#and i pray to the gods that one day ill have someone who looks at me the same way aylin looks at isobel

[confessioncassette]

𝐄𝐮𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 - 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

summary : you know better than to talk to other guys.

tw : dubcon [consent isn’t clearly voiced, but reader has mixed emotions] rough sex, jealousy, yandere themes, toxic behaviors, hate fucking, no protection, creampie, possessive Thanos

words : 4.9k

notes : NOT PROOF READ (we die like men). sorry this took so long,,,,, what’s up with me liking bathroom sex? Anyways, the anon who sent in this request- holy fuck. I just want to say that I didn’t really care for Thanos at first but after watching edits of him and rewatching the season, I fell madly in love with him. So. I thank the anon who sent in this request !

It was a massacre, the last game.

The stench of body odor and copper lingers within the white-brick walled room. The sterile lights practically assault your brain after the game you just played.

The air always felt eerily lighter after a game, like fate had granted mercy, allowing you to survive one more day. Your body’s still lively, already sore from being pulled and grabbed in different directions in Mingle. The adrenaline pumps fiercely, nausea pills within your gut and it doesn’t feel like it’ll die down soon. The guards had handed out food once the headcount was confirmed, but you simply don’t have the appetite. You mindlessly pick at your food, pushing it around the plastic tupperware as you mull over the same new dilemma of your current life. Of how everytime that damned glass pig falls from the ceiling, when the lights dim and the pot glows, lightening up the faces below, more and more money dumps into the pot.

The money of lives lost.

It was strange, how after every game, most of the people are ill with fear, at least the ones who weren’t sadists. Their eyes sunken and glossy, their bodies stiff, their clothes splattered in the blood of the poor victim next to them. They all witnessed atrocities that would haunt them for the rest of their lives, but that all seemed to wash away when money came into play. It all washed away knowing that you were chosen to live another day.

When it comes time for the vote, it’s like most of them want to take luck on a joyride, forgetting that they could possibly be next. All you have to do is believe you’ll be lucky the next and the next right? Just one more, right? Fuck the person beside you.

As long as it wasn’t you, right?

Despite pressing “X” game after game, you take a chance on hope, you pray that humanity hasn’t lost what little morality they have left, or whatever god or gods haven’t abandoned humanity.

You aren’t a monster. Money is the reason why you opted to play childhood games for money, but you didn’t want it like this. You fear every time that gun goes off, sometimes anticipating it before it happens, knowing someone had messed up and would pay for their life. A small drop in the bucket. Once, the shooters were so close to you that the sound of the gunshots one after the other ricocheted through your ear drums. Blood splattered your face, warm and reeking of copper after the men in the six legged race beside you spent their last moments on earth begging for their life. Thanos couldn’t have picked a better spot to sit and watch, and you spent hours scrubbing your skin raw to get the blood off in the bathroom sink.

You didn’t feel clean after.

“Min-su, you need to eat.” You mumble, weird how tight your face feels right now. Moving your own lips feels like a chore. You scan the crowd of people mingling quietly as they eat. How absolutely absurd that they can even stomach eating right now.

The baby-faced man just hums in response. It’s hard to believe he’s 27 with the way he acts, let alone his looks.

“I’m not really hungry either.” You shrug. Turning to him, Min-su’s attention is elsewhere. Empty eyes stare off into a group of people on the other side of the room, but you can tell he’s not really looking at them. He’s on a different planet, seeing through the wall, staring through a state of nothingness.

Dissociating from reality gets you far here when there’s downtime.

“But you have to at least hydrate. Today was a lot.” You offer him your bottled water, still unopened since his was already empty, forgotten at his feet. You couldn’t stomach liquids either, might as well give it away.

“Min-su.” You say louder, your cheekbones ache, your eyes sting.

“Y-yeah?”

“Drink.” Despite your skin protesting, you smile. His youthful face is still pristine, and you can’t believe it. Even yourself, slipping and sliding, running through pools of red after the last game, can feel the crust of dried blood on your chin, the dampness of it seeping through your clothes.

Thankfully, he takes your offer, immediately opening it to slug it down. It’s probably the most normal you’ve seen him.

Satisfied, you playfully shove his knee.

“Next vote, we’ll all say ‘no more.’” You reassure him. ”Then we can all go home and eat a real meal. Wouldn’t that be nice?” With the little time you’ve been here, food seemed to dwindle less and less each serving.

His puppy-like eyes light up just a little, a small curve of his lips gives you hope that someone is still behind those eyes.

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

”Maybe we can go to this new restaurant they just opened in my neighborhood. I heard they have the best bibimbap, I just haven’t had the time to go.” Or the money.

“You’d like to go with me?”

And for some reason, that pinched your heart. You don’t know anything about the kid, hell, he could be in crippling debt from shady shit, but you can’t help but want to reach out a hand to him. Clearly, he’s an adult, but you don’t think he could make his own decision even if his life depended on it. That’s why-

“Hey!”

That’s why he’s a sheep, following a man like Thanos because he can’t just say no.

“I said hey! You goin’ fucking deaf?” Without turning, you already know that voice, those steps.

”I thought you were my brother, man. The hell you doing talkin’ to my girl?” Thanos’s voice towers over you from behind. Taking a deep breath to close your eyes, wishing you were anywhere but here.

Min-su's eyes grow wide, his mouth opens to speak, but he freezes.

Fingers flip your hair for attention, but you remain facing Min-su.

“You trying to fuck with me? Over here smiling and shit.” Thanos takes a seat on the steps beside you, fingers twirling your hair. “You won’t win her over like that, my boy. Takes a real man to handle this one.” You cringe, you always did when he spewed his bullshit.

“What’s so funny, huh?” He tests.

Min-su’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of you.

From your peripheral, Thanos’s face is close to yours, watching every muscle. His head cocks to the side, lips forming a pout and subtly nods his head up and down.

He’s high. It wasn’t even a week and you can tell his antics. He must have taken a pill of god-knows-what from his necklace.

For some unknown and unsolicited reason to you, Thanos has sunken his claws into you day one.

You were in line, waiting to take your picture when a guy vaguely familiar to you was suddenly surrounded by what looked like fans. Number 230. Girls fawned over him, guys wanting to chop up a conversation - a rapper, one reminds you. Now how the fuck does a famous rapper get into a place like this? He must have spent every ‘earning’ dollar on foreign cars, drugs, girls… Money can’t buy intelligence.

He had locked eyes with you after being scolded by the pink guard, and before he entered the stairwell, he gestured a heart with his hands.

He seemed like a normal, cocky guy with little quirks at first. Never being one to enter the scene of his caliber, you figured it was normal the way he carried himself. Never did you think he’d actually take a liking to you to the point of being a nuisance. You’ve come to find out that he was a sociopath and terrifying during the games. One pop of those pills and he’d cause chaos purposefully. To your shock, the purple haired man who gave you a heart just 10 minutes ago, pushed 3 innocent people during red light green light and smiled when they were shot. Skipping around, twirling and dancing while others ran for their life to cross that finish line.

After the first game, he approached with confidence, spitting out a freestyle about how he fancies you. Confessing empty feelings towards you and sitting uncomfortably close during the first dinner. You didn’t pay much attention to him, but it didn’t phase him. You were already locked in, forced to participate in these games with him as an ally.

No matter how much you pull away, how much you ignore, his leg will always touch yours, his fingers will always thread through your hair, his eyes will always find yours, always watching and waiting. He never missed a moment to compliment you, to touch you gently, even when you haven’t showered in days. For why, you didn’t know. Night one, he had even threatened someone to take the bed next to yours.

You were pulled into the next game with him, and thankfully you were good at ddakji, giving your team a jumpstart with time. And to your surprise of his coordination, he was good at jegi. With Mingle, Thanos kept a bruising grip on your forearm, keeping you close, not more than a hair's length from him. Even when the game called for 2 people, he’d abandoned his friend to pull you in a room.

“Just one more game, yeah? I want to see you join the O gang.” He said sweetly, pressing the pad of his fingers into the palm of your hand. “You’re not trying to leave me, are you? After this we can leave here together.” Whether he meant it or not, you could care less. You wanted to leave. Leave him and these games behind. To hell with the money at this point.

And when you pressed that “X”, keeping your badge of hope, you could feel the daggers from across the room. He was furious. Surprisingly, he didn’t voice it, because after all was said and done, the majority ruled in favor of continuing the games, breaking your heart into little itty bitty shards of glass. Your fire had faded, your faith had been shattered, but Thanos didn’t care. He was so happy that he picked you up and spun you around, rambling about how he has more time with you now.

“My boy, I asked what’s so fucking funny? Hello?” Thanos waves his hand obnoxiously between the two of you.

“Would you just leave it? We were just-“

Thanos’s eyes find the two empty water bottles beside the man in front of you. Putting two and two together, he snaps. Thanos lunges forward, threatening to grab Min-su by the collar, but he stops before he does.

”Did you give your shit to him? What, didn’t want to ask me if I needed it first?” Towering over the two of you, the purple haired man taps his chest, swaying over his feet.

“Babygirl,” his voice drawls, “why you gotta do me like that?”

It’s been too long of a day, your body aches, your head pounds at the inside of your skull… you’re done with this. Standing up, you give a reassuring smile to Min-su before stepping down the stairs to head to the bathroom.

To your relief, Thanos doesn’t follow. While everyone left around you crawls up to their bed, the announcement blares on the overhead speakers in that unnatural feminine voice, “LIGHTS OUT IN 10 MINUTES.”

Standing before the pink guard, you request to use the bathroom and thankfully, whoever is under that mask, doesn’t give you a hard time. He simply steps aside to let you walk down the sickly pesto pink hallway to the women’s lavatory.

Your steps echo over the pristine white tile, sterile lights glow from the ceiling as you scan the long and empty bathroom. You’re the only one here. Sighing, you stand over the sink and collect yourself.

Your clothes reek of decay, the wrists of your jacket damp and sticky - and you were right about feeling that dried blood on your chin. Your eyes are sunken and glossy, your hair messy and unbrushed and the beds of your fingernails are crusted in red bodily fluids.

Enjoying the moments of silence underneath the fluorescent glow, you begin your nightly routine scrubbing yourself clean.

“LIGHTS OUT IN 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1”

The bathroom remains lit, and you give it a second for the pink guard to come get you, but all you hear is the water dripping from the faucet and… otherwise complete silence. Your eyes watch the door to your left, but it remains still as it was.

They must have forgotten you were in here, but that doesn’t bother you. This was the first time you’ve heard silence in days. No snoring, no rustling of bedding, no screaming, gunshots, crying, praying… just complete and utter silence.

You’ve only had a moment to begin fixing your hair when you hear the hinges of the door creak open.

Turning your head, you’re met with Thanos swaggering into the room, heels scuffling over the tile. Eyes like daggers remain fixated on you by the sink.

“There you are, my baby girl. Why’d you dip on me earlier? I was trying to defend my girl.” He says casually, leaning against the wall.

You can admit the fact that the man before you is… attractive. His sharp facial features stand out in a crowd. The tattoos that litter his skin give even more of an edge to him. He’s tall and lean… But he’s an ass who has been lingering over you unsolicitedly for days. His personality is equivalent to needles splitting your brain open, but you can’t deny that in this moment, he looks good.

“How- how did you get in here?” Your only moments of silence, the only time you had to yourself was eventually corrupted by him, as always. You keep your face tight and swallow the feelings of confusion and anger.

Thanos shrugs, pursing his lips.

“I just came right in. No guards out there, plus they can’t keep me from you baby girl, you know that.”

“You’re fucking insane. Get out of the girls bathroom!”

”Relax, baby,” pushing himself off the wall, he takes his time to stalk towards you. Hand over his chest, he raises his brows in a sympathetic manner.

“You hurt me back there. Can’t you see how much I care for you? I never treated a lady like this before.”

You back up slowly, observing his every moment closely. His pupils were dilated and his lips curled into a grin.

“Just the the fuck out, we’re going to get in trouble if you’re caught in here.” You didn’t have a death wish right now, given the situation you’re in. You’d rather die messing up in a game than by the choice Thanos has made.

“Don’t test me,” he says sternly, pointing two fingers at you. His nostrils flare before his face relaxes.

”C’mon baby girl, tell me what you and my boy were talking about? You made me look like an ass out there.”

Gripping the cool porcelain sink, you take a breath. Maybe talking calmly to him will de-escalate the situation. It’s evident that the guards either know you both are in here and just don’t care, or they can’t even hear you.

“Thanos, I was just trying to cheer him up. You know how shy he is, Min-su isn’t cut out for these things. I mean, look at the situation we’re in, it’s traumatizing.” That’s probably the longest thing you’ve said to him, and you notice that he notices. Giving a smug look of satisfaction, he’s eager to respond.

“I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.” His arms shoot open and he leans his chest forward. “This shit is fun. He’s under my wing, he’s got nothing to worry about. If you guys stop voting to leave we’d have a higher chance of getting all that money and leaving here together as a group, you know what I’m sayin’? And you guys just fuck around behind my back.”

You observe his characteristics when he talks to you. He’s expressive with his body, leaning his body side to side, talking with his hands. You’ve noticed that he’s more fidgety when he’s high.

“I can take care of you baby girl, like I have been doing. Keep all your attention on me and we won’t have a problem, yeah?” Your plan didn’t work. It’s calmed him down some, you can see it in his eyes, he’s looking at you like he… adores you. His eyes dart around your face in awe, his mouth slightly dropped open.

He’s just fucking high.

“I’m done, we’re going to bed.”

Moving to leave past him, Thanos grips your wrist painfully tight.

“The hell-“

He pushes your body back in front of him, bringing your wrist up to your face level. His other arm slithers over the small of your back, keeping you close. He’s warm, and surprisingly clean, despite his clothing. His grip is bruising, and you’re too sore to give back much fight. He might just end up killing you here, in an institutional bathroom.

Your eyes blow wide in surprise. The lighting here is so stark that you can see yourself in the reflection of his glossy eyes and enlarged pupils.

“You fucked with me, and here’s how this is going to go.” His all too excited smile was telling - that he was enjoying this. He’s been waiting for this moment.

”I keep you safe, I feed you… and you wanna flirt with other guys right in front of me?” His voice amplified the last of that sentence and you squeeze your eyes shut in response.

“What’s he got that I don’t have, huh?” His head cocks to the side before he presses his face close to your ear. You shutter at the yelling, but he doesn’t allow you to move an inch.

“You’re insane.” You whisper.

”The only thing that’s been driving me fuckin’ insane in here is you… you…” He pauses.

His face quickly reels back, face confused as ever before it drops again into that soft expression. His mood swings give you whiplash. You never know what’s next with him.

”Baby, I don’t even know your name.”

You shake your head, looking up at him perplexed. “Wha- I don’t,” you begin. The way he can change topics on a dime-

“My baby giiiirl,” he drawls, “tell me your name. I don’t even know my girls name.” He pouts.

You stare back at him in shock, refusing to move a muscle. But obviously this won’t do for him. Unsatisfied with your lack of reaction, or name giving, he twists your wrist tight again, causing you to open your mouth in a silent scream.

“Tell me baby, tell me your name.” He presses the arm around your back tightly as he guides you backwards. Your body collides into the cool tile of the bathroom wall, and now you’re really fucked.

You give in. You offer your name on a silver plate to him, the last bit of yourself you haven’t given away was now his.

“Ah,” he takes it in and repeats your name over and over again, tasting it on his tongue and savoring it like a candy sweet.

You swallow thickly, taking in each breath slowly from the double sided pressure. It’s all getting too much. The anger you felt earlier comes bubbling up again. His annoyance, his obnoxiousness, his presence - it’s all too overwhelming. His reactions to things, the way he bullies the other players, his corruption and carelessness…

”Fuck off.” You spit.

Thanos whistles then smiles wide. You fucked up. You fucked up in a way that unleashed the depths of his insanity. Bringing his face unbearably close to yours he gives an airy laugh.

”God, you’re always such a prissy bitch,” he sighs, savoring the icy daggered look you give him, “I fucking love that.”

”And you’re a fucking freak.”

“You know I’ve been waiting forever to be alone with you. Show you how I really feel.” He responds, not even acknowledging what you said to him.

Thanos goes again to press his leg between your thighs, he pushes his knee up to your core. Now you’re stuck between the wall, his body and straddling his leg with absolutely no space to move. Your face twinges in the slightest of pleasure, but you quickly collect yourself.

He definitely notices.

”You’re like a pretty painting, like in one of those fancy museums.” He slurs, keeping his eye on you. “Could look at you all day…” he spaces off.

“Thanos,” you wiggle in his grip, unable to breathe.

“Baby if you keep moving like that…” You already feel it. Not just feeling it, but you see it. Down between your bodies, his bulge protrudes upright, reaching to his waistband. Little wet spots of precum had already formed through the fabric of his jumpsuit god-knows when.

You want to whine, but you opt to squeeze your eyes shut and extend your neck up to face the ceiling. The white light illuminates through your eyelids, reminding you where you are.

Thanos takes this moment of your exposed neck to devour it. He’s sloppy, but coordinated. His wet tongue drags up to your jawline, leaving hot saliva that cools over. He groans at the taste. He’s not so gentle with his teeth when he drags them over your flesh, nibbling and scraping the tender spot under your chin.

Mindlessly, Thanos humps into you. His thick bulge grinds over your sweet spot in the perfect way… forcing a soft moan past your lips. With each hump, you feel his sweatpants push and push down, exposing the head of his cock.

Thanos loosens his hold on you, bringing one hand to the bottom of your sweater to lift it up, exposing your belly.

You gasp, immediately feeling the wetness of his precum stringing from his cock to your stomach with every thrust. Your eyes shot open, almost going blind from the lights above you. Tufts of his hair block your vision, and the scratching of his earring begins to irritate your cheek.

“I’m sorry babygirl, I was just mad earlier. I know you’d never flirt with Min-su…”

Hump, hump, hump.

“Ah - but if you ever think about giving your time to anyone else, you’re fucking dead.”

His voice rasps lowly in your ear and his precum starts to get messier by the second. Looking down, you see his cockhead red and angry. He’s thick and long. Veins dance along his shaft beautifully, and his sweet smell wafts to your nose.

“Needed you so bad all those days ago. Can’t believe I finally have you. You’ve been thinking of this too, yeah?”

He doesn’t give time to answer, not like you would have. Your emotions were a mix between anger, shock and… pleasure. It was a confusing mix, it was intense and steamy. Your core burned for him but your heart raged. In a way, you were flattered, but that feeling was none compared to the others.

In a swift motion, Thanos pulls away his knee, much to your internal dismay, to pull down your pants to your ankles. He gives himself just a second to free himself, only to the base of his balls. Standing upright at attention, you see fully how thick he is. He was a tall man, but you didn’t think his size would correlate…

From base to tip, he was the same circumference. The tip of his cock a dark blushed pink, almost red, while his balls were plump with clean cut hair. He must have trimmed the day he was kidnapped for the games.

“Come here baby girl,” he whispers before picking you up with ease and pressing you against the cold tile once again. He hooks his arms under your legs, pressing your legs open to a standing mating press. Your body contests with the stretch, but you’re too weak to adjust yourself.

Using the leverage the wall gave, he positions himself comfortably, cock lining up to your opening. His head prodded your entrance, and you feel all too hot.

Giving him an icy glare, all he gives back is an expression of sickly love.

“Don’t worry baby, you’ll realize one day how much you love me back. But for now, I gotta show everyone who you belong to.”

Opening your mouth to respond, Thanos was quick to press his bulbous cockhead past your opening. Your mouth slacks open in pleasure, while your core burns at the sensation. You would hate to admit it, but you were already pooling from the pressure of his knee earlier.

But of course he took notice.

“Oh fuck, I feel you. See, I knew you’ve been wanting this too.”

Thanos pushed and pushed through your walls, deeper and deeper.

”Sorry baby, I couldn’t wait. I’ll touch you next time, yeah?”

Your walls twitch at the intrusion, but your slick allows him to press in with ease. Finally hitting the end, you gasp for air. His cock must be pressing against your cervix, the pressure is too much, you internally beg for him to move. His balls softly push against the curve of your ass before he moves his hips back, letting his cock drag along your walls.

“Oh my god,” you barely whisper. It was like a dream. A fucked up, but also marvelous dream.

Before he does anything else, Thanos latches on to the base of your neck like a leach, sucking your skin roughly like he’s trying to take every last molecule of your blood.

Humping into you only by inches, slowly creating your pussy into the shape of him, he sucks and sucks deeply at your neck. Closing your eyes, tears of pleasure being to pool at the feeling.

“Ouch, Thanos, please,” You writhe in his hold, but he doesn’t let up until he wants to. Popping his lips off of you, his breath is ragged. Dark eyes meet yours, intense and hypnotizing.

“You’re fucking mine. I’ll kill anyone that even looks at you.”

And with that, he plunges his cock deep inside you again, all the way to press himself against your cervix.

He starts a brutal pace, fucking you deep and raw. The intensity within his eyes swim with a sickly adoration before he asks-

“Kiss me. Fuck, kiss me.”

You whine, pressing your lips into his. His kiss was rough, full of teeth and need. Your head bumps against the tile and without a second thought, Thanos wraps one of your legs around him to keep you in place before placing his hand behind your head to cradle your skull.

His tongue forces his way into yours, and he groans at your taste, your warmth. His breath is ragged and fast, fucking you roughly into oblivion. His pelvis rubs your clit with every motion and you grind back down every time he meets you deep.

Pulling away, he presses his sweaty forehead to yours before moving his other hand to the fat of your ass. His dull fingernails dig into your flesh with an iron grip, moving you to his rhythm.

“Not going to last long, fuck baby-“ He groans before sticking his tongue out to lick and suck at your bottom lip. It must be an oral fixation for him when he’s like this.

Your name falls from his mouth like a mantra, over and over again like before. He whispers sweet nothings of how much he loves you, how he’s so happy to have met you and -

“You better fucking vote to stay in the games next round.”

It was a threat. But the pleasure you felt within your core washed it all away within milliseconds. You feel the slick from your cunt coat his balls and your belly starts to tighten. The string of your euphoria was under so much pressure and it was ready to snap.

Thanos’s thrusts became sloppy and even harder than before. The sound of skin slapping was all you could hear, that and the moaning that fell effortlessly past his lips.

1 pump, 2 pump, 3… your body was a ragdoll in his grip, sending you over the edge in nonverbal pleasure. You silently cry out, letting your orgasm wash over you. Your walls contracted and shuddered around him, causing him to lose all bearings.

“Fucking love you…” was all he said before filling your pussy with hot ropes of cum. It was too much, and you felt the balloon pop deep inside you. Warm, sticky liquid coats your walls and begins to seep out with every tired thrust he gives.

You both stayed there for a few moments, before Thanos kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose and finally your lips. You’re too tired to respond. Him pulling out of you is equivalent to a wall opening a dam.

