#alternative title was 'god i wish that were me' but i just want to be the genderless malewife part
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I'm genderless.
I'm full of gender.
I'm a malewife.
I'm a biblically accurate angel.
I'm a pop idol.
I'm the fourth incarnation of God.
I'm a convicted criminal.
I can never die.
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#gabriel ultrakill#ultrakill#this one is special it was requested by Voice Quills#i cant think of any titles rn brain is fried#alternative title was 'god i wish that were me' but i just want to be the genderless malewife part#somewhat related to the next post
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devotion; i'm a slave onto the mercy of your love — ryomen sukuna.
“If I had offered you to be immortal, with me.” He asked you, looking at your orbs with longing. “Would you do it?” You looked at him for a moment. And there it was once again. That ghostly smile. “We cannot escape death, my lord.” You tell him, your hand resting on his cheek. You gave him what little warmth remained. “Whatever happens, we will all die. You may not die now, but we will all go. Soon, I will go."
GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;
WARNING/S: nsfw, 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, depiction of suicide, depiction of suicidal ideation, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of character death, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of parenthood, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, mention of sexual acts, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;
WORD COUNT: 30k words
NOTE: i told myself this would be short because its the last chapter before the epilogue, but here we are. i asked everyone if it would be fine, if it got longer. many of you said that it was fine. and i didn't wanna make more chapters, so here i am, posting this long fic like my life depends on it. i am floored the love concubine reader has received from readers. i bow to you and your kindness over concubine reader!!! i hope you continue to read and explore worlds with me!!! i love you all <3
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YOU COULD FEEL YOUR AGE THESE DAYS. But perhaps that's what time will do to you. You cannot fathom it, if you were being honest. You could only sit there as you looked back to time. Seventeen long years had come and gone.
Seventeen long years as a concubine. Seventeen long years as a woman who yearned and yearned for things that will never come. And yet, the things that have been yearned still remain. They still haunt you. For they continue to be hopeless deluded wishes of a fool of a woman like you.
You do not know how you lasted this long being Ryomen Sukuna's concubine. But perhaps you had just gotten too used to dealing with such a title, without little care from the man himself. Perhaps even more, you had gotten too numb to the feeling of not being as wanted as the ghost he loved.
And yet still, you had gotten closer to him. However, the term closeness requires a lot of thoughts talked through. The naked eyes of humanity would not notice what you have. Being the other woman, after all, made you privy to what closeness meant in the realm of the aggrieved wife.
You were already used to the fact that he was without affection. He had been someone that averted touch, and even more so, averted the warmth that comes with intimacy. He shunned such a thing easily. And you did not pry. It was not your place. No matter how much you wanted something from him, you knew you would not get it from him in the way you wanted.
And yet, there were moments that came fleeting like the clouds in the sky drifting by in the morning sunrise. Sometimes, those calloused hands would hold yours for a brief moment and leave tenderness.
At times he would keep you close and look at you with those tender gazes, as though you were the only thing left to wonder in the world. But you know that they were always made to the surface. They were tenderness formed out of fondness.
Still, you know that there was trust from him, if not love. Perhaps that would just be what is left for him to feel. Yet you thought that such trust was ever so sacred. You had known him a god and you lived knowing he is your god. And as his most ardent follower, his most ardent believer - you knew you would never ask of him much more than what he could give.
Because you knew it all too well. Trust is all that there would be between the two of you. Fondness is all that he could give you. He could not give you any more than that. Love is hard to say, even harder to provide. A god doesn't have love, you knew that much. Every part of him that had been human, that had been him at one point loving, had died with Ryomen Hiromi.
You knew that the moment he had married you. He could spoil you with all the fondness in him, he could touch you, he could give you all the loyalty he would never give any other woman in the harem. But he would never love you. A god like him never loved. He cannot. He's incapable of it.
"I trust you, little one. Out of all of them, you have my outmost trust." he had told you at one point. He had taken you to battle with him. In the most vulnerable essence, he was exhausted. And here you were, a witness of his weariness, the way others would never be.
Your husband's voice had been hoarse, perhaps that had been to the excitement he had shouted in battle. Jujutsu first and foremost was what kept him alive in this earth, you knew that most. Still, he made an effort to talk to you. As though he knew that he does not wish to bore you with silence.
He wasn't weakened, not your husband. But negative energy takes a lot on a body. And so, you were apprehensive if you should ever reply. Your husband's words had hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and though you should have felt contentment, it was always followed by that ache you could never quite shake. Such conversation was never going to be that for equals.
"You don’t trust anyone else, my lord." you had said back then, your hands gently tending to his body, washing away the grime and the dirt that had accumulated upon his body. This moment of intimacy of the moment fleeting but tangible. At times, you hold onto it. At times you don't. You could only wonder if you could ever be honest with yourself without contradiction.
There were bags in your eyes, heavy with weariness. You had been waiting for him to come home for days, sitting about his tent like some doll that had been sat still by her master. Perhaps that is how he viewed you at times. His little doll, who awaits for his command to be moved.
His dark scarlet eyes had flickered, a dangerous gleam that softened just enough for you to feel safe. “Perhaps outside of Uraume, my lord.”
"That is given, little one. But everyone else? I never will put my trust upon them. They are all witless. And they could betray me. I know that." he had replied, his tone matter-of-fact, like it was a final judgment. "Out of all of them, you will be the only one who will stand by me. I know that too well. Only you."
And yet, even with that, you knew. The professing of trust wasn’t ever going to be that of love. It never was going to be. Not even for him. You could only stand there was you catch his eyes bearing hard upon yours. There was nothing.
There was no longing, there was no tenderness. It was a hard stare that burns you like a house on fire. You understand too well, you understand that he will never look at you that warmly. You will be trusted so long as you were loyal to him.
And there perhaps is and only will be that for as long as you lived. Seventeen years had not changed him. You do not expect him to continue to change now. You have accepted it all, everything.
Everything about his feelings, about him, about the past. The past had been left behind. Hironobu, your grievances, your initial fears, your uncertainty. But with it went the fantasy that someday, he might love you.
"Do you ever regret it, my lord?" you asked him then, feeling the moonlight spilling into the room.
He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t even shift. "Regret what, little one."
"Sparing my life. Letting me live. This… relationship between us." you had whispered softly, feeling foolish even as the words left your lips. "Do you ever wonder if it’s enough, my lord?"
There followed a long silence. You didn't expect a response. If you were being honest, that was more honesty than any words he could say. And such silence wouldn't hurt your feelings more than his words would have. You know him too well by now. Ryomen Sukuna had never indulged idle qestions, especially ones rooted in emotion. Not even from his favorite concubine.
Emotions were trivial to him, it was easy to tell. He had lived too long for anyone to think that they were not. Feelings were were closed shades in his heart, pieces you will never come to know. Perhaps, you think, it is better that way. But then, his dark scarlet eyes slid open, gleaming crimson in the dim light as they looked at you.
And yet, a part of you wonders if he was ever satisfied with your lives together. You were but a small insignificant part of him, you know that. But he had let you live so many years ago, he had taken you on as his concubine one way or another. He had let you live by his side, close to him, raised his precious child for him, served him.
And you could only wonder, if he was content. Satisfied. Even if he didn’t love you, you wished that he was satisfied with living by your side. That he does not regret you Perhaps that would be enough for you. To think that you had not wasted seventeen years of your life in misery for nothing.
"Enough for who, little one?" he asked. His tone was almost challenging, but you could hear the truth buried within it. He had never needed anything more than what you were. That you were someone he could trust, someone who would not betray him.
You swallowed, your eyes shaking. "Enough for you, my lord." you clarified. "Do you ever… want more in this life?"
He didn’t answer immediately. He does not feel like he should. Instead, Sukuna arose from his seat, his towering presence filling the space and made his way toward you. He stopped just inches away, close enough that you could feel the faintest heat radiating off him.
Your eyes lifted higher, trying to meet his eyes. You had to. You dared speak something to him. And you ought to face him. You ought to meet him in the eye and accept what ever he says.
"I don’t need more than what I have." he said simply, his voice low and unwavering.
And you nodded, biting back the questions you didn’t dare ask. What about me? you wanted to say. What about what I need?
You shouldn't have asked. You didn't have to. You knew the answer. You had known it for years. It was trivial, unnecessary to ask again. You nodded to him. You bite your tongue and pursed your lips in a flat line. Ryomen Sukuna was not a man who grants wishes to the foolish, including you who dreams of love.
You ought to be satisfied. You should be. Because, what more could you want from him? You had his trust, his loyalty, and that was more than most could dream of. If one was being honest, people could only dream of the life you live by his side. You ought to be content, someone would say. You live in riches, you live with his trust and his confidence. You were still alive. Shouldn’t that be enough?
As Sukuna walked past you, brushing your shoulder with the faintest touch, you exhaled a breath. Contentment was your fate, greediness was not. It wasn’t the passion you had once imagined for yourself. It wasn’t the deep, soul-shaking love you had thought marriage would bring. But it was enough to survive. You ought to live for it. You ought to let it be.
"I suppose then….." you whispered to yourself, once you were alone again. "Most women endure."
You smiled faintly, bitter and content all at once.
And you would endure too. You already had.
But part of you wondered if you were truly satisfied.
The night stretched on, silent except for the steady hum of the world outside. You stood there for a moment longer, watching the space where Sukuna had been. He had a way of filling the room, even when he wasn’t trying—an overwhelming presence that you could never escape, even when he wasn't physically near you.
You let out a breath and turned, going through the motions of preparing for bed. Just another day for the other woman. Ryomen Sukuna never needed to say much. You never expected more than what he gave.
When you were lying in bed, staring at the vast expanse of the tent's emptiness, you found yourself unable to sleep. It was in that moment that you heard the quiet echo of the tent's entrance. You sat up and noticed him once again. Ryomen Sukuna’s heavy footsteps made their way into the room. He didn’t say anything as he entered; he rarely did. His presence alone spoke volumes.
Your husband had his own tent. You knew tht much. But it seemed he cannot sleep too. He was too nocturnal for it. Ryomen Sukuna looked at you for a moment. Then, he approached the bed and sat down, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. You shifted but kept your gaze upward, listening to the way his breath came slow and even, like nothing in the world could touch him. Maybe it couldn’t.
"Is my lord sleeping in my tent tonight?"
"There is too much noise in mine." He tells you rather bluntly. "I cannot sleep."
"I see." You tell him, nodding at him.
You moved slightly, trying to make room for him in your bed. Your husband was a big man, someone that would never fit in your bed. And yet you make the effort. You wanted him to feel like he had a place with you, even if there was none for you in his.
"Shouldn't you already be asleep, little one." He whispers the question. "You are not this sort to stay ever so late awake."
"I cannot help it, lord." You shifted slightly, as you retort back in a soft tone. "There was a lot on my mind."
His crimson gleam raised at you. "Oh? And what would that be, little one?"
"Nothing.....nothing of import, my lord. You mustn't think of my ridiculous thoughts."
"You are my concubine." He says sternly, shifting slightly to your side. You could feel yourself heating up at the closeness of him. "Your business is also mine. You might as well say something, little one."
You gulped at him. He is relentless, when he wants something. Knowledge most of all. In all the years together with your husband, the thing you had known the most about him is that he craves to know. He craves to know everything and anything. And it's hard to keep it away from him. Even from the grave. You were never going to win against him.
“Why did you marry me, my lord?” you whispered to him. “I may be a ghost but…there was no reason to do so. Break my will, you could have done that by other means.”
Ryomen Sukuna didn’t answer right away. You didn’t expect him to. But after a moment, you felt the bed shift again as he leaned back, arms resting behind him. His gaze seemed far away, as though he were contemplating something beyond your reach.
“There could have been other means, you are right with that, little one.” he said eventually, his voice calm, devoid of hesitation.
Your husband did not feel pain often, so you know it was not that pain speaking through. It was honesty. “I wanted to break your spirit. That was true. But over time….you have proven yourself. Other than Uraume, you were the only one I could trust. The only one who understood.”
His words settled over you, heavy and cold, though they didn’t surprise you. You had always known this was his reason. You had been chosen, not out of love or affection, but out of necessity.
A match of convenience. A match of lessons. A match of misery. Never love. You already knew that. It was quite obvious. Yet, hearing it so plainly—it still stung, like an old wound that hadn’t quite healed.
“And now, my lord?” you asked quietly, turning your head to look at him. "After all these years, am I still just… useful?"
He tilted his head, his crimson eyes glinting in the dim light. "You are still the only one I trust. Out of all of them at the harem. Out of them who seek to plot behind my back. The only one will stand by me no matter what I do. I know that for a fact."
I have no place other than by your side. You think to yourself. There is no more home to return to. You had made sure of that when you had burned it all way.
His gaze met yours, unyielding. “That is more valuable than anything else, little one. You ought to remember that. In many ways than this, you are the only one.”
You swallowed, the ache in your chest growing heavier. You could feel that the bed was eating you whole with the way you lay against it. You can tell quite clearly that he wasn’t lying. Sukuna never lied, he had no reason to. Lying requires guilt too. And he has none. But he also never said what you needed to hear, what you sometimes ,wished for.
Trust is more valuable than love, you tried to tell yourself. He has given you more than anyone else in his life. That should be enough.
But the silence between you felt thick, suffocating. You shifted on the bed, turning away from him, eyes once again on the ceiling. You nodded back at him. You knew too well that there was nothing else left to hear from him.
"I see." you said softly, though your voice sounded distant, even to your own ears.
Ryomen Sukuna made no move to touch you, to offer any comfort. He never did. You had long since learned that his world was one without tenderness. You cannot demand it, you cannot will it. He was the only one with will between the two of you.
But there were moment in between these many years when the weight of it all became too much for you to bear. There were times when you wished that even just for a second, even for just a moment, even in a dream that he could be different.
That he could reach for you, hold you, tell you that you mattered beyond just being useful. That there would be warmth at the end of the winters you've spent with him. But those were fantasies, and you had buried them long ago. You cannot suffer more of this. You have to keep them buried. You have to live, as you have in the past seventeen years. You ought to survive.
After a long silence, Sukuna spoke again, his voice low, barely above a whisper. "You’re still here, aren’t you, little one? After everything?"
There was something you could feel felt unspoken in his words. But you knew too well that would be a flower that will never bloom. You had to accept it now. You had to stop deluding yourself.
You could only do so much with that as you closed your eyes. You could feel your as though your heart was stuck in your throat. He could read you as easily as you could read him. How right he was about you, over and over again.
There have been too many opportunities for you to escape these seventeen years. Too many opportunities to go off and be something without him. To be nothing to him. And yet you didn’t.
You haven’t. You chose to stay. You chose him. One way or another, he knew. He just knew. You would never leave him, even if it burns you whole. Even if there was nohting left to live for. You would choose him.
You were going to stay with him. You were going to choose him. One way or another, your love for him was devotion. And devotion, it was the proof. You were a slave to the mercy of his love. You loved him.
The monster he was. The man he was. Everything. You take him whole. You didn’t have to show him that. Staying already did. Loyalty already showed it. He did not need any more proof.
He didn’t need to say more. He was asking in his own way why you stayed, why you continued to endure.
"Yes, my lord." you whispered back. "I’m still here."
Because despite everything, despite knowing that you would never hear those three words, despite the emptiness that sometimes crept in during the quiet nights, you had chosen this. You had chosen him. You always will.
Even if there was pain, you knew it yourself. These seventeen years of solitude were always going to be triumphed by seventeen years of knowing nothing but serving and loving him.
And in the strange, dark way that only Ryomen Sukuna could offer, he had chosen you too. In what little remained, he proved to you that he would choose you too. Seventeen years. You were his longest companion, his longest everything.
And even then, it wasn’t love, not in the way you wanted it. But maybe, just maybe, it was something close enough. Something that, in this world of violence and cruelty, you could find solace in.
The two of you sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of the years stretching between you, unspoken but understood. And as you drifted off into an uneasy sleep, you reminded yourself that most women endure.
You would endure too. You already had.
And you'll do it again.
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THE SEASONS HAVE PASSED BY RELATIVELY WELL. But as usual, it was what what is felt only in the Vermillion Hall. A luxury that only you as Sukuna's favorite could ever have. The days spent in the isolation of the Vermillion Hall were quiet and peaceful, spent in the bliss of ignorance. The grandeur of the estate stood in stark contrast to the deep, unsettling turmoil that often simmered beneath its surface.
It was what Ryomen Sukuna's true intention was when he had given you this paradise on earth as a gift. Isolation in paradise, a prison in a cage of luxury for the obedience that came with breaking you whole.
The worldly affairs were no longer your concern the moment he trapped you inside of here. Duties and struggles and the sufferings of humanity no longer existed. It no longer mattered. It no longer subsisted.
Most days were spent here without the disturbance of any need from Ryomen Sukuna. Your husband had matters to deal with most of the time. Things he never tells you and things he does not show you. And perhaps it was better not to ask.
But with your husband's absence, there was no audiences with the small folk and there was no trips that required your attention. As such, you spent most of your time enjoying the peace with Ryomen Chiharu, carving a small peace of joy in tribulations.
Chiharu's existence within these halls had wiped away your mundane life. Everything about her had brought such color in your life, with each laughter and each tender touch of her palm gave you such life.
Each and every day, she found something new to bring you into. Everything had kept you entertained. She pulled you towards gardening, reading aloud to one another, singing songs she had picked up from wandering musicians, and even sewing, though she wasn’t particularly fond of it. You indulged her in everything. You could not hope to say no. For it was hard to see her face in a frown.
You might have become older, but you can't help but try and keep up with her. She was just too much fun to be with. Her zest for life had made itself ever so contagious that you dare not turn it down.
Even when you were tired, you found yourself chasing after her whims, always keeping upon the move as if her happiness alone fueled you. And how could you not? Ryomen Chiharu had become a light of your world in the short amount of time you had her.
One could wonder how she was truly her father's daughter. But it was unmistakable when you look at her eyes. She was the warmth Sukuna had removed from his heart. She was the humanity that died in him long ago.
The Vermillion Hall had become ever more exciting with her around. You felt less alone with her in your home, you had felt more like there was something of life worth living beyond the slavery you had to your devotion to her father.
On most days, you and Chiharu got off to to whatever you liked. But today, the young daughter of Ryomen Sukuna had to deal with training her cursed energy control. It was demanded of by her father, the moment she started showing signs of cursed energy. Chiharu did not want to be a sorcerer, she had told you as much.
But her father refuses to listen. And so, young Chiharu had to go off her lessons. Yet, she proves that she is much her father with her refusals. You had to bribe her by telling her you would take her around the estate in your walks, which excited her.
Off she went with that little promise. She after all wanted to be with you as much as possible, without the interferance of her father's summons.
With her gone, you found yourself relishing the silence in your gardens. The gardens had been completely redone over the past few years. There was no longer any trace of the things you had grown with Hironobu.
And that had made you sad every time you remembered it. But you tried to remember what you could about the things you did together. You didn't want to forget him. You didn't want him lost to time. And so you tried to enjoy the thought of being alive in the silence of your existence.
After that, you had ended up having little to eat to break your fast. But that did not get finished either, for you ended up picking through the scrolls that Sukuna had sent to you, before he had left on his business. He had thought that they would intrigue you, the poems and such the like. And he was right.
He had been attentive to what you liked in prose. And for hours on end, you had ended up enjoying more of it than your food. Perhaps it was the fact that Sukuna had noticed your liking, or perhaps it was the wisdom that were in these ancient texts. You did not care to find the truth between what it was. You had let the words distract you, let it pass the time around you.
Time passed easily like this. You hadn’t realized how much time had slipped by until the sound of hurried footsteps broke the quiet.
"Mother!" Chiharu’s voice echoed through the hall before she appeared in the doorway, her cheeks flushed from excitement.
"Chiharu, do not run!" You say, in surprise.
She did not care as she rushed towards you, panicking her attendants as she was panting slightly, as if she had run all the way from her lessons back to you. "I’m back!"
You sighed, but smiled softly, setting the scroll aside as you rose from your seat. "I can see that, little flower." you teased gently. "Did your lessons go well?"
Chiharu wrinkled her nose. "They were fine. The teachers praised me, once again!" she said dismissively, waving a hand as though brushing off the importance of her studies. She did not care about that, whatsoever. "But I’ve been waiting for our walk all day. That matters more, let us go!"
You chuckled at her enthusiasm, walking over to her and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You’ve been waiting all day, huh? I thought you’d be too absorbed in your lessons to even think about the walk, little flower."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully. "You know I’d never forget, mother. You're more important than what those old farts think of me." she said. "You promised we’d go, remember?"
"I remember, I remember." you said softly, taking her hand. "I wouldn’t forget either."
Her face lit up at your words, and she tugged on your hand, pulling you toward the door. "Come on then! Let’s go before it gets too late."
You followed her, allowing yourself to be swept up in her excitement. Before long, the two of you had ended up on the eastern courtyard of Vrmillion Hall. Chiharu was a faster walker than you were. At times, she would look at you and wait for you to keep up, with a smile. You could only smile at her, rubbing the edge of your cheek.
As you deeper into the courtyard's blissful peace, the fresh air filled your lungs, and the cool autumn breeze brushed against your skin. The garden was beautiful this time of year, the leaves turning shades of gold and red, the flowers still holding onto the last remnants of summer.
Chiharu ran ahead, spinning in circles as she moved, her laughter echoing in the open space. "Isn’t it beautiful?" she called out, her arms outstretched as if she could catch the wind.
"It is, little flower." you agreed, watching her with a fond smile. The world seemed brighter when you were with her, the shadows of the past not quite as heavy.
Chiharu slowed her pace, falling into step beside you. She started to him softly, a tune she had heard from the last feast. For a few moments, the two of you walked in comfortable silence, the soft crunch of leaves beneath your feet the only sound.
"Mother." she said after a while, her voice quieter now, more thoughtful. "Do you ever think about leaving here?"
The question caught you off guard. No one has asked that question of you, in all your years here. And yet, she does. Chiharu does. You looked at her, surprised, but her eyes were fixed on the horizon, as though she were imagining a world far beyond the walls of Vermillion Hall.
"Why do you ask?" you asked gently, curious where this was coming from.
She shrugged, her brow furrowing slightly. "I don’t know. Sometimes I just think… there’s more out here in father's home. Everything about this place, it's isolating. I learn only so little here. I have....fondness of this place. But I wonder what it would be like to live somewhere else. Somewhere less… heavy."
The weight of her words sank in, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You had thought the same thing many times, wondered what life might be like if you weren’t bound to this place, to the memories and the duties that held you here.
"I think about it sometimes too, little flower." you admitted softly. "But this is our home, Chiharu. For better or worse. And you are your father's heir. He will need you."
She nodded, though her gaze remained distant. "I know that, mother....I just wish it didn’t feel like a cage sometimes. Being a Ryomen is a cage."
You sighed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as you walked. "It’s not a cage." you said, though the words felt hollow even as you spoke them. You were too deluded, a liar. "It’s just… complicated."
Chiharu looked up at you, her eyes searching your face. "Do you think we could ever leave?"
The question lingered in the air between you, heavier than you would have liked. You didn’t have an answer, not one that would satisfy her. Because the truth was, you didn’t know. How could you, for this is all that you know now? What is beyond the wall when there was familiarity in the cage?
You both returned before the sun had set. The hot springs had provided well waters for your bath, as much as the scent of perfume that had been provided by some merchants as gifts. Chiharu had done the same, though she had stayed in longer. You had worried for that, knowing she could catch a cold. But she had waved you off. Still, she got out when you asked her to.
It was almost blue hour when you felt the unmistakable shift in the atmosphere. There was no warning, no footsteps echoing down the marble halls, no message sent ahead to announce his arrival. But you knew he was here. Your husband's presence was something you had learned to feel in your bones, a tension in the air, like the sky before a downpour.
Chiharu was sitting by the window, a book on her lap, her small frame bathed in the golden light of the candle light. Her face, peaceful and relaxed, was a reminder of the moments that felt simple, the ones you clung to. She had now been weary from using all her energy to walk through the temple. Soon enough, she would go eat her sup and sleep.
And then the door creaked open, revealing Ryomen Sukuna.
He stepped inside with that same effortless dominance he always carried, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. He didn’t need to say anything to make his presence known; he never did. His aura was enough—a palpable force that filled the space, making everything else feel smaller, more fragile.
Chiharu looked up from her book, startled at first, but quickly relaxed when she saw him. She didn’t fear him the way most people did. He had always been somehwat a distant figure in her life as she grew up, but there was a strange understanding between them. There had to be. He was still her father.
He was her protector, in a sense, even if he never wore that role with any softness. At least from what she remembers now that she was older. She saw him, and for a moment, you wondered what it must feel like to look at him without the baggage of the past, without the complexities of love, pain, and everything that had tangled the two of you together over the years.
"My lord father." Chiharu greeted politely with a small bow. You could feel her voice soft but steady as she looked at him. She had always been good at holding her own in his presence, a trait that surprised you even now.
"Daughter, you are well, it seems." Your husband had acknowledged, his tone flat, almost disinterested, but you knew better.
His lack of warmth was not cruelty. That you know much of. Your husband was simply who he was. There were no easy smiles or comforting words from Ryomen Sukuna, not even for her. Perhaps not anymore now that she was too perceptive.
You rose slowly from your position, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. It had been some time since you had seen him last, and every time he appeared like this. It was all unexpected, unpredictable. He had always been like that, you supposed. That you should have expected at the very least.
But it sent a wave of conflicting emotions through you. There was always something about his presence that unsettled you, that pulled at the threads of the fragile peace you had managed to weave for yourself here in Vermillion Hall. But your husband is a god. He was bound to make others feel unsettled no matter what.
“My lord.” you said, your voice measured, betraying nothing of the nerves that stirred beneath your calm exterior. You bow lowly. “We were not expecting your visit.”
He stepped further into the room, the silence between you stretching thin. His gaze swept across the hall with mild indifference, as though the luxury and comfort of the space meant little to him.
He had never cared much for the trappings of wealth or status. What held his interest was power. And how he could use that power for his own interest. But perhaps, you think that he was also interested in people. And right now, his interest seemed focused solely on you.
“I don’t announce myself.” he said, his voice smooth, yet holding that edge that always left you unsure whether his words were a challenge or simply fact. "You know that."
You nodded, lips pressed tightly together. He was right. Sukuna came and went as he pleased. You had always known that if your presence was the wind, then his presence was that of a terrifying storm, arriving with no warning and leaving just as quickly. You had learned to accept that, though it had never gotten any easier.
“Leave us.” Sukuna whispers towards her, his eyes narrowed. “I wish to talk to my concubine.”
Chiharu did not budge. She looked at you first, as though to see if you were alright. You nodded at her. You did not want her to be at the brunt of anything her father says.
“I’ll give you some time to talk.” she said softly, her politeness a sharp contrast to the tension filling the air. "Excuse my intrusion."
She left without another word, her footsteps light as she disappeared down the corridor, leaving you alone with him. Sukuna watched her go, his eyes narrowing slightly, though whether in approval or simple curiosity, you couldn’t tell. There were so many things about him you could never quite read.
Once the door closed behind her, the room felt even larger, the distance between you and Sukuna heavy with things unsaid. You crossed your arms, a subtle defense, trying to ground yourself against the overwhelming weight of his presence.
“Why are you here, my lord?” you asked, your voice low, almost cautious. “Is something the matter?”
Sukuna’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile but carried that same dangerous energy he always seemed to exude. He stepped toward you, closing the distance with slow, deliberate strides.
