. He was stoic as he told her about Jane and Angela. He then also had to tell her about his meeting with Henry Creel because her first question had been, who the fuck is Jane? 

She didn’t say anything throughout, just listened, and when she did finally speak it wan’t about anything he had just told her. 

“Steve, I know you're mad at Eddie, and that you hate him for what he did, what he’s done, but I think you should give him a break.”

“Rob, don’t.” He said, a note of warning in his voice. 

“I think he’s in love with you.”

“Bullshit!” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She was his friend! She was supposed to be on his side!

"Steve, you didn’t see what I saw. The way he looked at you, how scared he was.”

“He drank my blood, Robin. That’s not my idea of love.”

“No, but maybe it is his.”

“I’m done talking about this. I hate him, I’ll never forgive him for this. I told him no, in no uncertain terms. He betrayed the small amount of trust that lived between us. I’m done.”

They pulled up to his house and Steve got out of the car quickly. Robin made like she would follow but he put his hand out to stop her, speaking through the open door.

“Listen, I said I wasn’t mad at you, and I meant that. I love you, but I need a little time to wallow, okay? I promise I won’t stay here. I'll call Wayne to come pick me up. I can stay with him for a few days at least. We have work later tonight anyway, and…”

“Work?! Steve, you can’t be serious! I’m sure your Dad is pissed you missed last night but-”

“This isn’t about him, Robin, not this time. I need something that’s mine, just mine. Something that is the same now as it was before Eddie.”

“Okay, I guess I can understand that. Be careful, and at least text me every few days so I know you're still alive.” She said. 

He shook his head at her and smiled despite himself. He leaned back into the car and smacked a kiss on her forehead. “I will text you every day, every hour if it makes you feel better.”

She snorted. “You know, it actually would, but I won't hold you to that. I love you, Dingus”

“I love you too, Robs.”

Steve’s stomach was in knots.

He’d been so sure he was doing the right thing when he made the call, but now, sitting in the truck next to Wayne on their way to the office he was filled with dread. A sinking feeling deep in his gut.

He felt sick.

He felt guilty, and he was pissed off because it was bullshit. Eddie had betrayed him first, and the more he’d thought about it the angrier he’d become until finally, he’d decided. 

He’d decided this was his best chance at getting his life back. At getting back to normal. 

Henry could do it. He was more than strong enough to get rid of Eddie, and Angela, and then Steve could put this whole thing behind him. He worried for Dustin, but Owens and Henry both assured him that they would keep an eye on the kid and that none of the other vampires would be hurt, even those who might stand against them in Eddie’s defense. 

Not that it would come to that, anyway. Steve had truly given Eddie up. He’d told them his daytime resting place and described the underground of the theater in stark detail,  even going so far as to tell them about the route through the sewer though it was likely closed off now.

He’d told them about the new vampires, and how Eddie could now call werewolves to his aid. He told them anything and everything he could think of to make it as easy as possible, including the fact that he now bore Eddie’s third mark, unsure of how much new power that had granted the vampire.

Henry had expressed concern at the news. “Mr. Harrington, I would be remiss if I didn't tell you. With the third mark…you do realize you may die with him, don’t you? Are you sure you wish to go through with this?”

“I’m sure.” He’d said quickly. He was just grateful that this was all they wanted from him, for now. He'd given Eddie up, but that didn’t mean he wanted to watch. 

Reluctantly, he’d also told them about Jane and her alliance with Angela, and hoped Henry would be merciful.

Wayne seemed to know he was struggling with something, and remained quiet as Steve’s thoughts continued to swirl. 

Doubts were suddenly creeping in, and he wondered why something as powerful as the oldest living vampire had needed his help for this. Surely he could have taken Eddie from one of his businesses, they were public enough. Though, Henry had seemed to have a great respect for human life, so perhaps he was waiting until dawn to limit the number of innocent bystanders. 

In addition to all the information Steve had shared, Henry also asked Steve to support him and his platform once he rose to power. He figured he was in it now, for better or for worse, and there was nothing he could do but agree. 

Steve’s phone began to ring loudly, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a blocked number and he almost didn’t answer it but in the end his curiosity, and Wayne’s glare at the noisy piece of technology, won out.

“Hello?”

“Necromancer?”

“Jane? What…”

“I’m sorry to call you like this.” She interrupted, speaking quickly before he could ask what she wanted. “I’m sorry about everything, Steve. You have no reason to trust me but I need you to listen to me now. It seems we have both made terrible mistakes and put out faith in the wrong people. I’m calling to see if you would be willing to help me fix the mess we’ve made?”

Steve sucked in a harsh breath as his heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“I overheard Henry and Owens talking. I know you gave your master up to them, and that you told them what I did.”

“Jane, I…”

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s not the first time I've been caught...misbehaving. I’ve been punished and managed to convince Henry that I'm remorseful. There’s more.” She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “Henry and Angela are working together. They always have been. I didn’t know. I swear I didn't know. I thought Angela was my friend. I don’t know what has happened between you and your Eddie to make you hate him so, but you have to warn him. We have to find a way to stop this or a lot of innocent people are going to die.”

“What do you mean, what’s going to happen?

“He’s going to sneak in tomorrow morning to kill Eddie and take control of the city, which you already know. What he didn’t tell you is that when the sun sets he’s going to force every vampire in the city to attack humans, with orders for maximum bloodshed.”

Oh God.

How could he have gotten it so wrong?

“Tomorrow?” Steve gulped. “But that’s Halloween. The streets will be full of families, kids.”

“I think that’s the point.” She said softly.

Fuck.

“What do we do? What can we do?”

“Warn Eddie, move him, try and come up with a plan. Do whatever you can and I will do the same from this end of things.  Henry thinks I'm on his side again for now which may give us the upper hand.” 

“What about your sister?” Steve asked.

“I can’t condemn so many others to death to save the life of one.” 

“My offer still stands Jane, if we survive this, I will help you get your sister back if I can.”

“I’m sorry I didn't trust you before, Necromancer.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. He knew exactly how she felt. “It’s okay, it can be hard to know who to trust sometimes. If anyone can understand that, I do. How do I reach you once I'm with Eddie?”

“I’ll find you when I can. Good luck.” She hung up before he could say the same.

Steve threw the phone to the floor and slammed his fist into the dashboard with a curse, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. 

“What is it, son?” Wayne asked, his own face pinched with worry. 

Steve dropped his head into his hands. “I fucked up, Wayne. I fucked up so bad and now people are going to die and it’s all my fault.”

Chapter 16

Thank you @penny00dreadful 😘