But he was oddly gentle, like those little moments he’d give you when he wasn’t high.

He must have come down.

Because he was gentle, setting you down to the floor, and gentle when he took your hand to hold you upright. Your legs threatened to give out any second, and with everything that had happened today, you were absolutely spent.

He didn’t clean you up though. Instead, the purple haired man caressed your face softly while his other hand shoved his cum back up inside your cunt.

“Tired?” He nodded to you, and all you could do was nod back. “Let’s go to bed, sweet girl. Tomorrow we got more money to earn.”

He took the time to pull up your pants and tuck himself back inside his before slinging an arm around you.

You realize the position you’re in. You’re at his mercy of the games, and beyond that.

And you just realized that you can’t say no either.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Hey p here!!! 👋🏻 Just as we talk, I want a fic about Toto Wolff x wife reader who always healthy/happy go lucky person and suddenly she's ill. You can't decide what it is. Include there drivers/anyone in the sports reaction. Like they're trying to help her, watching out for her. She's their friend/mother figure, of course they're worried. But being her, she just deals with humour even though she's sick. And can you include Jack? That boy has my heart. Even though this must be heartbreaking for him at such a young age, I think it's time for some angst, gut wrenching story that traumatize us all😃 And lastly how everyone cope with it. Add anything you want to. Thanks!!! :))) Appreciate it❤️❤️

With prompts:

1) "After all this time?” “Yes. I still do"

2) "My sweet and brave little munchkin."

3) "Tick tock, the clock is ticking"

4) "I thought we had more time"

Slipping through my fingers

there are moments in life that define everything, moments that still your world to a complete standstill people often assume that these moments are of joy or happiness. unfortunately for toto his moments caught a rotten streak and his world was never going to be the same ever again.

the day toto met her was a day full of surprises for both of them.

y/n had just recently made the decision to switch up her major from nursing towards mass media and journalism. it was a switch that raised a lot of eyebrows and concern from her family yet they supported her nonetheless, everyone knew how talented she was and knew she’d get a job eventually. What they didn’t know was along with the job she’d catch the attention of a rather tall man.

toto was having a rather eventful day, both of his star drivers had crashed into each other on lap one giving his arch nemesis horner his day in the sun with his prodigy max verstappen winning the race only to rub salt in his raw open wounds. he should have signed him instead of nico toto thought as he stomped through the media pen only to be bombared with around a hundred reporters eagerly waiting to see if the team principal was going to have another one of his infamous anger blowouts. alas to them a young female reporters questions had caught the interest of Toto.

Her question was clear cut no glazing no unnecessary flattery to grab his attention, all she’d ask him was if he’s going to fire someone on the pit wall for the strategies today. it was a bold question not one that reportes like to use since it ends up in court cases but she really didn’t care. It was her first few races and she wanted to make a name for herself and boy did she.

Toto’s response was curt and dismissive but she didn’t budge one bit, she was persistent and that caught Toto’s attention.

ladies and gentlemen this was the first moment in Toto’s life that had stopped the world for him.

the moment he looked into her eyes he felt everything was irrelevant. He didn’t care that both silver arrows were a pile of silver dust all that was captivating to him was the brown tinge in her hazel eyes. toto wanted to stare into them forever, and perhaps god was smiling straight down on them and decided to seal both their fates together.

and so it started.

their infamous courtship.

Now for a team principal speaking to people was almost second nature but when it came to her toto was a blubbering mess always leaving the conversation wanting to speak more, it was rather funny towards the other team principals. he was acting like a teenager with his first crush.

things weren’t all that easy for her too, each interaction with toto outside of business had her craving him more and more, she chuckled at his faint attempts to woo her and get her lunches. she too had a crush on him and it was only getting stronger.

the turning point in their relationship was the after party at the Abu Dhabi Grabd Prix, the long season was finally over and the celebrations had started. Toto had eagerly invited her and was hoping praying dying to see her come, unfortunately he wasn’t the only one who was waiting to see her, amongst his infatuation toto was as blind to how interested zak brown had also become towards her. he wasn’t often caught staring at her in places no man’s eyes had entitlement to. things were starting to get creepy but none of our two lovebirds had figured that out.

the party was in full swing when she had decided to show up, wrapping up her tasks with sky sports made her rather late but the look in Toto’s eyes when he had saw her was everything she had hoped and wanted. The man looked starstruck it was insane how whipped he was for her and they weren’t even together.

a couple of drinks and close dances later when she had excused herself to go to the ladies room was when calamity hit.

zak had his dirty gazes set on her ever since she had shown up, he knew toto wasn’t on guard whenever she was there and knew it was his time to try and get handsy with her.

right after walking out of the ladies room she was dragged into a corner and that’s when she felt small fat and stubby fingers trying to touch her. it felt humiliating disgusting and frankly made her want to bleach her skin. right before zak could cover her mouth and start with his actual plan she screamed as hard as she could hoping to get anyone’s attention oh how she regretted not taking up Toto’s offer to walk her to the restroom.

toto had wondered where she had ended up disappearing, was he being too much did she need a break from him?? he was overthinking when he heard her cries for help and in a second all the alcohol in his system had vanished. He leaped towards her cries and the scene startled him to his core, in a second zak was off her and his disgusting touch was replaced with the warm calm caressing of toto a man she was familiar with someone she knew.

the entire night was ruined in a split second, it wasn’t until toto had zak in a head lock that she’d regained her senses, seeing him so worked up over protecting her name and honour made her do what she did next.

the second toto was close by she kissed him, full on kissed him. it wasn’t short or messy it was full of reassurance of promise and of new beginnings.

that’s how the two souls collided.

oh and zak was given not one but multiple fractures and a hefty legal case to fight, toto didn’t play when it came to the ones who he loved.

the new couple relationship caused frenzy all over the internet and the paddock, no one really expected them to be a couple it didn’t make sense, out of everyone why did toto choose a journalist? Didn’t he know if they break up his whole life would be plastered onto the news.

Headlines like these made both of them chuckle, neither of them seeming to care, they were just happy to be with each other against all odds.

throughout the course of their relationship there were times where y/n had become sick, it often worried toto seeing how easily the common cold for her could become much serious, she always brushed his concerns away. it wasn’t until much later into their relationship when toto started noticing more and more health concerns for his now fiancé.

the proposal had taken place in Iceland she’d always loved it there especially the black sand beach and how beautifully it contrasted against the bright white snow, often times she’d dreamed of going there and toto made it a reality for them. she later joked that the beach and the snow represented each of them perfectly, Toto being the dark black beach that only softens in appearance in front of the snow. he’d got down on one knee at that exact spot uttering words of love and honesty. they had their vows at the exact same place. some things don’t change.

it was now 3 years into their marriage, toto had settled down and wasn’t all angry and violent like he used to be (ask the poor abused headsets) he was much calmer and level headed, that’s what happens when you marry the love of your life. he knew not to piss his wife off or worry her after all she was carrying his baby.

the pregnancy test was taken after she had thrown up half her body weight, toto wasn’t around he infact was in austria for the Grand Prix, she had excused herself from it with dumb excuses, Toto ever the gentleman knew not to push it and let her have some space.

In a matter of seconds their world’s axis shifted.

the pregnancy test came as a positive surprise, neither of them had discussed having children but they weren’t against the idea, when toto came back to his wife pale and heaving beside the toilet he knew what was going on, he whisked her off her feet and kissed her so strongly that you might think the man was off to war.

her pregnancy came with a price thou, a huge price for her to pay. y/n was anaemic her body didn’t have enough red blood cells and that’s why she could faint at the drop of a hat.

the couple had been shopping during the off season for the arrival of their little baby, unfortunately fans and paparazzi got a hold of their location resulting in a rather ugly swarm of cameras and people. the noise alone alerted Toto that their quiet evening had come to an end, in a rush to protect his wife and unborn child Toto’s steps where hastened and elongated, unfortunately his wife simply couldn’t keep up and fell victim to one of her fainting spells the camera and the noises alongside the amount of people did nothing to help her and so she collapsed.

the faint thud would haunt Toto forever, his whole world crumbled when he heard it, instantly he rushed towards her only to find her knocked out cold, the rush to the hospital has been the longest wait of his life.

he swore then and there that he wouldn’t ever put her or their child in such a situation.

luckily both mother and baby were okay, when they got home later that night she had fallen asleep unknown to the storm that was brewing within her husband.

Toto wasn’t a very emotionally available man, he preferred to deal with his emotions privately or not at all if possible but ever since meeting her he’s been more open towards showing love and care but the one thing he won’t show is fear.

Torger Christian Wolff was afraid.

he’d been having these vivid dreams of his wife dying and leaving him and their six year old son alone forever, it’s been haunting him ever since her fall.

[homelandersbitch]

♱ ₊˚ Keep those eyes on me. ⌒⏜꒦

‎ㅤ ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏₊ ⊹ Homelander x Employee ! Reader .ᐟ

⠀⠀ ▰ 🦇 𖦹 WARNINGS : 18+ only , children go away . May include : 18 plus setting and themes , cursing , sexual actions and descriptions , kinks such as daddy kink and God worship kinks , you've been warned .ᐟ ✹

Homelander quickly walked into the meeting room of the Vaught Towers with you scurring behind him as the doors shut behind you, locking instantly. Homelander stopped at the end of the large table as you followed after him as he began to speak in his usual tired of everyone and wanting them all to die voice .

" So, y/n. How are we going to fix those...listening problems of yours .? "

You stared at him with confusion in your eyes and face , what the hell did he mean by listening problems ? You were one of the best the company has had since ashley first started and now that she was in charge you were now homelander's main assistant , which you hated especially when he had his angry moments and would shout at half of the employees and watch them cower in fear as they wondered if he was going to let them go or kill them right there , God how many times you prayed to make sure to stay on his good side and now...here you were.

" S-sir I'm sorry but , I'm not sure I follow-"

That's not what he wanted to hear , especially not from his assistant and someone who he practically spent all his days with . He walked over to you and you quickly looked up at him as he stopped infront of you and stared into your eyes . His blue eyes staring into your eyes felt like that of his lazer eyes just melting into your skull and brain.

" Get on your knees , now . Or ill fucking lazer you to death . "

You quickly gulped but got onto your knees quickly and obediently , you didn't want to die especially not in a gruesome way such as having your boss kill you because he was having one of his bitchfits and you were the victim for the day . Once you got onto your knees homelander smiled and tilted your head up to look at him and he was gorgeous in that lighting , the way it showed off the blue in his eyes and the blonde hair and his perfect skin , he was just godlike and he knew it .

" That's a good fucking girl , look at you finally listening like a good fucking girl hm? How about we have some fun while we have our break ."

You gulped at that , you knew exactly what he meant by that . He was a very secluded person and that meant having alot of pent up sexual anger and tension and now , you were his plaything , before you could even think he quickly shoved his fingers into your mouth as he gave a sickeningly dark grin .

" That's it , just like that you fucking...dirty girl . Suck it like you need it . "

He said as you continued to suck on his fingers , which caused him to bite his lip . You could see how hard he was , he needed you badly and we wasn't leaving until he got what he wanted , which you knew you'd have to give him.

" Mmm...you ready for the real deal now sweetheart .?"

You nodded quickly and he began to undo his pants and take his already hard and leaking pre cum cock out . You stared at it for a moment and gulped at the size , he'd had to be the biggest you'd seen . You can hear him chuckling at your reaction to his cock and quickly moved your head up .

" You've never seen the dick of a god before ? "

You gawked at what he said and before you could even speak he shoved his cock into your mouth as you gagged at the size , he let out a groan as he began to thrust into your mouth and down yout throat as looked down at you and chuckled deeply .

" Mmm you better suck it like you mean it , Y/N . You better make your fucking god cum all in your stupid little mouth. That's all your good for anyway ."

You stared at him , he definitely had a bad god complex and he was making sure you knew that you were going to be the one to fill his need for it . He began to tug on your hair as we went faster and faster in your mouth as you let out a soft grunt as you sucked on him as best as you knew how and it seemed he really liked it because before you knew it you had him cumming down your throat as he let out a deep grunt

" F-fuck fuck...that was the fastest some fucking slut has made me cum."

He cleaned off his tip with your tongue before he pulled his pants back up as you sat there and took in everything that happened , your boss just used you as a fucktoy and your not mad or scared or feel used ...you feel proud that you were the one that made a god like him cum , and even he liked it .

" T-Thank you..my god...you tasted amazing ..."

" Y-Yes my god ..."

You stammered out as you slowly got off your knees which hurt you after his rough thrusting into your mouth , he looked you over as you stood back up fully . He examined you and gave a chuckle as he began to walk out of the room since your shared lunch break has ended .

" You've got some of my cum on your shirt sweetheart , but don't worry about it. You'll be needed again in 45 minutes. "

And with that he smiled and walked out of the room , leaving you staring out the window with excitement in your eyes .

꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦꒦︶︶꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦꒦︶︶꒷꒦

( Maybe a part two?....hmmm if there's ever a part two I'll link that HERE.** )

[liviawildrose]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝

keep your energy private.

seriously, keeping your energy to yourself isn’t just about privacy; it’s a form of protection. when you keep everything to yourself your plans, your dreams, your struggles you’re building a force field around your future. people can’t taint what they don’t know. your energy is sacred, and you need to protect it at all costs. i know i share a lot of my stories, goals, dreams and struggles on this blog but guys livia wildrose ain’t my real name lol. so even if i’m saying stuff here it’s not like y’all know me personally or how i look like, moreover this is a place for me to see and tract my progress as well as help everyone along the way.

it’s not just about guarding your goals from negative people, it’s also about protecting your peace from unwanted opinions and energy. you have to realize that when you let people in on your vision, you’re giving them the ability to influence your thoughts, your beliefs, and your emotions. keep your energy private so that no one can manipulate it. i’ve mentioned this in take yourself seriously cause you need to be mindful with people around you. now, if you are sharing things with people, always remember this cleanse yourself every single day. you’re not just protecting your energy from others, but also keeping yourself aligned with the higher vibrations you deserve. do your rituals, take your baths, and cleanse your space. salt, turmeric, water whatever it is you use to rid yourself of negativity make it a daily habit. you need to let go of bad energy regularly to keep your spirit clear.

why is this so important?

the world works on energy. when you’re constantly sharing your moves with others, you’re leaving yourself open to their bad vibes. not everyone wants to see you win, and some people might even secretly wish for your downfall. you can’t let that influence your life. also understand that it’s a privilege to be with you. It’s a privilege to be your friend. It’s a privilege to be in the same space as you so please if someone is acting up and is trying to make you feel bad, get rid of them as soon as possible. on top of that, just so you know, evil eye is very real. so please protect yourself from it and a lot of times. It’s these kinds of blockages that stops us from achieving our goals and dreams 

but here’s the kicker: if you’re putting bad energy out there, if you’re secretly wishing for someone else to fail, guess what happens? it reflects right back on you. if you’re praying for someone’s downfall, you’re attracting your own. seriously, what you put out into the universe always comes back, and karma doesn’t miss a beat. if you’re the person trying to take others down or wishing ill will, your life will start crumbling. it’s that simple. i know people that bad things, and they will continue to do bad things to you, but keep in mind that self love is the highest form of protection so they won’t be able to get to you. if you have immense amount of self-love, as well as if you practice, protection, and grounding on daily basis. so you don’t have to go out there and wish that everything bad happens to them. use that energy to build a better life for yourself. stop being a hater, it’s not cute. being an hater will only bring bad energy in your life.

be good to people.

don’t talk bad about others, don’t even think bad about them. if you genuinely wish good things for people, your life will align with those positive energies repeat after me “other people’s success is a proof from the universe/ god that you can have that too” negativity can’t touch you when your heart is clean and pure. when you root for others, you create a cycle of good energy that bounces right back at you.

but if you’re the person who’s always gossiping, throwing shade, or wishing for someone to fall? watch how your life starts falling apart. trust me. it’s not worth it. staying pure, keeping your heart and mind clear of negativity it’s not just for your own good, it’s for your future. like seriously stop, wishing bad for other people. Because guess what karma is very real. So if you wish someone else have a bad day. girl, just be prepared to have a bad day yourself.



protection is key.

to protect yourself from all the bad energy, start wearing crystals or keep them around you (black obsidian, tourmaline etc) crystals have been used for centuries to guard against negative vibrations. find the ones that resonate with you and make them a part of your daily routine. cleanse them regularly, too.

and when you’re taking your bath, make it a ritual. add salt, turmeric, or any cleansing ingredient that feels right to you. when you’re washing away the physical dirt, you’re also washing away the negative energy you might have picked up throughout the day. make it a habit. let the water purify you.

use sage, santo polo etc to keep negative energy away from you even egg cleanse

keep your thoughts pure.

don’t just cleanse your space cleanse your mind. every thought matters. every feeling you put out into the world matters. protect your inner world because the more you focus on positivity and good vibes, the more it will reflect in your external world. keep this in mind that the more positive and nice you are the better. the more you help people god/ universe will help you, the more you. don’t let other people’s negativity make you a bad person stay pure and nice.

your energy, your peace, and your success they all start within. keep your mind clear of judgment, jealousy, and resentment. when you focus on the good, the universe will deliver it right back to you. but if you focus on the bad, on wishing others ill, you’re opening the door for the universe to serve that right back to you. it’s law.

conclusion.

so, cleanse daily. protect your energy. keep your thoughts pure, and keep your dreams to yourself. the world doesn’t need to know your every move. like there is a reason why i never told you guys, what is my ultimate goal, but i will let you know when i finally achieve it. as simple as that, don’t tell your goals, your actions, etc. unless and until it’s done once you’re done only then tell people about it because then they can’t take it away from you. so yeah, keep everything to yourself. but all your opps and friends will know your success when you manifest it with all the positive energy you’ve been building up.

there is nothing wrong in it. not telling your goals and your dreams and your plans etc. this being said you’re only saving yourself from extra criticism and extra pressure that comes with people knowing where you’re heading. because now they’ll keep asking you question and if you fail at a certain step, they will even laugh at you, so you’re just saving yourself from all those extra pressure. plus, there is nothing more sexy than being a mysterious person. who has a lot of layers and nobody knows what’s coming next? be mysterious, but do it properly. some people don’t know how to be mysterious and that just make them look dumb in my eyes. seriously, so if you’re trying to be mysterious, do it properly you know? 

you got this. now go, keep your energy high, your space clear, and your mind focused. your future’s too bright to let anyone dim it.

[beloved-belittled]

Gods/Titans x Sick! Reader

Characters: Shinnok, Raiden, Fujin, Liu Kang, Cetrion, Kronika 

A/N: Did not have the brainpower to work on my other stories so I drafted up this instead. Influenza is a bitch.

TW: Implied yandere, mentions of drugging, kidnapping, death, SFW

18+ to interact

Shinnok 

Can probably detect that you're getting sick before your symptoms show. You know how some people can smell sickness? It's like that with Shinnok. Thankfully, you don't have the waft of death he's so accustomed to being around. He's not worried about you dying from this. Still, he'd rather not his plaything be ill.

He's a bit confused on how you got sick in the first place though. He doesn't exactly take you outside once he's kidnapped you, and it's not like he's affected by any mortal disease so ???. It's especially puzzling if this happens while you're trapped in the amulet. At least in the cell you came into contact with demons who may have carried something. 

Regardless, at this point Shinnok realizes his arsenal of healing magic is rather… Lacking. He's much more adept at rending flesh than mending it. But he's a skilled sorcerer so it takes him little time to learn a healing spell. A few test subjects later and he feels confident at curing your cold.

All this takes less than 24 hours for Shinnok to achieve. You're probably bed ridden at this point with all the chills/fever, coughing, and weakness. Speaking of beds, I think this is one of the few times he'll have you sleep in a bed rather than your cell. He wants you to recover after all. The only way you’re dying is by his hands and not some petty mortal disease. 

His magic works better than any herbal healing or medicine tbh. One moment you're on death's door and the next you've completely recovered. No sign of illness anywhere in your body. Even though being Shinnok's darling is not desirable, it does come with a few benefits like this.

Raiden 

Raiden doesn't know you're sick until the symptoms show. Might not discover your illness until 2-3 days of you being under the weather due to his busy schedule. He likely hears about your condition from a monk he's trusted to watch over you. Man immediately teleports to the Sky Temple to see how you're doing. He finds you laying in the bed barely able to move. Wearily, you greet him only to immediately fall into a coughing fit.

Unfortunately, he can't fry the disease out of you with his electricity. So, herbal healing it is! You drink more tea this week than you have your entire life. Seriously, you have to beg Raiden to stop because your stomach is about to burst. He does, only to immediately pursue some aromatherapy. Your room smells strongly of flowers and eucalyptus afterwards.

Would frequently check on you nearly every hour. If there's an extremely urgent matter that calls for his attention he'll leave his most trusted colleagues to look after you. Right after he's done with business he'll ask the person if your status has improved. 

He's super mindful of making sure you don't get bed sores or any other complications from laying around all day. At the same time, he only wants you getting up to bathe or use the restroom. You're essentially stuck in one place until he can 100% guarantee you've recovered. 

If your condition worsens he would hire a doctor to come see you. If the doctor suggests you go to a hospital, Raiden will take you there. I imagine the admission process would be a bit awkward though. He has no idea how all this works so you're left doing most of the speaking. You get admitted in though, and no his constant visiting doesn't stop even now. The hospital staff would likely have to kick him out.

Overall, he's praying that you'll make it through this.

Fujin

Well, Fujin actually lives among mortals so he has more knowledge on how to take care of you. Like Raiden, whenever he's on important business he hires someone to watch over you. I could see him having a phone unlike his brother. Definitely more hip with the times. Anyways, because of this he probably gets a worried text from your caretaker that you've fallen ill.

He arrives back home ASAP. Seeing you in this condition pulls at his heartstring the most. Out of everyone he's the most worried, as he's had his most favorite mortals pass away from illness. He wastes no time getting into Dr. Fujin mode.

He has you on a liquid diet until you heal. Tea, soup, broth -that's all you're eating for the next week. He’ll get whatever you need medicine wise. Got a headache or cramps? He'll get some painkillers pronto. Are you coughing with an irritated throat? Have some cough syrup/drops. He's very attentive in giving you a balance of home remedies and prescribed drugs.

It pains him every time you cough or groan in pain. He wants nothing more than to cure you right now. He hates seeing you suffer from illness. You can expect him to keep you company for as long as necessary. He'll also bring whatever entertainment you want, long as it isn't too expensive. 

Again, if your conditions worsen he'll take you to a hospital. It's a smoother process getting in with him though. He also understands the concept of visiting hours, but best believe he's taking full advantage of them. He'll only leave your side if he has to and will be back the next morning.