“Do I need a reason to visit you, little one?” he asked, the challenge clear in his tone.
You held his gaze, refusing to back down. “No, my lord.” you replied evenly. “But you don’t visit unless there’s something on your mind. Vermillion Hall does not welcome you without your worries.”
He stopped in front of you, towering over you with that intimidating presence that had never faded, no matter how long you had known him. His dark red orbs—those sharp, crimson eyes that could cut through you like a blade had studied you for a moment longer, and then he spoke, his voice quieter, but no less intense.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.” he said, and though he didn’t need to specify who, you knew he was talking about Chiharu.
Your throat tightened, though you refused to show the discomfort his words brought. “She’s a child, my lord. She needs someone by her side to keep her company.”
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “And you think that someone is you?”
“I’ve been here for her, haven’t I? As you asked of me, my lord. I do as you ask.” you said, your voice steady despite the way your heart pounded in your chest. “I’ve raised her. Protected her. Loved her. I do it all in your name.”
At that last word, something flickered in Sukuna’s eyes—something dark, something complicated. He stepped even closer, his gaze never leaving yours, the distance between you now barely a breath.
“You think love is what she needs?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. There was no mockery in his tone, no sarcasm, but there was a coldness, a disbelief.
Ryomen Sukuna had never been a man to understand love, at least not in the way others did. You can only wonder why it was the reason he had focused Chiharu on furthering her Jujutsu. As his successor, he thinks he would know best. Power is more valuable than love, at least that's what he wants to believe.
You swallowed, your heart tightening. “She deserves to be loved, my lord.” you replied, your voice quieter now, but firm. “I will.”
His gaze darkened at your words, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. For a moment, the air between you crackled with tension, with all the things left unsaid between the two of you. But then, as quickly as it had come, the tension ebbed, and Sukuna stepped back, the dangerous gleam in his eyes fading into something more contemplative.
“She’s not yours, little one.” he said, his tone quieter now, almost like a warning.
You flinched at the words, though you tried to hide it. “I know that, my lord.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But she’s all I have.”
Sukuna’s eyes flickered again, his expression unreadable as he regarded you. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, without another word, he turned and began walking toward the door, his presence still looming, but somehow less suffocating than before. He had no intention to stay for very long.
Just before he reached the exit, he paused, his hand resting on the doorframe. “You may care for her, little one.” he said, his voice quiet, but sharp. “But don’t forget who she belongs to.”
“And who is that, my lord?”
He looks back with a pause. “To me. As you do. But you already know that, do you not?”
You say nothing in response. You merely bowed at him, dignified and graceful. And with that, he left, the door closing behind him with a soft click, leaving you alone in the vast, empty hall.
The silence that followed felt heavier than before, the weight of his words settling over you like a storm that had yet to break. You stared at the door, heart aching, not just for yourself, but for Chiharu, for the girl who deserved more than to be caught in the middle of something far darker than she could ever understand.
And in that silence, you knew that, no matter what, you would endure.
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IT WAS AN ENJOYABLE DAY THUS FAR. Perhaps, it was because there was nothing holding you back from enjoying the morning glory as it shines on you. The morning air was crisp and invigorating as you embarked on your pilgrimage with your retinue, a rare opportunity to travel without the usual company of your husband Sukuna or Chiharu. Not even Uraume was sent to attend to you.
Just a handful of people and guards who were chosen specifically by your husband. It was a rare occasion, but there was much to be done in prayer and reflection. And most of all, put in offerings to the gods for the good year. Of course, one of those gods would be your husband’s own altar.
You were already quite far from the main temple. And you have to say, the feeling of liberation was almost intoxicating; the vast roads of Hida stretched out before you like a promise, leading to the sacred temples where you would pray.
It had been far too long since you’d wandered freely without those watching eyes, without the suffocating weight of expectations. You were not merely a wife or a mother in these moments; you were you, a woman on a journey seeking solace and meaning.
Chiharu had implored to join you on your travels, her bright eyes shimmering with excitement as she tugged on your sleeve, her small fingers gripping tightly. "Mother, please, let me come! I want to see the temples too!"
Her enthusiasm was infectious, but Sukuna had commanded otherwise. she had much to learn from him in handling the people. Instead of you, she would sit by him, accepting people's praises and their worries.
And you dare not question it, even if Chiharu pouts and cries. Your husband’s word is law, and while you understood the reasons for his decision, a part of you had felt a surge of relief at the prospect of solitude. Here was a chance to escape the heavy shadows of your life, to explore a world beyond the gilded walls of Vermillion Hall.
With a heart full of conflicting emotions, you had set off alone, with a few companions that would help and serve you on the journey. The journey through the rolling hills and tranquil villages of Hida was filled with beauty and wonder.
The temples were scattered like jewels among the mountains and forests, places where the air was thick with incense and the whispers of prayers seemed to linger in the atmosphere. They were bright with echoes of color. They all looked different than the last, beaming with pride as Sukuna's own temples.
The mornings were peaceful, and you found joy in the rituals of your journey. It was a manner of living that let you adorn you life with reflection. And you had appreciate that more than you could admit. You would wake up early to take walks. You would converse with people about the harvests, about the weather, their families. You would be lighting incense at each temple, kneeling in prayer, and allowing the serenity of the sacred spaces to envelop you.
With each passing day, you felt the tensions in your body ease, the constant worry of what awaited you at home fading into the background. You marveled at the exquisite architecture of the temples, the artistry of the wood carvings, and the vibrant colors of the scrolls that hung upon the walls.
It was at a small rest stop in a sleepy village, half way through the journey, that you encountered an old woman whose presence felt almost otherworldly. She sat outside a modest tea house, her back hunched but her gaze piercing, as if she could see into the very depths of your soul.
The sight of her wrinkled hands, so full of life and stories, drew you in. You had always been curious about palm reading, having heard tales of its ability to unveil truths about one’s life. Sukuna did not believe in such things, he thought them folk tales.
"Come, child, let me read your palms." she beckoned, her voice a rough whisper that carried the weight of age. The guards kept her at bay for a while barking orders at her to stay away. Yet, you hesitated for a moment, the familiar wariness creeping in, but something about her presence felt oddly comforting, almost magnetic.
You told the guards away as you settled across from her, placing your hand in hers. You flinched for a moment but that she did not notice. She took it gently, her cool fingers tracing the lines etched into your palm.
The world around you faded as she studied you intently, her expression shifting through various emotions as she analyzed the intricate patterns of your life. There was something so odd about this feeling, about this moment. Yet you had let her do as she pleased.
"You will live an eventful life, child." she proclaimed after what felt like an eternity, her tone solemn. "You have already endured much, and there is still more to come."
A part of you wanted to laugh. Yes, you were married to Ryomen Sukuna; your life was nothing if not eventful. You were the concubine of a man whose very name evoked fear and reverence, the other mother to a girl who seemed to carry the light of two worlds within her. But as you looked into the old woman’s eyes, the gravity of her words settled in, anchoring your thoughts.
Her expression shifted abruptly, her eyes darkening as if she could see something lurking just beyond the horizon, something you couldn’t yet fathom. "But child, I must give you a warning that you must heed. You must be careful. You must be cautious. You mustn't love too deeply." she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You must keep things close to your heart before you lose them."
Those words sent a shiver racing down your spine, the chill of her warning wrapping around you like a fog. You recoiled slightly, pulling your hand away as confusion flooded your mind. "What do you mean?" you asked, desperation creeping into your voice.
The old woman merely shook her head, a shadow of sadness crossing her features. "You’ll understand when the time comes, child." she murmured, her gaze drifting away from you as if she were watching some unseen future unfold before her. "Don’t let what matters slip through your fingers."
A deep unease settled in your chest, the weight of her words pressing down like a stone. You wanted to ask her for more. You wanted answers, you wanted more clarity, you wanted more insight but the words seemed stuck in your throat. You sensed that whatever she had glimpsed in your palm was already set in motion, a chain of events that you could not change.
As you left the rest stop in your carriage, her words echoed in your mind, mingling with the fresh scent of autumn leaves and the distant sound of a stream babbling nearby.
You continued on your pilgrimage, each step now heavy with the weight of the old woman’s prophecy. The freedom you had once felt on this journey was now tinged with apprehension, and the tranquility of the temples seemed to elude you.
You sought solace in your prayers at the next temple, but as you knelt before the altar, the shadows of doubt crept back in. You closed your eyes and pressed your hands together in earnest supplication, not for blessings or protection, but for clarity. For understanding. The weight of your responsibilities loomed large, and you silently prayed for the strength to hold on to what was dear to you.
What was slipping away? Was it Chiharu? The fleeting moments of joy you shared with her? Or was it Sukuna, the man you had chosen to love despite the storms he carried?
With each prayer, the old woman’s warning replayed in your mind like a haunting refrain: Keep things close to your heart before you lose them. You felt a sense of urgency—an instinct to protect what you held dear.
As you finished your prayers and rose from your knees, you found yourself looking around the temple grounds, taking in the beauty of the world around you with fresh eyes.
The colors of the leaves, the sunlight filtering through the trees, the distant laughter of children playing—it all felt so fragile. You resolved then and there to hold on tighter, to cherish the moments you shared with Chiharu, to seek out Sukuna’s softer side amidst the chaos of his existence.
But the question remained—how? How could you keep these precious things close when the world was so unpredictable?
The journey ahead was uncertain, but as you set forth once more, you made a silent promise to yourself: you would embrace every fleeting moment, every quiet laugh, every tender touch. You would not let fear dictate your actions or your heart.
For in this life, despite the chaos, there was still beauty to be found. You just had to be willing to seek it out, to protect it fiercely, even when the shadows threatened to consume it whole.
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YOU WERE EXHAUSTED. But cannot say no when you are called upon. Just hours after you had returned from your pilgrimage, Ryomen Sukuna summoned you to dine with him. As soon as you could possibly come.
A rare occurrence, indeed. He usually allowed you time to collect yourself and rest after such long absences, yet tonight was different. There was something odd about that, you think. There was an urgency in his summons, a quiet pull you couldn’t ignore.
The evening air was thick with anticipation as you entered his chamber, the flickering abundance of candlelight casting long shadows across the room. He sat in the center, lounging with an air of indifference that belied the strangeness of the night.
An abundant tray of sake lay before him, and he held a cup in his hand, lazily swirling the liquid. You paused for a moment, absorbing the sight before you with care. Ryomen Sukuna, your husband, your king, rarely indulges in such human rituals. He had no need for food or drink, no craving for the mundane pleasures of mortals. And yet, here he was, drinking alone, the cup half empty.
You knelt before him, bowing low, your forehead nearly brushing the floor as you offered your silent reverence. His eyes, sharp and dangerous, traced your every movement with an intensity that made the air between you crackle. For a long, drawn-out moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the quiet clink of the cup as he set it down, the silence drawing tighter like a cord.
“Come closer, little one.” he murmured, the command laced with a softness that sent a shiver down your spine.
You obeyed without hesitation, rising to your feet and stepping toward him, each step deliberate, slow. The scent of the sake, something so sharp and sweet, filled the air, mingling with the heady incense that burned low beside him.
As you approached him closer, his gaze never wavered, heavy with something unspoken, something darkly possessive. When you were close enough to feel the faint warmth of his skin, he reached out, a single finger trailing along the hem of your sleeve.
"Closer. To me." he whispered again, voice like velvet.
Your breath hitched, the proximity of his touch sending a ripple of heat through your body. You sank to your knees beside him, your heart pounding against your ribs, aware of the palpable shift in the air. His hand found its way to the side of your face, the rough pad of his thumb grazing your cheek with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the feel of you.
“You’ve been gone too long, little one.” he muttered, his voice low, rich, the words brushing against your skin like a caress. "Far too long for me."
There was no trace of anger in his tone, only the weight of his gaze as it bore into you. You couldn't help but feel bare before him, feeling the warmth of your cheeks turn scarlet under the candle light. Though, you dared not move, letting the moment stretch between you, thick with tension.
Slowly, you could feel as his hand slid down to your chin, tilting your head up so you could meet his eyes. It was obvious your husband was drunk. He must have drank more than what he could intake, or perhaps it had been tampered with.
But as you look deeper into him, you couldn't believe what you saw: hunger. Not for the drink, not for the food—something far more primal, something more sensual than anything human food can offer. He carresses your skin. You gulp. Oh, you think to yourself. It was that type of hunger. That type of hunger that only the wamrth of bodies could satisfy.
In that moment, you felt the enormity of his presence. You could feel the overwhelming crash of his existence upon your own insignificant one. He was beyond what man could be. Everything about him was extreme. His power, his desire. The air felt electric, charged with the dark promise of what was to come.
Your pulse thrummed in your ears as you knelt before Sukuna, his hand still cradling your chin, holding your gaze captive. You were lowly compared to him. He was a god and you a mortal. And he can do as much as he wants to you.
“I only intended to ensure the gods were worshiped in your name, my lord.” you said softly, your voice steady despite the heat radiating from his touch. “The altars were blessed with thanks, offerings made in their honor.”
He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly. He laughs, almost as though the way a knife presses against silk.
“And what of me?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, almost dangerous. “Do you consider me your god? Your only god?”
The question sent a shiver through you, though it was not the first time he had asked. You had answered this long ago, sealing your devotion with words, with vows that transcended the mortal and divine alike. Still, you could feel the intensity behind his gaze, a hunger for reaffirmation, for something more tangible tonight.
“I have already answered that question, my lord.” you said softly, your eyes locked with his. “Long ago. You know the answer.”
His thumb brushed slowly across your lips, the roughness of his skin drawing a faint tremble from you. The echoes of your lip stain merging against his thumb, imprinting on your cheek.
“I want to know, little one.” he murmured to you. “If the answer is still the same.”
The weight of his presence pressed against you, his power filling the room like a tangible force. You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself before you replied, your voice quiet but firm. “It is the same.”
Something flickered in his eyes, something dark and primal, as if your words had sparked a flame deep within him. His hand fell from your chin, trailing down your neck in a slow, deliberate caress, the heat of his touch sending a rush of warmth through your body.
He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “Then come closer and worship me.”
Your heart raced at the command, the sultry undertone in his voice thickening the tension between you. Without hesitation, you moved, your body obeying him instinctively. You wanted to do as much as you can, to worship him. To give him what he desires most. You wanted nothing more than to please him.
You knelt between his legs, the space closing as you lowered yourself until your head was level with his, the soft, intoxicating scent of him enveloping you. The flickering light of the candles danced across his skin, casting shadows that accentuated the sharp planes of his face, the faint gleam in his eyes both dangerous and alluring.
He watched your every move with a quiet intensity, his gaze burning with the promise of what he wanted from you. Slowly, your hands rested against his thighs, your touch feather-light, reverent. His body was a temple, one you had long since learned to worship, and tonight, you would offer yourself to him again.
“Show me, little one.” he breathed, voice deep and commanding, a dark smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Show me your devotion.”
With slow, deliberate movements, you leaned forward, pressing your lips softly to his skin, feeling the faint shudder of power ripple beneath your touch. Your kisses were gentle, worshipful, a silent prayer offered to the god before you. Every caress, every brush of your lips, was an act of submission, of devotion to the being who ruled over you.
Sukuna’s breath hitched slightly, and you felt his fingers weave through your hair, guiding you closer. His hand tightened, his grip firm yet not painful, his need evident. You could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, his body responding to your touch with a hunger that had been kept at bay for too long.
“Good, little one.” he murmured, his voice a deep growl. “That’s it. Devote yourself to me, and only me.”
You obeyed, your kisses becoming bolder, more insistent, each one a vow to him alone. The world outside these walls ceased to exist; there were no other gods, no other powers. There was only him—your king, your god—and you were his to command.
The weight of Sukuna's hand on the back of your head tightened slightly, a silent demand for more as your lips trailed reverently along his skin. Each kiss was deliberate, each caress an offering that stoked the growing heat between you.
The air was thick with tension, the flickering candlelight casting erratic shadows across his features, sharp and dangerous, like a deity who knew his power and craved to see it worshiped.
"You've been gone too long, little one." he murmured, his voice low, laced with a dark undercurrent that sent another shiver through you. His fingers tangled deeper in your hair, pulling you closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating from him, the deep pulse of power beneath his skin.
"I am here now, my lord." you whispered, your breath warm against him as you pressed another kiss, lingering, feeling the tautness of his body beneath your touch. Every brush of your lips felt like you were sinking deeper into the moment, deeper into his pull, the force of his presence overwhelming. “Let me worship you.”
Sukuna's gaze was molten, his eyes half-lidded with a hunger that went beyond the physical. He leaned down, his breath a whisper against your ear. "Then show me. Show me that I am your god, that you belong to me—wholly."
Your heart pounded at his words, and you felt the familiar ache of submission, of devotion, welling up within you. Your hands slid up his thighs, slow, deliberate, as though you were climbing the steps of an altar. You could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, taut and waiting for release, the heat between you almost unbearable in its intensity.
Without hesitation, you lowered yourself again, this time bowing your head in complete surrender. "You are my god, my lord." you whispered, the words soft but charged with meaning, a truth that was undeniable. "You have always been my only god. No one else. Only you."
A dark smile played at the corner of Sukuna's lips, his satisfaction palpable as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Good." he purred, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, testing the boundary between gentleness and control. "Then worship me as I deserve."
His voice was laced with command, a command that stirred something deep within you, a need to please, to fulfill the role you had vowed to take. You leaned into his touch, your lips parting slightly as you kissed the pad of his thumb, a silent promise in the gesture.
Sukuna’s breath hitched slightly, though his gaze remained unyielding, his control absolute. "Do you think this pleases me?" he asked, his voice a dangerous rumble, even as his thumb pressed more firmly against your lips. "Is this how you show your devotion?"
You felt the heat rush through you, a mixture of desire and the heady thrill of his power over you. "No, my lord." you murmured, your voice low and reverent. "I can give more."
The flicker of approval in his eyes was fleeting, but unmistakable. "Then give it."
With that, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his skin again, but this time with more intensity, more need. Your hands moved with purpose, fingers tracing the hard lines of his body, feeling the divine power thrumming beneath his flesh. Every touch, every kiss was a silent prayer, an unspoken declaration of your loyalty, your submission.
Sukuna's hand remained firm in your hair, guiding your movements, though you could feel his restraint, the way his control teetered on the edge. He watched you with rapt attention, the hunger in his gaze growing darker with every passing second.
"More, more. Do it well, little one." he growled, his voice rough, the command making your heart race.
You obeyed, your worship becoming bolder, more fervent. You kissed along the line of his jaw, down his neck, each caress charged with a passion that you could no longer contain. His skin was warm under your lips, the scent of him intoxicating, drawing you deeper into the moment, deeper into him.
"Good." he breathed, his voice a low, dangerous purr. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling you back just enough so that you were forced to look up at him. "You are mine, little one." he said, the words like a dark promise, binding and absolute. "And you will worship me until I am satisfied."
His eyes bore into yours, and you nodded, breathless with the weight of his command. "Yes, my lord." you whispered, your voice trembling with both desire and reverence. "I am yours. Always."
A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips, and he leaned down, his face inches from yours. "Then give yourself to me, little one." he whispered, his voice like velvet over steel. "Every. Last. Piece."
And so you did, sinking deeper into the night, into his dominance, into the endless cycle of devotion and submission. You worshiped him, body and soul, offering yourself up to the god before you, knowing that only in his possession could you find the dark, twisted fulfillment you both craved.
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THE TWO OF YOU NEVER SPOKE OF THAT NIGHT AGAIN. Sukuna refuses to. But you supposed that’s just what it was. It was a night that never existed. A night that never truly happened. You had always known what he was. Sukuna did not love. He consumes. And yet, in that brief, fragile moment, you had allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were more than a pawn in his world.
But that was the lie, wasn’t it? The truth was so much simpler, so much crueler.
You were not his queen, not his equal. You were a momentary distraction, a replacemnt. A temporary body to be worshiped, only to be discarded once he had no further use for you. You were his to command, but not his to want or love. He had none of those, you knew that much.
The truth was that night wasn’t special. It wasn’t sacred, you think to yourself. It wasn’t a turning point in your marriage—it was the reminder of how far beneath him you truly were. It was a reminder that you were always going to be behind him. Behind Hirommi. You were just the other woman. Nothing more, nothing less.
And now, all that was left was the hollow silence that followed.
You stepped into the audience hall, the echo of your sandals faint against the polished stone. The grand chamber was already filled with worshippers, all gathered to offer their reverence to Ryomen Sukuna, their benevolent protector and god.
Incense swirled in the air, thick and cloying, making it harder to breathe as you moved further inside. Each step felt heavier than the last, your body protesting the very act of standing, but still, you pushed forward. You had to be here—had to attend to him, no matter how weak you felt.
The illness had crept up on you, slow at first, just a gnawing discomfort in your stomach, then the waves of nausea that had grown worse by the day. You hadn’t eaten in days, couldn’t even stomach water, and yet you still forced a smile that morning when Chiharu had looked at you with concern, her brow furrowed as you prepared to leave the Vermillion Hall.
“You look unwell, Mother.” she had said, her voice soft but full of worry. She had always been perceptive, too perceptive sometimes. "Perhaps you should not go today. I am certain father will understand it."
You had brushed it off, smiling weakly. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
But even as you spoke, you could feel the lie clinging to your lips. The truth was that you hadn’t been fine for days. Sleep was a distant memory, each night spent tossing and turning, your body aching, your mind weighed down by the constant fatigue.
And yet, here you were, standing in the presence of Sukuna, the god you had pledged yourself to, trying desperately to hold yourself together. You cannot falter here. Not now. Not ever. You made that promise to yourself.
He sat on his throne, a figure of overwhelming power and indifference, his gaze sweeping lazily over the room as his worshippers chanted and prayed. You felt his eyes on you as you entered, that sharp, penetrating gaze that always seemed to strip you bare.
He didn’t speak, but you knew he saw it. It was out of the ordinary. He had not seen it in you before. The paleness of your skin, the slight tremble in your hands, the way your breaths came too shallow, too fast.
For a moment, his gaze lingered, cold and calculating, and you thought you saw something flicker in those crimson eyes. Recognition, perhaps. But he said nothing. He did nothing. He simply watched, his silence cutting deeper than any words could have.
You bowed your head, feeling the weight of his attention settle over you like a mantle, pressing down on your already fragile body. Your vision blurred slightly, the room swaying as you fought to steady yourself. The scent of the incense was overwhelming, choking, but you couldn’t leave. Not now. Not when Sukuna was watching, not when so many eyes were on you.
You had to stay. You had to prove your worth, even as your body screamed for rest, for relief from the torment that was slowly consuming you. The thought of disappointing him, of failing to fulfill your duties; that to you was far worse than the physical pain. Your purpose was to serve him. If there was nothing of that, you had no use.
But you could feel it now, how truly weak you were. The exhaustion gnawed at your bones, hollowing you out from the inside, leaving you barely able to stand. The faint dizziness grew stronger with each passing moment, and you could feel the cold sweat gathering at your temples, the dampness of your palms betraying the truth of your condition.
Still, you stood tall, refusing to show weakness, refusing to let it consume you in front of him. Sukuna’s gaze felt like a weight you could not shake, as though he could see every crack, every falter. He knew. You were certain of it. He had always been able to read you too well, even in the silence that stretched between you.
But he said nothing. He didn’t ask. He didn’t acknowledge it.
It wasn’t his way to care for such things. And you reminded yourself that it wasn’t your place to expect it. Whatever you felt in you, this illness, this slow collapse; it was yours to bear.
It was not something he would ever trouble himself with. His indifference was a cold comfort, one you had come to accept. And yet, a part of you, the part that still clung to some shred of hope—wished that he would say something, anything.
But he didn’t. And so you shouldn't push it.
As the worshippers fell to their knees, chanting his name, offering their prayers and sacrifices, you felt the room blur again, the ground beneath you unsteady. Your limbs trembled, and a cold wave of nausea washed over you, tightening your chest, stealing your breath. But you couldn’t show it. You couldn’t collapse here, not in front of all these people, not in front of him.
So, you smiled. You smiled the same way you had that morning with Chiharu, forcing a calm expression over the chaos raging inside you. You straightened your back, your hands clenched tightly at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fought to remain upright. You will smile through everything, even in pain.
And through it all, Sukuna’s gaze never left you.
He knew. He could see the toll this was taking, the way your body was betraying you, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t move. His silence was louder than any word he could have uttered, a stark reminder that you were alone in this, that whatever kindness or care you might have once hoped for was an illusion.
As the prayers continued, you felt your strength slipping away, your knees threatening to buckle beneath you. But still, you stood, trembling and weak, your heart pounding in your chest as you fought to keep your composure. You would not fall. Not here. Not now.
And yet, as you felt his eyes still on you, unrelenting and cold, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting….waiting for you to break.
You tried to push through, to continue with your duties despite the sharp, pounding ache that had begun to pulse behind your eyes. As worshippers approached with their offerings, you smiled weakly, accepting their gifts, murmuring blessings in a voice that felt thin and distant.
Each gesture felt like an immense effort, each word a struggle to get out as the dizziness intensified, the room blurring and warping at the edges of your vision. You felt like you were going to lose yourself soon enough.
Your head was pounding now, a dull, relentless throb that refused to be ignored. It felt as though the very air was pressing in on you, making it harder to breathe, harder to think.
Your hands shook as you reached out to accept another offering, and for a brief moment, the world tilted dangerously. You blinked, trying to steady yourself, but the sensation only worsened, the pain in your skull stabbing deeper.
You couldn’t continue. Not like this.
You stepped back, your breath shallow, and turned toward Sukuna. His crimson eyes were already on you, cold and unwavering, as though he’d been expecting this. You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat before you managed to speak, your voice barely above a whisper.
“My lord… please, excuse me from the gathering.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. His gaze was unreadable, the weight of it pressing down on you like an invisible hand. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he gave a single nod, granting you permission. No words of concern, no acknowledgment of the obvious strain you were under—just that small, dismissive gesture.
You bowed your head, murmuring a soft thanks, and turned to leave. But as you made your way toward the exit, the dizziness returned with a vengeance, the pounding in your skull growing unbearable. Each step felt like you were walking through water, your body sluggish and unresponsive. You could feel your strength slipping away, your legs trembling beneath you.
Just a few more steps. That’s all you needed.
But then, the ground gave way. Your vision darkened at the edges, and before you could stop yourself, the world spun violently, and you felt yourself falling. There was a rush of air, the sensation of weightlessness, and then everything went black.
The last thing you heard was the sound of commotion, distant voices rising in panic, feet rushing toward you but all of it seemed so far away, as if you were sinking into a deep, silent abyss.
When you finally came to awareness, the first thing you felt was the heavy, oppressive heat of the Vermillion Hall. Your eyelids fluttered open slowly, the soft light of the room hazy and disorienting.
It took a moment for your senses to catch up, for your mind to register that you were no longer in the audience hall. You blinked, trying to focus, but everything felt slow and thick, like you were wading through fog.
And then you saw him.
Ryomen Sukuna was there, standing at the foot of your bed, his arms crossed, his expression as inscrutable as ever. He was staring at you, his eyes sharp and piercing, as though he had been watching you the entire time you were unconscious.
There was no warmth in his gaze, no concern—only that unrelenting intensity that had always made you feel so small under his scrutiny. And even that, it was all too hard to decipher. He was not easy to read when he closes the warmth in his eyes.