Liu Kang 

He doesn't have an ability to detect disease but he does have impeccable intuition. Something just changes about you before you fall ill. He's not even sure how he predicted it, but sure enough you're bedridden a few days after his spidey senses tingle.

He tries not to be too worried about your cold. He hasn't crafted your destiny to be one where you die from disease. But, there are some externalities even he can't control being Keeper of Time. So, it's off to the Wu Shi's medbay with you!

The Fire God checks up on you regularly, but not as often as Raiden or Fujin. It's not that he cares less, but rather he understands boundaries more. You don't need him breathing down your neck while you're recovering or sleeping. He makes an effort to see you every day though, giving you updates of what's going on at the academy. 

If you're suffering from chills though at least you're in luck! He'll keep the room more than warm enough with his fire powers. It's like having a heated blanket around whenever he's in the medbay. At the same time, if you have a fever you may find his presence to be a little too warm. 

I believe if you don't get better he'd take you to a sorcerer skilled in healing. Luckily, there's a whole multiverse at his disposal so it's extremely easy for him to find someone to cure you. You won't die under his care. You're far too precious for him to lose.

Cetrion

Can detect your sickness way before symptoms show. Honestly, you probably wouldn't even realize you're sick before her magic heals you. With her around you don't have to worry about such mortal afflictions. 

If there was an illness that her powers couldn't heal… Well tbh you're probably going to die. But, I think it would leave her spiraling into a pit of worry beforehand. How did you get this disease? What can she do to help you? I think she'd try a lot of home remedies like the other characters here but doesn't have as much faith for it working. After all, no mortal medicine can surpass her powers as an Elder God.

If you pass away from this she'll likely just keep your soul in Heaven with her. If she's Keeper of Time she may just restart the Timeline. Although, I can't imagine it'd be too hard for her to just put your soul in a surrogate or artificial body. Regardless, she's not going to let an illness take you away from her. The consequences be damned.

Also, in a weird way I could see Cetrion getting you sick on purpose. Drugging whatever you eat/drink with just enough poison to make you lethargic and sleepy. Or manipulating the timeline so you're purposefully born with a weak body. It feeds her ego to take over a caregiver role for you. Having you completely dependent on her love and attention gives her a much needed dopamine boost. It's very unfortunate for you.

Overall… Probably the best person to have if you get sick. As long as she decides to heal you immediately of course.

Kronika

Is even more confused than her son about how you got sick. After all, she had you trapped in a pocket outside of time. Even if you caught a pathogen, it wouldn't be able to progress due to time being paused there. And not only that, you've been in there for far longer than the incubation time of any disease. Briefly, she wonders if your safety inside the bubble has been compromised. She dismisses that idea though. No… No one has the ability to tread that space without her permission. Not in her New Era.

Fortunately, she can just reverse the “age” of your body to before you got infected. She's reversed time on your body several times at this point, so she's not the least bit worried about doing so. A wave of her hands later and you're cured. And feeling a bit younger too.

Not much else to really say here. I doubt she would intentionally get you sick. Also with her being a Titan and succeeding against Liu Kang/Raiden in this timeline, the arc of history really does bend to her will. So basically -you're not getting sick on her watch.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

I really like the way you write. Keep up the good work!

After reading some of your works, I also wanted to ask you to write something, if, of course, you like this idea and you want to write it. What about this: The gardener-reader and Donna (who was at the Lords meeting) decided to relax and drink some alcohol after a hard day's work. Maybe they'll be watching a movie? I don't know. Then they got drunk, Donna became more relaxed and the Reader blabbed that she was in love with her. Can you make it romantic, pleeeeease?

I want to thank you again for writing these works for us, you are the best!!!! (English is not my native language, so don't worry about mistakes. Everything comes with experience. I believe in you!)

And I wanted to ask a question. Do you prefer to write a long stories (>8000 words) or short ones (≈5000-6000 words)?

Yesss!! Thank you for your words, and for your request! To answer your question: it depends on the plot or on my inspiration ;) I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :)))

Blurred Confessions

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Gardener! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff,

Word count: 6,709

Summary: You want to tell her your feelings, but you can't

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!!

It was getting harder and harder for you to look around. Night in that lost village often came without warning, or rather, it was you who didn't pay attention to the drop in temperature and the fact that you no longer saw the colors of the plants in the same way.

Being a gardener in a snow-covered place was a complicated task, you knew that. Standing out among the rest of the villagers thanks to a talent for plants was a risky move. No one in that place cared about their garden, or that their houses lacked the cheerful color of flowers.

Praying to the Black Gods, praising Mother Miranda, those were the only concerns of people like you. But you weren't like the others. You always saw the color in the snow, the joy in the sadness, the light in the darkness.

Naturally, taking care of plants wasn't your destiny. Surely if you hadn't been so stubborn, you would have ended up like the rest of your friends: being maids of the castle, or wives of an idiot man. Two paths that seemed far away to you, that you never wanted to follow. But... Who could be interested in someone with your talents?

The answer was not long in coming.

As in any time or context in history, the luxury of the joy of flowers and plants was only attainable for a few people who could afford not to spend all day praying or working.

In the Middle Ages, it could be the king of the place, in that village, they were the Lords. Yes, they worked hard for the inhabitants of the village, they protected them from the aberrations they created. But they were still that, authorities, nobles whom you served.

No one warned you that your skills would catch the eye of one of them. Just when you thought that maybe you should accept your fate, admit the place where you were born, she appeared.

Donna Beneviento, the youngest of the Lords, the most feared, the most dangerous, asked about you at one of the masses about your talent with plants. You knew the danger you were in, you knew the ill fortune that befell anyone who dared to enter her territory. You knew it, but you didn't care.

And so, you were no longer a candidate for the castle maids, or a possible unhappy wife. You were the new gardener of House Beneviento.

You didn't want to think about how your ancestor ended up, that poor man who gave his life to that family, and who was rewarded with a horrible death, or so you had heard.

Thinking or remembering the things the villagers said would have been a prudent act, but you didn't. They said she was sick, disturbed, a psychopath, a murderer, a hermit. You could have been more careful, you could have paid attention to all those red flags that danced around you when you agreed to work for her.

You didn't, and you didn't regret it.

Sick? Maybe. Dangerous? Sure, but what they never warned you about, what you never knew, was that you could fall in love with her.

Yes, you were always fanciful, infatuated, romantic, but you never believed in love at first sight, at least not until you saw her face stripped of its black veil. According to the lady, it was a test, a test that you would be faithful to her, that you wouldn't run away, that she wouldn't be forced to kill you.

At first silence accompanied you as you took care of that garden, it seemed as if you were taking care of an abandoned place. Then she appeared from time to time, studying your work, exchanging brief phrases of approval, or simply gratitude.

Little by little those small visits increased, the words were no longer few, the conversations became frequent.

Donna was a strange woman, certainly disturbed, but… Maybe all those horrible things were simply an exaggeration. She was kind to you, always speaking to you in that soft melodic tone, curious about the way you treated plants.

Over time you stopped trembling in her presence, you began to long for her, to count the hours that passed before the lady left her house. Fantasies, yes; nonsense, too, but… Who could live without love in a place like that?

Like flowers, those kinds of feelings were a luxury. Letting your heart beat fast in her presence was a liberation, a reminder that your life was much better, that you could allow yourself to love even if she never felt the same, or so you thought.

“Where could she have gone?” you asked as you ran a hand over your forehead, looking at the path that led to the elevator.

One of your favorite pleasures was saying goodbye, it was standing in front of her, bowing your head. You didn't want to be just another employee, deep down you knew you weren't and you never would be.

Someday you would have to admit it, recognize that your feelings would never be reciprocated. Donna was a woman who enjoyed solitude. She would never want a stupid, talkative gardener by her side. But, at least, you wanted her to have something resembling a friend.

A shadowy figure approached slowly, a dark shadow, a lady in black, veiled, holding that sinister puppet. At last, Lady Beneviento had returned and with her, another opportunity for her to speak to you with that sweet voice, to make her aware of your presence.

“Oh, Donna, how was the meeting?” you asked as you stood up, with a bright smile.

The lady in black turned her head to look at you, but walked past, emitting something like a grunt.

It was always a whim of luck, a whim of her mind. One day she might stop to talk to you for a while, even laugh in that shy way you adored, another day she might remain silent, ignoring you. Other times, you couldn't even sense her presence.

It seemed that luck was not on your side that afternoon. The lady slowly climbed the steps but, upon reaching the door, she sighed, turning around again.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked in a hoarse voice, almost pitiful, but with that softness that always accompanied her, that seemed impossible for her. “Your shift is over.”

“Oh, yes, well,” you said, shaking your head, pointing to a bush with your tool. “The flowers were unruly today and…”

“The flowers were unruly,” the lady repeated, in a dark tone. You hated that veil, the veil that hid her expressions, her smiles.

“Yes,” you nodded, with your hands on your hips. “Besides, the weather is very nice today. It's nice to be outdoors and…”

The sound of the wind camouflaged your voice, making you blush. Donna sighed again, looking at the sky, that was getting darker.

“How curious, I'd say a blizzard is coming,” she commented in an almost imperceptible voice, leaving her doll on the ground. “I'm afraid your day of work has been for nothing, (Y/N).”

You shrugged, your usual playful attitude, sighing.

“How was the meeting?” you asked again, moving a little closer to her, just a little. You were never exactly a shy girl, but you tried not to forget who you were talking to. Caution was not a sin.

Donna sighed again, looking away and reaching out her hand to the door.

“Horrible,” she muttered, close enough for you to hear. “Go home, you’ll get caught in the storm.”

“Yeah, well, I have to finish this and…” you said, scratching the back of your neck, giving up. The lady in black didn’t seem in a good mood, unfortunately. A cold prick landed on your nose, a snowflake confirming her prediction.

After that came another one, and then many more, turning into a horrible blizzard that cut your face like blades.

 “Well, I think, I think…” you murmured, taking shelter on the porch. “Wow, it’s a blizzard”

“Mm,” she murmured, opening the door of the mansion, ignoring you again. You sighed, relaxing your shoulders at that terse answer. You should stop dreaming.

Nodding in defeat, you covered yourself with your hood, lowering your head and slowly going down the stairs.

“What are you doing?” the lady asked suddenly, making you turn around in curiosity.

“I'm going home,” you said, fighting against that terrible wind.

“Stop fooling around and come in,” she told you, pointing to the interior of the mansion. “To find a gardener like you is not easy.”

“Oh, I…” you hesitated, looking at the blurred path, and then at the the door. An interesting situation, indeed, would you dare to lose that opportunity?

“If you want to freeze to death, it's not my problem,” Donna whispered, crossing her arms impatiently.

“Okay, okay,” you said amused, climbing the stairs again and entering the dark mansion, closing the door behind you with an amused look. “Thank you.”

“Mm,” the lady murmured again, moving away from you and shaking the snow off her dress while she got rid of her black veil, something that had not been usual for a long time, since she hired you.

“Don't steal anything, stupid, stupid,” Angie told you off, always interrupting those quiet moments. You were already used to it.

“I'm not going to steal anything,” you said amused, shaking your head and rubbing your body with your arms.

“You're cold,” the lady commented, seeming to ignore you, looking at you with that bright eye that haunted you in your dreams.

“A little,” you said, shivering, paralyzing when she approached slowly placing a hand on your cheek.

“Mm, would you like some tea?” she murmured, removing her hand from your slightly hotter, flushed cheek. You shook your head, amused.

“I never liked tea,” you whispered, with a feigned grimace of disgust. The lady in black arched her eyebrow, looking at you with curiosity and something resembling a smile. “My father said that there was nothing like vodka to take the cold from your bones.”

Donna looked at you again, laughing softly with a shy sigh.

“Vodka then,” she said, tilting her head in an amused manner, indicating for you to follow her.

You walked with her into the living room, sitting in a small cozy corner, on the same sofa where she had questioned you when you arrived, in the midst of an almost unbearable tension.

“Wait here,” she ordered you, walking away from you with an elegant step, like a dark breeze whose existence you could not be sure of.

Some villagers said that Donna was just a ghost, a legend, that there was nothing under that black dress. You knew they were wrong. You brought your hand to your cheek, the one where her hand had rested moments before, where the softness of her hands had confirmed to you that she was real, that this beautiful woman existed.

“Here you go,” her soft voice brought you out of your thoughts again, leaving a glass on the table, next to a bottle of alcohol.

“Thank you, Donna,” you said kindly, smiling and pouring the hot liquid, drinking it immediately, making an unpleasant face.

“I thought you liked it,” Donna commented, amused, sitting in front of you, looking at the window, whipped by the storm.

“Yes, well... I said it made you warm, you should try it.”

You offered your glass to the lady, who took it with a dark, distrustful look. Sighing, she brought the liquid to her lips, rejecting it immediately, returning the glass to you among unpleasant coughs.

“Ugh, I'd rather freeze to death,” she commented amused, calmer, apparently.

The silence began to become heavy in the mansion. Your throat burned from the vodka, but shyness was what prevented you from speaking. You weren't, you weren't shy, but with her... With Donna everything was different.

“Well...” you sighed, dancing with your gaze around you, trying not to notice her serious face, one that seemed to want you to leave, and at the same time that enjoyed your presence. “What happened at the meeting? Why has it been so horrible?”

Donna looked away slightly, frowning and shaking her head. A risky question. You should never get involved in the affairs of the Lords.

“I, I don't want to get involved in your affairs... For, forget I asked you,” you said nervously, seeing how the brunette's attitude tensed again. You didn't want to endure another crisis. It hurt you to see her out of control.

“I just...” she sighed, shaking her head, leaning her back on the chair.

You nodded, pouring yourself some alcohol.

“I, I just don't understand their attitude,” she explained, crossing her arms, slowly letting the air out of her lungs. “My sister and brother fight constantly... It's... exhausting.”

“Mm, I thought they got along,” you commented, moving your glass absentmindedly.

“They get along,” Donna corrected. “They enjoy fighting, you know? They seem to be looking forward to meeting up to shout horrible things at each other and gouge each other's eyes out.”

“Well, opposites attract,” you whispered, amused.

The lady in black laughed softly, shyly, in that way that you adored.

“I highly doubt it, (Y/N),” she said with a dark, mocking look. “Alcina is too busy with her maids and Karl is too busy with his… Well, experiments. See? That's what I mean. They seem to be constantly thinking of a thousand ways to unleash chaos.”

“You don't want chaos,” you murmured in a softer, more studious tone. She shook her head, looking away.

“I just want… Well, to work on my dolls without being disturbed. I don't need to know the villagers fear me… I already know that,” she explained. “Sorry, I'm just rambling…”

You, pouring some more vodka into the glass, offered it to her again. She looked over it at you, but accepted it, coughing again at the sting of that liquor.

“The second one is easier, huh?” you said amused, picking up the glass again.

“(Y/N), I…” Donna said, snapping you out of your amused tone, hardening her gaze. “Deep down, I envy them.”

“Why?”

“You, you know… They, they seem to be happy with their life, with the gifts of the Gods, but I…” she said, sighing again, tired.

“You aren’t’,” you murmured in a cautious voice, trying not to look directly at her. Donna shook her head.

“I would have preferred to be like you, a normal woman,” she commented, snatching the glass from you and drinking it in one gulp.

“I thought you didn't like vodka,” you joked at her disgusted gesture.

“I don't like it, I only have it for cooking,” she said, clearing her throat. “It's been a very intense day…”

“Oh, of course, I…  I better go home, I don't want to disturb you,” you said, getting up from the sofa.

“I'm sure your day has been hard too,” she said, getting up at the same time, playing nervously with her hands.

“Yes… Those flowers are going to kill me,” you said amused, walking slowly towards the exit.

The lady in black laughed again, with a blush on her cheeks, a blush you didn't notice.

“Che divertente sei…” she whispered in a soft voice. You looked at her confused.

“Um…”

“You're funny, stupid,” Angie said when you made eye contact with her. You opened your mouth and nodded, confused again.

“Funny or stupid?” you asked the puppet, who shrugged, passing by you in a disinterested manner.

“The, the storm looks dangerous,” Donna commented, approaching the door next to you.

“Bah, don't worry,” you said, grabbing the knob with your hand. “It's nothing that... Oh!” you exclaimed, when you opened the door and a cold draft entered the mansion, forcing you to close it again. “Okay.”

“You can stay a little longer if you want, (Y/N),” Donna said, laughing at your snow-stained clothes. “I'll prepare some dinner.”

“Oh, no, no, you don't have to, Donna,” you said nervously when the lady turned around.

“I want to,” she said, with a serious tone, with a frown. You knew that you shouldn't contradict her, or so they had told you. Dinner with her… It didn’t sound that bad.

“Mm…” you murmured, already with a plate of steaming food on the table, studying a bottle of wine. “Bru… Brunello… De, Di… Montal… Moltanci…” you read the label confusedly, looking for her approval. She responded with another of her amused smiles.

“Brunello di Montalcino,” she repeated correctly, taking a sip from the glass, fixing her gaze on you.

“Oh, right,” you said amused, pouring some and putting the bottle back on the table. “It sounds sophisticated.”

“It doesn’t,” she commented, sighing sadly, something that caught your attention. “It's my sister's wine, Regina Rose.”

“Mm?” you asked curiously, studying the bottle again. “Really?”

“The Duke has a habit of changing the labels to sell it to me as Italian wine. He must think I'm stupid,” the lady said, shaking her head.

“The Duke scamming people? No, it can't be true,” you joked, taking a sip, confirming the truth of her words. “He's more stupid than I thought, how dare he to deceive a Lord?”

“He only does it because I let myself be deceived, (Y/N,)” she whispered, with that same sad tone. “I know it, and he knows that I know it. He's trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate that.”

“Oh...” you murmured, looking away at your almost finished dinner.

 “I'm sick of it, you know?” she said, pounding the table with her fist angrily, causing you to hold that fake bottle so it wouldn't fall. “I’m sick of everyone feeling sorry for me.”

“Um... Um...” you stammered nervously, watching as her glass slid down her throat with a furious gasp, gesturing for you to refill it. Her erratic attitude was always a mystery to you, one you were willing to solve.

“Poor silly Donna, poor mentally underdeveloped Donna, let's make her feel better so she can forget about her fucking shitty life, huh?” she said again, looking at you with a fiery eye, gulping down another glass of wine and filling yours again.

“Donna, the silly, the silly...” Angie said, tugging at her dress to get her attention. “You're going to scare the silly.”

You opened your eyes in surprise, not wanting to make contact with hers, drinking that glass of wine again, confused and somewhat afraid.

“Cazzo…” she cursed with a growl, crossing her arms and looking at you intensely, sighing. “I'm sorry, (Y/N), I didn't mean to scare you.”

“Calm, calm down,” you said with a fake smile, shaking your head. “I feel you.”

“What? What do you know about how I feel?” Donna protested with a direct question, with an accusatory tone. You had to fix it.

“Well, I don't know but… Hey, I know what it's like to feel out of place,” you said nervously, controlling the shaking of your legs. “I was the only one of my friends who didn't think about boys and… Well, who saw the beauty of plants. I know it's not the same but… Well, it's something similar.”

“You're trying to be empathetic,” she whispered, looking away, swirling her half-empty glass.

“No, I'm just telling the truth,” you replied, finishing your glass. “I never had any real friends, you know, I wasn't alone, but…”

“Mm,” she murmured, disinterested, looking at you out of the corner of her eye, relaxing her expression. “At least with you here I'm not… I'm not alone anymore.”

It was a murmur, a whisper somewhat distorted by the wine. Your cheeks burned with the heat of the alcohol and with her presence. It would be better to go home.

“Thank you for the dinner, everything was delicious, Donna,” you said kindly, with a melancholic smile, getting up from the table.

“I’ve scared you,” the lady said, shaking her head, with an ironic smile.

“No, it's just that… It's late and…” you murmured confused and nervous, looking out the window, a window still battered by the blizzard.

“Show me that you're telling the truth,” she whispered in a dark tone, with one eye shining from the copious intake of fake wine. “Stay with me a little longer.”

“Oh, well…” you said with a shy smile, also affected by the alcohol. “Okay,” you said without difficulty, shrugging your shoulders.

Donna smiled genuinely, with that slight blush more present on her cheeks.

“Do you like movies, (Y/N)?” she asked in a different tone, as if your answer had relieved her. You nodded profusely, feeling a slight disinhibition in your body. “Do you want to watch a movie with me?”

“A movie? Sure,” you answered enthusiastically, while the lady approached, playing nervously with her hands. Her smile widened, as did her blush.

“Come, oh, and get that bottle,” she told you, pointing to another unopened bottle, one that you immediately opened, following her through the dark hallways.

The basement was unknown to you, sinister. The cracked walls and the wet wood entered your body, destabilizing it. Maybe it had been the wine, or the vodka, but that place gave you shivers.

“Sit, sit down,” Donna asked you, pointing to a sofa while she searched for something on that messy table. You obeyed with curiosity, leaving two glasses on the table, observing that place, that strange device that the lady in black manipulated.

“It looks old...” you whispered curiously, pointing to the projector. She looked at you amused and nodded, turning it on and sitting next to you.

“It was my father's,” she commented, pouring you a glass of wine, raising it in the air. “Thanks for keeping me company, (Y/N), salute...” she said clinking her glass with yours.

You laughed amused, blinking nervously and shrugged, taking a sip.

“Salute,” you murmured, savoring that ordinary wine.

The movie seemed fun, interesting, but much more so was being next to her, so close, making that little dream you had come true. Your work clothes brushed against her dress, her labored breathing reached your ears, you could smell her lavender perfume, you could feel the heat of her body very close to yours.

You moved closer, taking advantage of her relaxation, the disappearance of those demons drowned in wine, the tranquility of her presence. Maybe the alcohol was taking its toll on you too, but you didn't care.

“You said you weren't interested in boys,” Donna murmured, putting her glass down on the table, turning to look at you, with one hand holding her head casually. “Can you explain that to me?”

“Oh…” you said, nodding, putting down your glass as well, not wanting to look at that bottle, already half empty. “Well, I guess… You won't burn me for being a pagan or something like that, right?”

Donna laughed amused, shaking her head.

“Don't talk nonsense, I'm just curious,” she commented, sighing, not stopping looking at you.

“I never liked them,” you said passively, looking at the ceiling instead of the screen. “You know, my parents said: marry a man, have lots of children, be very unhappy, all that nonsense…”

“So it was just to go against your parents’ will,” she commented, confused, with a different expression.

“What do you mean?” you asked curiously, amused, letting your body relax even more.

“Mm, nothing, I'm just asking,” she said, amused, revealing the effect of alcohol on her attitude.

“You're asking if I like women,” you whispered amused, nudging her slightly, dragging out your words. “Come on, ask me.”

“Saying that, you're already giving me the answer,” she murmured, with a mocking smile. You arched your eyebrows, raising and lowering them in a mischievous way. “I'm sure you drive them crazy.”