Your heart raced in your chest as you tried to sit up, but your body was too weak, the effort too much. The dizziness returned, a faint shadow of what it had been before, and you collapsed back against the pillows, your breathing shallow and uneven. You felt vulnerable, exposed under his gaze, and yet you couldn’t muster the strength to do anything about it.
For a long time, he said nothing, his eyes fixed on you, as though waiting for something—for what, you couldn’t say. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, and the weight of it made it hard to breathe. You wanted to speak, to say something, but no words came. You didn’t know what to say.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he moved, his voice low and calm, but edged with something dark, something you couldn’t quite place. “You fainted.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, cold and factual. As though he was reminding you of your own failure.
You nodded weakly, your throat dry. “I… I’m sorry, my lord.”
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Sorry?”
You swallowed, forcing the words out. “For being a burden. For… for not being strong enough.”
His lips curled into something that might have been a smile, but there was no warmth in it, only the sharp edge of amusement. “A burden?” he repeated, his tone mocking, as if the very idea of you being a burden to him was laughable.
But he didn’t deny it.
His gaze flickered over you, taking in your pale skin, your trembling hands, the way you still struggled to breathe evenly. You could feel his eyes on you like a weight, assessing, calculating, as though he was deciding what to do with you now that you had shown such weakness.
“You’re not feeling well.” he said, the words flat and unfeeling. “I can see that.”
There was no compassion in his voice, no softening of his features. Just the brutal truth, laid bare before you. He saw it. He had seen it all along.
And still, he had let you fall.
“You shouldn’t have come.” he added, his voice low, almost a growl. “You had no business being there, not in this condition.”
The accusation hung in the air, thick and suffocating. He was angry, though he masked it behind that cold indifference. But you could feel it—the undercurrent of frustration, of disappointment. You had failed, and it had displeased him.
You opened your mouth to speak, but the words stuck in your throat. What could you possibly say? That you wanted to prove your worth? That you wanted to be strong for him, even when you felt yourself breaking? That you would have rather collapsed at his feet than show weakness in front of him?
But none of that mattered now.
Sukuna's gaze darkened, and he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. His presence, towering and oppressive, made the already suffocating air feel even heavier. He didn’t sit, didn’t offer you any comfort, only stared down at you with those cold, unyielding eyes.
“A physician checked you, little one.” he began, his voice low and deliberate, every word carefully measured. There was no kindness, no softness in his tone, just a hard edge that sent a chill down your spine. “You’re not sick.”
You blinked, trying to process what he was saying. Not sick? The nausea, the fatigue, the way your body had felt like it was slowly unraveling—all of it had to mean something, didn’t it? You searched his face, but there was no answer there, only that same cold indifference.
“You’re with child.”
The words hit you like a blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. For a moment, the world seemed to still, the weight of what he had just said crashing over you in waves, pulling you under. You stared at him, your mouth dry, your mind struggling to catch up.
With a child? You? It felt impossible. Unreal. You were soon past your child bearing years. And yet, having only bedded your husband once, you were already with child. Your hand instinctively moved to your stomach, as if expecting to feel something, some confirmation of this life growing inside you. But there was nothing—just the same hollow ache, the same exhaustion that had plagued you for days.
You searched Sukuna’s face for some sign of what he was feeling, but there was nothing. No emotion, no reaction, just that cold, calculating gaze that had always kept you at a distance.
“I…....” The words faltered on your lips. You didn’t know what to say. How could you? The enormity of it was too much, too overwhelming. You hadn’t even considered the possibility.
Sukuna watched you, his expression unreadable. “Are you surprised?” he asked, though his tone made it clear he already knew the answer. He tilted his head slightly, as if studying you, waiting to see how you would react.
You nodded weakly, still too shocked to fully comprehend what he had said. “I didn’t know, my lord.” you whispered, your voice trembling. The exhaustion, the sickness—it all made sense now, but it was a truth you weren’t prepared for.
“You didn’t know.” he echoed, his voice sharp. His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something dark crossing his features. “Of course you didn’t.” There was a bite to his words, a mocking undertone that stung, as if he found your ignorance pathetic, laughable.
The weight of his gaze bore down on you, and you felt small, fragile, under his scrutiny. You could see the disdain there, the way he looked at you, as though you were some delicate, breakable thing. A vessel, nothing more.
“How long?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
“The physician believes it’s early.” he replied, his tone dismissive, as though the details were unimportant. “But it doesn’t matter.” He leaned in slightly, his gaze piercing, his next words cutting through you like a blade. “What matters is that you are carrying my child.”
There was no joy in his words, no pride. Only possession.
You felt your heart sink, the weight of the realization pressing down on you. This wasn’t a moment of celebration, of shared happiness. It wasn’t even about you. It was about him, his lineage, his power. You were nothing more than the vessel carrying his bloodline, an instrument of his will.
At least that's what you think. He will not love this child as much as he loved Chiharu. This was not Hiromi's child. No, this was to be your child. And there was little value to you, compared to Ryomen Hiromi. You were just the other woman. And this child to him, was just another child.
And he made that clear with every cold word, with every indifferent glance.
Your hand trembled as it rested against your stomach, and for a brief moment, you felt a strange mix of fear and wonder. There was life inside you, a piece of Sukuna, growing within. But that wonder quickly gave way to dread, because you knew—this child wasn’t yours. It was his. Always his.
And you had no idea what that meant for you.
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IT TOOK A WHILE TO GET USED TO. As the weeks passed, the reality of carrying Sukuna's child began to settle in. Your body, once so light and familiar, now felt foreign. The changes were subtle at first. An unusual tenderness, a slight heaviness that seemed to grow with each passing day.
But as your stomach began to swell, there was no escaping the truth of it: you were no longer just yourself. You were something more, something strange, and the weight of it, both physical and emotional, was suffocating.
Ryomen Sukuna’s presence during this time was a constant, though it felt both comforting and unnerving in equal measure. He was more attentive than he had ever been before, his crimson eyes often flickering to your growing belly, his gaze sharp and calculating.
There were moments when you would catch him staring, his expression unreadable, as though he were measuring the life inside you with the same cold precision he used for everything else within his own little kingdom.
At times, he would ask about your health—his voice low and indifferent, but the questions were there. The inquiry was still said. You were content with that than not having any at all. He’d inquire about your strength, your appetite, the way the child moved within you.
And sometimes, on rare occasions, he would even place his hand against your stomach, his touch cool and possessive, as if he were checking on the progress of his heir, not out of care for you but for the child that shared his blood.
Yet, even with these moments of attentiveness, Sukuna remained distant, as though there was a wall between you that you could not break through. He never spoke of the future, of what the child meant for him, for you.
He never touched you with any warmth beyond those few, calculated moments when his hand rested against your abdomen. It was as though you were both closer than ever and more estranged at the same time.
His coldness hurt more than you wanted to admit. There were days when you found yourself wishing, hoping deep down that he would say something, anything that acknowledged the bond growing between you. You carried his child, after all. Surely, that meant something. But he never offered you those words, never shared in the quiet anticipation that came with waiting for new life.
And yet, there were moments when he showed a kind of concern, though it was wrapped in layers of his usual indifference. When you were too tired to rise from bed, Sukuna would stand at your side, his gaze sweeping over you with a strange mixture of irritation and something you couldn’t quite name.
He would summon attendants, ordering them to bring you food or drink, even if you couldn’t stomach it, insisting that you take care of yourself, though his words always felt like commands rather than concern.
Once, during one of your weaker moments, when you had collapsed after attempting to attend to your duties, he had carried you to your chambers without a word. His arms were strong and unyielding, but there had been no tenderness in his touch, no soft words to reassure you. It was simply the matter of ensuring that his vessel—you were safe.
Despite his coldness, despite the distance he kept between you, there was a part of you that longed for more. You wanted him to see you, not just as the mother of his child, but as someone who carried a piece of him within you.
But every time you reached out, every time you tried to breach the distance between you, Sukuna would pull away, retreating into his own world of power and control. Retreating to those walls he had built around him. And each and every time, you felt ever more far away from him.
The nights were the hardest. When the palace was quiet and the weight of your growing body pressed down on you, making sleep elusive, you would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the future held. You would think of the child growing inside you, your child, his child. And what it would mean to raise them in Sukuna’s cold, unfeeling world.
Would this child know love? Would you be able to give them the warmth that Sukuna so clearly lacked? Or would they, too, grow up under his gaze, feeling the same distance that you did now?
Sukuna never stayed with you in those moments. He never held you through the nights of discomfort or shared in the quiet loneliness that had settled over you like a shadow.
Instead, he would retreat to his own chambers, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your fears, and the growing weight of the life inside you. He had other things more important than that, you knew that too well. You were the least of his concerns.
And yet, despite it all, you couldn’t help but feel a strange connection to him, a bond that was as much about the child you carried as it was about the complex, twisted relationship that had always existed between the two of you.
He was distant, yes, but there was something else there, something unspoken. Whether it was his way of protecting himself, or perhaps a sign that he cared in his own cold, indifferent way, you couldn’t say.
But you held onto that hope, even as the distance between you grew.
As the months wore on, and your belly swelled with the child, you found yourself wondering more and more what kind of father Sukuna would be. Would he care for this child in the same distant, detached way he cared for you?
Or would the presence of his bloodline soften him in ways you could hardly imagine? The questions haunted you, but there were no answers, and Sukuna gave you no glimpse into his thoughts.
And so, you continued through the days, growing larger, growing more exhausted, with Sukuna always watching but never truly reaching for you. He was there, always there, a constant presence by your side, but the distance remained. You carried his child, and that alone seemed to be enough for him.
For now.
As your pregnancy progressed, you found solace in the small, unexpected joys that emerged amid the uncertainty and distance. Chiharu, ever the bright light in your life, was over the moon at the prospect of becoming a big sister. Her excitement was infectious, and it warmed your heart to see her eagerly preparing for the arrival of her new sibling.
“Look! I found these!” she exclaimed one afternoon, bursting into your chambers with an armful of tiny garments—soft fabrics in delicate colors, stitched with care. “They’re perfect for the baby! Can you imagine how cute they’ll look?”
You couldn’t help but smile, the brightness of her joy illuminating the shadows that had crept into your heart. “They’re beautiful, little flower.” you replied, reaching out to touch the fabric. It was soft against your fingers, and you could already picture your child wrapped in the warmth of her offerings.
“You’re going to be the best big sister.”
Her eyes sparkled as she nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on her heels. “I can’t wait! I’ll help feed them and read them stories! And we can play together!”
Watching her enthusiasm, you felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps, in time, Sukuna’s child would know love and warmth, despite the coldness that surrounded their father. You couldn’t help but wish for the best, for Chiharu’s sake as well as your own.
But as the days turned into weeks, the contrast between Chiharu's innocent excitement and Sukuna's distant demeanor weighed heavily on you. While Chiharu’s joy was a light in your life, Sukuna’s absence during these moments left an ache in your heart. You longed for his engagement, for him to share in these precious experiences, but the distance between you remained as vast as ever.
Later that evening, after Chiharu had dashed off to gather more supplies for her preparations, you found yourself alone with your thoughts. The palace was quiet, the shadows lengthening in the dim light of your chambers. As you sat in the stillness, you could feel the baby moving inside you, gentle nudges reminding you of the life growing within.
Your heart was a tumultuous blend of hope and worry, and as if summoned by your thoughts, Sukuna entered your chambers without knocking. He was as imposing as ever, his presence filling the space, and you felt a familiar mix of comfort and apprehension.
“Is there a reason you’re still here?” he asked, his voice cool and detached. But there was an underlying curiosity in his tone, something that hinted he was intrigued despite himself.
You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the words you wanted to say. “Chiharu is excited, my lord.” you finally replied, your voice soft. “She can’t wait to be a big sister.”
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his expression inscrutable as he stepped closer. “Is that so?”
“Yes, my lord.” you continued, unable to keep the warmth from your voice. “She’s been collecting clothes and toys, talking about all the things she wants to do with the baby.”
He remained silent for a moment, his crimson eyes piercing into yours as if trying to gauge your emotions, to measure the depth of your attachment to the child and to Chiharu. It was a heavy gaze, one that made you feel both seen and exposed.
“She’s a child.” he finally said, his tone flat. “She has no concept of what this entails.”
The words stung more than you wanted to admit, but you swallowed your response, focusing instead on the warmth Chiharu had brought into your life. “But she’s happy, my lord. Isn’t that what matters? She’s looking forward to this.”
His gaze shifted slightly, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something—annoyance, perhaps, or maybe something deeper. “Happiness is fleeting, little one.” he said, his tone low, almost ominous. “Children are fickle creatures, easily distracted. What they want today can change by tomorrow.”
You felt a rush of frustration. “This isn’t just about you or me, my lord. It’s about her, about the family we’re bringing into this world.”
He stepped closer, the space between you closing, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze, how it bore down on you like a weight. “Family?” he echoed, and there was something in his voice that sent a shiver down your spine. “You think family means anything to me?”
You held his gaze, searching for any hint of the man you had once known, the man who had taken you into his world. “I would hope so, my lord.” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. “This is your kin too.”
He scoffed, the sound harsh and mirthless. “And what of it?” he says, his eyes narrowing. “I am what I am. A god. A king. I do not concern myself with matters of warmth and affection.”
His words cut deeper than you expected, and you felt the ache in your chest swell. “You’re wrong. You have the power to shape this child’s life. To give them a future that’s not bound by your darkness, my lord.”
Sukuna studied you, and the silence stretched between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. You could feel your heart racing, the urgency of your plea hanging in the air. You wanted him to understand, to see that being a parent didn’t mean sacrificing his identity but rather expanding it.
“Why do you care so much?” he finally asked, his voice low, almost a growl. “This child will be a tool for my power, nothing more. You know that.”
You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “No! They’re not just a tool, my lord. They’re a life. They deserve more than being a means to an end. Do you see Chiharu as such?”
He remained silent, his expression unyielding, and for a moment, you thought he would turn away, dismiss you as he often did. But instead, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his gaze unflinching.
“And what do you plan to give them?” he asked, his voice low and cold. “A world of uncertainty? A life filled with the expectations of a father who will never change?”
You felt the weight of his words press down on you, the truth of them settling like a stone in your stomach. But even as despair threatened to swallow you, you pushed back, refusing to let the darkness consume you. “I’ll give them love, my lord.” you said, your voice firm, unwavering. “I will show them what it means to be loved, to be cherished, even if you won’t.”
The air between you crackled with tension, and for a moment, it felt as though the world had stilled, holding its breath in anticipation. Sukuna’s gaze was intense, unyielding, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts, the storm brewing just beneath the surface.
But then he stepped back, breaking the moment, and that familiar wall of distance reemerged between you. “You’re foolish, little one.” he said, his tone dismissive, yet there was a flicker in his eyes that hinted at something more. “Love is a weakness, a liability. You would do well to remember that.”
You nodded, your heart heavy. “Perhaps, but it’s the one thing I can give. You may not care, my lord, but I will love this child fiercely, regardless of your indifference.”
With that, you turned away, needing a moment to gather your thoughts, to quell the storm of emotions raging within you. But as you felt Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze lingering on your back, you couldn’t shake the sense that perhaps, deep down, he was listening, if only just a little.
And as much as he may try to deny it, there was a part of him that understood the importance of what you wanted. You could only hope that, in time, he might come to realize that too.
══════════════════
THIS WAS THE WORST PAIN OF YOUR LIFE. The air in the room was thick with tension, heavy with the scent of sweat and desperation. You could feel your voice hoarse from the screaming. You lay on the bed, body wracked with pain, each contraction tearing through you like a storm, relentless and unforgiving.
It had been two days of suffering, two days of pleading with your body to bring the child forth. But each time you thought the end was near, your body betrayed you, the child refusing to make its way into the world.
You could feel the midwife’s hands on you, her grip firm but trembling with fear. Her brow was slick with sweat, and her eyes darted to the door as if expecting rescue to arrive at any moment. “You need to push harder,” she urged, her voice laced with urgency, but you could hardly hear her over the overwhelming wave of pain that consumed you.
“Please… save the baby…” you gasped between gritted teeth, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer. It was all that mattered to you. You would endure anything if it meant bringing this child into the world.
“Focus on your breathing, my lady.” the midwife coaxed, her voice a lifeline amidst the chaos. “You need to stay strong. We can do this.”
But your strength was waning. Each wave of agony pulled you deeper into a chasm of despair. You could feel the blood pooling beneath you, the warmth slick against your skin, and the midwife’s panic seeped into your consciousness. “You need to hurry.” she whispered to herself, fear creeping into her voice. “If this continues, you’ll bleed to death.”
You felt the darkness nipping at the edges of your mind, and in your heart, a flicker of fear ignited. “No, no….” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not my baby. Please… save my baby.”
And just as your hope began to flicker, the heavy door swung open, and Ryomen Sukuna entered the room, his presence a commanding force. The moment he stepped inside, the air shifted, the oppressive weight of his energy washing over you. His crimson eyes locked onto you, and for a fleeting moment, the world fell silent. But the moment passed, and you were swallowed once more by the relentless waves of pain.
“Get out.” Sukuna commanded the midwife, his voice low and dangerous. She opened her mouth to protest, but he fixed her with a look that sent chills down her spine. She turned away, leaving you alone with him, and you felt a rush of confusion.
“My lord….…” you gasped, feeling the tears prick at your eyes, the pain making it hard to think straight. “I need—”
“You need to focus on staying alive, little one.” he interrupted, stepping closer, his gaze fierce and unwavering. “Forget the child. If it must die, then it is a small sacrifice for your life.”
You blinked at him, disbelief flooding your senses. “What do you mean? You can’t just give up on them! Please, my lord…..I can’t—”
He took a step forward, looming over you with an intensity that both terrified and captivated you. “You are more important than some frail, pathetic thing that may never even breathe.” he said, his voice a sharp contrast to your desperation. “I will not lose you. Not now.”
You shook your head, pain and frustration mixing with despair. “I won’t let you do this… I won’t let you take my child away!”
Sukuna’s expression hardened, but there was a flicker of something else there, something that made your heart ache. “You are in danger, and I will not allow you to bleed out while you chase after a child that may never live. Focus on what matters. Fight for yourself.”
His words struck deep, and for a moment, the fury flared within you, mingling with your love for the child. You wanted to scream at him, to make him understand the depth of your devotion. But the pain clawed at your insides, and your body betrayed you once more.
“Push!” the midwife’s voice echoed faintly in the background as you gripped the sheets, a cry escaping your lips as you summoned what little strength remained. “Push, just a little more!”
With Sukuna standing there, his gaze piercing through your haze of agony, you felt a surge of determination. You could do this. You could fight for both of you. “Save my baby…” you whimpered, your voice hoarse.
Ryomen Sukuna’s expression softened just slightly, and for the first time, you saw a glimpse of something deeper, something that spoke of a bond that extended beyond mere duty. But he remained silent, watching as you braced yourself for the next wave of pain.
With each contraction, you pushed with everything you had left, your body screaming in protest. You felt the world around you blur, the pain reaching a crescendo that threatened to swallow you whole. The room spun, and the dark edges of your vision began to close in.
And then, just as despair threatened to consume you, you felt a shift—an overwhelming pressure that gave way to a moment of clarity. With a final, desperate push, you cried out, summoning every ounce of strength you had left, the air thick with the weight of your determination.
And then, you heard it—the faint, sweet sound of a cry filling the room.
The moment filled with disbelief, and your heart raced as the midwife’s voice broke through the haze. “It’s a boy, my lady! You did it! You brought him into the world!”
Tears streamed down your cheeks as Sukuna moved closer, and you felt the rush of warmth flood through you, a wave of relief and joy intertwining. But then the world around you started to spin again, and as you fell back against the pillows, darkness crept in.
You could feel yourself slipping away, the pool of blood collecting at your thighs. You breathed ever so shallowly, feeling your body whisper goodbyes in every small minute movement. You were in indescribable pain. And it was taking over you. It was eating you whole. And you cannot do anything but let it hurt you.
“Stay with me! Open your eyes, I command it!” you heard Sukuna say, his voice now laced with urgency. “Stay with me, dammit!”
The world faded to black, a heavy blanket of darkness enveloping you as the sounds of the room grew distant. You could feel the weight of Sukuna’s hand around yours, a tether anchoring you to reality. His grip was firm, almost desperate, and you fought against the pull of unconsciousness, straining to stay with him, to see this through.
You drifted back to consciousness, the heaviness of sleep lifting slowly as awareness returned. The soft light filtering through the window painted the room in gentle hues, but it was the presence beside you that pulled you from the depths of slumber.
As your eyes fluttered open, you found Sukuna seated vigilantly at your side, his expression stormy, yet it held an intensity that spoke of concern. You had never seen those eyes reflect such emotions before.
Nearly eighteen years of marriage and there was so little of those eyes from him. Perhaps, it took your near death to earn those eyes. As the gods intended. As your husband intended.
“You’re finally awake.” he said, voice low and taut with a mixture of relief and anger. The stark contrast between his emotions made your heart quicken.
“I’m alive, my lord.” you murmured, your throat dry as you tried to push yourself up, the weight of your body still feeling foreign. “You don’t have to look at me like that.”
“Do you have any idea how long you’ve been asleep?” he snapped, his frustration evident. “Seven days, and you nearly bled to death! How reckless can you be, you foolish girl?”
You winced at his tone, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite the gravity of the situation. “But I’m here, my lord. I’m alive.”
Before he could respond, a soft, plaintive cry broke the tension in the air, and your heart leapt at the sound. You turned your head slowly, and your breath caught in your throat as you looked beside you.
There, nestled in a soft blanket, was your own beloved son—tiny, fragile, and perfect. The moment you laid eyes on him, a warmth spread through your chest, and all the pain, the fear, the anger melted away.
“Chizuru.” you whispered, the name slipping from your lips like a prayer. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face, radiating pure joy.
Sukuna’s gaze shifted to the child, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice softer now, the anger dissipating into something more vulnerable.
“His name is Chizuru, my lord.” you replied, your heart swelling as you looked back at the small figure. “Chizuru. It means a thousand cranes.”
You watched as Sukuna’s expression shifted, a mixture of intrigue and contemplation as he absorbed the significance of the name. “A thousand cranes…” he echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. “And what does that mean?”
“When you fold at least a thousand cranes, you get to make a wish.” you explained, glancing back at your son, his tiny fingers twitching as he settled back into a soft coo. “I wished for happiness and here he is, so real and so vibrant.”
Sukuna remained silent, his gaze fixed on you, and for a moment, the world outside the room faded into a distant hum. Nothing else mattered in that moment. There was that warmth that could be the rarest of creations known to man. And one of those rare creations blossomed in the small babe, cooing beside you.
“Chizuru…” he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue as if testing its sound, and you could see a flicker of something in his eyes—a realization perhaps, or a flicker of acceptance. “Ryomen Chizuru.”
You turned your focus back to your baby, your heart swelling as you cradled him gently. “Look at him, my lord. He’s beautiful.”
As you gazed at Chizuru, you felt a profound sense of connection, as if your wish had been granted right before your eyes. In that moment, you realized something deeper, something that shimmered in the quiet between you and Sukuna.
He was beginning to see it too. The way your eyes sparkled with love and hope, the way you smiled at your child, the warmth that radiated from your heart—it all began to intertwine. Something so beautiful had blossomed a new spring right in front of him.
Ryomen Sukuna’s expression softened as he took in the sight of you with Chizuru. There was a flicker of understanding, a silent knowledge that he had learned just by looking at mother and son.
In that moment, he realized that in your eyes, Ryomen Chizuru wasn’t just a child. He was your happiness. And perhaps, he could be his own too.
══════════════════
IN A BLINK OF AN EYE, THE WORLD CHANGES. If you had been asked years ago, you would have been still wondered what joy truly looks like. But if you had been asked now, you would have had an answer that would satisfy the ears of many. Five years had slipped by like a gentle breeze, carrying with it moments of joy and laughter that filled the once quiet halls of the temple with life.
You had poured your heart and soul into raising your son, Chizuru, and the beloved Chiharu, finding a rhythm in the chaos that came with the fondness of motherhood. A harsh road, a horrific terrrain and yet, everything about it had been so beautiful. Everything about it had filled you with nothing but joy.
The air in Vermillion Hall as of late was filled with their giggles and the soft pitter-patter of small feet, the sound of innocence and love echoing against the ancient stone walls. The other halls of the temple could only be envious that you who had been favored, was even more blessed with the sound of two children's joy. A gift none but you in the harem possess.
As you wandered through the temple, sunlight streamed through the open windows, casting warm patches of light on the floor. The vibrant colors of the flowers you’d arranged adorned the hall, adding a touch of brightness to the serene surroundings. You felt a deep sense of contentment wash over you, knowing that you were nurturing a sanctuary for your children, a place where they could flourish.
Young master Ryomen Chizuru was often the more adventurous of the two, his curiosity driving him to explore every nook and cranny of the temple. He had your bright eyes and quite often, they sparkled with mischief as he dashed around, discovering hidden corners and asking a thousand questions about the world around him.
Young mistress Ryomen Chiharu, on the other hand, was a gentle spirit, her laughter melodic as she chased after her brother, always ready to join in his games but equally happy to indulge in quiet moments with you when she wasn't right beside her father, learning the ropes of his leadership.
Between the two of them though, there was certainly no quiet in the Vermillion Hall. But in those rare moments when silence fell over the temple, you would often find yourself lost in thought, reflecting on how far you had come.
Ryomen Sukuna’s absence weighed heavily on you at times, as he would be in between his own pilgrimage to Kyoto or dealing with matters here all across Hida. But you had learned to navigate the complexities of your life as a mother and a partner. If you had done it before, you could do it again.
You had for all this time forged a sense of independence that filled you with pride. You were no longer just the woman who had once worshiped at his feet; you were a mother, a protector, and a nurturer. You were more than what you were all those years ago.
You found joy in the small things in your life today more than you did beforel sometimes, you would be teaching your children the art of folding origami cranes, sharing stories of the world outside, and guiding them through the rituals of your worship to the other gods.
As you sat in the garden, Ryomen Chizuru carefully folded paper into intricate shapes while Ryomen Chiharu hummed a soft tune beside you, you felt a profound sense of peace. The sun warmed your skin, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves above, as if the world itself was celebrating this moment with you.
“Look, Mother! I made a crane!” Chizuru exclaimed, holding up his creation with a proud grin that made your heart swell.
“It’s beautiful, my love.” you praised, reaching out to ruffle his fuschia hair. “Just like you.”
Chiharu clapped her hands in delight, her bright eyes sparkling. “You did so well, little brother! Can we hang it in the hall, Mother? Please? We ought to show the world my little brother's wodners, don't you think?”
“Of course, little flower. We can make a whole family of cranes!” you replied, feeling the joy that radiated from your children wrap around you like a warm embrace.
As the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow across the garden, you settled back against the soft grass, watching your children with a heart full of love. The laughter of Chizuru and Chiharu danced in the air, a sweet melody that resonated deep within you.
“Let’s see how many we can make!” Chizuru declared, diving back into his pile of paper, his little fingers moving with surprising dexterity. Chiharu grinned and joined him eagerly, her giggles punctuating their efforts as they competed to see who could fold the most cranes.
“Remember, my love,” you chimed in, “for every crane we fold, we should make a wish. What do you want to wish for, hm?”
Chiharu paused, her brows furrowed in concentration. “I wish for us to always be together!” she said, her voice sincere and unwavering. "Healthy and happy. That we'll always love one another!"
“And I wish for a big adventure, mother!” Chizuru added, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “One where we can find hidden treasures! Together with you and big sister!”
You chuckled softly, imagining the countless stories waiting to be told. The world outside the temple was vast and filled with mysteries, but within the safety of these walls, they had everything they needed. You like to think that all that would only be happy if you were all together. If you had Chiharu and Chizuru, you would live well.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink, you joined them in their folding. Each crease of the paper felt like a connection—an unspoken promise to nurture their dreams and guide them in their adventures. Of wishes for happier days, wishes for many more sunshines and of course, blissful years to come.
You shared tales of the cranes you had folded as a child, of wishes that had been granted, and of moments that had changed your life. You told them about your mother's beautiful painting skills, your father's brillliance in weaving the cranes together, your little siblings and their eagerness for play.
Chizuru listened with rapt attention, and of course, he would ask questions about your family. You told him as much as you remembered. But at times, you could not find anymore words to say. Your family have not seen you in these many years. And perhaps, never again.
Chiharu leaned against you, her head resting comfortably on your shoulder. She would wonder about how you were as a little girl, when you would play these little paper cranes too. But she did not push as much as her brother.
“Mother, can we fold one for father?” Chizuru asked, his voice softening with a hint of longing. "So that he may know we are missing him and thinking of him!"
“Of course, little flower.” you replied, forcing a smile. “Let’s make one for him, so he knows we’re thinking of him.”
As you helped them fold the paper, you couldn’t shake the thought of Sukuna. He had matters to settle today. And in the past few days, have been without a visit to Vermillion Hall. He had been more frequent in the halls as of late, much more so because your son was wanting his father. And Sukuna indulged him.
You wanted to share these moments with him, at least to look at the children with those fond eyes, the looks he rarely lets slip through the view of others. He had no love for you, true enough. But that does not matter. So long as he loved the children, so long as he cared for him, then perhaps you could be content with that.
After what felt like an eternity of folding, you finally stood, stretching your arms overhead as you surveyed your creations. The hall was beginning to fill with the soft, ambient light of the setting sun, illuminating the vibrant colors of the paper cranes scattered about.
“Let’s hang them up!” you suggested, and together, the three of you transformed the hall into a dazzling display of colorful cranes, each one a symbol of a wish, a memory, and an unbreakable bond.
As you stepped back to admire your handiwork, Chizuru tugged at your sleeve, his face alight with curiosity. “Mother, do you think father will like them?”
You knelt down to his level, cupping his small face in your hands. “I think he’ll be fond of them. They’re a part of us, a part of our family. They are our wishes, after all.”
Chiharu chimed in, looking at her little brother. She too does not wish to break the spell for him. “And when he sees them, he’ll know how much we miss him!”
Chizuru smiled brightly, "Really? Father will be touched then!"
You nodded, feeling a warmth envelop your heart. “Exactly, my love. And we’ll keep making more until he comes home.”
As twilight settled around you, a hush fell over the temple, wrapping you in its embrace. The world outside seemed to pause, and for a moment, all that existed were you and your children, surrounded by the hope and love that filled the air.
With each crane hung in the hall, you were satisfied. The children, bored of making more cranes now, had told you they would play in the garden and you told them not to go too far. That you would see them in a few minutes. You just had to clean out the mess.
Once you had done so, and felt satisfied with the cleaning, you followed them with a lamp. You could hear Chizuru and Chiharu playing in the garden, their laughter floating through the open window, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of them. Then they stopped laughing. You came out and stopped at your tracks.
“Father!” Chizuru’s voice rang out, his excitement unmistakable. You rushed to the window just in time to see Ryomen Sukuna entering the garden.
Sukuna’s eyes locked onto Chizuru, and for a fleeting moment, all the tension of his time away seemed to melt away. Chizuru ran to him, arms outstretched, and Sukuna knelt down, catching his son in a warm embrace. You could see it in Sukuna’s expression, a rare softness breaking through his typically stoic demeanor.
“Look, Father! I made you a crane!” Chizuru exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement as he presented his creation with pride.
Sukuna took the paper crane, inspecting it with a careful eye, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Not bad, little flame.” he said, the praise simple yet meaningful, his tone unexpectedly tender.
Chizuru grinned at his father. Chiharu just behind him. “Father, can we show you the ones we hung in the hall? Mother helped us make them!”
Sukuna looked up from the crane, his gaze shifting between his children, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of the man who had once held such power and authority. Here, among his family, he was just a father. The rarest of sights.
“Lead the way, little flame.” he said, rising to his full height and offering his hand to Chizuru. Chiharu follows behind her brother, trying to keep her compsure.
You watched as they walked side by side, the small boy nearly bouncing with excitement as he chattered away, eager to share every detail about his creations. She looks behind you, as though to see you following them.
You followed at a distance, smiling fondly. As they entered the Vermillion Hall, the colors of the cranes fluttered like bright blossoms in the wind, each one a testament to the love and hope you had nurtured in their absence.
“Look, Father! There’s one for you!” Chizuru pointed, pride evident in his voice.
Sukuna stepped closer, his expression softening as he gazed at the multitude of cranes hanging from the rafters. You noticed how his posture relaxed, the tension of his dealings fading away.
He might have been a fearsome sorcerer to the outside world, but in this sacred space, he left that all behind. He was not to be the one to seem to be such a case, but he was a father. And he adored his children. Perhaps, Chizuru the most. Even if he does not say it outright.
“You’ve made quite the display here.” he remarked, and you could see the admiration shining in his eyes.
Chizuru grinned. "We have, father! Mother says it has brighten the place! And that creates wishes!"
Chiharu chimed in. “Mother said every crane is a wish. Chizuru wished for you to come home, father.”
Sukuna knelt down to her level, his gaze steady. “And I’m here now, aren’t I?”
Chiharu nodded. Chizuru more vigorously, his enthusiasm contagious.
As they continued to admire the cranes, you couldn’t help but notice the way Chizuru moved closer to Sukuna, his small hand brushing against his father’s arm. It was a gesture filled with tenderness, a silent communication that spoke volumes.
You felt a pang in your chest, knowing that Chizuru’s gentle nature was something Sukuna both needed and feared. In that moment, it reminded him of you—of the warmth and love that had filled the space between you before he left.
“Little flame.” Sukuna said, his voice lower, more serious. “You’ve become quite the artist. Do you know what it means to fold a thousand cranes?”
Chizuru shook his head, looking up at his father with wide eyes.
“It means you get to make a wish. A powerful wish.” Sukuna continued, his gaze softening further.
“What’s your wish, Father?” Chizuru asked, curiosity sparkling in his voice.
Sukuna hesitated, a fleeting expression crossing his face that you couldn’t quite decipher. “My wish? To always be here with you and your sister.” he said finally, and the rare sincerity in his tone sent a thrill through you. “For us to be together.”
Chiharu clapped her hands in delight, and Chizuru smiled brightly, the happiness between them radiating through the hall like the sun breaking through the clouds. For a moment, you looked at this and thought to yourself in a small little prayer, that this would never end.
You wanted for this to last forever.
Even if this was just that moment.
You wanted to stay in it forever.
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NOTHING WOULD ERASE MEMORIES OF THAT DAY. Your husband had bid farewell a few hours ago, after the children had fallen asleep. He had already fixed his retinue; Uraume awaited him in the courtyard, standing with the quiet reverence they always kept. It was his yearly trip to Kyoto, to visit the remains of his beloved Hiromi.
You did not want him to go. The idea gnawed at you like a persistent ache, but what could you say? He had always made this journey, always carried this grief. A grief you could never touch. You could never be her, and he... he would never truly belong to you. Not in the way you longed for.
But still, you had kept your mouth shut. The children needed him here, but you bowed your head as he prepared to leave. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you tried to smile, trying to mask the deep ache twisting your insides.
His footsteps were soft on the wooden floor as he approached, the flickering lamp light casting shadows across his face. He stopped before you, gazing down, and for a brief moment, you felt the weight of his eyes on you, heavy with something you couldn’t name. His hand came to rest upon your hair, his fingers slipping through the strands, gently, almost tenderly, as though soothing you for the inevitable pain of his departure.
"Rest well, little one." he murmured, his voice low and quiet, a distant warmth in it that never quite reached you. "I’ll return soon enough."
You nodded, the words caught in your throat. There was nothing you could say that would change his heart, that would pull him back from the ghost he still loved. So, you let the silence fill the space between you.
His hand slipped away, leaving a chill in its wake. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door, his back a familiar sight, disappearing into the night. You watched him go, your heart heavy in your chest, telling yourself again what you’d told yourself a thousand times before.
He doesn't love me.
The thought was bitter but familiar, like an old wound that never fully healed. You clenched your hands together, willing yourself to let go of the dream. To stop hoping for something that could never be.
The door closed behind him with a soft thud. You were alone. Alone with your thoughts, and with the ghost of a woman you could never replace. And so you couldn’t sleep. You kept thinking about your husband, about the ghosts that he’s going to revisit. Yet you shook your head and tried to sleep.
But you thought it would be fine. Even without your husband, nothing has ever happened of note. Nothing ever even mattered. Hida was at peace, even if you were not in your soul. The barriers your husband put were holding up, he had chosen good and able sorcerers to guard you all. It was well and good.
The stillness of the night enveloped the temple, a deep tranquility that cradled you and your children in a cocoon of warmth. You had fallen asleep beside Chizuru and Chiharu, their soft breaths mingling with the rustle of the night. Everything felt perfect—until the acrid smell of smoke invaded your senses.
You jolted awake, your heart racing as a wave of panic washed over you. Coughing, you instinctively shielded your nose with your hands, trying to stave off the suffocating grip of the smoke. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you were met with a horrifying sight: flames licked hungrily at the wooden beams of your chamber, their orange glow illuminating the space in an eerie dance.
“Chiharu! Chizuru!” you cried, your voice hoarse with urgency. You leaned over, shaking your daughter awake, her eyelids fluttering as she fought against sleep.
“Mother?” she murmured, her voice thick with confusion.
“Wake up! We need to go, now!” You turned to Chizuru, who was still sound asleep, and shook him gently. “Chizuru! Please wake up!”
His eyes flew open, wide with fear, and for a moment, you saw the innocent boy you adored—the boy who had just wanted to make cranes and wishes. “What’s happening, mother?” he asked, panic creeping into his voice as he took in the scene around him.
“Fire! We have to get out!” You could hear the distant screams echoing through the temple now, chilling your blood. “We’re under attack! The Zenin clan are here!” a voice shouted from somewhere outside, the threat echoing ominously.
“Who are the Zenin?” Chizuru asked, his small hands gripping the sheets tightly.
“There’s no time for that!” You gathered your children in your arms, instinctively moving towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest. “We need to get to safety!”
As you reached for the door, a gust of heat surged from the flames, forcing you to recoil. You could hear the chaos outside—the shouts of the Zenin, the crashing of furniture, and the crackle of flames consuming everything in their path. The smell of blood and chaos and madness were all up in the air.
“Mother!” Chiharu whimpered, clinging tightly to you. You could feel her trembling against your side, and your heart ached for her innocence lost in this moment of terror.
“Stay close to me, little flower.” you urged, squeezing their hands tightly. “We need to find a way out!”
You took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of fear within you. The window! You dashed towards it, the heat intensifying as you drew closer, and you could see the fire spreading rapidly across the walls.
“Help!” a voice cried from outside, mingling with the frantic screams and shouts. The chaos was closing in around you, and time was slipping away.
You reached the window, your heart racing as you pushed it open. The night air rushed in, carrying the faint sounds of battle. You peered outside, desperate to find a safe escape route. You needed to think fast, you needed to act fast. Your children’s lives depend on it.
“Chizuru, Chiharu, hold onto each other!” You instructed, glancing back at your children, their eyes wide with fear.
“Can we jump?” Chizuru asked, his voice trembling.
You hesitated, taking in the height of the drop below. “We have to try.” you said, forcing a brave smile to reassure them. “On the count of three. Ready? One… two… three!”
You leapt out of the window, pulling your children to you as you fell. You landed hard, the ground beneath you jarring, but you quickly rolled to absorb the impact, shielding them with your body. Pain shot through your limbs, but you pushed through it, gasping for breath as you scrambled to your feet, still holding onto them. The night was alive with chaos—figures darting in and out of the flickering flames, shadows blending with the smoke that hung thick in the air.
“Over there!” you pointed towards a small alleyway between two temple structures, a route that would lead away from the flames. “Run!”
Chizuru and Chiharu obeyed, their small legs carrying them as fast as they could. You followed closely, adrenaline coursing through your veins, urging you to protect them at all costs.
As you raced through the chaos, you could hear the sounds of combat nearby—the clang of weapons, the shouts of warriors, the thudding of footsteps on the ground. The Zenin had come, their intent clear in the chaos that surrounded you.
You led your children away from the heart of the conflict, your mind racing with thoughts of Sukuna and where he might be. Would he know about the attack? Would he come for you? Where was he? The safety of your family was all that mattered right now.
“Keep going!” you shouted to your children, urging them forward as you glanced back at the temple. Flames illuminated the night sky, casting a sinister glow over everything, the beloved home you had built now a target of destruction.
But there was no time to dwell on what was lost. You had to find safety, to escape the grasp of the chaos. You pressed on, your heart filled with a fierce determination to protect Chizuru and Chiharu, no matter the cost.
In that moment, you were not just their mother; you were their shield, and you would not let anything happen to them.
It was clearer and clearer that the night was a nightmare unfolding in real time, chaos erupting around you as you pressed forward, your heart pounding in your chest. Screams echoed through the air, mingling with the crackle of flames that consumed the temple, and the oppressive weight of smoke threatened to pull you under.
“Stay close!” you shouted, gripping Chiharu's hand tightly while Chizuru walked just a step ahead of you, his eyes wide with fear but determination. Each step felt heavier, the ground shaking with the panic of those fleeing the scene. You could hear the splashes of bodies tumbling into the river nearby, their cries for help haunting your every thought.
But as you moved closer to the water's edge, a surge of people rushed past you, frantically trying to escape the inferno. The panic of the crowd was palpable, and in an instant, you were swept away in the tide, a wave of bodies pushing against you.
“Chizuru!” you screamed, desperately searching for your son among the frantic faces. The chaos enveloped you like a storm, and the very ground felt unsteady beneath your feet. You reached for him, your heart pounding as you fought against the surge, but it was as if the world was swallowing him whole.
“Mother!” Chiharu cried, her small voice trembling with fear, and your heart twisted painfully at the sound. You turned to comfort her, wrapping your arms around her protectively.
“Hold on to me, Chiharu!” you urged, trying to keep her close, your voice strained. The water was rising, the current pulling at your legs, and you could feel the panic tightening around your chest.
Suddenly, a throng of people pushed toward the river, a wave of desperation crashing over you. Many had left in panic, knowing that the Zenin penetrated all the other gates too. And here they were dying. They fought against each other, shoving and clawing their way to safety. In the midst of it, you felt Chizuru’s hand slip from yours.
“No! Chizuru!” you shouted, your voice hoarse as you turned to look for him, your heart racing in your chest. The water began to surge around you, pulling you under as you reached for him desperately. Everything began to be swallowed by the darkness and the waves.
The crowd continued to press against you, and in that moment of chaos, you lost sight of your son. You felt a surge of despair wash over you, as though the river itself was stealing him away. “Chizuru!” you cried out, but the water swallowed your voice.
The river, once a gentle stream, had transformed into a torrent, pulling you and Chiharu further into its depths. You struggled against the current, fighting to keep your head above water, but the chaos made it impossible to breathe.
Panic clawed at your throat as the realization hit you—your son was gone, lost in the tide of terror, swallowed by the chaos surrounding you. The thought was unbearable, a weight that pressed down on your chest and threatened to drag you under.
“Hold on to me!” you shouted to Chiharu, who was now clinging to your side, tears streaming down her face. You could feel her trembling, the cold water soaking through your clothes, and you fought against the current, trying to pull both of you to safety.
But the current was relentless, and just as you thought you could escape, a wave crashed over you, pulling you under. The water engulfed you, dark and suffocating, and you fought against the overwhelming force that dragged you deeper into its depths.
You could hear the muffled sounds of chaos above—the screams of your neighbors, the crackling of fire, the desperate cries for help. But all you could think about was your children, the warmth of Chizuru’s smile, the light in Chiharu’s eyes, now both in peril.
Desperation surged through you, and you kicked against the water, clawing your way to the surface. But the river fought back, dragging you further down, each movement becoming heavier, more labored.
“Chizuru!” you cried again, the name a plea that echoed in your heart. You could feel the air leaving your lungs, the weight of your despair pulling you under.
Just as the darkness began to close in around you, a sudden burst of strength propelled you upward. You broke through the surface, gasping for air, lungs burning as you struggled to stay afloat.
But the moment of relief was short-lived as the chaos swirled around you. You looked frantically for Chizuru, scanning the water for any sign of him. Your heart ached with fear, the thought of losing him suffocating you more than the water ever could.
“Chizuru!” you shouted again, but the only answer was the rush of the river and the cries of the crowd. “My son, my son!”
Then you felt a small hand clutching your arm, and you turned to find Chiharu’s terrified face. “Mother! I can’t swim!” she cried, her voice trembling with fear, and you realized she was struggling against the current as well.
“I won’t let go, I promise!” you assured her, fighting against the torrent as you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her close. The river surged around you, but you held on with everything you had.
In that moment, all that mattered was your daughter. You would not let her be lost to this chaos, even if it meant sacrificing everything else. “We’re going to be okay, we’re going to be fine.” you promised her, forcing a calm you didn’t feel.
With renewed determination, you swam toward the shore, battling the current that threatened to pull you back into the depths. Each stroke was a struggle, the water heavy and cold, but you couldn’t give up. You had to find safety for Chiharu, to shield her from the horrors unfolding around you.
But in the distance, the cries of others still echoed, and every instinct in you screamed for Chizuru. You felt a fierce longing for him, an unyielding need to protect your son, to bring him back to safety. The thought of him alone in the chaos was a wound that tore at your heart.
The river finally began to recede, and you clawed your way to the bank, pulling Chiharu with you. With one final push, you scrambled onto the muddy shore, the water cascading off you like a broken dam.
But as you lay there, gasping for breath, a haunting realization sank in—the darkness still lingered. You had saved your daughter, but Chizuru was still out there, somewhere lost in the chaos.
“Chizuru!” you called out, your voice cracking with desperation, but the only reply was the sound of rushing water and the distant cries of those who had suffered the same fate.
You couldn’t lose hope, couldn’t abandon your son. With trembling limbs, you forced yourself to stand, feeling the weight of dread pressing down on you.
“Chiharu, stay here!” you instructed, your voice shaky but firm. “I have to find your brother!”
“Mother, please!” Chiharu pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clung to you. “I don’t want to be alone!”
“Stay close to the shore, please. you urged, your heart breaking at the fear in her eyes. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”
With a final glance at your daughter, you plunged back into the water, the cold enveloping you once more. Each stroke was a desperate prayer, a hope that you would find Chizuru safe and sound.
As you moved through the water, the world around you blurred, your heart pounding with every frantic search for his familiar face. The river roared like a beast, but you fought against it, determined to bring your son home, to save him from the grasp of darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.
In the depths of despair, you clung to the belief that love would lead you back to him. You would not rest until you found your son, until you pulled him back from the brink of loss, back into your arms.
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YOU DON’T THINK YOU COULD EVER MOVE FORWARD. The world felt hollow without Chizuru, a chasm of grief that swallowed everything in its wake. Months had passed since the night of the attack, yet time had warped into an endless cycle of despair. You wandered through the temple, each corner a haunting reminder of his absence, every sound echoing the laughter that once filled those halls.
You hadn’t eaten in days, nor could you find the will to sleep. Each night, you lay beside Chiharu, listening to her soft breaths, feeling the warmth of her small body against yours. But your heart ached with the knowledge that your son was missing—lost to the river, to the chaos of that terrible night.
You clung to hope like a fragile thread, desperate to believe that somehow he would come home. You remembered his bright smile, the way his laughter danced in the air, a melody of innocence and joy. But now, silence reigned, a heavy shroud that suffocated you.
The days stretched into an agonizing blur, and you found yourself wandering the grounds of the temple, searching every inch of the riverbank, calling his name until your voice was hoarse. “Chizuru! Chizuru!” echoed through the empty space, a prayer to the gods, a plea for your boy to return.
But only silence answered, and each time you turned to the water, the memories washed over you. You could see him there, splashing happily, the sunlight glinting off his bright fuschia hair, his laughter ringing like bells. But that was just a memory now, a ghost that lingered in the corners of your mind.
The only trace left of him was his beloved toy, a small crane he had carried everywhere—a tattered reminder of his innocence, now found washed ashore, sodden and battered by the river’s embrace. You held it close, clutching it to your chest as if it could somehow bridge the gap between the world of the living and the void where your son had vanished.
The grief twisted inside you like a knife, sharp and unyielding, as you wept, your tears falling onto the toy. “Please, come back to me, my baby.” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips like a prayer. But the river continued to flow, indifferent to your anguish.
When your husband had been informed, he had left immediately back for Hida. He found you first. Ryomen Sukuna had tried to protect you, and had stopped you from plunging into the water once more. His scarlet eyes frantically eyeing you. It was the first time they had been like that, but you could not care enough for it. You needed your son.
“You nearly drowned already, little one.” he had said, his voice strained with a mixture of anger and concern. “The river is too shallow, and you cannot risk your life searching for him.”
But the fire of desperation burned brightly within you. How could he expect you to sit idly by? “He’s my son!” you cried, your voice breaking. “I can’t just leave him out there, Sukuna! I can’t!”
His gaze had softened, but there was an impenetrable wall of sorrow between you, a chasm of understanding that seemed impossible to cross. “And you will lose yourself if you go, little one.” he replied quietly. “You must think of Chiharu. She needs you.”
Chiharu… the reminder of your daughter was a bittersweet ache. You had poured every ounce of love and care into her, but your heart remained fragmented, scattered like leaves in the wind. You wanted to be there for her, to be strong, but every moment without Chizuru felt like a betrayal.
You couldn’t help but wonder if he had suffered, if he had called for you in his final moments. The thought was a poison that seeped into your soul, a darkness that wrapped around you like chains, constricting until you could barely breathe.
Nights stretched on endlessly, and when sleep finally claimed you, it was only to be haunted by dreams of your son. You would see him running toward you, his arms outstretched, laughter spilling from his lips like tender music. But just as you reached for him, he would fade away, leaving you grasping at empty air.
Each morning you awoke to find the world unchanged, the sun rising over the river that had taken so much. Chiharu would rise with her innocent smile, but you could see the shadows behind her eyes, the worry that mirrored your own. She suffered too. She can’t do it anymore either. You wanted to shield her from the pain, to protect her from the grief that consumed you, but you were too lost in your own sorrow.
“Mother, are we going to find Chizuru today?” she would ask, her small voice hopeful, and every word felt like a knife twisting in your heart.
“I… I don’t know, sweetheart.” you would reply, forcing a smile that felt foreign on your lips. “We have to wait a little longer.”
But the truth was, you were terrified. Terrified of facing the river again, of the darkness that lurked within it, of the memories that flooded back each time you caught a glimpse of the water. It had taken your son, and the thought of it held you captive in your own mind.
As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the temple felt less like a home and more like a tomb, filled with echoes of laughter long gone. You moved through the halls like a ghost, a shell of the woman you used to be, desperately clinging to the love of your daughter while mourning the loss of your son.
In the stillness of night, when the world around you slept, you would often find yourself at the river’s edge, the water shimmering under the moonlight. You would sit there for hours, clutching Chizuru’s toy, your heart aching for the child who would never again run to you, whose laughter had been silenced by tragedy.
“Where are you, my little boy?” you would whisper, tears falling into the water. “Come back to me.” But the only answer was the soft lapping of the waves, a haunting reminder of the joy that had been stolen from you.
Days faded into weeks, each moment a reminder of the love that had been lost, and the pain only deepened with the passage of time. Your heart was a fractured thing, struggling to beat amid the agony of loss, and yet, somewhere deep within, a flicker of hope still remained—a hope that perhaps one day you would find the strength to carry on, to honor Chizuru’s memory and bring light back into your world.
Ryomen Sukuna's grief meanwhile manifested in a tempest of rage, a dark storm that swallowed all reason and empathy. The night the Zenin attacked, their faces were etched into his mind, and with each passing day, that image became an obsession;a call to vengeance that drowned out the cries of his own sorrow.
He descended into the shadows of vengeance, moving like a wraith through the remnants of the world he had once ruled. The Zenin clan had crossed a line that he would not allow to remain unpunished. They had dared to touch what was his, and for that, they would pay.
With a swift and merciless hand, he hunted them down, one by one. The elegance of his movements belied the brutality of his actions. Each confrontation was a dance of death, each opponent a testament to his unyielding wrath. He tore through their defenses, a whirlwind of violence and fury, leaving behind nothing but a trail of blood and devastation.
Sukuna did not need to think; his body moved instinctively, fueled by a primal need for retribution. He channeled his anguish into each kill, the cries of the Zenin blending into a symphony of vengeance that soothed the raw edges of his pain, even if only momentarily. The thrill of the hunt and the finality of the kill provided a distraction from the hollow ache that resided within him.
He was relentless, taking down many of the branches of the clan with precision and ferocity, reveling in the chaos he unleashed. Just as the Ryomen were wiped out by the Fujiwara, the Zenin were nearly gone too.
Their screams echoed in his mind, and for a fleeting moment, he found solace in their despair. The walls of the temple, once a sanctuary, now stood witness to the brutality of his wrath.
But even in the depths of his fury, a flicker of doubt began to gnaw at the edges of his resolve. Each life he extinguished was a stark reminder of the fragility of existence, a reflection of the life he had once shared with you and the children. In the silence that followed each battle, the absence of Chizuru pierced him like a knife, sharper than any blade he wielded.
He thought of you, alone and shattered, and how your grief mirrored his own. The thought stirred something deep within him—a conflicting urge to return, to be the pillar you needed, to offer you the strength to carry on. But the weight of his actions held him captive, shackled by the blood he had spilled.
How could he face you after becoming a monster? He had sworn to protect you, to provide a sanctuary for your family, yet here he was, consumed by darkness, reveling in a cycle of violence.
As he stood amidst the ashes of the Zenin clan, Ryomen Sukuna felt a hollowness that no amount of vengeance could fill. The cries of his victims faded, and he was left alone with his thoughts, each one a reminder of what he had lost, and what he was becoming.
His heart, though encased in ice, cracked just a little at the realization that revenge could not bring back Chizuru. He was gone. The water had taken him. And he will not come back. Not even if you want him too, not even if Sukuna wanted to.
The very act of killing, of exacting justice, could never quell the longing in his soul for the warmth of his son’s laughter or the joy that once radiated from your family. He would forever be haunted by the laughter. By the bitterness of that laughter tainted in blood and loss.
Days turned into a blur of blood and shadow until the last of the Zenin fell at his feet. And there he stood, amidst the remains of his enemies, drenched in the very violence he had unleashed, yet feeling emptier than ever. The echoes of Chizuru’s laughter haunted him, the memory of his son’s smile contrasting starkly with the brutality he had wrought.
Returning to the temple felt like an insurmountable task. How could he face you after everything? After your grief tortures him enough. After Chiharu’s silence bitterly echoes in silence. He had become a monster in pursuit of vengeance, and the thought of your eyes so dead, so bitterly ruined. It ruined him too.