“Do you think so?” you asked amused, ignoring part of that question, overlooking that insinuation because of that damn wine.

“Yes, I'm convinced you have a beautiful village girl waiting for you to return and you, look at you, you’re drinking and spending time with your boss…” the doll maker sighed, taking another sip of wine, with a slightly more serious look.

“I thought we were… friends,” you said confused, hiccupping embarrassedly.

“Do you consider me your friend?” Donna asked, breathing heavily again, shaking her head.

“Of course,” you said amused, putting a hand on her knee. “And before you ask, no, I don't have any Juliet waiting for me to come back. What about you? I can't believe someone like you doesn't have a long line of admirers.”

“You're wrong, (Y/N),” she whispered tiredly, looking away. “You're the only person I talk to.”

“Oh…” you said, nodding erratically.

“It must be wonderful, isn't it?” she asked after a moment of silence, getting more comfortable on the couch. You looked at her strangely pouring yourself what you said it would be your last drink.

“Mm?”

“You, you know, being in love…” the lady in black sighed, playing with the fabric of the old sofa. “Feeling that someone loves you and…”

“Well,” you interrupted, with your thoughts focused on her, on what you felt for her. “It's not always a good thing, you know?”

“Isn’t it?” she asked curiously, getting a little closer. You shook your head.

“Nothing I've ever experienced is even like those romantic books, never… Well, sometimes you think you love a person but… In reality you don't. You fool yourself,” you commented, remembering past, failed romances.

“How can you know that you're really in love?” she asked curiously, interested in the conversation, completely forgetting the movie. “You say that sometimes it's confusing.”

“You know, because… Because you feel that…” you began to explain, feeling enormous sadness, the frustration telling you that you had your beloved by your side, and that you couldn't do anything, you couldn't, right? “You feel like the world stops, that your mind can't draw anything other than… Her… That your heart races when she's near, that… That you know you couldn't live without her…”

“You seem to know a lot of thing about love,” the lady said, moving away, with an amused smile, dragging out her words, succumbing to the effect of the wine.

“I know because… Because…” you said, sitting up better, committing a madness, one that you didn't think possible. Taking advantage of her apparent distraction, you took her soft hand, caressing it, feeling good with her soft skin brushing yours. She didn't move away, she just looked at you confused, letting your fingers intertwine. “… It's, it's what I feel when I'm with you.”

“You…” she sighed, caressing you back, nervous but uninhibited, looking into your eyes, as if time had stopped. “You feel that way… about me?”

“Have you seen yourself, Donna?” you asked amused, but calmly. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and… You are, you are kind and… Perfect and… I dream, I dream of you every night, I dream that we are like this, holding hands, I dream that I am not a simple gardener, that I am something, something else for you.”

She looked at you, open-mouthed, with a smile betraying her own feelings.

“You feel something for me?” she asked again, getting closer, taking your free hand, caressing it in a comforting way.

“Donna, I'm… In… In… in love with you,” you confessed without difficulty, without fear, with the voices in your mind camouflaged by the fruity flavor of that red drink, that mechanism that caused your deepest feelings to come to light.

“And, and I’m in love with you… (Y/N),” she sighed with an almost inaudible voice, with her smile not wanting to fade. Your heart was beating hard, your body burning with happiness. You couldn't ask for anything else at that moment, or well, maybe you could.

“Look, we already have something in common,” you joked nervously, blushing, without taking her hands off yours. Donna laughed too, shaking her head, looking away again.

“I, I would really like to kiss you,” she said suddenly, lightly pulling your body, bringing it closer to hers. You, who already believed that everything was nothing but a dream, nodded, caressing her cheek, letting her eye close at your touch.

“What are you waiting for?” you mocked, biting your lip.

Donna laughed nervously, capturing your lips in a shy, chaste, almost innocent kiss. She pulled away and you smiled, pulling her to kiss her again, to caress her lips with yours, so as not to let them escape.

What at first seemed like some kind of experiment by the brunette, soon became a tangle of kisses, caresses, and gasps. You had just what you wanted. You had the woman you loved with you, kissing you in an increasingly less clumsy way, leaning over you.

Your hands traveled to her hair, to her back, hers were caressing every exposed part of your skin. The taste of the wine traveled through your lips, mixing with your breathing. It was an intoxicated, sincere kiss, a sweet and bitter kiss, like the wine itself.

The sound of the projector acting strangely pulled Donna away from you, diverting her gaze from your lips. You smiled, kissing her quickly before she got up from the couch.

“I have, I have to stop… This,” she said awkwardly, her voice taken over by alcohol and excitement, stumbling several times before reaching her destination. “Wait a minute.”

“Don't be long, darling...” you said, settling down on the couch, a bad idea.

The sleepiness that the drink caused fell upon you, forcing you to close your eyes and groan comfortably as you curled up on the couch. You could hear the sound of her heels coming closer, her nervous breathing that soon relaxed as she saw your dozing figure.

“You're exhausted, aren't you?” she said, her voice still sounding forced, intoxicated, caressing your hair, a gesture that you protested with a tender grunt.

The lady moved away, searching the old office for a blanket to cover you, kissing your forehead timidly.

“We'll talk about this tomorrow, okay, tesoro?”

“Mm...” It was the only thing you could say, or vocalize, the sleep was too intense.

Then, darkness came.

You opened one eye, then the other. Your head was pounding, your temples were throbbing, but that wasn't the worst part, the worst part was the image you had in front of you, the sinister gaze of a well-known puppet... Angie.

“Yiahhh!” you screamed in fear, moving around on the couch, falling off it with a crash. “Shit... Angie...” you whispered, with one hand on your head.

“Wake up, stupid!” the puppet yelled, causing a horrible pain in your head.

“Shhh, don't yell...” you lamented, rubbing your temples, studying your surroundings. You were in the office, that was the last thing you remembered. The almost empty bottle of wine reminded you that you had been drinking, but... That was all you could remember.

“How did the Sleeping Alcoholic sleep?” the doll asked mockingly as you stood up clumsily.

“Shut up, will you?” you protested, folding the blanket, trying with all your might to figure out why you were there, why you hadn’t come home, what you were doing in the office, what had happened. “Where’s Donna?”

“Upstairs,” Angie said, pointing to the ceiling comically. “Relax, she’s not as hungover as you.”

“Hangover?” you asked curiously, sighing as you looked at the bottle. “Oh…”

“Stupid villagers like you can’t handle alcohol, huh?” she mocked again, while you searched for an appropriate insult. You couldn’t find one and left the office.

“Bu, buongiorno, (Y/N),” the lady in black said. She was waiting patiently in the dining room, with a bright smile. You smiled awkwardly, moving your hand to wave back.

 “Hi, Donna…” you sighed, walking slowly, stopped by the lady in black, who offered you a glass of water.

“Here, drink this. I'm sure your head hurts a lot,” she said, nervous but with a radiant, different smile. You drank that medicine with a sigh, scratching the back of your neck.

“Thank you,” you whispered. She nodded, playing with her hands again, walking towards the table, where a hearty breakfast was waiting for you.

“I, I've prepared some breakfast for you... Do you, do you have coffee, juice... To, toast, whatever you want,” she said nervously, pushing you slightly so you sat on the chair.

“Wow... How thoughtful,” you said kindly, with a frown, trying to remember. “Thank you, Donna.”

She nodded biting her lip and sat in front of you, not taking her eye off yours.

“What a night, huh?” she murmured, breaking the silence of that breakfast, one that you were grateful for. No, you didn't want to talk about that night, you didn't remember anything.

“Yes… Well… I think… I drunk too much,” you said with a hoarse voice, clearing your throat, avoiding her gaze.

“Me too,” she said, amused, with a shy smile that didn't seem to want to leave her face.

“Well, you seem to be better than me,” you commented with a fake smile, enduring the headache that was slowly receding.

“I have, I have my own reasons,” she said in a whisper, laughing shyly. You, confused, nodded with disinterest.

“Oh…” you murmured, slowly sipping your coffee.

The silence returned, that time more tense. Donna looked at you, as if she wanted to say something, but didn't dare, or didn't want to. Neither did you.

“(Y/N), I…” she commented, leaving the coffee on the table, with a slightly more serious tone. “I wanted, I wanted us to talk about last night.”

“Last night…” you whispered, closing your eyes, sighing. Everything was a blur, you couldn't remember anything.

“Yes, well, the, the things that… Happened,” she stammered, changing happiness into concern.

“What happened?” you asked curiously, eating a toast. “Did I make a fool of myself?”

“No, no, you…” she said, with a nervous laugh, studying your gaze. “You… don't remember?”

“I'm sorry, but I don’t,” you confessed with a tired sigh, rubbing your forehead. “Did something happen?”

“You don't remember,” she murmured sadly, with her hands beginning to shake. “You don't remember anything you told me?”

“Mmm, no…” you said amused, without giving it any importance.

Her breathing became even more agitated, she didn't know what to say, what to do. You too started to get nervous, to feel uncomfortable.

“Get out,” she hissed, with a dark look. You raised your eyes to her, shaking your head.

“What?”

“Get out, get out of my house,” she hissed again, clenching her fists tightly, slowly getting up from the chair.

“Donna, what is it…?” you asked, obeying confused, backing away.

“Get out, get out! Fuori di qui!” the lady shrieked, completely unhinged, out of her mind. She approached with a firm step, pushing you by your chest, hitting you hard.

“Hey, hey! Donna, wait, wait, what…?” you said nervously, walking forcefully towards the door.

“I don't want to see you, get out!” she shouted desperately, tears wetting her cheek, with a furious sob, closing the door in your face, leaving you stupefied at the entrance of the mansion, helpless and confused.

You felt like a horrible dagger pierced your heart. Without wanting to, you had pushed her away from you, you had made a mistake you didn't know about, you had done something that had upset her, you were sure.

You shook your head, trying with all your might to remember, to know the reason for that changeable attitude. You couldn't, you had to go home.

After that day, the relationship with the lady in black cooled, looking more and more like snow, like an ephemeral blizzard that disappeared cutting through your body. She no longer looked at you, you had lost her, and you still didn't know why. Damn alcohol.

“Donna,” you said after a week, when the lady in black came back from one of those tedious meetings. She didn't look at you, she didn't say anything, she went into her house and left you outside. She ignored you terribly, as she had been doing for several days. “Oh, come on, at least tell me what I've done…”

Nothing, there was never an answer. Your pleas, your pathetic attempts to get her to listen to you didn't matter. Your life soon became a hell, a hell without her voice, without her smile, eternally condemned to see her face covered by that horrible veil.

The love you felt for her continued to dominate your rationality, it kept pushing you to keep trying, but a part of you began to give up.

It didn't matter how close you could be, that would never happen, she would never love you and you had to start to accept it. With the horrible passage of time, you made a decision, the saddest of your life.

“Donna, I have to talk to you,” you said, knocking softly on the door.

“We don't want to talk to you, stupid!” Angie shouted behind the door.

“Fine, whatever you want,” you said furiously, kicking the ground and throwing the pruning shears angrily. “Don't expect me to come back tomorrow, do you hear me? I resign!”

You didn't want to do it, you didn't want to, but you had to. The love you felt for Donna was going to end you, you would lose yourself forever, you wouldn't be able to forget her if you didn't get away in time.

Crying, you walked away from the mansion, interrupted by the creaking of the door, which slowly opened. A black figure peeked through it.

“What?” you asked unpleasantly, turning around and crossing your arms. “Now you want to talk? Well, I don't want to.”

“How can you be like that?!” the lady shrieked, enraged, shielding her sobs behind the black cloth. “Do you think you can play with me?!”

“What?” you asked, shaking your head, with a mocking tone, approaching the estate again. “Sorry, but if I'm not mistaken, you're the one who keeps ignoring me.”

“You do nothing but hurt me, (Y/N)…” she sighed, nervous, approaching you dangerously.

“Hurt you?” you asked confused, with a furious gasp. “What's wrong with you?”

“Do you find it funny, (Y/N)? Is it that you have a hobby of breaking people's hearts, do you enjoy playing with their feelings?” she accused you, putting a finger on your chest, one that you pushed away with a sharp slap.

 “I have no idea what you're talking about, Donna…” you whispered, ignoring the danger signs.

“Right, you never have any idea about anything, do you?” she mocked, with a cocky pose. “You always forget everything, don't you?”

“What?”

“Forget it, will you? It's what you do best,” she sighed, turning around.

You, fed up with this maddening situation, grabbed her wrist, pulling it.

“Lasciami!” she protested, breaking free from your grip.

“What have I done to you, Donna?” you wanted to know, with a different tone. “I, I don't know what…”

“Deceive me!” she screamed furiously. “First you tell me that you love me, that you're in love with me, you kiss me and…. And then… You, you abandon me, you tell me that you don't remember anything… You broke my heart!”

Then, you suspected what had happened. Your face turned red with embarrassment. It had to be that night, the alcohol made you confess, made you tell her how much you loved her and… Apparently… She felt the same way, something you couldn't help but smile at.

“Do you find it funny?” she mocked, with a dangerous hiss. “Cazzo… I'll kill you!”

“Donna, did I really tell you that?” you asked calmer, ignoring her lack of control. “Did I really tell you that I loved you?”

“Huh? Y-Yes…” she said, confused by your reaction. “Lie, after lie.”

You acted instinctively, removing that horrible veil from her face, capturing her lips gently, reaffirming that your mistake was not such, that you felt what you said, that you wanted to feel it.

“Now I remember,” you said smiling, grabbing her trembling body. “I wasn't lying, Donna…”

“(Y/N), why?” she asked, grabbing your waist, crying because of your behavior, confused. “I love you, I love you…” you whispered in her ear. “I've loved you for a long time and… Well, I guess I have to thank the wine for having found enough courage to tell you

[kuronekobaji]

i request your take on bully!baji thank u <3

MINORS DNI !!!

!! ~ warnings: NSFW , filthy shit, baji’s real mean in this (but i swear he likes us) , degradation, primal pray if you squint, lowkey dubcon (??) bits of voyeurism maybeee (he shows u off in the rudest way), you’re just a ray of sunshine and he wants to snap you in half. something something cuteness aggression but taken to a slightly different level

ᡣ𐭩 ~ synopsis : you attend the same school/college as a well-known delinquent, the notorious captain of toman’s first division. you’re not someone who’s too uptight or snooty, but you steer away from violence and things of the like. to everyone, you’re an angel and a dream come true. to keisuke baji… well — he’s having trouble accepting the existence of someone so perfect. so of course, he needs to break you.

ᡣ𐭩 ~ genre : smut, kind of angst ??

note : this isn’t reaaalllyyy a well-put fic, it’s just uh. a drabble of my thoughts on bully!baji .. giggling …. not proof-read sawry :(( testing some new dividers n stuff with this … i hope it’s okay!

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

keisuke baji — a regular student at your building, in the same class as you. he’s not too popular, usually keeping to himself unless a student requests his help or something of the like. he wasn’t some no-life tormentor, per se, but… that changed a little when you strolled into his life, with those cute shoes of yours and the cheerful swagger you always sported.

he’s been raised to be a gentleman. someone respectful, especially toward women. he never had urges to torture or toy with another person, so he’d never even leaned into that kind of thing. he never saw the point in it.

all of the lessons beaten into him seemed to fade into nothing the instant his intense bronze eyes laid upon you.

keisuke is used to good people and bad, annoying ones and less annoying ones, people who push his buttons and people who provide him calm. hell, his closest friend group can explain the people he’s dealt with in his lifetime. there’s not much that can faze him. not a mentally ill teen who knows how to peel off people’s fingernails, not a gentle caregiver whose goal is to become a designer, not a freakishly strong blond gremlin who has far too much of a sweet tooth — not a broken arm, not a goddamn stab wound.

so how come you of all people, have caught his attention?

was it the way you carry yourself? confident, but not arrogant? that friendly smile you give to just anyone whose way you look? the gorgeous clothes you always seemed to sport, or the fact you’d still be beautiful wearing a trash-bag? how people seem to light up at the very sight of you? no, no. it couldn’t be that. keisuke’s never been one to care for people’s opinions. rumours were nothing short of bullshit to him, and the same went for how his schoolmates would describe each other. he’d always have to see for himself.

and when he did, oh, god help him — he was pissed.

he couldn’t stand it. couldn’t stand you. just that adorable laugh of yours sent his blood boiling, and stars, how you looked up at him with those pretty eyes? how your voice sounded, speaking to him in that gratingly cheery tone? he wanted to wipe that innocent look off your pretty face and show you just who the fuck you were talking to. he’d never felt this much conflict in his life.

your mouth hadn’t shut up once during his time around you, and it made him want nothing more than to force his length down your throat until you couldn’t speak. you were like a goddamn mosquito to him, except you had a sweet personality and devastating hips. that stupidly gleeful voice of yours… he’d sometimes stay awake wondering what your moans would sound like. or how you’d sound begging him not to fuck you in the middle of a lecture.

the first time you spoke to him, the conversation was short. curt, strained. he’d walked off almost as soon as he approached you, practically fuming at that. it left you confused, but you’d just assumed he was having a bad day. he seemed rather unapproachable, but that didn’t stop you. it never did. after all, how could one make friends if they’re so quick to judge? so, to be his friend, you attempted to casually approach him, help him out in class or offer him your lunch. who knows, he could’ve been a softie underneath all that tough exterior!

poor, poor, naïve you.

that was your personal gateway to hell.

now you were desperately trying to avoid him. from seeking him out nearly every chance you get, to running away the instant you hear he’s within your vicinity. for some unholy reason, you never succeeded. you’d think he was hunting you down with how conveniently he always seemed to be around the corner.

loser, slut, whore, idiot, stupid girl, dumb bitch. those were his favourite nicknames for you. especially when he’d give you twisted praise for obeying his fucked up demands. laughing at how your shirt would drench when he pours water on it, pretty pink bra peeking through the transparent fabric. you’d throb at the animalistic sneer he’d bare when you’re in misery caused by him.

randomly flipping up your skirt, slamming you against the lockers. there were times even his friends — more like minions — would assist him. he’d even go so far as to snatch you away from your own friends to pull you into the janitor’s closet or the bathroom. bending you over the bathroom counter and spreading you apart, recording the entire thing. he’s never been so immature with anyone before. not enough to take their lunch or even give them shit about the food they brought, but he was hellbent on harassing you.

you’d try complaining to the teachers, to the principal, but none of them would believe you. even if they did, they were terrified of actually dealing with keisuke. every time you were in the principal’s office with him, he’d just smirk and keep silent. not even make an attempt to deny your claims or shut you down, because he knew all of it was true — and he knew that the principal wouldn’t do shit. he didn’t have a black belt in multiple forms of martial arts just for show, after all. sometimes you’d beg your fellow students to back you up, or to atleast help you, but they’d just shuffle their feet and pray the raven-haired man wasn’t around.

“sorry, [name].”

“i… i can’t right now. i’ve got, um, homework to do.”

“can’t you just tell the teachers about this?”

“baji? you want me to save you from baji?”

“[name], i— oh, fuck! i-i have to go, sorry!”

all a bunch of pathetic excuses. he might as well have been a tyrant, and you the unfortunate object of his ‘favour’.

there were times he’d just throw all of your things onto the ground and watch you helplessly pick them up. drop his own pencil and flatly say to you, “whoops. better pick that up for me, loser.”

loser. you couldn’t believe he had the audacity to call you such a name. he was the one obsessed with you, not the other way round!

but the way your underwear would soak at just the sound of his deep voice and how your thighs would tense when his muscular forearms or those stupidly obnoxious metal rings of his come into sight say otherwise. how you’d wear shorter skirts and cuter panties around him, even if by just an inch. he’d notice. he notices everything, that stupidly perceptive bastard.

for the first time, he was totally gratified that his grades weren’t the best. he’d always had trouble in school, but over time, he got better. still… they weren’t 80’s and over, or a’s. so that gave him the perfect opportunity to choose you to become his tutor.

it was the most torturous time of the school week for you.

bent over his desk, cock stuffed in your cunt, he’d order you to recite every line of the page in your textbook. and when you’d stutter, you’d earn a harsh smack to your ass.

and in the library? he obviously didn’t care about privacy when it came to you. he’d only get pissed if others were ogling you, but the fact that it would always be his dick inside you and never theirs calmed him down a little. even if they’d try… he’d break their bones. laugh at how they could never — no one ever — be able to fuck you the way he could.

you couldn’t even call them tutoring sessions. he’d act difficult on purpose and lie with that poker face of his, tell you that he doesn’t quite get the material and if you let him eat you out he might understand. the only things he’d learn during your own classes for him are your sweet spots. areas he could abuse over and over until you’re just a crying mess with his cum in between and on your soft thighs.

he was utterly obscene and obsessed with you. as much as he’d hate to admit it, deny that what he feels for you is real. how your beautiful eyes would fill with tears, stirring a sadistic side of him that he never even thought he’d comprehend. how tightly your weeping pussy would clamp on his girth, how your pretty little hands would grab onto his broad shoulders or his sift through and tug at his silky jet-black hair. it sent him reeling.

“well? get to it, slut,” he’d snarl, yanking your head toward his cock you’d often have difficulty taking. one hand fisted in your locks, the other recording this absolutely vile scene. your glossy lips would quiver, and he wouldn’t even bother hiding a cruel scoff at the sight. you were so adorable. the perfect girl. “maybe i should send this to all those boyfriends of yours.”

“no, baji, pl—!”

“aht! what the fuck did i say?”

“keisuke, please, please don’t send them—“

“tch... jus’ shut up and put your mouth to use already. tired of your yapping— aaah, fuck. that’s it. attagirl.”

by the end of every interaction with him — every single one — your heart would be broken. cheeks stained with tears, shame settling in your gut. even more shame due to the fact you know he thinks you’re even more stunning when you cry. the worst, soul-eating kind of shame when you realise your cunt is aching and you want him all over again.

oh, keisuke baji — what a cruel, cruel man, only relentless and resentful towards you. relentlessly and resentfully in love with you.

[essektheylyss]

To no one's surprise, I have more thoughts on Ashton's feelings about faith and begging for divine intervention and never receiving it, because... well, look at what's in their head.

I tend to take the view that the Luxon as a divine entity does not necessarily have conscious intent in granting divine favor; it is closer to a foundational force of reality, with the rather nebulous thought that might accompany a living entity associated with that kind of force. So not inert matter, but not exhibiting the will and motivated action that the Pantheon or even the Primordials do. The Primordials are closer, in that they are active, but I think they are less willful. This isn't particularly relevant to this discussion except as evidential comparison, though, so I digress.

What this view of the Luxon results in, in practice, is the bestowing of power by seemingly random chance. The beacons are where they are, and any movement of their worship or use is in the hands of mortals who convey that—whether that's the expansion of dunamantic arcana in Aeor and possibly the larger world in the Age of Arcanum, or the missionary efforts of the Kryn Dynasty, or simply one person passing it to someone with ill intent who exploits another worker to expand its use and turn it into a weapon instead.

And what happens is that these smaller exchanges create ripple effects, and the path of this force being conveyed continues, which is how it has come to Ashton—by a series of circumstances that, when looked at individually, look like mundane random chance, but taken as a whole, are so unlikely that they seem meaningful in the end.

I think this gets to the heart of what the Luxon seems to rule—the world may be governed by chance and circumstances, but when those circumstances are accumulated—into an event, or a nation, or a life—they create not destiny but meaning.

Ashton's circumstances are a series of misfortunes that feel almost fated in how perpetual they are—when he spells out the course of his life, and says that he can count on his fingers how many genuinely good days he's experienced, the weight of that misery feels like an oppressive fate.

But within the amalgamation of that misery, they've also happened upon—one might say were bestowed with—power. This is the power that lets him decide to be a hero and decide to save his friends. And, by some accounts in Exandria, it would've been granted to them by a god, without even asking anything in return. It's not verbal, so it's not a concession or meant to be placating, which wouldn't do much in the long run—it's the means by which Ashton has been able to wield control over his own destiny.

So if there's any meaning to circumstance, maybe it means that when Ashton prayed, something already answered.

[mononijikayu]

bu wang — ryomen sukuna.

In the quiet sanctuary of his domain, surrounded by the echoes of the past and the shadows of the future, Ryomen Sukuna found a semblance of solace. Your memory lived on, tender of light in the darkness of his immortal existence. He was determined for it to last. He was determined to tie your destiny together, no matter what. And as long as he drew breath, he would ensure that you were revered, loved, and remembered by all who served him. He will live forever, to be with you like this.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Miscarriage, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Miscarriage, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Pseudo-Incest, Adoptive Cousins, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language, Smut, Detailed Depiction of Sex, Depiction of Sexual Foreplay, Sexual Penetration, Consensual Sex;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: bu wang by wang yibo

ko-fi

note: i was going to write this two days ago, but i ended up cleaning and sleeping my room after the mess of exams. please pray that my exams and my grades end up well, thank you~ anyway im on my vacation this time around, so ill be around more than you probably would like. i might start updating ko-fi too~ i might write an extra chapter about you (hiromi) and sukuna's short but blissful married life!!! anyway, enjoy this chapter, much love my darlings <3

IT HAD BEEN A SOLITARY EXISTENCE.  But he supposed that hardly mattered to anyone. Perhaps not even to himself. Ryomen Sukuna had learnt that nothing was ever worth keeping around for that long, nor getting that close to someone for that long. He had learned that too easily, as a human. But it was useless for him to pretend that he was a human being. He was not. He was all but a god that long forgot he wasn’t human.

Eighty years have drifted away like autumn leaves since your death, yet the memories remain vivid, haunting Sukuna's every waking moment. He had watched life blossom and life rot into flames. Over and over, generation after generation, he was the only one that had yet changed.  And perhaps never will. He knew that too well. It has been more than a century now. A century where he had burned off all that came with humanity and left only what could be that blank space that will never be full again.

In the secluded echoes of Hida, where the mountains whispered secrets to the wind, Ryomen Sukuna had chosen his solitude. It is not to say that Sukuna does not open his doors to worshippers, to people who long for his aid, to people who long to leave those offerings.

But that isolation keeps Sukuna aware that he is above all those around him. And there above, looking down through the mountain passes, how small those were above him — he realized how truly solitary the throne he sat at. The same throne he never thought he would ever seat in a hundred years or so of this wretched life.

Still, even with that isolation, he still had companions. He had servants full to the brim in these halls, who one after the other took to his every need. Though, it was Uraume who served him most faithfully. And at times, he was given women to pleasure him, as either sacrifices to keep their villages safe or as war prizes for each sorcerer village was pillaged. Sukuna however had little interest in such pleasures. He supposed that too died with his humanity. But perhaps that was a relief on the part of the women around his harem. 

In all that time, he found himself preoccupied. With their fleeting bravado, Jujutsu sorcerers came and went, defeated one after another, like moths drawn to a flame that inevitably consumed them. One after another, they came, at the behest of one of their lords or those wretched senile cunts. They all died the same.

He thinks that sparked quite the ire in Mikoto Masaomi, who kept sending his best sorcerer one after another. Each one failed their master and disaster led to Sukuna laughing at the fact that he was still alive, unchanged, unbothered by the man he had once known all too well.

He supposed that the same could be said about all the curses that had come his way. In these years, Ryomen Sukuna had nearly subjugated all the curses that plagued Japan, bending them to his indomitable will. Each and every one watched as one of their own died by his hands and more fell to their knees bowing with tears in their eyes, begging for mercy. He supposed that Masaomi was correct about one thing — the name King of Curses suited him better than the Fallen. 

But he supposed that Masaomi could no longer entertain Sukuna with such names. He had long died in his sleep and his only child, Masuyo, replaced him. Just like her mother, the girl ascended her seat as clan head. But Sukuna remembers that she was barely a girl of ten and five then.

The girl was younger than her siblings by years. He had only seen that girl once, and it was as if those eyes from a hundred years ago haunted him. The same eyes before the gods claimed you as their champion. Hazel glares like a tree bark under the summer burn. Tender features that were as pale as crystal snow. Sukuna wonders if she can wonder if ghosts do exist. Perhaps then he would have asked her. Yet he could not ask her.

And he did not ever. He let them do as they pleased, as they had let him do — and in the end, he never saw her again. She succumbed to that one winter illness, twenty years ago. Her children followed suit and left a lordling in the chair, barely aged five. And once again, a weak link is shown in the blood of majesty.

Sukuna had always known that the moment you had dulled the blood with that man, the name would falter and so would follow everything else. Everything that had been sacrificed perhaps was for nothing. In the same inch of stone his father died in, were pitiful hungry lesser men arguing over who should be the boy’s regent.

But that was not his to give any care about.

Ryomen Sukuna supposed that he can only watch.

Mortal beings and their squabbles were not his own.

Time had no dominion over Sukuna like it did for everyone else; he remained untouched by its relentless passage. While everything around him withered and succumbed to decay, he stood unchanged, an eternal monolith. The world cowered before him, acknowledging his unrivaled power, yet with all that power — he could not explain how none of it could fill the emptiness gnawing at his soul.

He had long forgotten the essence of human emotion, the tender intricacies of joy, sorrow, and love. After all, he was immortal. What use are the squabbles of humankind to a godly king like him?

Still, each day, a ritual of remembrance unfolded in the depths of his mind. Somehow, that was all that could make humanity echo in a god’s heart.  Since that fateful day they had parted, only you could linger in his thoughts, a ghost of the past refusing to fade. Near hundred years had passed and he could not forget how you both parted. How the snow fell like frozen tears, how the red of childbirth scattered the pavement, how your lilac eyes lost life ever so fast.

Sukuna did not know how to feel about it. But he knew, as he had been human, that your memory was a bittersweet refrain, an echo of a life that once brimmed with meaning. At this time, he could remember every detail, every moment. Yet, he could not remember the sound of your voice or your sighs of relief. The harmony of your tears, the battle cry to bring life. 

Nor could he remember the warmth of your touch or the drum of your laughter. But perhaps, he thinks, it was for the best. It was for the best to little by little forget what remained. You were no longer here. You weren’t here for him to have anymore — and yet….why have you stayed ever so constant? Why have you stayed so near and yet so far? He could not understand it. And perhaps he never will. But it was best he did not ask, nor think about asking. The was never going to be a point in it.

He doesn’t sleep much, he doesn’t need it.

But at times, Ryomen Sukuna likes to pretend.

And think about those days when you were there.

IT WAS ALWAYS QUITE A UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY. One that not even Ryomen Sukuna had thought would ever happen. This day of peace, rare and fragile, had dawned upon the Jujutsu world, granting Sukuna a brief respite from the ceaseless and dull conflict. Not that Sukuna thought it helped much. He could easily turn the table upon these people. But he thinks that they’ll bore him and it would not even be worth it. 

There was not a thought to him that he would ever agree to this day. But nearly four decades ago, it was what had become the common ground. The emperor and Fujiwara did not like it. Nor did Sukuna, if he was being honest. Yet it has. And he was here, a spectacle to those he passed by who cowered and lowered their eyes. Some had knelt and mumbling prayers. 

The imperial soldiers immediately sprung to bring them to their feet once more. The whole trail to the capital was full of them. He could only snicker. What could human beings do to a god? Not even sorcerers were enough. Sukuna though could admire the strength in the mortals before him. Many who had bowed,  they would not dare stand, not even when kicked and slapped. Some merely stood their ground, defiant as they stared at him down. Sukuna would have snickered, but he didn’t think he could bring himself to care about such trivial humanity. And so he just left them be.

On this sacred day was the only day he had the freedom to take leave of movement without the need to start a fight. Master Tengen had advised it, the old man Gojo and the lordling Mikoto approved it — what little choice did the emperor truly had? Ryomen Sukuna doubts that the Fujiwara would say anything about it. Not even forty years ago, their power too was easily crumbling, especially the powerful branch he had annihilated completely. Besides, it was one day, nothing more. 

But in that one day, the imperial capital was secured. He could not remember who these people were – but their clan badges informed him of who these nameless faces were. Mikoto, Gojo, Inumaki, Azuma, Kamo, Zenin — the latter two were ever so reluctant, he was certain. The others he was certain were around the emperor and the non-sorcerer branch of the political Fujiwara. 

All these folks were not truly as free as their counterparts from a hundred years ago. All these pampered brats are now from a generation which had led lives within the imperial capital’s walls. Experienced as they may, Ryomen Sukuna thinks that they would never be able to achieve what their ancestors have. Ever since the emperor had demanded them to move to the capital after the wars that had taken much, they had all become the system’s lackeys. 

In these many years, Ryomen Sukuna too had made himself an enemy of the emperor. Such conflicts that had brewed over the century had been worrisome to the crown and more so – the main branch of the Fujiwara, who held the throat of the emperor. But he could hardly care. And they knew that he would not care. Not once in his life could he. 

Uraume walked silently beside him, a shadowy presence that never wavered. They do not talk as much as Sukuna thought they would. His little servant had been an interesting one, always have been. But he supposed he had gotten used to that in all these many years. In the loudness of the world, Sukuna appreciated a space where there is silence. Years ago, it was in your arms, underneath the tree by that koi pond. But times have changed. And those moments would never repeat ever again. Uraume provides what they could. And perhaps it was enough.

As they traveled even further, bypassing Mikoto land, Ryomen Sukuna's thoughts meandered through almost a century of existence. The forest loomed ahead closer and closer and for a moment, a brief echo of memory pondered in his head. As though such memory mattered. You both had once sought refuge, fleeing the wrath of the Fujiwara. The trees whispered secrets of the past, their leaves rustling with tales that will never be known to anyone but to him and you.

“This place…..I recognize it.” Sukuna murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you, Sukuna–sama?”

“But it’s from a long time ago….I shan’t speak of it.”

Uraume nodded, a silent sentinel, understanding the weight of those memories. “Of course, Sukuna–sama.”

Sukuna wonders why he even spoke. But perhaps it was a forced habit, one that he had still yet perfected in abandoning. As they moved on and on, he could see the grassy plains that made up the Ryomen hunting grounds. It was the bane of his existence; how he could remember the way you would complain about the mud during the monsoon. How he remembered that night you both stayed long enough to see the bountiful firefly blossom in the fields. How he remembered how close you were in embrace. He could feel his mouth dry.

But it was the sight of Ryomen Manor that struck the deepest chord. The once grand estate had diminished, its former glory a shadow of what it had been. The Mikoto clan now occupied it, attempting to emulate the past magnificence of the Ryomen, but failing to capture its true essence. Ryomen Sukuna could barely allow himself to look at it. To even think that it was something that he could think of as home. It was nothing that it should be,  that was for certain. And now that the MIkoto have resided in the imperial capital — this shall be left in shambles now. And soon forgotten, a relic of a past that most people will question.

“This was my home,” Sukuna thinks to himself, his inner voice laced with a rare bitterness. “They have taken everything, even our name. Mikoto... they usurped what was rightfully ours.”

He does not know what sears inside him as he looks at it. It was as though it was never truly what it was. Ryomen Sukuna could feel every echo of his face turn into what could be taken as anger. Is this what he had sacrificed his whole life for? For the home that gave him something, to be left by all that it had sheltered, with nothing? Had it all been for nothing? After all this time? 

Uraume looked at him, as though trying to judge their master’s feelings. “Sukuna–sama?”

“We shall occupy that space, sooner or later.” Sukuna retorted to his servant. “It shan’t fall into disrepair.”

Those red eyes burned with anger. Uraume pursed their lips into a flat line and bowed. “Of course, my lord.”

In that sudden stillness, an echo from the past reached him. Somehow, he doesn’t remember whose voice it was. But as tender as it was, as warm as it was, as human as it was — he could only think that it was yours. He could only ask himself, if your voice ever sounded this soft and this haunting. He could not understand the words that were being said. It was as if it was another language, a long forgotten one that he would never be able to understand in his whole lifetime. 

But you were smiling at him, telling him something that would have made his heart flutter all those years ago. Has your smile truly ever been this pure? Has such truth in your person ever been this wondrous? He does not know. And perhaps, he will never know ever again. But he doesn’t know if he had it in him to wish that he never could. Not even who he is now understands what he wants. So, all he could do was let you haunt him. Let you haunt him in ways not even he could understand. And even then, he has to keep moving forward, as he always has.

The living always has to move forward.

There must always be life lived even unwanted.

That’s what he must always strive to do.

“Are you sure that you need nothing of me, Sukuna–sama?”

“Yes.” He answers in a flat tone, his feet facing forward. “Walk, Uraume. Follow.”

“Of course, Sukuna–sama.”

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, HE HATED THE IMPERIAL CAPITAL. Ryomen Sukuna detested venturing into enemy territory. Even back then, when he had been a regular man, the thought of going to the imperial capital, even to do his duty as a sorcerer, was unpleasant. The crown hated sorcerers. They had to tolerate them because their lives, their destinies, were tied to the world of sorcery. Prosecutions had been done a thousand times over and over again. But each time, the futile idea of unity offered by one side or the other was what happens. And even then, the cycle of animosity continues.

Each step he took into the heart of the imperial capital felt like a betrayal to his own spirit, a reminder that you had died because of these people, for these people. The closer he got to the imperial capital’s center, the more he realized how vapid these foolish little humans are. Over and over again, they gawk, and they complain, they ask if they could go home already. They roll their eyes or shake their heads at the importance of what occurs on this day each year.

The thought of it gnawed at him, fueling a rage that simmered just below the surface. None of them knew the true cost of their peace, the blood that had been spilled for their sake. It was as if sorcerers died for nothing, it was as if what he had lived through all this time mattered little. What you had died for mattered, fought and died for mattered little. The peace you died for, to prevent any more animosity that could kill any of these pathetic beings — and they take it for granted. And every time, each year, he saw their oblivious faces, he wanted to kill them all.

Uraume, ever perceptive, noticed the darkening storm within him. "Is there anything you need, my lord?" they asked quietly.

Ryomen Sukuna remained silent as they continued on. He could not put himself in a position where he could cause an issue. Of all days, he thinks he shouldn’t. And so, he keeps his mouth shut. The red eyed towered everyone as he entered the widened gates. They had widened it to fit him, he was certain. The strident guards lowered their heads, refusing to acknowledge him. But he could hardly care. 

Uraume followed suit as he approached the inner courtyard of the  newly established Gojo Manor. The grand building loomed ahead, a symbol of the power and influence of the Gojo clan. Entering its gates, Sukuna's gaze fell upon an old man standing before him, eyes covered with Ryomen bandages. Despite his frail appearance, the old man before him could only exude a calm strength, standing with the aid of a cane but without a trace of fear.

"My six eyes see that you are still young, Sukuna-dono," the old man greeted, his voice steady.

"Your brain has yet to rot, I see… old man." Sukuna replied, a cold edge to his tone. “Have you no intention to die already?”

The gasp and whispers that echo that came from the vassals, members of court and the members of the Gojo household could not be any louder. Each year, they seem to be shocked by the audacity of the King of Curses. He had no crass no desire to abide by rules which do not apply to him. All were silenced by the rumbling of the old man’s chest into bumbling laughter. Sukuna sighed as he looked at the old man, the Gojo crest proudly wrinkled by such laughter.

The old man snickers soon after, releasing a raspy sound. "The gods keep their servant on the earth for a little more time, I suppose. And one should honor that! Besides, one must keep a sharp wit, even if the brain is too wrinkled.”

“I do not understand why the gods keep you with us this long.” The red eyed curse user sighed. “Are you not tired at all, old man? A hundred and so, and still parading like this, Gojo.”

“Why not? Retirement is too dull.” The old man retorted back to the curse user. “Besides, I must keep my sons and grandsons on their toes. They wouldn’t leave long enough if they covet only.”

He snorts at the old man’s words. “The tongue of a pompous soul.”

“Of course, there must be one that remains.”

“I doubt we need one that remains.”

The old man laughs, shaking his head at Sukuna. From what he had heard, the old man had not been in the best of health this past spring and autumn. But perhaps Sukuna should expect that. Gojo Seiryuu was well the age expected of any mortal that could even come close. And even more so for someone who wields the power of the six-eyes and limitless, living this long was a miracle. Sukuna was not stupid to assume that he had any years left, he was not going to last any longer. 

With some luck, there will be a year or two, maybe if there is something like a miracle, there will be a couple more. But peace will shatter once he dies. With the way the Gojo clan looked at him, no one else would be happy to curry any friendships with him. Fragile as it was, it was the best he and Sukuna had managed to stand upon. If his time comes, Sukuna cannot promise anything.

"I hope the journey wasn’t too tiresome, Sukuna–dono." the old man continued, his smile unwavering. “The roads are not of good import as of late. The ministers have been wasting good money, you see!”

“They’re corrupt as they come, I wouldn’t expect anything else.” Sukuna retorts, earning another round of gasp and whispers. “I would have thought you would have already unseated the bastards.”

“Now, now, don’t make it seem like I’m planning something bad or anything.” The old man says, causing Sukuna to roll her eyes. “But we shall talk about that sometime. I ask again, if the trip went well?”

"It was what must be done." Sukuna responded, his voice devoid of warmth. “It is part of our agreement, after all.”

"As always, you aren’t expressive." the old man observed, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "And if that was the case? I do not think that my expressiveness ought to be welcomed by a crowd who holds no kindness towards me.”

The old man's smile faded slightly, but he held Sukuna's gaze steadily. "I merely wished to welcome you and offer my respects—”

Sukuna's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "Your fellow human’s respect is of little value to me, old man. Remember, it is not what I hear for.”

The old man sighed and nodded his head. "Very well, Sukuna–dono. I shall lead you with me to the crypt, as I always have.”

Old lord Gojo nodded to everyone, making his way to the front. Sukuna followed as the old man’s cane led the path forward. Uraume bowed his head along with the others, before following suit. The others whispered over and over, muttering those same pathetic gossip over and over. Ryomen Sukuna wondered when their palms would sweat, when they realized that such peace was over.

Ryomen Sukuna pitied humanity for a moment.

He pitied what would become of them soon enough.

But once again, he could care less what happens to them.

IN THAT TIME, THERE HAD BEEN SOMETHING OF A FRAGILE PEACE.In the fleeting expanse of time, enduring peace was an anomaly, a delicate thread stretched taut across the centuries. For Ryomen Sukuna, the longevity of such tranquility was a marvel in itself. How had this fragile peace between the Gojo clan and the Mikoto clan persisted over eight decades? It was an uneasy truce, teetering on the edge of mutual distrust yet holding firm, a precarious balance that upheld a semblance of stability in the nation.

It was not born of desire but of necessity, forged by the relentless currents of power and obligation that bound them all. Sukuna, too, found himself caught in its web, his existence intertwined with the legacy of his beloved Hiromi and the intricate web of alliances and enmities that shaped their world.

Their children, heirs to both the burdens and hopes of their lineage, were bound by this accord, their destinies entwined with the echoes of past conflicts and the uncertain future that lay ahead. Each day, they walked the tightrope of peace, knowing that any misstep could unravel the fragile tapestry that held their world together.

In this precarious dance of diplomacy and duty, Sukuna pondered the fragility of their existence, the weight of history pressing down upon them like an unseen hand. How long could this peace endure? Would their children inherit a world of harmony or one torn asunder by the ghosts of the past?

As Sukuna looked out over the tranquil landscape, he knew that despite the uncertainties, they must endure. For in the delicate balance between war and peace, between love and duty, lay the essence of their existence—a legacy forged in the crucible of time, bound by the unyielding resolve of those who dared to dream of a future where peace could prevail.

For nearly fifty years, Ryomen Sukuna had cradled you, entrusting your body to the icy embrace of Uraume's cursed technique. Encased in an intricate ice coffin, your form remained untouched by the passage of time, suspended in a state of ethereal beauty.

The ice coffin, a masterpiece of Uraume's craftsmanship, rested at the heart of the grand audience hall. Above it, the ceiling soared high, adorned with intricate tiles blooming with gold and pearls. Rays of sunlight filtered through stained glass windows, casting shimmering reflections upon the smooth surface of the ice. It was a scene that seemed crafted for you alone, as if the very heavens conspired to honor your presence.

The hall itself echoed with a hushed reverence, the air heavy with the scent of ancient wood and the distant whisper of wind through tall, slender pillars. Shadows danced upon the walls, playing out a silent homage to your silent repose. Around you, the world moved in slow, measured steps, as though holding its breath in deference to your stillness.

Sukuna stood at the threshold, his gaze lingering upon your serene countenance. The flickering light painted your features in shades of silver and blue, accentuating the delicate lines of your face and the graceful curve of your hands folded over your chest. Time seemed to stand still in this sacred space, where beauty and sorrow intertwined in a poignant testament to love and loss.

As Sukuna looked upon you, he felt a pang of longing and remorse, his heart heavy with memories that stretched across decades. Here, amidst the opulence of the hall and the quiet majesty of your presence, he found solace and sorrow entwined. At least that was left true to what remained in his humanity for you.

Each day, Sukuna gazed upon you, venerating you as if you were a goddess. To him, you were a deity, a symbol of his defiance against the world that had taken you from him. In his dominion, Sukuna decreed that everyone must bow to you as they bowed to him. They must make prayers for your immortality, as they do with his own. 

Your presence commanded reverence, your memory immortalized in the rituals of his followers. Offerings were left at your shrine, tokens of respect and devotion, as though you were a living deity among them. It was the respect he thinks you were owed in your lifetime. If you would not get it in your life, then he would make sure he would give it to you now.