He had started all this bloodshed for the Ryomen.
He had started this cycle of vengeance for love and loss.
And somehow it will never end, somehow it will continue.
The rain stills and tears and he watches, standing there among them.
Blood and water look almost the same to him.
══════════════════
YOU WERE A SHADOW OF YOUR FORMER SELF. The chamber was a prison of shadows, thick and suffocating, as though they had seeped from the cracks of your broken heart. The once vibrant room was now a graveyard of neglect—crumpled papers strewn across the floor, each one a failed attempt to capture your grief in words.
The air was stagnant, heavy with the scent of loss and decay, mirroring the unbearable weight that pressed against your chest. You sat amidst the chaos, the world outside reduced to an endless night, a void where you floated aimlessly, longing for an end that never came.
Chizuru’s absence had carved out a wound so deep that it felt like your soul had been hollowed out, leaving nothing but an aching emptiness. You could still see him, hear his laughter echo through the temple halls, bright and alive in your memory. But the warmth of those moments only sharpened the cruel edge of your despair. He was gone, and no amount of clinging to the past could change that.
You had tried, time and time again, to escape this torment, to free yourself from the suffocating grip of your sorrow. Each attempt to end your life was another desperate grasp at peace, at release. But every time, Sukuna found you—like some dark, twisted guardian, yanking you back from the brink. His grip was always unrelenting, his voice cutting through the fog of your despair with harshness that bordered on cruelty.
“You can’t leave me like this, little one.” he would say, his voice laced with anger, with something almost desperate. But it was the pity in his eyes that hurt the most, the silent judgment that reflected your own shame, your own failure.
You wanted to die, to vanish into the void and be done with it. Yet, Sukuna would not allow it. And as the days blurred into weeks, the crushing weight of your existence dragged you deeper into isolation.
You pushed him away, locked yourself in the crumbling sanctuary of your grief, convinced that the best thing you could do was disappear—to not burden him, to not burden Chiharu, with the shell of the woman you had become.
The days passed in a haze of nothingness, and you became a ghost, drifting through the remnants of a life you no longer recognized. Chiharu’s laughter echoed faintly in the distance, but you couldn’t bear to face her, couldn’t allow her to see the emptiness in your eyes. She deserved better—better than a mother who was crumbling beneath the weight of her sorrow, better than a life filled with the echoes of what once was.
When Sukuna finally returned to you, it was as though he had stepped into a tomb. The door creaked open, and he entered the room, his presence filling the space with a commanding force that felt suffocating. His eyes roamed over the wreckage, taking in the chaos you had allowed to fester.
“You can’t keep living like this, little one.” he said, his voice low and strained with both anger and concern.
Your response was sharp, bitter, laced with the pain that had become your constant companion. “I’m not living, my lord. I’m just existing. There’s a difference.”
His jaw tightened, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see it every time I look at you? You’re wasting away, and for what?”
He moved to clean the mess that had accumulated around you, his actions careful but determined. It made something inside you snap. You wanted to scream at him, to tell him to stop, that nothing could be fixed, that you were beyond repair.
But the words stuck in your throat, drowned by the flood of tears that threatened to spill over as he touched a crumpled sheet of paper—a poem you had tried to write about loss, about Chizuru. It was unfinished, like everything else in your life.
“Let me help you,” he said, softer this time, but his words were like knives. His pity, his attempts at love—it was suffocating. You couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.
“Chiharu should go with Hiromi’s family,” you said suddenly, the words falling from your lips like a confession, heavy with guilt. “I can’t… I can’t be the mother she needs. Not like this.”
He froze, his expression darkening with disbelief. “You want to send her away?”
“Yes,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “She deserves better than this—better than me.”
The air between you grew tense, thick with unspoken truths. His voice was hard when he finally spoke, laced with a quiet fury. “You think running away will fix anything? That abandoning her will make you whole again?”
“I don’t know,” you cried, the anguish spilling out of you uncontrollably. “But I can’t… I can’t watch her suffer because of me. I can’t let her see me like this.”
His gaze hardened, and you could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “She needs you. You’re her mother. You can’t just give up.”
“Give up?” you spat, your voice rising with a mix of rage and desperation. “You think I haven’t tried? You think I haven’t fought every single day just to breathe, just to wake up? You’re out there killing the Zenin, but I’m stuck here—drowning, suffocating in this nightmare! I let my own son die, my lord. I failed him. I failed Chizuru.”
The words hung in the air like a death sentence, raw and painful. Sukuna’s expression twisted with something dark, something that resembled both anger and grief.
“Stop it.” he snapped, stepping closer, his eyes blazing. “You didn’t let him die. This isn’t your fault. You’re not the only one who lost him.”
His words felt like a slap, but you couldn’t stop. The pain had consumed you, filled every corner of your soul until there was nothing left but the desire to disappear, to join Chizuru in whatever afterlife there might be.
“I want to be with him, please….” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this anymore. I just want to be with him.”
Sukuna’s face contorted with rage, with desperation. “No. You don’t get to choose that. You don’t get to leave. Chizuru wouldn’t want this for you. He wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”
You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as the weight of your guilt crushed you. “But I am a foolish mother. I let him die, and now… I deserve to suffer. It should have been me, not him.”
Sukuna’s frustration exploded. “Stop it!” His voice echoed in the emptiness of the room. “You don’t get to decide that! You don’t get to give up. You’re not the only one hurting!”
His words hit you like a storm, and you recoiled, feeling the walls of your grief crack beneath the force of his anger. But the truth was still there, festering in your chest. “I can’t fight anymore, my lord.” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know how.”
He stepped closer, his presence a force you couldn’t ignore, but there was a tenderness in his eyes now, a desperation that mirrored your own. “Then let me fight for you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t lose you too. Not like this.”
You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let him pull you from the abyss. But all you could feel was the crushing weight of everything you had lost. “I’m already gone,” you whispered, your voice hollow. “You’re too late.”
And in that moment, as Sukuna stood there, torn between his anger and his helplessness, you realized something—he could not save you. No one could. You were lost, drowning in the endless chasm of your grief, and all that was left was the echo of your son’s laughter, growing fainter with each passing day.
You stood frozen in the aftermath of Sukuna's departure, the stillness of the room amplifying the hollowness inside you. You could not help it. There felt nothing else but emptiness and grief.
The words you had thrown at him, fueled by anger, sorrow, and a desperate need to push him away now echoed in your mind, filling the void he had left behind. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your chest tightening under the weight of a decision that felt irreversible.
He was gone. Truly gone this time.
For a fleeting moment, you had wanted this—his absence, the silence, the space to collapse without anyone witnessing your downfall. But now, standing in the suffocating quiet of your chamber, you realized that his presence, oppressive as it was, had been the only thing tethering you to this world. And now… now you were truly untethered, free to fall into the abyss.
You glanced around the room, the wreckage of your grief still strewn across the floor; crumpled papers, forgotten attempts at healing, at making sense of your pain. They mocked you now, silent reminders of every failed effort to escape the unbearable weight pressing down on your soul.
Your legs gave out beneath you, and you crumpled to the floor, your body folding in on itself as the sobs tore from your throat. It was as if the dam had broken, and all the emotions you had been holding back; the anguish, the guilt, the overwhelming despair rushed to the surface, drowning you in their flood.
You had pushed Sukuna away, believing that his love, his pity, would only deepen your shame. But now, without him here to absorb the brunt of your anger, you were left alone with the full force of your grief. And it was unbearable. Unforgiving.
The image of Chizuru, your sweet boy, your heart, he flashed in your mind. His laughter, his innocent smile, the way he had once filled your days with light. But now… now he was gone, and the light had died with him.
You could still see him in your mind’s eye, running through the temple grounds, carefree and full of life. But those memories only deepened the emptiness within you. They weren’t enough to sustain you. Nothing was.
You had failed him.
The thought repeated itself over and over, a relentless chant that echoed in your mind. You had failed him. You hadn’t been able to protect him. And now, you couldn’t even hold on to the family you had left. You had pushed them all away; Sukuna, Chiharu, believing that they would be better off without you. That they deserved better.
But now, as the suffocating silence wrapped around you, you realized that you had nothing left. No family. No purpose. Just the crushing weight of loss and the ever-present desire to escape it.
You crawled toward the remnants of your shattered life, your fingers brushing against the crumpled poem you had written about Chizuru, unfinished, like so much else in your life. Tears blurred your vision as you smoothed the paper, tracing the words you had once thought would bring you comfort, bring you closure.
But there was no closure to be found. Only an endless, gaping wound that refused to heal.
Your hands trembled as you reached for the knife hidden beneath your bed. It had been there for weeks, maybe months, always present, always waiting for the moment when you were ready. You had tried so many times before to end this;
You need to free yourself from the unbearable pain that clawed at your insides. But Sukuna had always stopped you, pulling you back from the edge with his iron grip, his desperate pleas.
But now he is gone. Now there was no one left to stop you.
You stared down at the blade, the cold steel glinting in the dim light of the room. It would be so easy, so simple—to just let go. To release yourself from the torment, the guilt, the constant agony that had become your existence. To be free.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a quiet certainty that this was the only way out. You had lost everything, and there was no point in continuing this charade of life. Chizuru was gone, and you wanted to be with him. You needed to be with him.
Your grip tightened around the handle of the knife, and you brought it to your wrist, the cool metal pressing against your skin. Your breath hitched, but your resolve didn’t waver. This was what you wanted. This was the only way to escape the endless spiral of grief.
Just as you were about to press the blade deeper, a soft voice echoed in your mind, a voice so faint, so distant, that you almost didn’t hear it.
“Mother…..”
Chiharu.
Her name, her voice, pierced through the fog of your despair, cutting through the haze of your grief. Your hands trembled, and the knife slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor with a hollow sound that echoed in the empty room.
Chiharu.
The image of her face, so much like her brother’s; it was all that flashed before your eyes, and you felt a pang of guilt so deep it nearly shattered you. She was still here. She was still alive. And she needed you. She needed you to be alright. She needed you here with her, she needed her mother.
Don't take it all away from her, too.
You collapsed onto the floor, your body wracked with sobs as the weight of your decision crashed over you. You had been so consumed by your grief, by your longing to be with Chizuru, that you had forgotten the life that still remained.
Ryomen Chiharu was still here, still waiting for you. And you had almost abandoned her. You had nearly left her alone in this world without a mother, without anyone to hold her, to protect her. You shouldn't have done this, you shouldn't have lived in your grief like this. What right do you have to live like this?
You buried your face in your hands, the realization crashing over you like a wave. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t leave her behind. Not like this. Not when she needed you the most.
But how could you continue? How could you keep living in this world without Chizuru, without the light he had brought into your life? The thought of facing another day without him, of waking up to the same crushing pain, was unbearable.
But as the image of Chiharu’s face lingered in your mind, you knew you didn’t have a choice. You had to keep going. You had to keep fighting. For her.
For both of them.
The knife lay forgotten on the floor, and you curled into yourself, sobbing wracking your body as you let the grief wash over you. You didn’t know how you would survive this. You didn’t know if you even could.
But for Chiharu…..you would try.
You needed to live for her.
You needed to live for Chizuru.
You need to live for yourself.
══════════════════
THE SNOWS CAME JUST IN TIME FOR WINTER MOONLIGHT. It took time. A lot of time. And you had been eager to try, you wanted to do it. You wanted to take that time to learn how to be alive again. The days stretched into weeks, and each one was a grueling battle you weren't sure you'll make it out alive.
But you wanted to fight to heal, to come to terms with the raw grief that still lingered in your heart. Because there was much still waiting for you. There was much of life still waiting to be lived. That is what your precious son would have wanted for his beloved mother. You were certain of that.
And you would have to do it alone, with Ryomen Chiharu being sent off to live with her mother’s family. You had bitter tears about parting. But you had to prove to yourself that you could do it, that you could live. That you could be fine. You wanted to live well, to see Chiharu again. She will come back. But you have to be well again.
It was the hardest thing you could have ever done. You were a mother after all. You had grown him from the seed he was to the boy he came to be. You had suffered to bring him into the world. And now, to know he had disappeared, without a trace. To accept it, it swallowed you whole.
The weight of Chizuru’s absence would never fully leave you, but slowly, you began to confront the pain rather than run from it. It wasn’t easy; some days were unbearable; but through reflection, through quiet moments with yourself, you began to find pieces of your old strength. The strength you had lost the day Ryomen Chizuru left this world.
The solitude helped at first. There were moments when you needed to be alone, to think, to remember, to cry without holding anything back. But as the year drew closer to its end, a different kind of loneliness set in—the kind that whispered of missed connections, unresolved conversations, and a love that still lingered beneath the layers of grief and hurt.
Ryomen Sukuna.
You hadn’t seen him since that day, when the anger had driven you apart. He hadn’t come back, and in those quiet moments, you wondered if he ever would. He wanted to give you time, you supposed. Or perhaps he had started to hate you as much as you had hated yourself.
But something deep inside told you that he was still there, waiting—always waiting. Perhaps he finally understood what it was like to suffer so deeply. And as the year approached its final days, the weight of the distance between you two became too heavy to bear.
It was just after the first snowfall of the season when you found yourself walking along the temple grounds, the world quiet and blanketed in white. The cold air stung your skin, but it was a welcome sensation. It was something to remind you that you were still here, still alive, still fighting. And you were grateful for it.
But for a moment , you couldn't help it. You supposed it was out of habit. You didn’t know why your thoughts kept drifting back to Ryomen Sukuna. You hadn't seen him in a while. And for good reason.
Perhaps, it was because of that. You couldn't help but think of him with every step. And with each step, you cannot help but feel the pull to see him again. Each step made that desire stronger, undeniable.
You found him at the edge of the temple's forest, his broad figure outlined against the dark trees covered in blissful snow piling onto it. He stood with his back to you, staring out at the horizon as if lost in his own thoughts.
For a moment, you hesitated, the memory of your last argument flashing in your mind. But then you took a deep breath and called his name rather than your worship upon him. All those words of anger pressed on in your memories, all those grievous whispers and all those harmful touches. You cannot help but remember it all.
He turned slowly, his eyes meeting yours across the snow-covered ground. There was something different in his scarlet gaze now; something softer, more open than you remembered. Perhaps it was grief, or perhaps it was weariness. Mayhaps even the cold. You could not fathom it well.
You don't remember if you were able to be this lost when you read him years ago. But you were lost now, almost like a child relearning its steps. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the sight of him didn’t fill you with anger or sorrow. Instead, it brought a sense of relief, of longing.
Without speaking, you walked toward him, closing the distance between you. The silence stretched between you both, heavy with everything unsaid. When you finally stopped in front of him, the words that had been trapped inside you for so long began to tumble out.
“I miss him, my lord.” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the still air. “I miss Chizuru every day. I thought… I thought pushing you away would make it easier. That if I didn’t have to face you, I wouldn’t have to face the pain.”
Sukuna didn’t respond at first, his expression unreadable. He did not think that he should. He doesn't show it, but he hesistates. He doesn't know how to speak to you anymore. It had been so long. But ought to try. He had to. The cold did not bother him and yet your gaze did. He exhaled softly, his breath visible in the cold air.
“I know, little one.” he murmured. “I’ve….thought of him too. After all this time.”
“Has….my lord thought of me too?”
“Everyday.”
The vulnerability in his voice surprised you. Ryomen Sukuna had always been strong, unyielding, but in that moment, he wasn’t the invincible force you had once known. In what little remains of his heart, he had loved his son. And perhaps, he had cared about you enough. You had lived a life together too, afrer all. You were as much his life as his son was. Even for a time.
You liked to think that for a moment, he was still as human as the day he had been born into this earth. He was just a man grieving his son, just like you were. He was just a man longing for his concubine, his friend, his partner. Someone that lives with him this life full of tragedy.
For a moment, you couldn't help but think that even curses, even monsters like him — they could feel like this.
“I never wanted to lose you like I lost him, little one.” he continued, his eyes dark with emotion. “Perhaps, it was better we parted these many years."
You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I thought the same thing, my lord. But I was wrong. I was so wrong, my lord. I need you… I always have. I was just so afraid that if I let myself feel anything for you, it would hurt too much.”
He reached out then, his large hand cupping your face gently. “I need you too, little one.” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “I always have. Perhaps, I always will."
You leaned into his touch, your heart aching with both pain and relief. “I’m sorry, my lord.” you whispered. “I’m so sorry for pushing you away. I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt us both.”
Sukuna’s thumb brushed away a tear that had fallen down your cheek. “Hurt is hard to live through, little one." he said softly. “But perhaps, there is comfort in not living through it alone."
The sincerity in his voice broke something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. His embrace was immediate, strong and warm, and for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to melt into his arms, to feel the safety and comfort of his presence.
“You ought to stay by my side again, little one.” Sukuna said, his voice muffled against your hair. “We mustn't be alone in suffering."
You nodded against his chest, the weight of your grief still there but somehow lighter now that it wasn’t just yours to bear.
“I care for you, my lord.” you whispered, the words finally free from the prison of your pain. “I never stopped.”
Sukuna pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with a tenderness you hadn’t seen in so long. “I care for you too, little one. In all the ways that should matter. Even if I….I still care the most about you.”
The snow continued to fall around you, blanketing the world in quiet peace. And as you stood there, wrapped in Sukuna’s arms, you knew that healing would take time. More time than you could ever imagine. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you believed it was possible.
There will be more years together.
There will be more heartache.
There will be more misunderstanding.
There will be more words left unsaid.
But you would have each other.
══════════════════
HE HAD NEVER BEEN ABLE TO PROCESS GRIEF WELL. But you would have known that about him all too well. And yet in a blink of an eye, everything had spiralled down. Everything had slipped through his fingers. Everything had been gone. You had been gone. And there was nothing he could ever do about it.
It had been a few days since you had passed, and Ryomen Sukuna’s world had shattered in a way he could never have prepared for. He had not been prepared for this. He had not been ready to face a day like this, where he would have to deal with your mortality. But it came as swiftly as you had come into his life.
The once-mighty King of Curses, feared by all, now sat in a darkness deeper than any battle or curse he had ever faced. He had locked himself away from everything, even from Uraume, who had always been at his side. But this grief was something no one could witness. Not even them.
Alone, Ryomen Sukuna’s rage boiled beneath the surface, but it was hollow. His immense power, his endless strength, none of it mattered now. Not without you. Everything felt pointless, bitter. The world felt colder. Nothing mattered to him.
He could still feel it. The exact moment your heart stopped, the light draining from your eyes. Your weary smile, your lingering gaze; Your haggered breath into the world with finality.
Everything about it had scared him. It had haunted him since, playing on an endless loop in his mind. He had seen death countless times, taken lives without thought, but your death; it was different. The world itself seemed to stop the moment you did.
Perhaps it had hurt just as much as when he held Hiromi in his arms as she too passed. Perhaps it hurt even more. He did not know. He could not know. Not right now. Not when he was a mess. But it hardly mattered. Learning which hurt more will not lessen the pain of your loss.
Every minute since then, he had tried to hold it together, to bury the feelings that raged within him. But he couldn’t. Not when it came to you. No one could touch you. No one could see you, not like this. He would not degrade you to mortal eyes like this. Not ever. Not now. Only he could touch you. Only he could lay a finger on you.
You had always been his. And now, in death, you still were.
He slipped into the room where your body lay, the room colder now, as if death itself lingered in the air. The sight of you—broken, unmoving—ripped something deep from within him. He, who was untouchable, who had always kept his distance from the frailty of human emotions, now felt as though he was drowning in them.
His breath hitched as he knelt beside you, his hands trembling as they reached out to touch your skin. The coldness of your flesh pierced him in a way no blade ever could. His fingers brushed against your cheek, trailing down to your lips, which had once smiled for him, spoken to him with warmth he could never understand.
And now, that warmth is gone.
There was nothing left.
There will be nothing of you here.
He hated it. He hated how powerless he felt. For someone who could destroy nations, who could command legions of cursed spirits, he couldn’t stop this. He couldn’t stop you from slipping away. The reality of it gnawed at him, a suffocating weight pressing against his chest.
Gritting his teeth, he began the painful task of cleaning your body. You were suffering for a long time, suffering from the pain of this illness. He could see traces of it still, little by little. The grief he had caused you over and over again, the pain of loss, of humanity lost and lived.
And yet, it was these hands, his own, that were allowed to touch you. His hands, which had only ever known violence, now moved with a delicacy he had never shown anyone. Each wipe of the cloth was slow, as though he feared hurting you more, though he knew it was impossible.
But still, he couldn’t help himself.
This was the last act he could perform for you.
This was all he could do now.
The silence in the room was oppressive. The only sound was his ragged breathing and the soft rustle of cloth against skin. As he cleaned the dirt away from your body, his vision blurred. He blinked, forcing it away, refusing to acknowledge the tears threatening to fall. He did not cry. Not Ryomen Sukuna. Not the King of Curses.
But for you, maybe he would have.
When he had finished, he reached for the clothes you had worn in life, the ones you had always favored. His hands trembled as he dressed you one last time. It was an intimate act, one that should have been comforting, but instead, it tore at him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. You weren’t supposed to leave him like this.
His fingers lingered on the fabric as he tied the final knot of your sash. He stared down at you, his chest tight with an ache he couldn’t voice. It was too late now, too late to say the things he had left unspoken. The things he had buried beneath his pride, beneath the walls he had built around himself.
He had never told you he loved you.
Not in the way you needed to hear it.
Not in the way you deserved.
And now you are gone.
His hand hovered over your chest, fingers curling in the air as if reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore. He couldn’t pull away. His heart was a storm, a chaotic swirl of emotions he couldn’t name. Fury, anguish, bitterness, sorrow, guilt—none of it mattered now.
"I should have—" his voice cracked, the words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as he forced himself to continue. "Why did you leave?"
But what was the point now? The words were useless, empty. You wouldn’t hear them. You wouldn’t smile at him in that way that made him forget, just for a moment, what he was. You wouldn't be there to reassure him, to take care of his worries. You aren't here. So, what would be the point?
And yet....... he does not stop.
He could only continue on and on.
He didn't know he had so much words.
"I can’t….I can’t do this without you." he whispered once more, but the rest died on his lips. "I need you. I need you here, little one."
For all his strength, all his power, he had failed. Failed to protect you. Failed to keep you. Failed to let you live long and happy. Failed to tell you that, somewhere in the dark recesses of his cursed heart, you had mattered. More than anything.
Now, the King of Curses stood alone, staring down at the one person who had ever truly seen him. The only one who had remained by his side without question, with only but a smile. A smile kinder than what he had deserved. Beyond what he had done, beyond who he was — you had seen him more than Ryomen Hiromi had in these many years.
And as the silence of the room closed in around him, the weight of it all became unbearable. You weren’t supposed to die. You were supposed to live more years with him. You were…you were supposed to be as immortal as him.
He knelt by your side, pressing his forehead gently against yours, his voice nothing more than a breath. His words echoed ever so brokenly. He had nothing. He had nothing but emptiness. He had nothing but grief. He had nothing but regret. He had nothing, not even you.
"I'm sorry."
And Ryomen Sukuna, the most feared being in the world, was left with nothing but the emptiness of his grief—and the realization that, in the end, he had lost the one thing that truly mattered. The only one that mattered.
The room was unbearably still, the air thick with the weight of what had been lost. Sukuna remained kneeling beside you, his forehead still pressed to yours, his eyes closed tightly as though, by shutting out the world, he could deny the finality of it all.
But there was no escaping it. You were gone, and he was left with nothing but the void of his own silence. The silence of words he should have spoken, of a love he had never known how to show.
For what felt like hours, he stayed there, unmoving, as if the proximity of your body could somehow bring you back. He inhaled slowly, your scent still lingering faintly on your skin, but even that was fading. The fragility of it all clawed at him—how something so precious could be snatched away so cruelly.
Time passed in a blur. Minutes? Hours? He didn’t know. The world outside could have burned for all he cared.
Finally, when his body began to ache from kneeling so long, he pulled away, his expression hardened once again. The softness, the vulnerability he had shown, was fleeting. He had to bury it. You would never have wanted him to appear weak, not to the world outside. You always believed in his strength, even when he couldn’t see it in himself.
He stood slowly, his gaze still fixed on your face, as if committing every detail to memory. This would be the last time he would see you like this—unmoving, untouched by the world outside. His chest tightened with the thought of it, but he forced it down. He had to finish this.
With a final, lingering look, Ryomen Sukuna moved to prepare for the next step. He would be the one to take care of your final rites, and no one else. No hands but his own would touch you from now until the end. It was the only way he could honor you now, the only thing left that he could do.
He stepped outside the room for a moment, only long enough to speak with Uraume, who waited patiently beyond the door.
"Tell no one." Sukuna ordered, his voice low, commanding, but with an edge of something else; something raw and dangerous. Uraume, though unwavering in their loyalty, could sense the fracture in their master’s usually unshakable demeanor. They bowed their head in quiet understanding.
"Yes, my lord." Uraume replied, their voice soft. They made no further attempt to enter, to offer help. They knew better.
Sukuna closed the door behind him, sealing himself back inside the small room where you rested. He could feel the weight of Uraume's concern pressing at the edges of his consciousness, but he shut it out, retreating back into the solitude of his grief.
Returning to your side, he knelt once more, his hands moving with renewed purpose. He wrapped your body gently in fine silk clothes, his movements deliberate and precise. He had seen death many times before, but this—this was different.
This was personal. Every fold, every knot tied around you was an act of devotion, though he would never call it that. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t admit it. Not now. Not ever. He wasn't worthy of giving you devotion. A monster like him isn't allowed to love, to care. To give anything.
When it was done, he stood over you, his hands falling to his sides, his gaze locked on your peaceful, still form. For a long moment, he just stood there, the quiet pressing in around him.
"I should have told you." he murmured again, the words falling from his lips like a prayer to the dead. “I should have been….”
There was no response.
There never would be.
And for the first time in his long, cursed life, Ryomen Sukuna felt truly alone.
As the hours wore on, Sukuna knew it was time to take the final steps. He could not hold on to you forever. The world outside would demand answers, demand explanations, but none of it mattered. No one would understand what he had lost.
No one would understand what you meant to him, how in those fleeting moments between battle and bloodshed, you had given him a glimpse of something else—something more.
Something he could never have.
With a heavy breath, he bent down once more, gathering your wrapped body into his arms. His grip was firm but gentle, as though you were something fragile, more fragile than he had ever realized. He carried you as though you were a piece of his soul he couldn’t bear to lose, and perhaps, in a way, you were. You had been the one thing that made him feel like something more than a monster.
He carried you out, cradling you close, his expression a mask of cold fury that hid the pain roiling beneath. Outside, the sky was a dull gray, as though even the heavens mourned your loss.
He didn’t stop until he reached the edge of the vast temple forest, the place where he had decided your final rest would be. It was a secluded area, far from prying eyes, far from the world that had taken you from him. The trees stood tall and silent, their branches swaying gently in the breeze as if paying their respects.
He stood there for a moment, as he looked at the stone monument in front of you. He had found Chizuru. He had looked for him. A long long time ago. He did not want to tell you. He feared that your grief would grow worse.
He had wanted you to think that your son had survived. That he had grown up and become a man. That he had lived a life of adventure. That he had grown old and built a family. He could not let you see a corpse. He could not let you handle blaming yourself even more. Or even obssess over a corpse. He could not let you. Not even if it would give you peace.
But perhaps, you would forgive him. Perhaps you would give him your mercy. Perhaps when you haunt him again, you would come to him and tell him about your son. About your anguish that he had taken him from you. Perhaps you would find peace together. Pehraps both of you could come and visit him. Even once.