Sukuna stood before the ice coffin, his eyes tracing the delicate features of the wonder of your face. You looked as serene as you had in life, untouched by the ravages of time. You didn’t age and he does not want you to. He does not want to see you as anything else as what he had fallen in love with. You cannot be ash, not when you were still with him. Not when he still needed you.

"You are still with me," he whispered, his voice a blend of sorrow and reverence. "They will remember you, as they remember me. You are not forgotten."

Uraume, standing nearby, watched their master with quiet understanding. They had seen the pain etched into Sukuna's soul, the unending ache of loss. "Sukuna–sama," Uraume said softly, "Hiromi–samaremains as you wished. We have tended to Hiromi–sama well, Sukuna–sama. Please be rest assured—”

Sukuna nodded, his gaze never leaving you. "It is not enough, Uraume." he murmured. "It will never be enough. But….I must endure this. Being all I have.”

In the quiet sanctuary of his domain, surrounded by the echoes of the past and the shadows of the future, Ryomen Sukuna found a semblance of solace. Your memory lived on, tender of light in the darkness of his immortal existence. He was determined for it to last. He was determined to tie your destiny together, no matter what. And as long as he drew breath, he would ensure that you were  revered, loved, and remembered by all who served him. He will live forever, to be with you like this. 

After fifty years of solemn reverence, a fragile peace shattered in an instant. Those vexing, arrogant, thieves, those sons of Gojo Seiryuu, driven by ambition or folly, dared to steal the ice coffin that had cradled you for decades, spiriting it away to their clan. Ryomen Sukuna could never believe that such thieves would ever have the intention of care. 

Sukuna's fury erupted like a tempest unleashed, his heartache and rage merging into a torrential storm of wrath. In his grief-stricken fury, he embarked on a relentless rampage that tore through days and weeks. His presence was a whirlwind of destruction, leaving scorched earth and shattered remnants of lives in his wake.

Every step reverberated with the weight of betrayal and loss. Each strike echoed the anguish of fifty years of vigilance, shattered in a single act of defiance. In his wake, silence mingled with the cries of those who dared oppose him, their defiance crushed beneath the relentless tide of his fury.

The land trembled beneath his wrath, the skies darkened with his anguish. Sukuna's grief fueled a merciless onslaught, a testament to the depths of his despair and the ferocity of his love. For in that stolen moment, he lost more than an artifact—he lost a tether to his past, a relic of solace in a world fraught with turmoil.

As the rampage subsided and the echoes of his fury faded into the ether, Sukuna stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving with exhaustion and sorrow. It was then that Gojo Seiryuu had made himself known and came to confront the King of Curses. He stood below the throne Sukuna occupied, the elder man with dark red eyes gleaming as the man who had his cover.  The tension between them was palpable, a volatile mix of anger and determination. One could feel heat release from the echoes of his nostrils. 

"Sukuna-dono," Seiryuu began, his tone steady despite the danger he faced, "We must talk."

Sukuna's eyes blazed with fury. "Talk? You dare speak, talk of some ridiculous peace after what you've done? I will kill you, Seiryuu. You useless, impotent brat!”

A deadly silence followed, then Ryomen Sukuna released a barrage of the world-cutting slash aimed directly at Seiryuu. But a shimmering barrier materialized around him, absorbing the attack with ease. Gojo Seiryuu stepped forward, undeterred by Sukuna's rage. Sukuna’s eyes raged as it narrowed darkly against the Gojo clan leader.��

"You have to understand, Sukuna–dono." Seiryuu said, his voice calm yet resolute, "This is not where my mother belongs."

Sukuna's expression twisted with anger and pain. "Hiromi was my person first."

Seiryuu's gaze softened, a rare glimpse of vulnerability. "Your Hiromi was my only mother. And I was robbed of her. That bond you claim cannot surpass a son’s love.”

The words hung heavily in the air. Sukuna's breath came in ragged gasps, his mind a maelstrom of emotions. He wanted to tear Seiryuu apart, to reclaim what had been stolen from him. But beneath the fury, a sliver of understanding pierced his heart.

"Hiromi was everything to me." Sukuna said, his voice breaking.

"And my mother was everything to us," Seiryuu replied gently. "We need my mother as much as you do."

Sukuna's hands clenched into fists, knuckling white with the intensity of his emotions. His chest heaved with each breath, the weight of grief and anger pressing down upon him like a suffocating shroud. For a long, agonizing moment, he stood amidst the ruins of his sanctuary, caught between the overwhelming urge to unleash his fury and the desperate need to hold onto the memories that bound him.

Every fiber of his being screamed with anguish, a primal roar of betrayal echoing through his soul. The theft of the ice coffin, the violation of her sacred resting place, tore at him with a visceral pain that threatened to consume him whole. Images of you, serene and ethereal in your icy repose, haunted his thoughts, your presence now torn from him like a cruel jest of fate.

Memories flooded his mind—moments shared, promises made, and a love that transcended time itself. He remembered the tender touch of your hand, the warmth of your smile, and the unspoken vows that bound them together. And now, to see your resting place desecrated, stolen away by those who sought to defy his authority, ignited a fury within him that burned hotter than any flame.

His surroundings blurred as tears of rage and sorrow welled in his eyes, the lines between reality and memory blurring in a haze of anguish. The air crackled with unseen energy, the very atmosphere vibrating with the intensity of his emotions. Each heartbeat echoed like a thunderclap in the stillness of the aftermath, a testament to the tempest raging within him.

Slowly, Sukuna lowered his head, his fists unclenching as he fought to regain control over the tumultuous storm raging within. His gaze hardened with resolve, determination flickering in the depths of his crimson eyes. He turns to look at the younger man. 

"Very well." Sukuna finally said, his voice raw with emotion. "But know this: if you ever dishonor all of your mother’s memory, I will end you and everything you hold dear. This I swear, on a binding vow.”

Seiryuu nodded, understanding the gravity of the promise. "I swear on my life, we will honor my mother as what fits a clan leader of such rank."

“No.” He contests the clan leader, his eyes full of hurt. “Your mother….,my…..your mother is a goddess. Do not lessen such importance.”

“I shan’t.” He whispers back to him. “I am my mother’s son too. I hold too much devotion to not treat my mother a goddess.”

“....Very well.”

Silence engulfs them both as the words reverberated.

Sukuna turns his head away, his shoulders slumped.

Seiryuu purses his lips in a line as he tries to talk once more.

“You may see my mother, if you would like.” Seiryuu whispers to the curse user. “I shall have it arranged. You have my word.”

Ryomen Sukuna could not say anything else. As Seiryuu departed, The King of Curses watched him go, a storm of emotions raging within him. You were gone, taken to where you were also cherished, but the pain of your absence was a wound that would never heal. In the silence that followed, the King of Curses was left with his grief, his memories, and the bitter taste of a love that transcended even death.

Years later, Sukuna once more entered the crypt, his presence commanding attention and evoking a mixture of anger and disgust from those who watched him. He paid them no mind, his focus solely on the figure before him. Your body lay as perfectly preserved as the day he had last seen you, a testament to Uraume’s cursed technique. For a moment, he felt a glimmer of humanity, a faint light piercing through his demonic nature. Seiryuu, noticing the intensity of the moment, dismissed everyone from the crypt. Once they were alone, the tension between them grew palpable.

"Is it true, what I’ve been hearing?" Sukuna’s voice was low, barely masking the simmering rage beneath. "That your mother’s body is to be burned once and for all?"

Seiryuu met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression somber. "Yes, it’s true. It was an agreement between siblings over the years. We believe it’s time to finally put our mother to rest."

A heavy silence settled over the crypt, suffocating in its weight. Sukuna stood before you, his gaze fixed upon your form encased in the ice coffin. Memories, once cherished and now tinged with sorrow, flooded back with a force that threatened to overwhelm him. 

The sight of you, serene and preserved in timeless beauty, stirred a maelstrom of emotions within him. The thought of your inevitable fate—ashes scattered to the winds—gnawed at his soul like a relentless tide eroding the shore. 

Each moment spent by your side, each shared heartbeat and whispered promise, replayed in his mind with agonizing clarity. The echo of your laughter, the warmth of your touch, the scent of your hair—all now locked in a sepulchral embrace that mocked his inability to protect you from the ravages of time and fate.

The world outside the crypt seemed distant and inconsequential, blurred by tears unshed and words unspoken. In this sacred chamber, where time stood still and memories loomed large, Sukuna grappled with the weight of his helplessness and grief.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft whisper of his breath and the faint rustle of fabric as he clenched his fists in anguish. Each passing moment etched deeper lines of sorrow upon his face, shadows dancing in the flickering light of candles that bore witness to his silent vigil.

He reached out, fingers trembling as if to touch the icy barrier that separated him from you. His hand hovered, suspended in the air, as if unsure whether to breach the sacred sanctum that held your essence captive.

And in that moment of vulnerability, Sukuna whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the crypt, "I cannot bear to see you reduced to ashes, my love. Not after all we've endured."

“I am sorry…..if that is not what you wished to hear.”

“I do not wish to see it, I do not wish to hear it. None of it.”

Seiryuu nodded. "My mother deserves peace, Sukuna-dono. We all do. Keeping my mother preserved like this, it’s... it’s not right. It’s time to let go. It’s…it’s time to let my mother go, Sukuna–dono.”

Sukuna’s hands clenched at his sides, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He had held onto you for so long, unable to accept your death, unable to move on. Now, faced with the finality of your cremation, your erasure from this earth, from your wholeness,  he felt a profound sense of loss. For a moment, he felt human again. But perhaps, he will always be like that – when it comes to you. Only you.

For a long moment, he said nothing, his gaze locked on your serene face. Then, with a heavy heart, he spoke. “I cannot accept it. Not like this.”

Seiryuu nodded, understanding the depth of Sukuna’s pain. “I know, Sukuna–dono.”

Sukuna turned away, the weight of his grief almost too much to bear. “Do what you must. As long as I….As long as there is a way….”

Silence settled between Seiryuu and Sukuna, thick and palpable, like the frosty stillness of a winter's night. It draped over them, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, casting a chill over the atmosphere that matched the solemnity of their surroundings.

For Seiryuu, the silence held a weight of regret and sorrow, a recognition of the rift that had widened between them despite their shared history and familial ties. It was a moment of introspection, where the consequences of past actions and decisions hung in the air like frozen breath.

Sukuna, too, felt the silence keenly. It wrapped around him, a stark reminder of his own tumultuous emotions—anger, grief, and a longing that he struggled to reconcile. In this frozen moment, he grappled with the realization that their paths diverged irreversibly, bound by duty and destiny yet separated by divergent ideals.

Between them, the silence became a canvas upon which their unspoken thoughts and regrets painted themselves in muted shades. It was a moment pregnant with the weight of their shared history, their intertwined fates now strained by the passage of time and the choices they had made.

As they stood in the stillness, each lost in their own contemplation, the silence spoke volumes. It echoed with the echoes of unspoken apologies, of wounds too deep to heal, and of a future uncertain yet inexorably linked. In this frozen tableau, Seiryuu and Sukuna are bound together by bonds of grief for the one they loved the most, frozen in the deathly echoes in front of them.

Seiryuu broke the heavy silence with a gentle voice. "I understand why you want to keep the body whole, Sukuna–dono. But you must know, it was never my mother’s wish to be brought back to life."

Sukuna’s eyes flashed with anger, and he cut him off sharply. "Hiromi did not say that. Hiromi never did—"

Seiryuu sighed, his expression weary but resolute. "Regardless, my mother wanted to be free from all of this pain. What you would do, in trying to revive this body, would only bring my mother more suffering. I don’t want that for my mother, Sukuna–dono. I ask of you, as a son. Please.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with the conflict of his desires and the harsh truth Seiryuu presented. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotions, a chasm between their understandings of love and loss.

"Do you really think I wish for Hiromi to suffer?" Sukuna finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a raw vulnerability.

Seiryuu met his gaze, unwavering. "I know you loved my mother, Sukuna–dono. Mayhaps, you still do.  But sometimes, love means letting go. Letting go of ties that don’t let our loved ones rest in peace.”

The words hung in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications that weighed heavily on Sukuna's heart. Rage and sorrow churned within him like a tempest, battling for dominance over his thoughts and emotions. 

Sukuna stood at a crossroads, torn between conflicting desires that tugged at his very soul. On one hand, there was an unyielding urge to preserve you, to shield you from the inexorable march of time and the fate that threatened to extinguish your essence. The thought of losing you, of seeing your existence reduced to mere ashes scattered in the wind, clawed at his heart with a visceral ache.

Yet, intertwined with this desperate longing was a stark realization—a haunting awareness that his actions, driven by love and anguish, might inadvertently condemn you to a fate far worse than death. The weight of his power, the consequences of his choices, loomed large in his mind, casting a shadow over his every thought.

In the stillness that followed, Sukuna grappled with the cruel irony of his predicament. To keep you close meant defying the natural order, challenging the very fabric of existence itself. And yet, to let go—to surrender to the inevitability of your passing—felt like a betrayal of the love that had defined his existence for decades.

As he stood there, surrounded by the echoes of his turmoil, the silence bore witness to the tumult raging within him. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms, as if seeking to anchor himself against the storm of emotions threatening to consume him whole.

The room, once filled with the quiet reverence of your presence, now crackled with an intensity born of uncertainty and fear. Each passing moment stretched into eternity, the weight of his decision pressing down upon him like a leaden cloak.

And amidst the turmoil of his heart, Sukuna knew that whatever choice he made would shape not only his own destiny but yours as well. For in the delicate balance between love and duty, between defiance and acceptance, lay the essence of his eternal struggle—an agonizing quest for redemption and a yearning for solace in a world where nothing was certain but the inevitability of change.

"Hiromi was everything to me, boy." Sukuna said, his voice breaking. “There was nothing else but Hiromi.”

"And to us too. My mother was everything to us," Seiryuu replied softly. "We all want my mother to be at peace.”

Another silence descended, denser and more profound than before, wrapping Sukuna in a suffocating embrace of solitude. His gaze remained fixed upon Hiromi's serene visage, preserved in eternal repose within the icy coffin. 

In the depths of his crimson eyes, a tempest of emotions raged unchecked. Anguish and longing mingled with a raw, gnawing grief that clawed at his heart like a relentless beast. The weight of loss pressed upon him, each breath a struggle beneath the burden of Seiryuu's words—words that resonated with painful clarity, cutting deeper than any physical wound ever could.

Sukuna knew, deep down, that Seiryuu's admonitions held truth. The inevitability of letting go, of releasing your spirit from the confines of earthly ties, bore down upon him with crushing force. Yet, accepting this truth was a wound unto itself—a wound that pierced through the very fabric of his being, leaving behind scars that no battle could ever erase.

The room around him seemed to constrict, suffused with a palpable stillness that mirrored the turmoil within his soul. Shadows danced upon the walls, casting elongated figures that whispered of past regrets and future uncertainties. Each moment stretched into eternity, time itself bending to accommodate the weight of his indecision and sorrow.

As he stood there, a solitary figure amidst the silent tableau of memories and regrets, Sukuna's hands trembled with the urge to reach out—to touch, to hold, to defy the relentless march of time. Yet, even as he yearned for solace in the familiarity of her presence, the truth remained a bitter pill to swallow—a truth that threatened to unravel the fragile threads of his resolve.

And in the hush that enveloped them both, Sukuna grappled with the agonizing truth that love, in its purest form, sometimes meant letting go. For in the depths of his heart, amidst the ache of separation and the anguish of acceptance, lay the essence of his eternal struggle—a struggle that would surely blossom from what he had left of you.

Seiryuu broke the silence with a question that pierced Sukuna's brooding thoughts. "Are you still asking, Sukuna–dono?”

Sukuna turned his head, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "What are you talking about?"

Seiryuu's eyes held a depth of understanding as he clarified. "Are you still trying to find mother’s soul?"

Sukuna paused, the weight of the question settling heavily upon him. Your soul had vanished shortly after your death. Sukuna had felt it leave you. Sorcerers could always feel the energy of life leave. In all that time, Ryomen Sukuna had spent countless years searching for a way to retrieve it, to reunite your truest essence with your preserved body. He had worked all this time, trying to find a way to have you again.

Seiryuu shook his head slowly. "It’s no use. You should stop chasing the same madness that consumed the ancients. You will never find the answers you seek, nor the closure you crave. Neither will I. We will never find closure, only grief. And what better way to love than to grieve, until our dying day?"

Sukuna’s voice was low, almost resigned. "I don’t know if I can even die. Nor do I remember what it was to love."

Seiryuu chuckled softly, a sad yet knowing sound. "That's a pretense, Sukuna. All you have to do is look at my mother and you’ll remember."

A heavy silence enveloped them once more, each man lost in his own reflections. Finally, Sukuna broke the silence with a question of his own. "Where will Hiromi be buried?"

Seiryuu's gaze softened, filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "Mother’s ashes will be scattered between the Mikoto and the Gojo, but my mother’s heart will remain in Hida."

Sukuna's nod was solemn, his gaze lingering upon your serene countenance for what felt like an eternity. In the delicate lines of your face, he traced the echoes of a life once vibrant with purpose—a life intimately entwined with his own, now frozen in eternal repose.

Turning away felt like tearing himself from the essence of his existence, a painful severance from the one who had anchored his tumultuous soul. Yet, he knew that lingering would only prolong the agony, prolong the inevitable parting that fate had cruelly decreed.

As he stood at the threshold of the crypt, a profound sense of loss washed over him like a tidal wave. The weight of your absence bore down upon him with suffocating force, threatening to engulf him in a sea of despair. Each step away from your side felt like a betrayal of the love that had sustained him through decades of turmoil and strife.

But in that agonizing moment of departure, Sukuna found himself paralyzed by indecision. His hand hovered uncertainty in the air, fingertips brushing against the cold stone of the crypt. The room seemed to constrict around him, the walls closing in with the weight of unspoken regrets and unfulfilled promises.

Time stood still, suspended in the fragile balance between past and present, love and duty. His breath caught in his throat, chest tight with the ache of longing and the bitter taste of acceptance. The air crackled with unseen energy, the atmosphere heavy with the echoes of their shared history and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

For a fleeting moment, Sukuna dared to imagine a future where your spirit could find peace, where the echoes of your presence would linger as a gentle whisper in the winds. But reality intruded with merciless clarity, reminding him that some wounds could never fully heal, some losses could never be reconciled.

And as he finally tore himself away, each step echoing like a tolling bell in the silence of the crypt, Sukuna carried with him the weight of a love that transcended time and a sorrow that echoed through the corridors of his soul.As the meeting drew to a close, Seiryuu turned to Sukuna with a probing look.

"Before you go, tell me about the little girl you sent to me.”

Sukuna's expression remained unreadable. "The girl is important to me."

Seiryuu raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his eyes. "She looks exactly like my mother, Sukuna–dono.”

"It’s better to ask little to no questions," Sukuna replied, his tone cold. "The more questions you ask, the more trouble it will bring."

Seiryuu sighed, shaking his head. "You must have been such a bore if your words always echoed like this."

Sukuna made no response, his gaze steely. "I hope I never see you again, Seiryuu, because next time, I will kill you."

Seiryuu laughed, a genuine sound that filled the crypt. "You say that every time, Sukuna, and yet you never follow through. Do you have respect for your elders after all?"

Sukuna snickered, a dark amusement flickering in his eyes. "I have none."

With a graceful bow, Seiryuu offered a final word. "Thank you for making the time to see off my mother."

Sukuna remained silent, his stoic demeanor a stark and powerful response in itself. With a heavy heart, he turned away from the stairwell, leaving behind the crypt and the haunting memories that clung to its walls like shadows. The weight of his grief, a burden he carried with the weight of centuries, hung heavy upon his shoulders, echoing the pain of a past that refused to be forgotten.

Stepping into the fading light outside, the world seemed to darken around him, the encroaching shadows a tangible reminder of the darkness that still gripped his heart. Each footfall echoed with a hollow emptiness, the void that now consumed him—a void that no victory in battle or conquest could ever hope to fill.

Returning to Hida, his sanctuary amidst the mountains, offered him no solace this time. The familiar quiet that had once been a refuge now felt suffocating, a relentless reminder of the emptiness that gnawed at his immortal soul. Decades of relentless striving, of conquering foes and amassing power, had left him adrift in a sea of purposelessness.

The once-glorious halls of his domain now echoed with the whispers of lost ambitions and unfulfilled desires. His immortal existence stretched out before him, devoid of meaning or direction. What had once driven him—the promise of power, the pursuit of vengeance, the longing for a love lost to time—now felt hollow and meaningless.

As Sukuna stood amidst the silent mountains, their peaks piercing the heavens like jagged scars, he wrestled with the bitter realization that even immortality offered no escape from the agony of longing and loss. Each passing moment only deepened the chasm within him, a gaping wound that no amount of conquest could heal.

And so, in the fading light of day, Sukuna stood alone—a titan brought low by the weight of his own immortality, haunted by the echoes of a past that refused to be buried. And it bored him. It pained him. It turned him bitter, too bitter to even understand why.

Sukuna called upon Uraume, who appeared before him with a respectful bow. "Sukuna–sama," Uraume greeted, their voice tinged with concern. “You asked to see me?”

Sukuna met their gaze, his eyes reflecting a restless determination. "I’ve heard tales of a cursed user, who introduces themself as a sorcerer traveling the lands, granting wishes," he began, surprising Uraume with the unexpected topic of conversation.

Uraume tilted their head, curious. "Why would you be interested in such a thing, Sukuna–sama?"

Sukuna’s expression darkened with a hint of anticipation. "There’s something I want to do," he said slowly, his voice carrying an edge of urgency. "And I need your assistance."

Uraume nodded solemnly, sensing the gravity of Sukuna’s request. "Whatever it is, Sukuna–sama, I am here to serve."

Sukuna's mind churned with tumultuous thoughts, each thought of a turbulent wave crashing against the shores of his consciousness. For centuries, he had roamed the earth with purpose, driven by a relentless hunger for power and a burning desire for vengeance. Yet, amidst the eons of battles fought and victories claimed, there remained a desire—a yearning that whispered to him in quiet moments, a longing that stirred the depths of his immortal soul.

The prospect of fulfilling this desire now loomed before him, tantalizing yet elusive. It was a pursuit that had consumed him in quiet moments of reflection, a quest that promised to satiate a hunger deeper than any he had known. The flickering flame of possibility danced on the horizon of his mind, casting shadows of doubt and determination in equal measure.

In the labyrinth of his thoughts, Sukuna weighed the consequences of his next move. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, veiled in the mists of destiny and obscured by the echoes of past decisions. To grasp this desire meant unraveling the fabric of his existence, risking everything he had fought to build and protect.

Yet, the allure was undeniable—a magnetic pull that drew him inexorably forward, defying reason and logic. It whispered promises of fulfillment, of reclaiming what had been lost, and of forging a future where his immortal existence could find purpose once more.

As he stood at the crossroads of destiny, Ryomen Sukuna's resolve hardened like steel. With each passing heartbeat, he embraced the uncertainty that lay ahead, knowing that the journey to fulfill his desire would test not only his strength but also the depths of his resolve.

He cannot face this world like this any longer.

There must be another way to live with excitement.

There must be another way to be with you again.

“Seek out that man they call Kenjaku.”

IT WAS A CONFUSING THING. You stood amidst the rugged terrain, surrounded by towering mountains that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky. The air was crisp and tinged with the scent of pine, a stark contrast to the bustling wind that swept through the valleys below. Your long hair danced in the breeze, lilac eyes scanning the unfamiliar landscape with uncertainty.

You looked left and right, Your gaze tracing the jagged outlines of the peaks that framed your surroundings. The silence of the mountains enveloped you, broken only by the distant call of an eagle and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. Each direction seemed equally daunting, equally unknown.

You didn’t know this place, but you truly wish you did. Its contours were foreign, its secrets hidden within the folds of its ancient rocks and whispering forests. Yet, despite the uncertainty that gripped your heart, something stirred deep within the depths of your soul. A faint whisper, a subtle urging, compelled you to move forward. To find that way somewhere.

Your brow furrowed in concentration as you tried to make sense of the inner voice guiding you. It was elusive, a fleeting sensation like the touch of a distant memory. It urged you to move, to seek out something you couldn’t yet define. But you could feel it, in your gut, in your mind, in your heart, in your whole soul — that you need to be somewhere, that something is calling to you.

You could only close your eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as if to draw strength from the untamed wilderness around you. The soul dragons, ethereal creatures of legend, fluttered around you, their presence both mystical and comforting. These soul dragons, they were ephemeral and ancient. And yet they were kind to you as they soothed you and your edges. Souls were pure, they always had to be. They were protecting you with their ethereal forms shimmering with hints of iridescent colors as they circled in a dance.

You were sure that they came here to rescue you. Wandering souls are often ones that come by here, you were sure. And somehow, they seemed to sense how overwhelmed you were and in their shimmering forms weaving through the air as if to point the way, as if to guide you to a safe zone. And you were grateful, that there was at least something that could help you feel like you weren’t alone.

Uncertainty lingered in your heart, but so did determination. You knew you had to go somewhere, even if you couldn’t articulate why. With a final glance at the vast expanse before you, you took a deep sigh and put your trust in your new found companions. You took a hesitant step forward, trusting in the unseen currents that guided your path.

"Where do I belong?" you whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the gentle rustling of leaves. “Do you know where I should be?”

The soul dragons continued their mesmerizing dance, their movements synchronized as if in response to your question. You furrowed your brows, focusing. You looked around the two, trying to decipher their silent language, searching for clues in the patterns they traced against the clear blue sky. But you could only sigh. You don’t know what they were saying.

A voice, soft yet commanding, echoed in your mind, urging you to look at their dances harder. To understand what they were saying to you. You turned again, trying not to give up. Before you heard a sound. You yelped as you hid behind the dragons, who formed a wall around you. You looked to the side as you gulped. You peered for a small moment and  saw a figure approaching through the rocky terrain—a dark-haired man with an enigmatic smile on his lips.

"Are you lost, traveler?" the man asked, his voice carrying a warmth that belied the remote wilderness surrounding them. “I’m sorry, did I startle you?”

“N–not too much.” The dragons seemed unmoving as you moved to the side, but they followed you. You purse your lips. “I’m sorry….my friends here seem overprotective of me.”

He smiles back at you, shaking his head. “Not at all. Please don’t be concerned.”

You hesitated, uncertain whether to trust this stranger who seemed to appear out of nowhere. "I... I don't know…" you admitted, your gaze flickering between him and the soul dragons that hovered nearby. “I don’t know what to say.”

The man's smile widened, as if he understood the turmoil within her. "You're searching for something, aren't you?" he asked softly, his eyes holding a glimmer of knowing.

You could not help but nod slowly, a sense of relief mingling with trepidation. "I feel like I have to go somewhere," you confessed, your voice tinged with both hope and apprehension. “But I don’t know where or how to get there….I’m very….”

“Confused?”

You nodded at him. “I am…”

The man's expression softened, and he extended a hand towards you. "Then let me help you," he offered gently. "Tell me your wish, and I will guide you."

You looked into his eyes, eyes widened. “Do you… do you know who I am?”

“I do, I do know you.”

"Then…then….I… I long to remember who I am! And…and where I'm meant to go," you replied earnestly, your heart yearning for clarity. “Please tell me. Everything!”

The man's smile remained kind and reassuring. "I can help you with that," he said, his voice resonating with quiet assurance. “Don’t worry.”

You felt a surge of gratitude towards this stranger who offered to illuminate the path she sought. "What's your name?" you asked, curiosity sparking in your lilac eyes.

His smile widened as he responded, "My name is Kenjaku."

“And…..and what is my name?”

“I’ll tell you, on the way.” He takes his haori off and places it on top of your shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

You blinked at him. “I….I do.”

“Then trust me, wholeheartedly.”

Your eyes warmed as you nodded.

And so began, a thousand years of hell.

facts about the chapter

the chapter is 10k words long and it was just me trying to fit everything in one chapter knowing it would be rough if i split it into two.

i took out some stuff because the draft was not drafting the way i wanted. maybe like 2k words?

the entire chapter echoes a lot about sukuna's hypocrisy. he believes that he is a god, belittles humans and ends up being more human than most. seiryuu sees it the most in sukuna, and perhaps its why he keeps him around the most.

seiryuu is the only remaining child of hiromi still alive. he is in his 100s, which is a very rare feat in that time and being a six-eyes and limitless user, he is in fact very strained. no one knows how he lived that long.

the ode that mikoto masuyo wrote only lasted up until the death of hiromi. so only seiryuu knows about things that happened 80 years later.

the first to die was masako. she died in childbirth just ten years after her mother passed away. her last wish was to be with her mother, but she never got her wish.

the way the gojo clan stole hiromi's body back was to come when no one was around. sukuna at the time was called to the festival where he meets yorozu, whom he hates. it was put into the gojo clan manor in the capital, until the siblings could decide what to do.

sukuna talked about stealing ryomen manor and he does, for the next few years before the genpei war starts and begins. this is the time sukuna ended up dying and cutting himself into different pieces to be revived.

he renovated ryomen manor and made the entire thing have frescos of hiromi's life from beginning to end. its one of the marvels of ryomen manor, but we'll see this in us and them, but sukuna is displeased that they took out the part where he and hiromi fell and love and married - the mikoto do not in fact subscribe to the reality that they were ever married.

hiromi's soul wandered a long time, but gained form only that year because the soul could not find anyway to be whole as the way hiromi died nearly ruined the essence remaining in the soul.

the girl that was living with seiryuu was someone that sukuna holds dear. sukuna sent her away because he doesn't want her to be stuck with him. this will be elaborated on in the next chapter and in us and them!!!

kenjaku in fact was the person that trapped hiromi for one thousand years and in fact helped sukuna afterwards. the whole reason he trapped hiromi was because of her powers.

we'll only find out next chapter how hiromi was trapped and how she appears in shibuya.

the gif quotes is hiromi and her descendant genmei talking. this happens post shibuya.

[voidsteffy]

Home: Chapter I

Premise: Viraj x fem!OC Ramya [Hi! Nanna] -> A comment from Viraj drives a crack through Ramya's fragile soul. Best friends to lovers trope, she fell first he fell harder trope. A bit of melodrama / quick escalation. Angsty(?) Beware, not proofread in my eagerness to finally post this.

A/N: I finally wrote!!! This one for my moots @iworshipsappho who commented on my post about this and motivated me to the moon, and @mahi-wayy and @vijayasena and @mellaga-karagani whose zeal and totally cool (hip, trend, movement whatever you wanna call their greatness) fanfics on South-Indian movie characters. @viswa-sakhi -> akkay look at what I've been upto! and @budugu -> yendi, yevanna matladande, yevaina paata padande!

« • • • »

The thing with her was that she did things for others she didn’t have to.

She didn’t have to give Viraj her first ever photoshoot as a costume designer to propel his career. She didn’t have to watch him propose to another woman. She didn’t have to spend all her time tending to his family after his wife left him.

But she did it all, because she was in love with him.

Ramya first met Viraj when they were interning at a magazine. In those days the jobs blended into each other like the days blended into nights, like sunrise did into sunset. But he made it all something memorable. Soon, chats at the office turned into talks on the sidelines, and then into long deep talks all night long.

The moment she saw him, she knew this was the man who was going to break her heart.

It’s okay, maybe that would mean she had a heart in the first place. Ramya couldn’t feel it except when it ached.

While her career as a costume designer grew, her calls with Viraj became few and far in between. Until she visited Viraj in Coonoor.

She hadn’t known about Yashna then.

Hadn’t known about just how infatuated Viraj was with Yashna, and to no fault of his. Something with them just seemed to click, and for the first time in all eternity, Ramya— someone who hadn’t felt pain in her life— ached at the love blooming before her eyes.

Ramya’s life hadn’t been easy by the least, but she refused to cry. She hadn’t cried when her parents admitted they conceived her just to have an organ bank for her ill older sister. Or when her sister collapsed and died of an aneurysm before she could help. Or when her parents disowned her out of grief.

She wasn’t about to cry now either.

Alone in that decorated hotel room, never having felt lonelier in her life, Ramya let the first sunrays of Coonoor pierce her with the warmth she sought in Viraj’s touch. She had come there in hopes of confessing her love to Viraj but it was too late.

He had given his heart to Yashna and there was no turning back from it.

“Hey…” Viraj’s voice came from the other side of the door after a knock. “It’s Viraj. Are you awake?”

Ramya didn’t answer him, all but praying he’d go away.

“I don’t know if you’re listening, you’re probably still asleep. Maybe it’s good that you’re not gonna hear this…” he sounded excited, the sound of his feet pacing echoing on the wooden panels.

She held her breath.

“Nothing…! I feel— God, I haven’t felt like this ever Ramya!”

She felt his fist lightly thump on the door, and she could feel the smile on his face, the happiness and the lightness in his throat. Ramya slid down to the floor, legs pulled to her chest and arms around herself, her back to the door as Viraj spoke on.

“I love Yashna!” he gasped as soon as the confession left his lips. “I love her so much Ramya, I just feel like I can do anything with her by my side. I’ll protect her, I want to marry her.”

Oh to be loved that way by him, she thought.

This eternity to love.

The next to be loved.

« • • • »

Ramya wasn’t married to Viraj or Yashna, but somehow she was always involved in their lives.

Convincing Yashna’s father, protecting them from her mother, arranging the wedding. Ramya did it all. She really couldn’t bear to see Viraj nor Yashna miserable.

She hadn’t realised this until the shock on Justin’s face sunk in.

“Why are you giving away this money amma! If he wants to buy a house he’ll buy it with his own money.”

“C’mon Justin. This is Viraj we’re talking about, you know he’s too proud to ask,”

“But you saved this money for your wedding.”

The money she had handed over to him didn’t matter much when compared to their happiness, she just couldn’t explain it.

“Yes, but this is their marriage. That’s more important.”

He had looked at you then, perhaps deeper than he ever had looked at a person. And after a long pause, he smiled and nodded like he knew the secret to a universal illusion.

« • • • »

Though Yashna had mentally left him long before she had physically left, her disappearance from Viraj’s arms was jarring. She had left their little baby behind, who didn’t understand anything but the fact that she had no mother.

Mahi was the first baby Ramya had picked up.

It was also the first time (in a long time) that Viraj’s daughter stopped crying.

And so a new family was formed, glued together by the needs and dreams of Mahi: just her, Ramya, dad, grandpa, Justin and Pluto. Years passed and the good-night stories grew longer. The birthdays were grander and the smiles less heavy.

In every conference call that Viraj and Ramya attended for Mahi’s cystic fibrosis treatment research, everyone assumed she was Mahi’s mother.

It wasn’t long before Viraj stopped correcting them. However, Ramya remained just a friend, his best friend. She lived in the room across from him, had the password to his accounts, his favourite menu was on her speed-dial, Mahi’s school schedule and medicine timings synched to her calendar. She still didn’t have Viraj’s love.

Not that she loved Mahi for Viraj’s love in return, or practically lived in their house and took care of them to get a love confession from her best friend.

But everytime Mahi asked that one weighted question, it left Ramya questioning her own love.

“When will I hear my mother's story?”

That night, she was worn out by the world and its noise, and Viraj wasn’t home yet. Mahi had grown especially restless with her father’s dismissal of any story with mothers. It made her act out a bit no matter who it was at.

“Sorry kanna, enough stories for tonight. It’s getting la—”

“So you’ll tell me tomorrow?”

“We’ll see Mahi, it’s Nanna’s turn for storytime tomorrow.”

Mahi grew pleading, there was an ache in her eyes. An ache that was never palatable to see in a young girl’s face. Mahi was little, she didn’t understand the concept of losing a mother, or being abandoned. To her, there had always been a mother and she was still here somewhere, but just absent from dinner tables and baking competitions and bedtime stories.

Now that she thought of it, Ramya seemed closest to a mother she’d maybe ever have.

“But he never tells me that story!”

“Mahi…” came Viraj’s stern voice from the threshold of the pink room. “Don’t trouble Ramya.”

“But nanna!”

“No buts, enough bedtime stories for tonight Mahi!”

Ramya left the room to leave father and daughter alone, but when Viraj came out at last after a heated argument, he wasn’t just tired or sad. He was angry.

He stomped up to Ramya at the kitchen platform where she was reheating dinner.

“Did you promise her you’d tell her about her mother?”

Ramya, as usual, was quick to deny. Yashna, however beautiful and ruled by her mother as she was, was the last thing Ramya wanted to broach at storytime.

“No, of course not. Did Mahi say that?”

Viraj visibly shrunk into a chair at her question, his hands twitching on the platform as he shook his head in a no. Ramya placed her own above them, making Viraj to look at her.

“You know… You have to tell her about it all one day.”

He rolls his eyes, “Not you too Ramya.” Tired to the bone, now afraid of mentioning Yashna as much as she was afraid of loud noises.

“What ‘not you too’ ? There’s a reason everybody in this house keeps begging you to rip that band-aid off Viraj. It’s one thing to start this facade, but an entirely different task to keep lying everyday about it!”

She hadn’t realised when her voice had gotten so passionate, when she had forgotten the clicking of the oven and started glaring at her best friend.

He wasn't any more pleasant.

“Oh!” he scoffed, “You think I do this for fun? Huh? You think I like not giving my daughter a mother to even imagine? You think I like being this tired overworked single father whose daughter is being raised by a stranger?”

He said the last word with such venom, a hand recklessly flying to gesture to her, that her prediction of all those years ago came true at a heavy expense.

The thunder tearing from the skies flashed across Ramya’s face, and in that moment, Viraj realised he broke her heart.

“Stranger…” she whispered.

He shook his head, shooting out of his seat to do damage control but perhaps he couldn’t ever repair the wound he caused.

“You think I’m a stranger? Stranger to who? You? Mahi?”

“I’m so sorry Ramya. I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Mahi’s first word—”

“I’m so—”

“—No!”

Viraj froze at the shake in her voice. She was inching away from him, away from years of feeling like a part of this sweet family.

“Mahi. Mahi’s first word was ‘Viraj’ because I kept calling your name whenever I was near her. Her favourite colour changes every week though she denies it every time. This week it’s Falu because she didn’t like the name ‘Maroon’. She scored such good marks in her test today. You know the first thing she asked for, after she showed me her report card? You. Her father. She wished she could ask for her mother but she’s known no one. No one!”

Every word from Ramya felt like it was coming from between the cracks of her soul. It broke something in Viraj.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Ramya sniffled, but didn’t let anything else betray her. The world was a blur, but all she cared about was getting out of the house before she’d say something she would regret. She loved Viraj, but she didn’t want to become him.

“She doesn’t know you fully because a part of you will always be with her.  She’ll never know me because I’ve given away all parts of me to you. And you call me a stranger!”

It was not everyday he heard the harsh truth from Ramya. Part of her thought Viraj knew she loved him. At the very least, she thought he respected her.

“Everyone around you is chipping away at themselves protecting a reality you created Viraj! Do you realise just how much you’re suffering because of that reality, how much you’re making us suffer?!”

Somewhere in her moisture-framed vision, Ramya knew she was gathering her keys and bag to get out of the house. But it wasn’t until the rain spatter hit her that she realised she was rushing out. Viraj was just a cry behind her, begging her to forgive him, apologising.

She saw a car pull up in the driveway, Justin’s face illuminated by the overhead lights inside before he jumped out with concern.

A pair of arms enveloped her shoulders. It had been too long since he hugged her, more so like this. Like he was afraid of losing her, afraid of her losing it.

The back of her blouse getting wet with Viraj’s warm tears, and the rain kissing the pair from all around, they slid to the ground.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry”

Justin’s shouts became closer and closer until he stood in front of them. He kept asking what happened but she was out of words to describe the sudden pain in her life. Maybe it had always been there.

If she was a stranger to Viraj, who else did she have? Maybe not even herself.

Her first cry tore out of her throat, and it agonised her more than abate her grief. She caved into herself and Viraj bent with her, on her back with his cheeks muttering the same nothings again and again.

“Justin…!” Ramya cried.

“Amma? Tell me, what happened?!”

“Justin! Please take me away.”

“What?”

Against Viraj’s protests, she stretched a hand out for Justin which he took as fast as lightning.

“Please take me away! I want to go… G-Go—”

He pulled her out of Viraj’s desperate grip into his arms. “Let’s go… Where should we go?” He took her purse, supporting her towards his car. Justin dreaded the day he’d find Ramya on Viraj’s doorstep with her heart broken and her life flashing before her eyes. He hated this.

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok… Easy there…!”

“I want to turn back Justin!” she cried into his shoulder. His brotherly arms around kept her grounded. “I want to turn back so badly. But before I go back to him, take me away.”

“Ramya I’m so sorry!”

Viraj’s cries turned to his father-in-law at his doorstep while Justin got Ramya safely into the car. They were silhouettes marred by the elusive darkness of the night, wracked with guilt.

“Let’s go…” Justin sighed. “It’s going to be ok amma.”

“I want to go home!” she cried.

“Home?”

“Home…! I want to go home! Home! Please take me home… I want to be home!”

« • • • » stay tuned for Chapter II « • • • »

(moots, tell me if you wanna be tagged❤️)

[sadsongsandwaltzes]

I am not a psychologist so I have no clue if this is just my own crackpot theory or what. And my apologies if I’m speaking out of my ass here.

We were not made for a fallen world. We were made for Eden. Since we have to live in this world corrupted by sin, the brain does what it has to in order to survive.

A toddler doesn’t know what “hot” means, until one day you warn the child not to touch a plate because it’s “hot,” they touch anyways, they feel the sting, and now they understand what “hot” means. The brain, now acknowledging this is something that can be a threat, has an immediate response to “hot.” Anytime someone says “hot,” we immediately recoil and make sure we don’t touch whatever is believed to be hot. The brain is simply trying to survive.

I think there’s a similar thing happening with trauma response. It’s the brain doing the same thing, but to such an extreme degree that it’s almost impossible to function. If someone survives a near fatal car crash, they may panic when they go near a car. Why? Because the brain has learned this thing to be an immediate and serious threat. The brain is now trained to fear and recoil. If you lived in a war zone and learned to sleep with one eye open so to speak, the brain is now trained to sense danger at every turn, especially when you’re in such a vulnerable state as sleep. You’re living in a constant state of anxiety because you expect a fatal threat. It’s why sudden noises and movements can trigger anxiety.

The brain is doing what it does. It adapts to perceived threats for survival. This heightened state of anxiety is deemed necessary by the brain, but we were not made to live in such a state. We cant. So the brain is, ironically, slowly killing itself. The brain is rewired and burned out and always looking for that next serious threat. It’s always reminding us that the threat looms. It’s where the subconscious lives. It’s why there’s constant anxiety, why there’s nightmares.

Of course, this can be exacerbated if the trauma is accompanied by severe grief or guilt.

This brings me to my point. If you would not tell someone to just pray the cancer away, I don’t think you can tell them to just pray the trauma away. We’re talking about a real physiological problem happening.

I think grief and guilt can be assuaged by the gospel. But the brain’s inner working itself? It’s a medical problem the same as any other. God absolutely can heal trauma same as cancer, but sometimes he doesn’t. Faith can absolutely bring about peace in hardships and give us the strength to carry on, but it’s not a guarantee that God will remove the hardship. That would be prosperity gospel.

And with all of this we can also recognize that certain treatments or habits may help relieve symptoms without fully curing, it exists on a medical spectrum.

And I think this is true about a lot of mental illness.

For the record, I think most mental illness in modern America is actually spiritual illness. And I think most psychologists are looney tunes. But people abusing a certain field of study and being stupid and misdiagnosing doesn’t negate the field of study as a whole.

If every sick person who walks into a doctors office no matter the symptoms gets diagnosed with cancer, it means the doctor is a quack and we have a problem of over diagnosis of a disease. But it doesn’t mean the disease isn’t real and that a certain percentage of the population doesn’t actually suffer from it. That would be a downright foolish thought.

Hormones, brain function, all of it can affect the mind. The brain is a complex organ. We still can’t fully understand it. And I don’t think we ever will. We know the brain can affect the mind. If it didn’t, people with TBIs would never suffer from sudden mental illness or personality shifts.

It seems wholly unchristian to deny the reality of both our body and the fallen state of the world.

[wheresmymilliondollarman]

aaron warner x ferrars! reader pt. 4

(continuation from part three)

who knew running a new country was so hard? spoiler alert: apparently everyone but you and your sister. your asylum days never looked so simple.

a/n: hi… i’m back 🔥🔥 i’d like to start by apologizing for the stupid long wait. it was unfair to my readers and i swear i had no intention to leave people waiting. i genuinely forget sometimes people really like my writing </3 and i truly am grateful to the people who read. let’s jus say i have been busy and yet so unmotivated for the littlest things. i won’t bore w the details i’m sure y’all are jus happy i finally posted part 4. again REALLY sorry for the wait and pls enjoy. also now adding borders to my fics (ill edit the old ones too)

word count: 9k

warnings: few plot changes, fights and feuds, violence and blood mention, castle slander, angst, buzzcut aaron 😣😣😣

things were finally looking up for the rebellion. you'd manage to overthrow the supreme commander and his army, the reestablishment no longer ruled over your part of the land - making it open to new possibilities of government.

you never wished you paid attention in your social studies classes until now.

there were so many regulations you had to learn, matters you had to discuss, and, of course, the never-ending paperwork. your least favorite part. it didn't help you were behind on learning the fancy terminology for topics. 'can't people ever just say what they mean?'

juliette's optimism for being a leader was diminishing every time she had to meet with castle on strategy. he poorly disguised his disapproval of leadership upon every encounter.

but you learned to ignore it along the way. it wasn't as if he was ever the perfect leader either, plus you'd get the gist of the whole leadership thing soon. you silently prayed.

in the midst of all the responsibilities, you had to keep aaron from killing kenji most of the time. they were originally getting on somewhat friendly enough terms, but that was before the incident occurred.

that day, kenji barged in with urgency into your room as you were looking over papers. he went on to say there was a 'serious' problem, and you worriedly assumed it had to do with the reestablishment. but it instead involved your boyfriend.