But he knew better than that.
You would be in heaven, resting.
And he would not want to hurt you even more.
He doesn't deserve your visit.
Still, he would like to think that you would find peace here. Right beside Chizuru for all of eternity. You would be happy here. This was the only wish he could grant you. This was the only thing he could gift you. This was the only way he could free you.
Carefully, he laid you down on the ground, the cool earth cradling you as he began to dig. His hands, which had known only destruction, now worked to create something. It was a resting place for the one person he had ever allowed close after all he had suffered.
He stood over the grave for a long time after it was done, his eyes hard, distant, as though he could still see you lying there beneath the soil.
The world outside would never know what you had been to him. But in this moment, standing alone beneath the weight of his grief, Ryomen Sukuna understood that, despite everything, you had been the one thing he had truly cherished after all he had suffered.
Even beyond his children, even beyond power. Even if you would never make it behind Hiromi, he had cared for you. He loved you, in ways he knew how. In ways he could never bring to earth, in ways he could never speak.
And now, you are gone.
As he turned to walk away, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faintest echo of a voice he would never hear again.
And Ryomen Sukuna, for the first time in centuries, felt the unbearable sting of regret.
══════════════════
IT WAS ODD TO BE IN THIS POSITION. Ryomen Sukuna had never sought help from anyone. But now, driven by a sense of purpose he couldn’t explain, he found himself standing before Kenjaku, the only person who might be able to grant him what he sought: rebirth. Not in the spiritual sense, but as a cursed object—a vessel for immortality, a means to return to the world he ruled once more.
Kenjaku's eyes glimmered with interest, a twisted smile forming as they gazed at Sukuna, sensing the weight behind his request. "You wish to be immortalized as a cursed object, Sukuna?" they asked, their voice smooth and intrigued. "To be reborn again in another age, another time."
Sukuna nodded, his expression hard and resolute. "I refuse to rot in the ground. I will return. That’s all that matters."
Kenjaku’s grin widened. "Very well. But tell me, Sukuna… What about her?" They tilted their head slightly, a glint of amusement in their eyes. "Would you want her soul found as well? Like Hiromi? Would you want her to be reborn… alongside you?"
The question pierced through him like a blade. For a moment, Sukuna’s impenetrable mask faltered, his mind snapping back to the past, to a moment when you had both spoken of rebirth.
The two of you had been lying beneath a vast, star-filled sky, the world still around you as the wind whispered through the trees. Vermillion Hall was beautiful in the spring, he liked to think. But you enjoyed it more than he does. Perhaps more than ever, now that you were counting your days to its last.
Your head had been resting on his chest for a while, and though Sukuna had remained silent, you had spoken softly, your voice filled with a strange mix of melancholy and peace. He did not want to bother you. It was rare that you weren’t having any coughing spells. So, he lets the moment pass, lets you keep your strength.
"Rebirth." you had said, the word drifting into the night air. "It’s a nice idea, don’t you think? To start over, to be born again."
Sukuna had scoffed at the time, finding little use for such fantasies. "It’s pointless," he replied. "To be reborn, to go through it all again—life, death. It’s a cycle I’ve broken, and I have no desire to return to it."
But you had only smiled, so beautifully so. Your gaze soft as you looked up at the sky. "Maybe for you, my lord." you’d said gently. "But I think I’d want peace. After this life... no more suffering. No more pain. Just quiet. I wouldn’t want to return."
“If I had offered you to be immortal, with me.” He asked you, looking at your orbs with longing. “Would you do it?”
You looked at him for a moment. And there it was once again. That ghostly smile.
“We cannot escape death, my lord.” You tell him, your hand resting on his cheek. You gave him what little warmth remained. “Whatever happens, we will all die. You may not die now, but we will all go. Soon, I will go.”
“Little one—”
“Is immortality the life you want to live forever, my lord?” You asked him, tracing your fingers on his cheek. “Would you wish to live life waiting for life to be worth living for? Waiting for lady Hiromi, or for Chizuru or Chiharu….or for me to come along again?”
He does not speak for a moment.
You smiled at him, but this time, sadder than ever before. “I do not want that life for you, my lord. Nor for me. I want us both to be free.”
He had looked down at you, watching the way your eyes had reflected the stars, the softness in your expression as you spoke of peace. He hadn’t understood it then. He probably would not understand until he loses you.
But now, as he stood before Kenjaku, your words echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain.
The silence stretched between them, Kenjaku waiting patiently for Sukuna’s answer, curiosity glinting in their eyes. Sukuna's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he struggled to form the words.
He could have said yes. He could have demanded that you be brought back with him, that your soul be dragged from wherever it had gone, forced to walk beside him in this new life. You had always belonged to him, hadn’t you? But as the memory of your soft voice returned to him, your wish for peace, for release from the suffering you had endured, something inside him shifted.
After everything, after all you had suffered because of him… he couldn’t do that to you.
"She’s suffered enough from me." Sukuna finally said, his voice low, almost bitter. His eyes were hard, but beneath the surface was something else—something like regret. "Let her rest. She doesn't belong in this world anymore."
Kenjaku raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the King of Curses. What a human answer, coming from such a demon of a man. But Kenjaku said nothing more, merely nodding in understanding.
Sukuna’s decision was final. He would be reborn, but you—you would have the peace you had always wanted. It was the least he could do. The only way he could honor you now, after everything that had passed between you.
And with that, the King of Curses sealed his fate, leaving you behind in the quiet you had sought, while he walked toward a future where he would live again, alone.
But he didn’t know that the gods had other plans.
He didn’t know that time was only waiting for its recourse.
He will see you again.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna smut#ryoumen sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#jjk sukuna x reader#sukuna ryoumen x you#sukuna ryoumen x reader#sukuna smut#jjk x reader smut#sukuna ryomen smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#sukuna#sukuna jjk#jjk sukuna#sukuna angst#jjk angst#jjk fluff#kayu writes ! ! !
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He's My Man (Part 2)
Summary: The reader isn't quite so sure if she can trust Russell with her secrets but he's decided she's going to get his help, whether she wants it or not. Reluctantly she accepts but in the process realizes she might actually be starting to care about him...
Masterlist
Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader
Word Count: 4,500ish
Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, mentions of death, angst, fluff
A/N: Ooooh things are heating up! Please enjoy!
__________
Russell stared at you with what one could only describe as a look of wonder. You didn’t exactly blame him. Eating four large cheese danishes and chugging back a week’s worth of coffee in the span of fifteen minutes was enough to make anyone’s eyes widen.
You tossed your trash in his motel waste bin when you finished and returned to your seat at the tiny corner table. With an obnoxiously loud slurp of even more coffee, Russell titled his head, shaking it slightly.
“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room. He straightened in his seat, pausing a beat. “So. What’s this long story?”
Your fingertips rattled against the side of the large styrofoam cup, a small amount of heat radiating through. Now that you’d had some time to think, or rather stress eat, you knew this was a mistake. A big one. You needed to kick Russell out of your life and the sooner the better.
“I think you have the wrong idea about what’s going on and I thought it better we talk in private,” you said. Russell wore a weary expression, his eyes dissecting your every micro-movement. “I’m not interested in a relationship or a date or conversation. I don’t do that considering my line of work and I imagine you keep things casual with yours. So you take your money and consider this a warning. Contact me again and I will have you dealt with, understand?”
Russell leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a clenched jaw. You narrowed your eyes in response, Russell picking at his bandage without realizing.
“Stop that,” you mumbled when he kept doing it, his lip twitching up in a not so friendly way.
“You threaten me and in the next breath are worried about my damn stitches? I don’t think you realize just how good I am at my job,” he said, placing both hands on the table, folding them together. You swallowed, Russell staring so intently you had to glance away. “Alright. Back at the coffee shop, that was a moment of bravery and now it’s passed? Tough shit. We’re in the weeds now and we ain’t leaving until I know you do your job of your own free will. Understand?”
“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving.
“Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”
“You’re one guy.” You shook your head. “Drop this or you’ll wind up dead or worse.”
“I made my living doing jobs where if I fucked up I’d wish I were dead over the alternative. I know how to keep a secret. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t. But you opened the box. You can’t just close it again.”
“Yes, I can. Goodbye, Russell.” You grabbed your coffee and headed for the door, pausing when you had a hand on the handle.
But what if he could help…he was ex-special ops…
Russell’s hand slid over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You frowned, a reassuring smile greeting you.
“Do you like your job?” he asked.
“S’complicated,” you whispered.
“How complicated?”
“Jobs like yours…that’s up to me to do that stuff but I…I work for someone else.” You found Russell’s unreadable green eyes and sighed. “I’m a fixer for the local mafia. It’s not a job you get to quit and stay alive very long.”
Russell contemplated your words, lips forming a thin line before he nodded. “I can take care of that assuming your story checks out.”
“My story?” you asked, Russell humming. “Why would I lie-”
“You could be playing me for any number of reasons. Like I said, I’m going to check your story out and if it’s all kosher, we’ll figure out where to go from there. Capiche?”
“Fine,” you grit out, shaking his hand away. “But do it quietly. You got three days.”
Late Evening
Your eye actually twitched when you answered your front door that night to find not your pizza delivery man before you but Russell fucking Shaw. He wore a deep navy utility jacket that hung loosely around his trim waist and a pair of black jeans. You weren’t sure why but his shift from lighter colored clothing this morning to this dark, edgy look made him look as dangerous as you expected he was.
“Russell,” you said. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk, eyes roaming over your body. You glanced down at your soft pale yellow pajama shirt and matching shorts set, huffing when he slipped past you inside.
“You totally are the kind of woman to having matching jammies,” he chuckled. You gripped the door tight, ready to kick him out just as your delivery driver pulled up.
“Just…take off your boots.” Two minutes later you had your pizza and garlic knots on your kitchen counter while Russell leaned back against it, his jacket since removed and tossed on the back of your couch. He wore a black zip up that was undone over a black t-shirt, Russell shifting at your growing unease.
“Listen,” he said, holding up his hands. “You got questions but first off, I’m not here to hurt you. This is just what I wear when I need to go…looking around places I ain’t exactly invited into.”
“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.”
“You have sauce all over your shirt.” You glanced down, spotting marinara drops all over your short sleeve button up top from where you’d had the edge of the pizza box pressed against your torso as you’d carried it in. “Thanks for thinking so highly of me, though. Makes a guy feel special.”
“I’m on edge, alright?” you snapped, grabbing a towel and trying to get most of the sauce out. “Plus I just ruined a two hundred dollar shirt.”
“Figured you for a oversized men’s t-shirts kind of gal but little sets from french boutiques suites you.” You froze, Russell dropping his hands. “I know all about your shopping habits. You have high quality taste, much richer than the average suburbanite.”
“And?” you said, tossing the towel down, hands going to your hips. “Are you about to kidnap me and turn me over to the mafia or what?”
Russell approached you slowly, gently picking up the towel from the floor and dabbing it with some dish soap.
“If I had wanted to hurt you or take you or whatever else is going through your head, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.” He rubbed the towel against the damp spot on your shirt, letting the fabric get soapy. “Let that soak for a few minutes and then after you have some dinner, toss it in the wash. It’ll come out good as new.”
“How do you know that?” you asked, Russell hanging your towel on the oven handle.
“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”
You weren’t sure how he’d seen you swipe the knife from the butchers block but figured he had a point. If he’d wanted to screw you over, he would have done it already. After excusing yourself, you returned in a pair of skinny black joggers and a slightly cropped gray AC/DC shirt to find Russell had already plated two sizeable portions for yourselves.
“See? Now that’s a look more fitting for the princess of darkness,” he chuckled.
“That’s queen of darkness to you,” you said, taking a seat at the island in front of one of the plates. “Do me a favor, lover boy. Grab me a guinness from the fridge.”
“Dark stout. Always a good choice.” He got out two, removing the cap for you before retreating to the other side of the island.
“As much as I love uninvited house guests who welcome themselves to my food and beer, why are you here, Russell?” You took a large bite of pizza, Russell long necking his beer for a moment.
“Yet I don’t see you kicking me out. It’s okay to admit you’ve fallen for me, Y/N,” he teased. You growled, Russell’s eyebrows raising in amusement. “Hot damn, woman. I love when you get all grr. Tells me you are a force to be reckoned with.”
You rolled your eyes, Russell taking an extra large bite. “Stop flirting and talk.”
“Why can’t I do both?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “But to answer your original question, I’m here because your story checked out and that’s kind of a problem.”
“Excuse me? Why is that an issue?”
He set his plate down and gripped the island, leaning over it slightly. “Y/N. I can call up a few friends and wipe out a local mafia family no problem.”
“Awesome. Then what’s the fucking problem?” Russell tilted his head, like you’d just walked into some kind of trap he’d set.
“Y/N. Despite all the obvious sexual tension brewing between us, you failed to mention that you have a boyfriend. You know, the head of this fucking mafia family. The boyfriend that buys you those fancy french pajama sets? The one that bought that espresso machine over there? Girl, you better explain yourself because I am not a hired gun.”
You chewed quietly for a few moments under the heated scrutiny of Russell’s gaze before you pushed the plate away.
“My dad was an accomplished doctor. He was very well respected. I grew up very comfortably until I was about eight.” Russell loosened his stance and began to eat while you decided what he needed to absolutely know. “My dad unknowingly saved a mobster’s life one night in the ER. Mr. Lauter.”
“The former head of the mafia and this guy, Owen, your supposed boyfriend’s dad?” You nodded before taking a big swig from your bottle.
“Well, that pissed off Mr. Elpine who had almost had a successful hit on Mr. Lauter. Elpine tried to get my dad to kill Lauter. Dad refused and the next morning on the way to school, the brake lines in our car didn’t work. Dad and I walked away. Mom and my brother didn’t. Dad was scared Elpine would come after me again.”
“Your father went to Lauter for protection,” said Russell. You picked up your pizza as he put together the rest of the pieces. “Lauter offers him protection for saving his life but something happens and your dad ends up working for Lauter as his fixer.”
“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy. PTSD for sure, a mental break too. I always guessed there was some brain trauma after the accident that never healed. He got real bad when I went to college. Bad enough that Lauter stepped in when my dad attacked me when I came home for the holidays. Lauter killed him and the fucked up part was I wasn’t even upset. My real dad had died when I was a kid. But…when a mob boss kills for you whether you wanted them to or not-”
“They think they own you for life.” You nodded. “So you became the fixer.”
“They let me finish college under the condition I come back and work for the family. They leave me be except for when I need to patch someone in the crew up. It’s honestly not that bad. They gave me a lot of money over the years. I hate to say this but Mr. Lauter was pretty good to me.”
Russell cleared his throat. “You do know how fucked up what he did to you is, right?”
“Of course I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “But compared to my dad and Owen, he was the lesser evil.”
“I came across the fact Mr. Lauter died about three weeks ago from heart disease.” You hummed. “Tell me about this fuckface, Owen.”
“Dude has had a crush on me since he was fucking twelve. He has it in his head that the family owns me, literally. Lauter always reined him in but since he’s been gone, Owen’s been…pushy. Telling the crew I’m his girlfriend, asking them to follow me. Thankfully, and this is why this is so weird, I grew up around a lot of the guys. Making me work and fix people, fine. But some kind of forced romance? They aren’t cool with it, at least they’re kind of ignoring Owen. I’ve kept Owen off my back because he’s grieving and busy trying to take over but he’s going to back on my ass soon. This time, those guys will have to listen to their new boss.”
“So…I take out Owen and you think you’re in the clear. You could have just said that.” He finished off his beer and washed his hands at the sink. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going grab essentials, and I mean essentials, while I pack up your dinner in what I expect is some color coordinated tupperware. Then you’re going to take my car and drive to Elmhurst Camping Grounds. It’s about four hours north of here and no, you will stop for anything so use the bathroom before you go and I’ll pack you a snack. You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”
“I feel like if I ask questions you’ll just tell me I don’t want to know.” Russell smirked.
“I love that big brain of yours.” You rolled your eyes but felt a tiny smile on your face. “Warming up to me are we?”
“Fuck no. But uh, who the hell are you sending me to?”
“My baby brother. Don’t worry. His ugly mug will keep you safe.”
Four Hours Later
“Uh, hi,” you said, practically bouncing up and down at midnight in front of a strange tall man at a very nice airstream RV.
“Y/N,” he said as you forced a smile. “Bathroom is right there-”
You darted past him and into the small cubby bathroom, grateful after the long drive. The man was waiting leaned against a small counter space when you exited, a temporary bed made up behind him in what looked like a breakfast nook.
“Sorry to barge in. Russell said not to stop for anything.”
“S’alright,” he said. “Bed’s made up if you want to crash. I’m going to stay up a bit longer by the fire. You’re welcome to join if you like.”
“Thanks, uh…” you said, a very brief smile on his face as you tried to remember what Russell had called him.
“Colter. It’s not a problem.” He skirted by you and outside, taking a seat in a foldable camping chair. You had questions but for the moment, all you wanted was to get some rest.
You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped.
“Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.
“Morning,” he said, slowly backing up to the bedroom. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Not a problem,” you said, catching a whiff of coffee.
“Mug are in the first cabinet if you want a cup. I’ll be out in a minute,” he said. He excused himself to his room and slid the divider shut, leaving you to the rest of the airstreamer.
A moment later you were outside in front of a small fire, sitting in a chair with warm coffee in your hands. It was cool and you wished you’d thought to pack a jacket in your haste last night.
You were rubbing your arms when something was draped over your shoulders, a thick heavy hoodie.
“Russell got you out of there pretty quick, huh?” asked Colter, taking the mug while you shrugged into the warm fleece.
“Yeah. All I grabbed was my wallet, some cash and my computer. He told me I could buy clothes here,” you said. Colter handed you back the mug and took a seat beside you.
“I checked his car. He had a duffel full of his clothes in there I brought inside. You can use his stuff, or mine, until we can hit a store.”
“Thanks,” you said, smelling Russell’s deodorant on the fabric. Colter saw you tug the hood up, a question on the tip of his tongue but he decided against it. The air was still and quiet apart from the crackle of fire and morning birds.
“So,” said Colter, not looking at you as he drank. “You and Russell…you like, his girlfriend-”
“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I just met the guy yesterday. All I did was patch him up.”
“Right.” You sunk lower in your chair, slurping loudly.
“Were you special ops like him?” you asked. Colter shook his head.
“Civilian. Never had any formal training, just what we grew up with.” Well, that was an interesting statement. What the hell did it mean though? “Our father was a survivalist, taught us things.”
“Oh. My dad was a little out there too.” Was that why Russell was so adamant about helping you out of your situation? No. Maybe it played a part, but no. He’d wanted to help before you told him that. “Does Russell do this sort of thing often?”
“No clue. First time I talked to him in years was two days ago. I helped him find a friend of his. I was there when he got that bullet hole in him you fixed.”
Alrighty then. Russell was becoming more and more intriguing by the second.
“So you don’t know a lot about him then,” you said. Colter shrugged.
“I guess I’m figuring him out too but he’s a good guy. He’s somebody you want as a friend.” You hummed, finishing your coffee off. Colter excused himself to get you more and returned with a fresh cup, steam billowing from within.
“You trail run?” you asked, Colter’s eyes showing a flash of surprise. “Muddy sneakers by the door. I did cross country in school.”
“I try to get out most mornings. The hot water should be good to go in about five minutes if you want a shower.”
“Thanks.” You licked your lips as you remembered the sight of him exiting the bathroom not long ago. Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…You shifted in your seat, squeezing your legs together to try and get a hold of yourself. Colter smirked slightly in his seat. “What?”
“I’m good at reading people is all.”
“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down. Colter only smiled as he looked away to the fire.
“You’re wondering if Russell works out and picturing him naked.” You glared at him but it did nothing to hide the heat radiating off your cheeks. “Hey, you’re a grown woman. You can do as you please.”
“I think I will take that shower now.” You stood and set the mug down on the ground, shooting Colter one last look. There’d been no malice or teasing in his voice. He was simply being straight with you. “Listen. I just…I haven’t exactly been around good guys much, or ever. I’m not saying there’s anything there beyond physical attraction, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, looking at you like you were the worst liar in the world. “Whatever you say.”
You grumbled and went inside to take a very cold shower.
Three Days Later - Spokane, Washington
“Hey, Colt,” you said, pushing up the long sleeves of Russell’s gray henley you wore. Colter hummed around the piece of grilled chicken in his mouth as you spun your laptop around from the other side of the airstream’s dining table. “Could she have gone here? Looks like a decommissioned game trail.”
“Yeah, yeah that fits,” he said with his mouth full, chewing and swallowing quickly so he could take a closer look. You returned to your own dinner, Colter mentioning he was going to take a look after dark.
Things had fallen into an easy pattern with the two of you. Colter was very different than his brother but it wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t talk much and worked as a rewardist. He’d planned on sticking around the east coast for when Russell met up with you again but an urgent case in Washington popped up. You’d spent most of the past three days driving cross-country behind Colter’s truck and the airstreamer, learning what the hell a rewardist was.
Colter had told you about the case at first to keep your mind off of Russell but you’d reluctantly taken an interest and now were deep in the weeds of helping him locate a missing young woman.
“You want to come look with me?” asked Colter, breaking you out of your train of thought. You blinked, a small smile on his face. “Come on. It’ll get you some experience with rewardest work and stop you from doom scrolling.”
“Alright,” you sighed. While you appreciated Colter’s attempts to make you feel better, you were starting to get very concerned. You hadn’t heard from Russell since you left your house a few days ago and there was nothing in the news about the local mafia members being killed. Or him.
Colter rubbed your back when you helped him unhook it from the airstream. He tended to do that when you started to get stressed out. He hadn’t been lying before. He really was good at reading people.
“Colter,” you said in the dark truck, the hum of the vehicle quiet in the cab as he drove. “What if something happened to him and he needs our help?”
“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.” You bit your bottom lip as you stared out the window, trees passing by.
If only it were that simple.
It was two in the morning by the time you and Colter made it back to the camping grounds. You’d found Martha in not too great of shape but she was alive and the doctors said she’d make a full recovery with time. Colter has tried to give you some of the reward money for helping but you hadn’t done all that much in your opinion.
“Stay here,” he said when he turned the truck into your lot and you spotted a dark figure sitting by the fire. He took his gun from the back of jeans and got out, pausing halfway out the door. He smiled over at you and you caught the dark figure give an awkward little wave. “Should I tell him how much you’ve been worried?”
“Not. A. Word. Colter,” you said before hopping out and happily rushing over to where Russell rose to his feet. You didn’t realize you were giving him a hug until he was laughing, returning it and lifting you off the ground.
“I missed my queen of darkness too,” he chuckled, setting you down with a smirk. You scoffed, Russell’s eyebrows raising at your attire. “Is that my jacket? And shirt?”
“Why waste the money on new stuff,” you shrugged, Russell grinning like an idiot. “Stop that.”
“I’m sure that was the reason.” Colter came over, the boys sharing a nod. “You keep my little delinquent out of trouble?”
“She’s a breeze,” said Colter, taking a seat. “Even helped with my latest case. She should try the rewardist thing. She’s good at it.”
“Maybe. All I want to know is am I good?” you asked. Russell took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He nodded, the tension running of out your body. “Thank you, Russell. Thank your friends too. I’ll pay you guys-”
“No payment. This was because you’re my friend, plain and simple. Just knowing you’re safe is more than enough.” You smiled, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder. “You should rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“How-”
“In the morning. I need to catch up with my little brother.” You nodded, enjoying the feel of his heavy hand as it ran over your head. “Go sleep, Y/N. You’re exhausted.”
You reluctantly peeled yourself away and went inside to find your makeshift bed had been done up for you already. You didn’t even try to fight the flutters in your stomach when you spotted a yellow pajama shirt and shorts set neatly folded on top. There was a note beside it, a stupid ass smile finding it’s way onto your face.
Brand new. Imported from France. Don’t get used to fancy ass presents like these. I ain’t made of money. Even if these are soft as fuck and I totally wish they made these for men. I still think you’d look better wearing a band tee to bed.
Russ
P.S. They had a sale so I got you something else too. Check your backpack.
You shook your head and grabbed your bag from the floor, taking out a very elegant black bag. You undid the tissue paper and went wide eyed.
Inside was a very, very, fancy black lace bra and multiple pairs of gorgeous bikini style undies in soft muted colors. There was another note waiting for you inside, your heart stilling.
No strings attached. Hopefully these will cover you for a little while until you can get settled again.
“Oh, Russell,” you said quietly, thumbing over the bag, smiling to yourself as your insides did very happy backflips.
He wasn’t just a pretty and protective face. He was thoughtful too.
And you were starting to fall for a guy that’d most likely be gone by this time tomorrow.
Fuck.
__________
A/N: Read Part 3 here!
#russell shaw#Russell Shaw x reader#russell shaw fanfiction#Tracker Fanfiction#Tracker#Russell Shaw x you#Russell Shaw Series
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Hi!!!! Hope you're doing great. So, I really love fics where tony makes a mistake, like yelling at peter, misunderstanding, argument, ignore peter, etc. And then he feels guilty and apologize. I already checked out all the "tony is not nice" tag and I really loved it, so I was wondering if you have more fics like this. Thank you very much! I really love what you do!
We got a few recommendations with these themes! Enjoy!
Mistakes by happyaspie
Peter is injured during a mission but Tony is too distracted to notice... or listen when Peter tries to ask him for help. This leads to some frustrated tears, a trip to medical, a few promises and, of course, forgiveness.
You Need to Know (and I wish I Knew How to Tell You) by NanixErka
Alternate Title "Tony Stark Has the Emotional Intelligence of a Fish" Tony Stark - through a daft conversation - leads Peter to think he doesn't care about him Luckily he knows exactly how to fix it (He doesn't)
you held your pride like you should have held me by searchingforstars
“I had to take the risk!” Peter snaps. “I saved your life.” Tony’s stare hardens. “Yeah, and nearly ended your goddamn own. This isn’t a trade-off. It wasn’t your call to make.” “You would have done the same thing to protect me,” Peter points out. Tony just seethes at the statement. “I don’t care about what you think I would have done. You are notme. And I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself." -- or, as the timer ticked down, Peter knew his only option was to take things into his own hands. He just didn’t expect Tony to be mad at him for saving his life.
Irreplaceable by for_the_night
It starts with a cancelled lab session. Then two. Then three. When Peter finally plucks up the courage to ask what he’s done wrong, he finds another kid in the lab with Tony. The teen feels a pang of hurt seeing the pair laughing and joking together, but the fatal blow is seeing Tony ruffle the boy's hair. Tony doesn’t hate Peter. He’s replaced him.
it hurts to be half-loved by canon irondad (tomlinsoul)
“Oh for God’s sake. I’m not Peter’s fucking father. I’m not, I never have been, and I never fucking want to be, okay? I like the kid, sure, we all do, but at the end of the day, he’s just a smart little superhero I happen to mentor, alright? Now can that be the last I hear of that, please?” or; Peter overhears another denial Tony is Peter's dad right after he realises he sees him as one. It's about as messy as you might expect.
I Do Listen To You by Icylightning
Tony was not having a good week. Too bad he takes his anger out on Peter.
The Tumblr Archives by losingmymindtonight
Chapter 21: Shout, Shout, Let It All Out
Written for the anon who left the prompt: "peter doing something self sacrificing and stupidly heroic during a fight and tony is like. fucking screaming at him once they’re safe cause he doesn’t wanna loose his kid but he stops when he sees peters eyes wide in fear, hands shaking, knees about to give out and tony realizes just how fucking scary it must’ve been to have to step up and do whatever the stupidly heroic act was, especially for a teenager..." WARNINGS: mention of past child abuse, lots of explicit language, yelling
please believe me (i’m begging you) by idyllic_dae
Things were going so damn well. But then Michael showed up, and now everything around Peter is turning to ruin, and he doesn’t know how to stop it, and— Maybe he’s the crazy one after all.
Forgive me by wolfypuppypiles
Tony thought that a botched mission and a fight between him and Peter would have been the worst thing to happen that week. He was wrong.
I Didn't Actually Mean That: A Tony Stark Story by what_the_fluff
Tony reverts back to bad habits for one night, resulting in a terrible rift between he and Peter (aka drunk asshole!Tony makes an appearance). It's entirely his fault, and he knows it's up to him to make things right - and save whatever shred of the last good relationship in his life still exists. He hopes Peter can forgive him...
Stress Is A Man's Best Enemy by Yousaydoctorisaywho
Tony Stark never really gets angry. Sure, he gets stressed nearly all the time, but who doesn't? Unfortunately, after both him and Peter have very stressful days, Tony releases it on Peter who ends up running away. There were quite a lot of misunderstandings and now Tony has to go out there and save the kid.
#fic rec#fic rec list#misunderstandings#arguments#hurt/comfort#emotional hurt/comfort#Guilty Tony#hurt!peter#yelling
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OKAY BUT unless I'm understanding it wrong- The FIRST Pyro Archon was human. They said that. That the Pyro Archon has always been a human and there's been like a ton of them. Natlan never had any gods to claim the divine throne in the first place. Which is SO incredibly suspicious sounding and if that's never elaborated upon/refuted boy I'm going to RIOT-
But yea on Ei I kinda fantasized about an alternate Act I for Ei's SQ where she asks to spar again because mmm battle as her way of communicating sounds very on brand for her. Because I feel like that's what should shake her faith. LITERALLY I love characters that are defined by their life as a glorified weapon (stares at my love for childe) it's just squandered on Ei for some reason.
If they're going to use Ei for goofy things they could at least take my idea and have her lose to Itto in beetle fight in public in front of all of Ei's followers/worshippers (/j) (/srs) (it would be hilarious)
But yeah no you're right about all of that stuff being kinda whack. The execution of Natlan feels all wrong. Like!! The pieces are there!! It could work!! They're just treating everything so flippantly that it's just. Eh. Okay. What's the point of anything then- Like I never felt like Natlan had to be a wartorn battlefield of a nation, I just want them to actually act like any of this actually matters! Bc atm it doesn't feel that way at all
Yeah ngl the issue is just you literally dont feel amy stakes with natlan at all. I literally feel like a tourist that got roped into a find a mcguffin or the world ends adventure.
About Mavuika
Fr i dont even know what is up with Natlans archon. Its all so convoluted but mavuika is featured in that one archons official art so she is... the 'correct' archon in some way?????
She IS human, we see she has a picture of her family, but it is from the past. She was elected the archon in the past. Died. And now she has been resurrected to take the role again. Why her? Shes just human. Why did she get resurrected again if the nations archon switches constantly? Like what is the point of constantly changing archons if one can just be... resurrected to take the title again.
I have a feeling, based on leaks and the natlan trailer, that the 'archon' of natlan isnt a real archon. Not a real godly being with a hold of the divine throne. I have a feeling that there is a seperate being that is the true pyro archon, can be an actual archon or maybe the wayob, who set up this human archon system. Like mavuika, the human archon, is not the highest power here and something else is in charge. Can be the pyro sovereign who knows that would be cool, it was mentioned that the pyro sovereign ruled ancient natlan before the archons.
About Ei
I remember the one part in Ei's SQ where we went to confront a corrupted group of shogunate officials and these two people were fighting. And Ei simply suggests that the head of the clan in the past has proven their worthiness by combat and therefore if one wishes to be head of the clan, they can challenge her and proof to her they are worthy. And the guy we were rooting for, while he had no advanced skills, stood up, tried to fight her, and lost.
I LIKE THAT ALOT!!! That is Ei's way of settling conflict! It is backed up by how it was done in the past! And she clearly knew noone was winning and only fought with the blunt end of her spear. She knew! And she only suggested this to show who really had the will and the resolve to hold that title. I LIKE THAT!!! ME LIKEY THAT WAS REALLY GOOD!!!!
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20 questions for writers
tagged by @sapphicscience thank you! <3
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
135... which is a normal number okay?!
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
1,412,255..... i will not be making any comments about it...
3. What fandoms do you write for?
sooo there's been 22 of them! the ones i've written the most fics for have been Yellowjackets, Stranger Things, Fear Street, and The Old Guard
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Aftermath (Wednesday) - the fic is nice but this is just n° 1 because that fandom was insane (affectionately)
make my menace into someone you'd adore (Stranger Things) - my masterpiece. looking back i can cringe at some d ecisions but people liked it!
through the grief can't fight the feeling of relief (Warrior Nun) - this makes me so happy, this was a really nice one, i wish i had written more of it
five times Deena and Sam met in secret (and one time they didn’t) (Fear Street) - i did Not expect this one to be so popular, that fandom was so active i should've appreciated it more
Elvis cloned by aliens (you never know...) (Stranger Things) - ah how it all started with this ship <3
5. Do you respond to comments?
usually yes! i try to reply to most of them
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
i usually avoid angsty endings (i literally wrote an alternate ending bc this one was too sad for me) but out of a handful of sad endings the winner is definitely If I could hold you for a minute (darling, I'd go through it again) aka Laura Lee reincarnates as the bear but that doesn't change her fate (also helloo prev same fic title kinda?)
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
so there are many that are just pure fluff and joy and fun but! considering it's the most hearbreaking piece of media on the list and i gave it the best happy ending i could, i'm gonna go for heaven on earth, back again about the movie Gia
8. Do you get hate on fics?
not really! i think two people were a bit annoyed i made a lottienat fic secretly a lottielee fic. but i have no regrets 🤭
9. Do you write smut?
sometimes! 14 times to be exact
10. Do you write crossovers?
two times! and let me tell you i'd say both are at least a bit unexpected
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
not that i know of!
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
yes once! 【翻译】Being with you (Makes the flame burn good) by R_H_Felidae_Athena
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
no :( i tried to but we never finished it
14. What is your all-time favorite ship?
most difficult question ever to me <3 there's always going to be something extra special about dani/jamie from bly manor though!
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
all of them 😭😭 or at least most of them. sadly
16. What are your writing strengths?
another difficult question! personally i'd say characterization, hopefully
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
uhhhh probably something along the lines of commitment or confidence
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
i think it's okay! i've definitely overdone it in the past though so now i like it a little bit less
19. First fandom you wrote for?
ocean's 8! the milfs compelled me...
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
oohh i love so many of them! God's very simple and love shouldn't burn is my lottielee masterpiece BUT i think the crown should go to If you rewrite your life, may I still play a part? the Nancy Wheeler Choose Your Own Adventure fic. it took the most work i think! and i'm very proud of it
tagging (no pressure!): @dufrau @ongreenergrasses @lilolilyr @monstrous-femme any any other writers that want to share!
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Gardener of Eden
I just read an interpretation of this song online, and while art and interpretation of art is always subjective, I wanted to share my personal meaning behind my lyrics.
I wrote Gardener of Eden four days after my 19th birthday. It was the very first song I ever wrote, and it was written about overcoming religious trauma, societal expectations, and internalized lesbophobia. Choosing to live my life authentically, unabashedly, and loving other women wholeheartedly.
This is a story of the cost of liberation. I chose to write from the perspective of Eve falling for Lilith, Adam’s first wife, as described in Jewish folklore. The first time I heard the story of Lilith, I felt incredibly drawn and connected to her. Her strength, confidence, and actions… they felt so queer-coded to me. I found myself very drawn to queer women who were unapologetically themselves—and I saw Lilith in many of them—someone I wished I could also be.
I feel like many of us who grew up in the Christian faith were told as young girls to not be Eve and resist temptation and sin in the eyes of the lord, or to be like Eve after her divine punishment from god - follow the rules, continue to be subservient. Eve feared punishment, attempted to resist temptation, and eventually caved to it, forever suffering the consequences and choosing to obey divine law after her punishment. Lilith knew exactly what she wanted and she welcomed her fate, for it meant she’d live a life of liberation and on her own terms, free from oppression and control.
I wrote this as a metaphor for my experiences with previous girlfriends and having to hide our relationships behind closed doors. The pain of pretending a lover was a friend was something I couldn’t bear to experience again. I was turning a new leaf. In this alternate universe I created, Eve and Lilith fall in love and decide to leave Eden together, knowing the consequences but willing to face them if it meant they could be by each other’s side. I wanted to make it a bittersweet ending that represents the many obstacles queer women face and must overcome in real life. Despite these hardships, choosing to live and love authentically is a paradise—even if it’s in hell.
Fun fact: the title was actually inspired by my best friend’s old tiktok username! Love you Brooksie, xoxo
Lyrics:
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During November, I wrote a series sets in an alternate universe where Ruskin is a vampire who started to serve the human Milverton after he saved him.
I share the full series here. Links to the fics in the titles. Be aware that most of them are E-rated.
INCARNATIONS
When an ambitious young priest frees a vampire in a far-away monastery to make him his servant, a bond forms between the undead creature and the pure evil human.
An unbreakable bond that ties their fates forever.
Prologue - Will You Bite Me?
Ever since he freed him from that far-away monastery where he was kept, Charles Augustus Milverton always fed his vampire servant with his own blood - but this time, he asks him to drink from his neck.
Part 2 - My Truth
Charles Augustus Milverton wasn't always the influential media mogul, the Blackmail King who is feared by everyone who knew his secret persona. A decade ago, he was just a young monk serving an order in a far-away monastery - a boy who was born from the sin of a priest and a nun.
After slowly discovering the lies behind his faith, the young Charles decides to escape to fulfill his mission and show the people the hidden truth about humanity. He is aware that he cannot fight the world alone - he needs a loyal servant who can protect him on the road to the darkness.
But he knows where to look for that guardian - inside the monastery's catacombs where the legends say a vampire was kept.
Part 3 - The Only Light
The darkness around the vampire now felt heavy and he was suffocating despite that he wasn’t even alive. He wanted to cry but he knew that it would not ease his pain and his eyes were unable to form tears anymore. The chains that were blessed with holy water kept burning his skin and increased his sufferings. He didn't know for how long he was lying on the dirty floor of his cell, when suddenly, he heard some noise from the distance.
The light footsteps of a human.
Will he finally get saved from his prison? Or the priest just came to torture him even more?
Part 4 - Evil Perfection
After the young priest finally became the so-called King of Media in England...
Milverton and his vampire servant sit on the roof of a nearby church and talk about evil while they are watching the night sky.
Part 5 - The Child with a Mission
The white-haired man wore the clothes of priests and he used to be one in the past - but not anymore. Yet, he still kept coming back to his roots. He was meant to be the force of temptation, just like the ancient Serpent... but where could have he made more people fall to sin than in a church, disguised as the servant of God?
The priest grinned and stood up as he sensed that his first prey arrived.
A child with scarlet eyes and a sense of mission in his heart.
Part 6 - Saviour Covered in Blood
Milverton gets kidnapped - but his saviour comes just in time.
Part 7 - The Wish of a Vampire Servant
After the young priest escaped from the monastery with the vampire he freed, his new servant has a wish.
A name from his master.
Part 8 - In the Darkness of the Church
Lady Eva Blackwell knew that she needed to come here, to visit the mysterious priest again who was her only consolation during these hard weeks. She needed to ask him about what she should do, how she could escape from the unwanted marriage that was arranged for her. He will know the answer, the woman thought and opening the door, she entered the church.
Father Charles always knows everything.
Part 9 - The Sins of the Past
Ruskin, the loyal vampire servant of Charles Augustus Milverton didn't have memories about his past, neither about the day when he turned into a monster... but his master's blood suddenly makes him remember to his long-forgotten human life and reveals the true nature of the bond what ties their fates together.
Everything started in a rose garden - and a forbidden love with another boy whose eyes are striking gold...
Epilogue - New Beginning
The vampire held his beloved master's body in his arms and watched the other man's agony with incredible sorrow. Behind them, the fire was raging in the manor and the light of the flames sparkled up in the dark red blood drops that dirtied the vampire's hands.
The blood of the only man he ever loved - Charles Augustus Milverton.
Ruskin knew that he cannot let his master die. However... there was still a way.
#moriarty the patriot#yuukoku no moriarty#charles augustus milverton#ynm ruskin#milveskin#milverton fanfic
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Getting Together/Love Confessions - skk fics
Including:
Love Confessions/ Getting Together
LC/GT + their relationship after
The format I’m using is:
Title - writer (ao3 link) Fic length Time period (teen/mafia skk, 22! Skk, all ages) Love Confession and/or Getting Together Additional tags (Anything in bold added by me for extra info) TW
the same groove - halfbloom (diphylleias)
11.3K MAFIA SKK (16), 22 SKK Love Confessions Feelings realization, Pining, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Growing Up
Summary: "Dazai always knows too much, and too fast, whether it be for the better or for the worse. But for Chuuya, the realization comes slower, gradually, clumsily over the years"
it must be because i love you - communist_sasuke
5k MAFIA SKK (15, SB) 22!SKK Love Confessions Mutual Pining, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Dazai is Whipped, Developing Relationship, Post-Corruption Ability Use, Feelings realization, First kiss TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide References
From summary: "(Or: A series of incidents in which Dazai and Chuuya can't gather their thoughts around each other, and a couple of clues as to why.)"
High tides - refectory
4.3k 22 SKK Getting Together Post-Dead Apple, Confessions, Dazai gets vulnerable, Chuuya is doing his god damned best to be patient with him, but it's hard
Summary: "Dazai is embarrassed by the idea of wanting something for himself that he is fully capable of attaining.
or : after the events of Dead Apple, Dazai and Chuuya finally talk."
Stay - the_most_happy
23.6k 22 SKK Love Confessions, Getting Together Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Deaf Chuuya, Sign language, Chuuya is so done, Dazai tries his best Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Chuuya in Denial, Feelings Realization, Love confessions in the rain because SKK are dramatic, First Kiss, Kiss Kiss Fall in Love, Idiots in Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Skk's Unconventional Mating Rituals, Developing Relationship, Relationship Study, Soft skk Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, Domestic Fluff, Canon Compliant, Sweet
A chance to start again - Root (Fyki)
4.4k 22 SKK Love Confessions + Getting Together Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Fluff, Introspection, they work they shit out
i have died every night waking for you (all alone i have been waiting for you)-scripted_suicide
3.4k 22 SKK Love confessions First Kiss, Fluff & Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Literal Sleeping Together, Canon Compliant
believe me darling, the stars were made for falling -communist_sasuke
14.6k ALL AGES Love Confessions + Getting Together Worried Chuuya, Dazai is a Mess, Angst, Self-Harm , Fluff & Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon timeline, First Kiss TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions , Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Happily (n)Ever After - Memos
14k 22 SKK + flashbacks Love confessions, Getting together Romantic Comedy, Light Angst, Bad Decisions, Alcohol, Suggestive Themes, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Assault With Flowers, Don't Be Like SKK Kids, Drunk marriage, Reconciliation
hey look, the sky's falling apart - saffroncassis
24.8k TEEN SKK (16/17) Love confession + Getting Together AU - Canon Divergence Protective Nakahara Chuuya, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Developing Relationship Found Family (the Akutagawa siblings, Oda's kids, Kyouka, Oda, Ango) TW- Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse and discussions of both these, also cw food for the whole fic
Summary - "At age 16, Chuuya defects from the Port Mafia and drags his partner with him not so much kicking and screaming as silently begrudging, and the rest follow suit in time."
Wish in one hand - forest_raccoon
5.2k 15, 16, 22 SKK Getting Together First Kiss, gratuitous yearning about holding hands, this whole thing is basically: what if Dazai was just a bit more of a disaster, Chuuya Uses Corruption, Angst with a Happy Ending, Swearing, Dead Apple Spoilers, Fifteen Light Novel Spoilers
I won't leave - Kyril
2.1k 22 SKK (Post Dead Apple) Love Confessions Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Chuuya, Chuuya recovering from Corruption, reluctant bedrest, Caring Dazai, Dazai Takes Care of Chuuya, Accidental Confession, Fluff, Light Angst, Idiots in Love, Chuuya-Typical Swearing, Whumptober 2020
Grown on me - Jules_tea
16.9k 22 SKK Love Confessions + Getting Together Alternate Universe - Post-Canon Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Possessive Chuuya, Jealous Dazai, Caring Dazai, Chuuya Uses Corruption, a new mission but at what cost TW- Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions
From Summary - "Or, a story in which Nakahara Chuuya and Dazai Osamu come to accept their feelings, one way or another… and Dazai helps Chuuya finally accept himself."
Slightly More Human - Bulllshitzarry
3.9k 22 SKK (Post Dead Apple) Getting Together Angst with a Happy ending, Acceptance, Feelings realization, Attempt at Humor, Protective Chuuya
LC/GT + their relationship after
Without Words - StarshipDancer
11.5k 22 SKK Getting Together, Love Confessions Caring Chuuya, Domestic Fluff, Light Angst, Moving In Together, Literal Sleeping Together, Cuddling & Snuggling, video game references, sticky notes, Idiots in Love, Soft skk, skk’s Unconventional Mating Rituals, 5+1 Things TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions
For the Record - zombiemarker
19.1k TEEN SKK Getting together AU- Spies & Secret Agents Physical Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Childhood Trauma, they get all dressed up and go to a gala, Implied Sexual Content, Fluff & Angst, Literal sleeping together, First kiss, Developing Relationship TW - Blood and Violence, Childhood Trauma
From tags: "Chuuya's a government experiment, Dazai's been with Mori for years, they've both got trauma now"
Willful Neglect - timeisdancing
27.9k 22 SKK Getting Together Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel, Not a death fic - It starts off as a death fic but it does not stay that way Dazai Being An Idiot , Dazai Being An Asshole , But he learns his lessons and comes around. Dazai also starts off distant and then goes full simp, Clingy Dazai Dazai needs a hug, Chuuya needs a hug, Mutual Pining, Cuddling & Snuggling, Soft skk, Chuuya Uses Corruption, Dazai Takes Care of Chuuya Grief/Mourning, Self-Hatred, Guilt, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Gaslighting, Manipulation By Mori, Mori Ougai Being An Asshole
30 Kisses - setosdarkness
19.2k ALL AGES - AU Getting together AU - Modern: No Powers Childhood Friends, High School, College/University Fluff and Humor, Developing Relationship, Poet Chuuya, Port Mafia Boss Dazai, skk's unconventional mating rituals, Ficlet Collection, 30 kisses challenge
From summary: "30 kisses between Dazai and Chuuya, starting from highschool, all the way to adulthood.
It starts when Dazai steals Chuuya's first kiss and Chuuya convinces himself it's just how alien mackerels greet each other…"
Please like/reblog if this helped u find a fic, I'd be delighted to know <33
Soukoku fic rec masterlist here
#soukoku#soukoku fics#soukoku fic rec#skk fic rec#skk fics#17 in total :D#sierra’s recs#Sierra’s posts 🌸
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I’m currently farming light dragon parts (sorry Zelda) and decided to do a follow up to my last post while I wait.
This list is all Linked Universe baby. Once again, if you know the blogs of some of these authors I’d appreciate it if you could tag them.
1. Linked Universe Age Swap AU by LazuliQuetzal
Let’s kick this off with a bang. This is a series of one shots centered around the Chain being alternate ages. We got Old Man Hyrule. We got Angsty Teen Time. We got Wolfkin Wild. It’s great. Check it out.
2. Dawn of the Fourth by LazuliQuetzal
By the same author, Dawn of the Fourth is one of those fics that I don’t think I’ll be able to do justice, so here’s a snippet:
Wild reached out and brushed a finger across the body’s cheek. Then he licked his finger. “Eleven,” he decided, smacking his lips.
“Hey, what the fuck.”
“Dirt tastes different depending on age—”
“No, don’t explain it! Why are you like this, I hate you so much—“
3. The Man and the Pup by Bubbly_Kandy
Once upon a time, in the magical land of Hyrule, there were eight boys and a man all trying to exist in a world that doesn’t want them.
This one has some serious fairy tale vibes which I love. It’s also kind of dark at times. It’s not finished but maybe if I point enough people towards it the author will pick it up again. Who knows? One can dream.
4. Deserving by @a-little-bit-of-ravioli
When Colin overhears part of a conversation between his father and his adopted big brother, he decides it’s up to him and his friends to protect Link from those wishing to do him harm.
5. Malevolence by @thescrapwitch
Wolfie eats something he shouldn’t and things go downhill from there. Secrets are revealed, friendships are tested, and Ganon is a jerk.
This fic is a masterclass in tension. If you need some heavy angst with a happy ending, this is your fic.
The one shot Wolf Heart by the same author is also very good.
6. Our Nightly Confident by Wisetypewriter
Alternative titles are “Wolfie is the Best Boy” and “Men Will Literally Talk to a Wolf Before Going to Therapy.”
This was one of the first LU fics I read and it’s so sweet. If you’ve liked Lupis Vigilans (coming up) you’ll really like Our Nightly Confident.
7. The Fierce Dadity Series by @skyloftian-nutcase
A series focusing on everyone’s favorite Mask-bound God/Spirit just trying to take care of his favorite mortal.
There’s a lot of fics by Skye that I love and it’s hard to narrow it down. But Fierce Dadity is up there.
8. Brethren in a Cradle by @skyward-floored
After coming across a village raised to the ground, the Chain finds its sole survivor: a baby boy. They quickly learn that there is more to this child than meets the eye.
The “Baby Joins the Chain AU”. Also I always get Skyward_floored and Skyloftian-nutcase mixed up and I would like to make a formal apology.
9. Where Your Meant to Be by @adrift-in-thyme
Malon has lived her entire life in her tower, never seeing the outside world. When a former-hero-turned-thief climbs through her window, her life takes a whole new turn.
The Tangled AU I didn’t know I wanted until I read it.
10. Lupus Vigilans by @pluviatrix
A character study of each of the Chain told from the point of view of Twilight, Hillbilly in Resident.
Wholesome and hilarious and heartbreaking in equal measure, I can’t recommend this fic enough. Also, I’m from the Ozarks and it’s cool to see that accent represented in the wild.
Their other fic, And Still The Cradle Blossoms is also really good if you’re like me and need a good cry at three in the morning.
11. Down by @musashi
When the Chain gets hit by a horrible illness, it’s up to Sky to take care of eight stubborn heroes. Each chapter is focused on a different member, and Twilight’s chapter in particular hit me in the feels.
I love sickfics for some reason and this one is so good.
12. Colors by HylianHarmony
A Four centric fic where he reveals the Colors to the rest of the Chain. Also he has a mind palace which is pretty neat.
This fic isn’t finished but it’s too good not to recommend.
13. Alone Together by Blueskullcandy
Another Four centric fic but told from the point of view of different members of the chain (including Four). The Twilight chapter in particular is worth the read by itself.
This fic is also not finished but I still recommend it. It’s really good.
14. Brothers Becoming by @turtleduckscribbles
After a fight with Twilight, Legend is forced to face his fears and insecurities and confront the one person he wants to avoid at all cost.
Prickly Legend learns to let others in.
15. Not Like You by HylianHarmony
Wind deals with serious imposter syndrome, but the others don’t realize it until it’s almost too late.
This is one of my comfort fics y’all. When I’m down I’ll read it and it always manages to cheer me up. I can’t recommend this one enough.
#Linked Universe#LU#AU#Linked Universe AU#fanfiction#long post#also for those curious I got all of the parts I need except the second fang
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FFxivWrite2024 Prompt #14
Title: A Telling Emotion
Wordcount: 1042
Spoilers through: Stormblood
Alternate Universe: To Catch a Falling Star
Relationships & Characters: Fordola/Lyse (finally, some actual kissing in this one haha)
Summary: Lyse is jealous, though not in the way Fordola expects.
(TCaFS timeline has a lot of changes, but the important part is, this fic takes place shortly after Fordola gets her gunblade from Zenos.)
.
“I’m sorry.” Lyse said, still feeling terrible about the petty, thoughtless comment she’d made. Enough Garleans had repeated similar insinuations that she’d started to wonder. What was the imperial commander’s relationship with the crown prince?
And when she’d seen the glow of Fordola’s eager smile as she’d shown off the gunblade he’d presented her, something inside Lyse had just… snapped.
“If you love his gifts so much, why don’t you sleep with him?”
In the moment, she’d told herself she was angry with Fordola for falling for more imperial promises. That she was worried Fordola was loyal to Zenos rather than her.
It was beginning to dawn on her that “loyal” wasn’t quite the correct word in that sentence.
“I was just… jealous,” she admitted aloud.
“Hmph. You and every other bastard who wants my position.” Fordola ran her fingers over the gunblade still sheathed at her hip. Even here, even sitting side by side at the secret overlook only Fordola and Lyse knew about, that awful thing still came between them. “If you want one for your own, you can damn well put in the work yourself.”
“I… what?” Lyse blinked and sat up straighter. “Gods, no, I’m not jealous of the stupid gunblade. What would I even do with it?” She couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. “I’d just poke my own eye out!”
Fordola frowned and clenched her hands in the grass. “Then what in the hells is your problem?”
“I think… it’s Zenos I’m jealous of,” Lyse said quietly. “All he gave you was something you should have had in the first place, and you were so happy.” She hugged her arms defensively to her chest. “I wish I could make you smile like that, but I’m not a viceroy or a prince. There’s naught I have you would want.”
Lyse felt a rough, callused hand on her hair. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Really?” She raised her head to find herself staring directly into those sharp green eyes. “What do you - mmph?!”
Of the many things Lyse had braced herself for, Fordola suddenly pressing her into the tree with a kiss had not been one of them.
“Huh,” was the only dreamy syllable her scattered mind could produce when Fordola drew away.
“Was that not -” The young woman cringed with guilt, likely taking Lyse’s hesitation for rejection. “Seven hells, now I’ve mucked this right up, haven’t I?” She sat back and gritted her teeth. “I just thought, maybe you thought of me the same way I - no, nevermind. Forget that ever happened.”
“But…” Lyse was still trying to make sense of it all. Was this what Krile had meant when she said Lyse already had Fordola wrapped around her finger? Had it been completely obvious to everyone but her? How long had she been -
“If you’re not interested, that’s that.” Fordola looked away, her features schooled back into that cold, Butcher mask. “It can just be - you know, like with Yda,” she continued, not quite able to hide the hitch in her voice.
Now that wasn’t right. Lyse made a disapproving growl in the back of her throat. “I am not my sister,” she said, and yanked Fordola into another kiss.
They could figure out the details later. Right now, Lyse knew one thing: she wanted to make Fordola hers.
For a brief moment, Lyse felt Fordola tense, as though she wasn’t sure if she should fight back. Then, as she realized what was happening, Fordola relaxed, closed her eyes, and leaned in on her own.
It was still a very clumsy kiss. Lyse hardly considered herself an expert - she’d dated a few pushy boys back in Sharlayan before she’d learned to say no, and there had been those chaotic weeks with Naago - but Fordola definitely had less experience than even that. Or maybe she just treated everything like a battle to be won.
Well, two could play at that game. And Lyse had spent the past several weeks desperately imagining what it would feel like to wrestle Fordola to the ground.
This probably couldn’t be considered a kiss any more, but on the other hand, finally getting to test her own strength against the swordswoman’s muscles felt amazing. Of course, while Fordola put up an impressive fight, Lyse could pass as a prodigy of unarmed combat for a reason.
And so, what started with Fordola shoving Lyse into the tree ended with Fordola splayed out on the grass, Lyse pressing light kisses into her tattoo until she slowly stopped thrashing and instead arched her head imploringly into the touch.
“You don’t like losing, do you?” she eventually murmured.
Lyse grinned.“Did you want me to go easy on you?”
“Absolutely not.” Fordola reached up to wrap her arms around her captor. “I’ll put you on your back next time, though.”
“You can try.” Lyse snuggled down into Fordola’s shoulder, contentment blooming warm in her chest as she felt the soft rise and fall of Fordola’s breathing.
This was good. More than good. If Fordola was in love with her, it would be all the easier to pry her away from Zenos and the Empire.
And that’s the real goal, Lyse thought to herself. Cuddling with Fordola was nice (and kissing Fordola was nicer), but it didn’t soothe the part of Lyse’s heart that ached to steal her away from masters who praised her one day only to punch her down the next.
Skulls and Resistance alike, none of Lyse’s friends would be safe until Ala Mhigo was free.
In the short term, she’d still have to work out how to keep Krile safe now that the imperials had her in their custody. And then there was the message that the Scions had returned, and that Resistance forces would soon move on Velodyna. But those were minor concerns in comparison to what Lyse was going to count as a major victory today.
Lyse winced as the hilt of the gunblade dug into her hip.
“Zenos is giving me a chance in battle at Velodyna, and you’re giving me a chance with this.” Fordola sighed lazily and stroked her fingers through Lyse’s hair. “For once in my life… it feels like everything’s going my way.”
#ffxiv#ffxivwrite#ffxivwrite2024#fordola rem lupis#lyse hext#fordolyse#fanfic#my fanfic#tcafs au#read more#pictures taken moments before disaster.jpeg
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Ghostly - ao3
Summary:
The war is over, but King Dimitri still struggles with the ghosts of his past.
Warning: delusions/hallucinations, mild gore/horror, grief, and self-harm (aka Dimitri's trauma coming back to haunt him)
note before we begin: i am chickenKatsu on ao3. I do not give anyone the right to repost my work to another platform unless I’m asked then properly credited. Please support me on ao3 if you like it!
(also this was one of my earliest works, so it’s not as good as it could be tbh. but i can see what i was going for. that’s something, at least)
Wind howled and banged on the windows of the King of Faerghus's private chambers. The winter night air slipped in through the broken window. The dust on the furniture drifted downwards, landing ever so softly on the shoulder of a broken man. This man, the leader of his people and king of a kingdom, did not notice the wind, the chill, or the utter disarray of his room. Nor did he notice the soft knock-knock on the door.
"Your Highness," the person on the other side calls. He stiffens and reaches for his nearby lance, but does not answer. Shadows circle him and multiply, obscuring his vision and blocking his path.
"Your Highness," a feminine voice mocks, stepping out to caress his cheek. " Your Highness... Do you think you deserve that title? After what you put us through?"
The king flinches, but does not respond. "My son," chides another voice in his ear, "you have made our people suffer, and they have died because of you, just like we did. You cannot be king if you cannot protect your people. And you cannot be king if you cannot grant the simple wish of the dead and dying."
“Father, I-” He gripped the dresser, cracking it with his boar-like strength.
"You do not deserve any of this, Dimitri,'' another female voice came forward, shimmering in the moonlight and her form becoming clear. His mother sneered at this pathetic child she had raised. “They gave up their lives for you and continue to do so. You lead hundreds to their deaths daily yet they still welcome you home with open arms. They treat you like the king they said you are. But have you not considered their true intentions? The real reason they treat you like a god?"
Dimitri shook his head, too scared to speak.
His mother and the other ghosts began to snicker. Glenn appeared from around the former queen’s shoulder, regarding the figure in front of him with a blank face and a loathing gaze. Dimitri shrunk under his stare.
Glenn scoffed, "He doesn't even know! How pathetic, Your Highness. ” Turning to the others, he crooned, “Who will do the honors of enlightening our dearest Dimitri, hm?”
“Oh, I will! I will!” A faceless soldier of the kingdom eagerly chirped from the gathered crowd of ghosts. “They are terrified of you! They follow you into battle because it is better than the alternative."
"The alternative..."
"Yes, my child,” his mother sang, tilting his chin upwards. “You could kill them with nothing but your hands. You could kill them simply by doing nothing, like you did to us.”
"No, no no no!" he cried, swinging his lance blindly, shaking and trembling. "Only those who you deem unworthy! Only those who must die for your revenge did I strangle!”
"Dimitri,” called a little voice. He whipped his head around to see a small Duscurian girl looking up at him. Her face was covered in cuts and bruises. Her left eye was grey; her missing right eye was replaced with a bigger, blue eye. It was bleeding, drenching her clothes and the teddy bear she was holding “Why did you kill us? Why did you let us die?"
"I-I did not want you to die,” the king whispered softly. “I tried to save you. But there was nothing I could do-"
"Oh, there is always something you can do." The child reached up, gently brushing her ghostly fingers across Dimitri's neck as if she were caressing a puppy. A demonic grin spread across her face. "You could die."
<><><><><>
“Professor!”
Byleth turned around to see Mercedes running after him and carrying a tray of food. He nodded to his former student.
“Welcome back, Professor. How did your mission go?”
“The knights and I successfully quelled the resistance in Nuvelle,” he replied, “as well as smaller rebellions nearby. Soon, the Kingdom will be able to completely unite Fodlan.”
“That's great news.” Mercedes smiled, but her joy quickly disappeared. With Byleth’s curious look, she continued hesitantly. “But um, I can’t say things have been going so well here while you’ve been gone. He hasn’t eaten in weeks and refuses to leave his room. Every time someone tries to check on him, they come back bruised and terrified.” She sighed, concern painted on her features. “We’re all worried, Professor, even Felix admitted to it.”
“I see.” said Byleth. “Did anyone have any bleeding wounds from their visit with the king?”
Mercedes offered the tray to Byleth. “No, but sometimes their bones would be broken.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Byleth took the tray from Mercedes and changed his direction. “I will take care of this.”
As he walked away, Mercedes could only stare at his back. How fearless the Professor must be to march right into the wounded lion’s den, she thought as she bowed in Byleth’s direction. How selfless and kind he must be to love someone so broken.
“Best of luck, Professor,” she whispered. But Byleth was already gone.
<><><><><>
In front of the king’s chambers, Byleth stopped to gather his thoughts. He mentally prepared for every situation he could come up with. If things went terribly awry, he could always use a Divine Pulse. However, he preferred not to use them for these types of situations. The Pulses are to save lives, and unless Dimitri had killed someone, himself or otherwise, Byleth would not– could not– rewind the past.
With a deep breath, Byleth knocked on the door. “Your Highness,” he called. He waited for a few moments, but there was no answer. He couldn’t hear anything from inside.
He tried again with a gentle rap at the door. “Your Highness? I’ve brought your dinner.”
Again, no response. A muffled yell resounded behind the doors. He heard heavy footsteps and the soft screech of Areadbhar being dragged across the stone floor.
Ah, thought Byleth, as he fiddled with his wedding ring nervously. It is worse than I thought this time.
“Dimitri, I’m coming in.” Byleth warned.
Slowly opening the door, he found that things had been worse than he anticipated. Dust covered almost every surface and floated in the air, stirred by the breeze. The dresser corner was crushed. The curtains, bedsheets, and walls had large gashes in them. Shattered glass lay at the floor by the windows. The dresser door was unhinged, and clothes were scattered around the room. The tapestry of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus had been trampled on and stabbed so many times Byleth could hardly see the symbol anymore.
But he couldn’t find Dimitri. Panic began to rise in Byleth. He set the tray down and rushed around the room. He checked the bathroom and the large closet before noticing the balcony door slightly ajar. He gently nudged the door open, careful not to make any sudden noises.
At the edge of the balcony stood Dimitri. He held Areadbhar at his side. His ragged attire, hunched back, and unkempt hair made Byleth’s chest ache. Cautiously, he circled around Dimitri to his side. Dimitri’s hair dangled in front of his eye, softly blowing in the breeze. The king turned his head towards Byleth slowly and locked eyes. Byleth studied his eye, hazy and unseeing, trying to understand what had happened.
He stole a quick glance at Areadbhar. Blood dripped from its tip. It’s fresh, thought Byleth, but no one has been in here recently. So whose is it? His eyes trailed up Dimitri’s body and landed on his outstretched arm. His arm was held over the balcony, blood spilling into the city streets below.
After a moment, Dimitri noticed his presence. His gaze followed Byleth’s, retracting his arm. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Byleth gingerly grasped Dimitri’s arm, wordlessly inspecting the cuts. He tenderly led Dimitri back inside, plopped him on the bed, and began to tidy up while looking for the first aid kit.
“Sorry,” mumbled Dimitri. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Dimitri.” Byleth replied softly, grabbing bandages out of the first aid kit. He began to clean and dress Dimitri’s wounds. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
Dimitri did not look up at Byleth, eyes transfixed on the lance he still held in his hand. “But it is. I know it is. I couldn't give you what you wanted this time, either. I'm sorry. Father, I’m sorry. Glenn, I’m sorry. I’m sorry it’s not enough. I’m-”
“Dimitri.” Byleth’s voice was firm yet kind. He tried to call him back to reality and ground him with his presence. He rubbed his thumb across Dimitri’s palm in a circular motion. “Dimitri, it's okay. It's not your fault.” For what felt like hours, Byleth continued to run his thumb across Dimitri’s palm, reciting these comforting words and reassurances.
Dimitri squeezed Byleth’s thumb lightly. Byleth waited for him to speak. After a moment, he did. “Byleth… when did you get back?”
“Just now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to come back from your mission to see this mess.”
“It’s quite alright, Dimitri.” Byleth planted a feathery kiss on Dimitri’s head, then his bandaged arm.
“Did, uh, did I do that?” Dimitri looked a little unsettled. He glanced at his lance. “Oh, I guess I did. I’m sorry.”
Byleth cupped the king’s face and stared him in the eye. “Don’t apologize to me, or the ghosts of your past, Dimitri. What happened is not your fault, and revenge isn't the answer.”
Dimitri nodded. “I know.”
“Would you tell me what happened while I was away?”
Dimitri broke away, unable to maintain eye contact. He gazed at his arm, then at his finger where his wedding ring rested. He began to turn anxiously as he recounted the words of his family. “The dead demanded Imperial blood. But I couldn’t give them the blood they desired, so I gave them mine.”
#fanfic#tw dimitri’s trauma#tw trauma#ao3#m!byleth#dimitri x male byleth#writing#oneshot#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd#byleth eisner#byleth fire emblem#male byleth#fe3h byleth#dimitri x byleth#fire emblem three houses#fe3h#fe3h dimitri#fe3h fanfic#fe3h fandom#fire emblem three houses fanfiction#fe3h fanfiction#fire emblem 3 houses#three houses#dimitri fire emblem#byleth#dimileth#mdimileth#ao3 fanfic#fanfiction#hurt some comfort
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if you're willing to do the music ask thing, I'd also love a Playlist from you as well. If doing them all is too much, just do the questions you like the most. :D
oh man, this sure was a ride <3
1: A song you like with a color in the title
Charles Brown - Black Night. it's double damage, 'cause the artist's name also has a colour in it ;p
2: A song you like with a number in the title
Steeleye Span - Seven Hundred Elves
3: A song that reminds you of summertime
Cesaria Evora - Sangue de Beirona
4: A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about
i don't have anything quite like that, but this one - Michal Oginski - Polonaise Farewell - reminds me of someone departed, thinking of whom is still painful, so i don't listen to it often
5: A song that needs to be played LOUD
Ida Maria - Oh My God
6: A song that makes you want to dance
Florence + The Machine - Free
7: A song to drive to
i can't and don't drive, but this is what i imagine would be a cool track to drive to: Wormview - Ashes and Diamonds
8: A song about drugs or alcohol
again, can't recall anything quite like that. SIAMÉS - The Wolf is a great song though, about addiction in general
9: A song that makes you happy
Meg Rock - Clover
10: A song that makes you sad
Neutral - Luna
11: A song that you never get tired of
Caravan Palace - Miracle. don't know if i'll never get tired of it, but there was definitely a time when i was listening to it a lot and often, and i still love it
12: A song from your preteen years
Sum 41 - Fat Lip
13: One of your favorite 80’s songs
Kate Bush - Running Up That Hill
14: A song that you would love played at your wedding
honestly never given it any thought or whatever, but i guess this is a nice wedding-vibe song: Beach Boys - God Only Knows
15: A song that is a cover by another artist
Hannah Gill - Somebody That I Used to Know. i love the original, but there's just something about this cover, man
16: One of your favorite classical songs
and here's where i out myself as the most basic bitch imaginable, but Eric Satie - Gnosienne no.1
17: A song that would sing a duet with on karaoke
i absolutely cannot imagine myself singing karaoke, let alone with another living person( sorry, but this is the one that genuinely stumped me, i can't even come up with an interesting alternative here
18: A song from the year that you were born
Queen - The Show Must Go On
19: A song that makes you think about life
Alex Wurman - Ending
20: A song that has many meanings to you
The National - Sorrow
21: A favorite song with a person’s name in the title
Anaïs Mitchell & Jefferson Hamer - Willie's Lady
22: A song that moves you forward
Антитіла - Все красиво
23: A song that you think everybody should listen to
Go_A - Solovey
24: A song by a band you wish were still together
Високосный год - Метро. i not so much wish they were still together, as i wish they'd done more than 1 album over their entire career
25: A song by an artist no longer living
Connie Boswell - I Cover the Waterfront. this is probably the category where i could go on for an especially long time lol
26: A song that makes you want to fall in love
not sure if i've ever gotten this kinda feeling from a song, but Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes - Home is one of my favourite love songs, and i think it captures well this warm, upbeat feeling love is theoretically supposed to give you
27: A song that breaks your heart
Лея - Підмінок. definitely cried at this one
28: A song by an artist with a voice that you love
Rammstein - Haifisch
29: A song that you remember from your childhood
Oda Kanako - Moonlight Densetsu (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧
30: A song that reminds you of yourself
well, that's easy: Gotye - Smoke and Mirrors
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Speak Now TV First Impressions
I do this thing with every new Taylor release where I go through the album, track by track, listening to one song at a time via the YouTube lyric videos and then pausing for a few minutes to jot down my initial thoughts and first impressions. I started doing it with Lover back in 2019, and I've done it with every album since.
I usually just post these as a thread on Twitter, but since I'm back being active on Tumblr again, I thought I'd also share here. I did listen to Speak Now TV out of order, with the Vault tracks first, so I'm just going to list everything in the exact order I played it below:
Electric Touch: I got chills all over my arms. All I kept thinking was, "This would have been KILLER to listen to in high school!" I did feel that Patrick's voice felt subdued by the production here, which wasn't my favorite, but the way he and Taylor sing "to-o-ou-ouch" together and their alternating vocals on the bridge are fantastic. Also excited to have a new Taylor Time! I want to see this one performed live SO badly.
When Emma Falls In Love: Still not 100% sure how I feel about this one yet. Probably the least exciting one from the Vault, for me personally. I absolutely love the line “like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town” though.
I Can See You: So sultry and sexy. I loved it immediately. I got strong 60s spy movie vibes. I also really want to know who this is about? I know what it makes me think of (April/May 2013), but what about Taylor??
Castles Crumbling: Oh my GOD. Possibly one of my favorite TS collabs of all time??? The way Hayley and Taylor’s voices harmonize with one another is hypnotic. This felt so ghostly and morbid, like a sister to Haunted and even a forefather to Nothing New? Biggest stand out to me so far.
Foolish One: Everything about this, down to the title, feels like a direct attack. There was absolutely a point in my life (in 2010, no less) when I would have played this CONSTANTLY. Maybe I should still do that now 🙃
Timeless: I started sobbing as soon as the first chorus hit. I recognized Marjorie in the lyric video thumbnail and knew that this one would probably make me emotional, but I wasn't expecting just how quickly it would reduce me to tears. My boyfriend overheard me crying and came out to the living room to hug me. Completely devastated me, but I love it. An even bigger stand out than CC!
I had to take a break to collect myself, and iced some cookies I made to celebrate the album release. My biggest thought with the Vault tracks was just, "Damn, I wish these had been out in the world back in 2010 because I really could have used them in high school." At least they’re here now though.
Superman: Listened while icing cookies because I knew that it would be the last song in my listen-through otherwise, and I didn't want to end the session on a sour note, because I do NOT like Taylor's intended subject on this song, or the person I used to personally associate it with when I was younger. It’s a good song! Just not one I gravitate toward anymore.
Mine: I immediately noticed the lack of earnestness, youth and twang in her voice on this recording. I don’t know why, but it was hard to get past. I just know this song SO well after all these years, and this version felt almost jarringly different.
Sparks Fly: This was better. Still not the same as the original, but a better mix of old and new, in my opinion. Also loved the inclusion of the Speak Now World Tour footage in the lyric video.
Back To December: Another one where I just know it so well that I can notice every single difference. Some of the vocal inflections were not my fave, but overall it’s another good mix of old and new. (Also I hope Taylor Lautner is having an incredible day, as he deserves.)
Speak Now: Right out of the gate, I hated her vocals on this one, which crushed me. This song was one I had been looking forward to hearing the most. As I kept listening, I was trying to reserve my judgement, but by the end I had to accept that I just do not like this version. The lack of youthful exuberance in her voice was extremely noticeable, and I felt that was to the detriment of the song. I'm so upset to say I don't like this one.
Dear John: Who else up wanting back their girlhood? Vocally, this was beautiful. This one transcends time, and actually hurts more to hear sung at 32. You can feel how her voice has changed from utter sadness to bitter anger. I loved how she completely capitalized, "OVER YOUR SAD EMPTY TOWN" in the lyric video.
Mean: THANK GOD THE TWANG IS BACK!!!!! If ever there was a song we needed it on, it was this one!! (Please can we keep this energy for Debut TV????? 🙏🏼)
The Story of Us: The whole time I was just thinking, "Okay!!!! Yes!!!!!" Vocally, this is exactly what I was hoping for. Killed it.
Never Grow Up: Had me sobbing again. I remember listening to this for the first time at 17 and thinking, “Is this going to be life one day?” and now I’m 30 and my friends have kids and I’m in my grown up apartment and it IS all so much colder than I thought it would be. This is another one that hurts more to hear sung at 32 than at 19. I feel like I can remember my whole life when I listen to it, which just makes the tears come harder. I had to stop and grab tissues from my room and hug my boyfriend for a bit before coming back to finish the album.
Enchanted: PERFECTION. So good. I adored the lyric video transition from her Speak Now World Tour performance of the song into her singing it at The Eras Tour.
Better Than Revenge: NO. Nope. I could write a dissertation at this point about why I think the lyric change was a massive, massive mistake, but y’all already know. This was NOT the move at all and it will never hit as well as the original. I'm so disappointed.
Innocent: So good. Again, another one that hits different with age, especially hearing her sing, “Thirty-two and still growing up now.” I was remembering watching her perform it live at the VMAs for the first time as I was listening. Such a special moment that KW then came out and absolutely ruined with Runaway. I still firmly believe that this song is way, way too good for the person it’s about.
Haunted: Right off the bat all I could think was, "Uhhhhh what the FUCK happened to the production here????" That new echo-y layering effect is NOT IT and ruined the song for me.
Last Kiss: Immediately noticed different, sharper instrumentation with the harp, and I did not like it. Vocally it just didn't hit the same either. Instead of deeply sad, it just feels sort of lifeless. I probably put too much stock into this one because it means so much to me, but even still. I fully gave up on expecting the shaky breath to get a repeat feature because I just don’t think you can recreate something like that, but damn. This version just does not feel right to me and I’m sad about it.
Long Live: Tears AGAIN, this song always always gets me. This version is perfection, another timeless one. I think they made the right move by having the lyric video be comprised completely of footage of Taylor performing it on the Speak Now World Tour.
Ours: This was my absolute favorite song on the album back in the day. I always loved how you could hear the smile in her voice as she sang, and unfortunately I didn’t really feel that at all on this version. At least we still had the giggle toward the end! Overall I think it’s still solid, just not the same, and that was disappointing.
My final thoughts after just one listen-through feel so up and down, which I was not expecting at all! I feel so conflicted and disappointed.
With Fearless TV, it took me a little bit to come around fully to the vocal changes. You just can't recapture that same youthful earnestness that she was singing with as a teenager. But when I got the vinyl in the mail and put it on, I don't know, something just finally clicked for me, and now I love it.
With Red TV, I was fully on board from the jump, and I consider the TV to be the definitive version of the album. But with Speak Now, it's nowhere close. I feel like half the original songs I really loved the new versions of, and half were huge let downs. That makes me so sad to say.
I know it's only been one listen, and if there's anything I've learned from tracking my first impressions over the past 5 years, it's that my opinions will absolutely morph and change as time goes on and I listen more and more. I just never expected to feel disappointment like this.
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For Saiyuki asks :) 12, 13, 22, 29, 40, 55, 68, 69, 74, 75
Hello^^
12) Favorite episode in the TV Series
I have many favourite episodes but one I love the most is Where the Gods Are, Gensoumaden Saiyuki ep. 3
I love how Sanzo Ikkou showed the hypocrisy you can find among religious practitioners starting from their reluctant attitude at letting them stay at the temple and the only reason they are allowed is because of Sanzo's title to their absolute unwillingness to defend themselves if their lives are in serious danger. Sanzo's words were so cathartic to hear because they helped the young Yo to realize that only living and fighting to live allows you to move on.
13) Favorite song (sung by a character or in the animated adaptions)
Late Show and Sanbutsushin (I leave here the audio in case you don't remember it), I love the raw power that this song gives me and the really Buddhist-like vibe the second one has. It really seems I am exploring Tushita Heaven or one of four continents I am about to be reborn during the Bardo of Rebirth.
22) Which character do you think is most like you?
Hakkai is the character has the most traits that characterize me. His intelligent nature and well-mannered attitudes combined with a soft-spoken demeanor are quite relatable to me. He likes to read and learn, and just like me he is full of strange, possibly useless information XD
Unlike him I still can't fully control my rage when it takes over my mind though but just like him my darker side comes out when fueled by a deep feeling of hurt and rage. I am for the most part calm and gentle but if you really pisses me off I can turn into the youkai version of Hakkai.
29) An alternate universe you’d like to see
I would like to see their roles completely swapped XD so Sanzo Ikkou the main antagonists who try to prevent Kougaiji Ikkou to recover the sutras or alternatively Saiyuki characters in a dystopia.
40) Your favorite character became a mythical beast. What would they be?
Yes XD the Sanzuwu. The draw was made by me with Krita and I love drawing corvids
55) Was there a character you used to love but no longer do?
None because my feeling haven't changed over the years.
68) Who, in your opinion, has the most tragic backstory?
Jeez, this is not an easy question because all main four protagonists had a really heavy past and I find difficult to "rank" suffering of such scale because to me they are all equally heavy. Sanzo risked to be raped by some bastard and disgusting bandits and saw his master and father-like figure dying before his eyes, Goku had his memories erased after losing in a very traumatic way the only people who really cared about him and liked him for who he was, Gojyo lived in an abusive family, constantly hit by his stepmother to see her killed by Dokugakuji to whom he had bonded deeply (I don't want to know how he will react in Saiyuki Reload Blast after he will discover what happened to him). Hakkai's story touches deeply delicate topics that still get me thrills every time I recall it. I don't wish anyone an inch of what they all had to go through...
69) Who would be best at pleasing their lover?
I think Hakkai due to his responsible and caring nature. He would be a really great partner with a healthy mind suitable for family life. I hope Gojyo can develop more mature habits in terms of stable relationships because he has the potential to be a great partner due to his compassionate nature (especially towards children) despite it gets buried by his vain nature sometimes.
74) What is the funniest moment in the series?
I would have loved seeing it animated for Urasai XD (at least that bastard had the decency to not put that abomination on Lirin). Damn, I feel bad for them T_T
Another funny moment I like is from the manga (too bad it didn't got animated but at least we have the audio):
Another funny moment I still remember with joy is the 10th episode of Saiyuki Gensoumaden "False Saviors" when Sanzo Ikkou meet their first cosplayers XD (impostors who pretend to be the real Sanzo Ikkou) XD XD XD I know it's a filler episode but it's still funny to me. There are other funny moments especially in Saiyuki Reload Blast anime but I can't remember them all.
75) Who is your favorite minor character?
the youkai girl that kissed Goku. I loved how their interaction evolved when Goku stayed at that youkai village after others and he departed from Sanzo. In this moment Goku finally faced the complex reality of human-youkai relations and how they were tainted even before the Minus Wave incident. In this moment Goku could mature and grow as person thanks to what he witnessed in the village and interaction with this unfortunate girl who lost everything because of prejudice. I just hope she will be fine.
#saiyuki#kazuya minekura#minekura kazuya#feel free to ask me questions#thanks again for these answers!
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Meenah's Feferi AU P2: Dead Fef
Continuing how I would've liked Feferi's arc to go, this second part is more just admitedly guilty wish fullfilment 😔
Feferi is just as patronizing to Jade in the dream bubbles. Jade doesn't consider it malicious, but she gets annoyed and joins Sollux in being one of Fef's earliest correctors of her behavior. They're mentors to one another, figuring stuff out.
Then she dies (though Im conflicted if it's in the same way or if there's a change in that scene, too).
I wondered why, if Feferi could still talk to/gave a connection with Jade through her dreams, she wasn't used more during her years in the ship? Just for fun, I imagine Feferi readily rants to Jade about her adventures in the dream bubbles, and Jade likewise reports on what was said to John and Davesprite as if it were a telenovela.
Fef finally gets to be friends with Nepeta (pljs Tavros, whom they stick up for!), and gets some quality time with the Alpha Trolls during a Nepeta tea party. She also becomes bffs with Kankri. She's fascinated by his takes and is one of the few trolls that can actually hold a conversation with him. She learns a lot about herself through his commentary on his timeline's ruler, and takes his advice to heart.
Feferi gets a taste of her own medicine with Meenah, the only troll to ever be able to give her the same treatment, and the bloodlust is high.
Feferi joined Vriska's crew, wanting to help aave Jade and the rest of her friends, but she does NOT like her methods! She's talked to and bonded with so many of these alternate trolls! She's learned! She leaves Vriska.
And she becomes her opponent. She's learned to become more thoughtful, and embodies her title of the Witch of Life even without her god-tier as she saves the undead and builds an army with her closest friends, Nepeta and Tavros (sorry dead-Tavros's 'arc.' I never felt like it was earned. We never got to see his buildup, and it came out of nowhere! This feels better to me.)
#homestuck#hs feferi#feferi au#feferi peixes#feferi#homestuck feferi#meenah's feferi au#hs meenah#meenah peixes#homestuck meenah#jade harley#hs jade#homestuck jade#homestuck john#john egbert#hs john#hs nepeta#nepeta leijon#tavros nitram#hs tavros#homestuck nepeta#homestuck tavros#vriska#nepeta#tavros#vriska serket#hs vriska#hs kankri#homestuck kankri#kankri vantas
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