"seriously kenji? i thought we were under attack or someone died!"

"someone will die if you don't handle your boyfriend right now. hopefully better than you've been handling being supreme comm-" kenji was cut off by the click of a gun.

"i dare you to finish your sentence."

with the barrel to his head, kenji quickly defended his words with the barrel to his head. aaron and him bickered back and forth. kenji turned to you for help, but all you did was shrug and mouth 'karma.' then he hit kenji's head with said gun.

"okay, that's enough, can someone explain to me what the issue is here?"

"this is the issue." aaron then turned to reveal chunks of different sizes along the back of his head. you gasp at his ruined hair.

"oh my god, kenji what the hell did you do?"

"i gave him a trim just like he asked!"

this made another argument burst out between the two. kenji denying his mistake and aaron picking the gun back up and threatening to kill him.

"aaron put the gun down."

aaron reluctantly does so, but his glare at kenji doesn't drop.

"phew, thanks, princess."

"kenjii since you "trimmed" warner's hair, i think it's only fair that he does the same to yours." you proclaim.

kenji looks toward you in horror, "no way!"

aaron wastes no time in going to the bathroom and returning with a razor. he gives him a terrifying smile, "i'm only going to trim the edges."

kenji bolted out of the room a second later, complaining about favoritism on the way out.

aaron ended up having no choice but to shave the rest of his hair, leaving him with a military-style buzz cut. you would mourn the longer hair, but truthfully, it did nothing to tarnish his looks.

sector 45, after sending several invitations, finally received a rvsp for an international leadership conference held at your sector. from oceania, is what delalieu told you and juliette.

you started to come to the realization about the lack of history you knew about warner. sure, you knew him deeply now, but you knew so little about his past. castle made it evident when he mentioned to you and juliette his possible connection to oceania's leaders. castle, annoyingly, did not disclose anymore and insisted aaron needed to be the one to tell. yet, he judged how little you both knew about oceania.

warner being immersed into his work left little time for that. while aaron had been helpful in your learning some etiquettes, he'd been closing off his emotions since he father's death. even after many attempts of trying to get him to open up, he vowed he was okay. you had a slim to none chance of prying information about oceania from him.

you felt lost and angry. for being supreme commanders, you and juliette seemed to be almost always out of the loop. castle regarded you as experiments, seeing how two naive teenage girls could survive being leaders. the rest of the world wasn't any different.

you offered the idea of just reading castle's mind, but juliette thought it could lead to mistrust toward you. she believed you both needed to remain calm for the moment, which is what you have done so far. but you were getting a bit bitter playing nice for so long.

at times you felt juliette left you of the leadership issues. she insisted to be the one to tackle meetings and discussion with castle, she sometimes gave answers before even discussing it with you, and even delalieu seemed to report everything to her first before it got to you. you would never bring it up, and just wrote it off as her still getting the hang of everything. but in the back of your mind you worried it was only a foreshadow.

on the way to see the new headquarters, castle rushed to you. he begged you and juliette to reconsider taking warner with you to greet the guest downstairs. you had no clue what he was on about, but played along and told him warner wasn't needed. you quickly caught on to the situation.

you rushed back to your room, put on what you deemed appropriate clothing and freshened up your hair and face. you were still putting on your shoes when you left.

on the way, you thought about how odd it was juliette didn't even bother to inform you. even if you were busy, you both had pagers to contact one another for important events such as this one.

you hear sounds of greetings as you approach the reception. you luckily hadn't missed out on much.

you see kenji along side juliette and feel a pang of betrayal. juliette was subtly shocked and kenji was confused to see you. but you cover it up with a smile as you turn to see the guest.

"apologies for my delay, i was held up with some prior matters." you hold a hand out, "it's a pleasure to meet you, i'm y/n."

the guest introduces himself as haider, and you can't help but notice a glint of recognition as he looks you over.

but that was forgotten as you came to find out haider wasn't aware of the fact sector 45 had another supreme commander as it wasn't mentioned on the invitation. you told him it must've been a mistake, but you threw a questioning glance to juliette.

you felt yourself get lost as the meeting when on. haider didn’t make it discreet he knew warner very well. he made a brief comment on his relationship with the other supreme commander children.

“i’ve got to say, when i first heard about warner being involved with a girl — i had strong doubts. he has never been the relationship type. unless you count lena. oh, but i’m sure you know all about her by now. they were together for almost two-years after all.”

you had no idea who lena was, but you had a strong sense you wouldn’t like the answer. haider had obviously knew this, and faked ignorance with his comment.

“oh. he hasn’t mentioned his ex-girl friend?”

your heart dropped. you glanced at kenji and juliette from the side of your eyed and they held the same face of surprise. you did your best to remain unphased with a polite smile.

“must’ve just not been important enough to discuss. like right now. i’d prefer if we got back on track of the topic instead of digging into my personal relations.”

if haider was impressed or offended he didn’t show and shifted subjects. you tried your best to listen in as juliette spoke with him about dinner, but the thought of warner having an ex-girlfriend floated around in your mind for the rest of the meeting.

the second haider left the room, and you all burst into a discussion for the next step. dinner would be in less than an hour, and you were still filled in with little to no information about haider and his intentions. you knew the next step would be for you to talk to aaron about it, but you weren’t sure you could be alone with him with this newfound information about his past. you got juliette and kenji to come along with you to question him under the excuse that it would be easier than relaying whatever he told you.

before you three could do that, you didn’t forget their actions before this meeting. you knew it would be the worst time to discuss especially with how limited time was, but you spoke without thinking when you saw juliette heading towards the door.

“why didn’t you tell me about this meeting?”

she sighs and brushes you off saying it wasn’t the most important subject right now. but you already begin, so you thought you might as well get some answers, and pushed her for an explanation.

“we’re suppose to be in this together, how could you leave me in the dark—”

“because i didn’t think you could handle it, and quite frankly, castle agreed with me.”

“what?” you were dumfounded by her response.

“you’ve been so unruly lately, and i get it doing this whole supreme commander thing has been challenging — but i couldn’t afford anything with this meeting.”

“unruly? just because i don’t want to listen to every little thing castle says. news flash, he’s made it quite clear he doesn’t support us leading sector 45.”

“he knows far more than us, we should take what he says wisely.”

“j has a point y/n, castle has a lot of experience—” kenji intercepts.

“shut up! you’re just as guilty as juliette. i thought we were friends and then you help juliette hide this meeting from me!” you spit at kenji.

he stays silent, for once. but it says more than enough for you. you turn your bitterness back to your sister.

“was it his idea to only put down you as the supreme commander on the invitations, too?”

“yes.” she reluctantly admits. “castle wasn’t sure if the idea of two supreme commanders would go well over with orher sectors. i swear, y/n, i only found out once they were already sent.”

you didn’t care for reasoning. you were angry at it all. “i agreed to do this for you! it was you wanted us to do this together! ”

“and maybe i’m starting to regret that.”

your face dropped. juliette’s eyes widened as she realized the weight of her words. but it was too late to apologize.

you scoff, “alright. fine. go ahead and do it yourself. go and question warner about haider yourself and talk to castle and beg for his help for dinner. because i’m done being supreme commander. but it’s not like i ever was, right?”

you can’t help but leave a final comment before you stalk out the door, “you know what’s funny? i found out about the meeting because castle wanted me to tell you to not do it on your own, to bring warner, he said. guess you’re unruly to him too.”

with limited options of locations juliette, kenji, or warner wouldn’t be able to find you, you had to resort to being hiding in your old room you were once held captive in.

now less clouded by anger, you facepalmed yourself. perhaps just quitting being supreme commander had been a rash decision. you weren’t even quite sure if you could just quit like that. but you would rather be jobless than take back your words to juliette.

maybe she was right, you are quite unruly. but you had no plans to admit it to her.

you thought back to aaron. you wanted his comfort, but you still were upset about the ex-girlfriend situation. even if you said it was important, you had somewhat of a right to know when your boyfriend was in a past relationship.

you hated how castle was right about how much you lack knowledge about aaron’s history. and you know you should probably be there with kenji and juliette talking to aaron, but you were too prideful, and a little embarrassed to do so.

so you collected yourself as made your way back to your room (taking twists and turns to avoid anyone you didn’t want to see) to prepare yourself mentally and physically for the dinner to come.

unfortunately for you, aaron was sitting on your bed waiting for your return when you stepped into the room. you we’re unsure on how to greet him since he likely was informed about earlier events through juliette and kenji.

“oh my god, you scared me.”

“my apologies, amor. but i had to see you after you you didn’t arrive with kenji and juliette when they went to ask me about haider.”

you went into your closet as he spoke from your bed, picking out a nice dress for dinner. “got into a fight with them and it didn’t end well. then i dramatically quit being supreme commander.” you explained nonchantly.

he was taken aback, “you quit? just like that?”

“yeah.” you confirm walking out the closet with a lilac dress on arm, “you think this’ll be good enough, or it it too much?”

“you’ll look astonishing as always. but don’t change the topic, what happened to that headstrong nature of yours i admire? you can’t just give up after a silly fight.”

you groan, and toss the dress on tour bef next to him, “i really don’t want to talk about it right now. can’t you just tell me what shoes go with this dress?”

“amor.” aaron stands up and interwines his hands in yours, “please don’t shut me out.”

you bitterness rose back up at his words and you drop aaron’s hands. “that’s ironic coming from you.”

“amor, please don’t pick a fight with me.”

“castle once told me i didn’t know you as well as i thought. and he’s right, aaron. any mention of your past and you close right up.”

aaron sighs, “i’m not an open person, you know this. it’s harder for me to talk about my personal life than it is for you. but i mean it when i say i am trying for you.”

“really? then why didn’t you even bother to mention you knew haider. or how about the fact you have an ex-girlfriend! you know how embarrassing it was for someone from a different continent to tell you more than you knew about your boyfriend?”

“lena?” he asks furrowing his brows. “she was barely a girlfriend. haider likely only mentioned her to rile you up and it’s working, so please calm down.”

“oh my god. there you go again! you want to just sweep it under the rug, and i’m tired of it. all i want is a little more openness from you.”

“i have been open, there’s no one closer to my heart than you. please understand that just certain subject are—“

“hard to talk about, yeah i’ve got that.” you exasperated. “i just think it’s important to mention a two-year relationship.”

“it was purely physical.”

your heart stings. “so, physical relationships just mean nothing to you? everything physical we’ve shared hasn’t meant anything to you?”

“that’s not what i meant. i was different back then!”

you turn around, “just go warner. i’d like to be alone right now before dinner.”

aaron didn’t anything else, he knew your word was final. not because of his sense of your emotions, but by the fact you used his last name.

in less than an hour you managed to fight with every person close to you. and you had to see said people at dinner in less than ten minutes. somehow, you blamed castle for your luck.

delalieu knocked on your door to escort you to dinner. you weren’t sure of aaron had told him to or perhaps he had pity that you would be entering alone. either way you were happy to walk with someone you weren’t upset with.

luckily, you had arrived before the guests did. but unluckily, kenji, juliette, and aaron were already there. your usual spot was next to aaron and infront of juliette, kenji sometimes next to you or her. but juliette sat at the head of the table now, kenji to her right and aaron to her left. you had no choice but to awkwardly sit next to warner due to the limited seating. plus you’d rather not show haider theres issues amongst you four.

kenji and juliete silently conversed, your sister ignored you fully while kenji glimpsed at you with a small frown. you could feel aaron turn in your direction, but your gaze focused on the empty seat next to you.

haider arrived shortly, greeted aaron first with a hug, one aaron was visibly discomforted by. then discreetly spoke, both using arabic tongues. which none of you knew he had. ypu almost choke on nothing as he casually reveals aaron know seven languages. the rest of you greeted him curtly, and he took a seat in front of you.

haider wasn’t the only guest at the dinner, his sister nazeera showing up was a bit of a surprise to the rest of you.

nazeera is gorgeous, with her smooth carmel complexion, dark eyes and strong features. her face held diamonds percing; two on her eyebrow and one below her lip. she wore a wrap that covered her whole hair, and it did nothing to lessen her beauty — it enhanced it.

she stared at juliette before she turned to you. you were unsure of the expression she held, and part of you wanted to just find out yourself, but you knew better.

both you and juliette stood up to greet her, and she accepted politely. she gave aaron a mere nod then proceeded to sit down next to you, instead of her brother. but if anything it gave you more of a reason to not talk to the people beside you.

aaron started the conversation about her scraf, but kenji was the one who made an offhanded comment regarding her head scarf, which you learned was called a hijab, claiming it was banned to wear them since it was stabled with religion. nazeera didn’t shy away from answering, she stood her stance and didn’t care for reestablishment rules despite being a supreme commander’s daughter.

nazeera has a sharp tongue and kenji was not prepared for it. you tried to hide you smile as kenji got more flustered with his words. she was highly more likable than her brother.

“are all the other supreme commander kids like this?” you ask her.

“only the ones who aren’t insufferable.” she stands up from her seat, “so, no,” she tells you with a wink. nazeera then announces her departures and leaves the dining table.

you had a good feeling about her. and even though you and juliette were at odds, you knew she also admired nazeera already.

aaron and kenji bickered a bit before haider bid his goodbyes. aaron took the liberty of escorting him to his quarters. a job that likely should’ve been done by you or juliette, but frankly, you didn’t like the guy much to care.

now juliette, kenji, and you sat in an awkward silence. part of you wanted to mend things with your sister, but majority of you felt she should take the first step. kenji looked ready to say something, but held his tongue.

you figured it was the most you’ll get, so you mumbled a goodbye and headed off to your room.

half way there, you stopped. even if you felt you were the one in the right, you were ready to make the first move if it meant rehashing things with your sister and best friend. you rerouted back to the dining room.

before you could enter, you heard talking. you peeked through the slit of the open door and saw nazeera, juliette, and kenji talking.

suddenly, and ugly feeling boiled in your stomach. seeing them all conversing (mainly juliette and nazeera because kenji was mixing his words) made you realize how perfect the three looked together. almost natural. it made you think of how easy it would be to replace you. nazeera would be the one teasing and messing with kenji. nazeera would be the sister you imagined juliette wished she had instead — one who was confident, witted, and courageous. everything you lacked these days.

maybe they just didn’t need you nearly as much as you needed them.

you couldn’t even place your vexation on nazeera. you just met her today, and she was already someone you knew was amazing as she presented herself.

you never entered the dining room. you left before anyone could notice you dejectedly walking away.

the following morning wasn’t better. delalieu knocked on your just as the sun was starting to rise, your restless sleep did nothing to help wake you up. he informed you you’d been invited to accompany haider, and nazeera would likely be joininng. you nodded, thanked him, and sent him on his way.

as soon as the door closed, you grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it. haider was already being a pain, and it was his second day.

worst part was, delalieu failed to mention haider had also invited others.

you were unpleasantly surprised to see all three of the people you quarreled with arriving after you.

you weren’t sure who to walk aside. but on instinct you stood next to aaron before you could remember your vendetta. juliette was on one side of haider and you were on the other. nazeera and kenji followed closely behind.

it was unbearably silent the first few steps, there wasn’t a word uttered. the tension would’ve needed a axe to cut.

you couldn’t help but peek at aaron from the side of your eye. you quickly looked forward when you accidentally made eye contact. he sighed quietly after. you hated how badly you had to clench your fist to prevent yourself from latching it onto his.

haider broke the silence. he asked warner if he would be attending the continental symposium. you and juliette only knew briefly about it. no one ever mentioned the nature of the event to either of you.

but when juliette inferred haider about it, you both realized how big the event was.

“i wasn’t sure whether you’d both attend since the late supreme commander anderson has never attended public gathering.”

“we’ll both very much be there.” you add in quickly.

“of course, we aren’t hiding from the world,” juliette adds in, “when will it be?”

haider’s eye slightly widened as if she asked an incredulous question. but it made sense after he revealed it would be in two days. he innocently answered, but you knew he was satisfied having caught juliette off guard.

“it’s really my fault for that. juliette’s been so diligent with managing all other issues i thought it would be better if i took it off her shoulder’s and handled it. but silly me, i’d forgotten to keep her posted on the date.”

you jumped in with an excuse to defend your sister because even if you two weren’t on good terms, you wouldn’t let someone try to toy with her.

juliette looks to you grateful for the help, and you give her a small smile in return.

aaron added in, “she’s right, we’re finalizing the program with delalieu today, who is hard at work planning the details.”

you give his hand a tight squeeze as a ‘thank you’. but as you try to let go, aaron’s hand engulfs your tightly to stop you. you try to wiggle your hand a little, but eventually it it be.

you bite the inside of your cheek to keep you from smiling.

aaron asks haider for his plans during the remainder of his stay. he mentions catching up with old friends then goes on to say juliette and you must’ve received numerous invitations from the other kids of supreme commanders.

“we haven’t gotten the whole group together in far too long,” haider says.

you raise a brow, “whole group? just how many of you are there?”

suddenly everyone stops as haider’s demeanor goes from unauthentic sincerity to ice cold. it almost scares you.

he harshly grabs aaron’s arm,wretching your hands apart, and pulls him forward. haider asks angrily if he’s shared little to nothing about ‘them’ with you.

“you turn your back on us for this — this child? how stupid could you be? you have to know it won’t end well, i promise you that.”

“hey! let go.” you protest.

haider scoffs and ignores you. “i thought it couldn’t be true you’d fallen for a psychotic girl’s insignificant freak sister. i defended you, just to find out it all true. what the hell happened to you?”

you’d had enough shoved him away with your gift, hard enough to cause him to stumble back a little.

haider was stunned by the sudden force then notices the red aura from your hand.

“what did you just do?”

you shrug, “how could a child like me do something? but if you touch him like that again you’ll end up just like the last supreme commander. i promise you that.”

“is that a threat?”

“why don’t you find out?”

haider laughs, almost delighted by the fact you threatened to basically kill him. everyone else unintentionally lets out a breathe they didn’t know they were holding, especially juliette who had been ready to intervene.

haider requested to speak with aaron alone, promising to keep his hands to himself. you and aaron shared a look, and you knew he’d be alright. he gives you a smile that was made for you, and you return it.

the fight from the say before was long forgotten. you knew no matter how many fights you’d have, you’d do almost anything for him.

part of you still hoped for a grand apology, but this would be more than enough. now, you hoped to eventually make amends with the other two.

you walked off, not quite sure the destination. you figured you might as well go on a walk yourself since the planned one got disrupted. but a hand grabbed your arm to stop you.

“hey, uhm,” it’s juliette’s voice, “do you think we could talk? i mean..later because we’re all so busy and obviously you have stuff to do-“

“yeah.” you smile, “i’d like that.”

you both share heartfelt grins. you wave at kenji and nazeera from your spot and walk back toward the base. this time, with a happier kick in your step.

a good few steps in — you felt it, an abrupt change in the environment. it was almost too eerie, and you realized there was no one in sight, not even the guards who are meant to follow you from a generous distance.

you came to the conclusion it was no accident when the first shot punctured your shoulder. the second through your side.

you scream in agony to as you attempt to flee from the open, but more bullets ensue. you manage to block a few with your energy, but the pain was painful enough to leave some to hit your busy, such as your thigh. but the one that made you topple over was a bullet near the chest, in almost the same spot anderson once shot you.

you managed to block it before it was a fatal hit, but it hit you enough to be painful and draw blood.

you were half conscious, the world foggy and blurry in your eyes. you felt someone approach you and kneel down to tower over your defenseless body. a sudden pressure on your neck woke you up enough to understand this person was choking you to kill you.

you used whatever energy you had left to try and push the person off of you. the lack of oxygen and the increase of black spots made it hard for you to focus on pushing the person off.

your adrenaline kicked in to created enough power to get the man off of you. as soon as he groan in pain, you started to feebly crawl away from the perpetuator. your blood likely dragging on the concrete now. but they composed fast, and grabbed onto your ankle. you fid what you could and grabbed the nearest rock and hit them on the head with it. but ir wasn’t enough to stop them from grabbing you again.

at that point you were worn out, too tired to even move a muscle. the loss of blood was starting to make you woozy, and the bullets seemed far more painful than you remembered. you couldn’t register you were on the verge of death.

but the pressure on your neck never returned. instead came the noises of violent punches and broken bones. a new person crouched beside you, you knew they meant you no harm as they assessed your wounds and chanted assuring words.

in your deliriousness, you babbled on about how they looked like your friend kenji, one whom you fought with and missed so much.

“i’m sure your friend misses you too.” kenji responds, doing his best to keep you awake.

you blacked when another person, stronger than the first, carefully carried you and rushed toward the base.

in the medical bay, you were in and out of consciousness. you remember sara and sonya hurriedly tending you, kenji freaking out in the back, and aaron worriedly beside you. your first thought was, ‘where’s juliette?’

unbeknownst to you at the time, juliette was getting her wounds treated as well. she had been shot too, but not nearly as fatal as you. she was caught off guard alone as well, but her attacker only aimed to disable her. nazeera had been near by when she heard the commotion and saved her.

juliette was shot moments before you, and aaron believed it was worked as a distraction so your assailant could successfully kill you.

kenji was the one to find you. after juliette had been injured, he went to find you and arrived in the nick of time.

it took almost two days before you could wake up fully without passing out every minute. the first face you saw was aaron — who was already at your beside, holding your hand tightly — almost like he was praying.

when he noticed you’d woken up, his face became relaxed. he pecked you on the lips before badgering you with questions about your state. you assured him you were alright, and had to repeat it over and over.

your body still ached greatly due to the poison laced in the bullets sara and sonya explained to you. your wounds were healed, but there were still possibility of hallucinations from the poison.

after asking for your sister, sara had informed you of her situation, but quickly told you she was alright after seeing your worried eyes.

the culprits had been caught and sent to the holding cells, but they had refused to cooperate. meaning there was zero information on who was behind both your attacks.

aaron was monitoring you intently, when you sat up he rushed to help. he hadn’t stopped holding onto you since you woke up, as if you’d disappear if he let go. his eyes were red-rimmed, but you didn’t comment on it.

you felt bad for giving him a near-death scare again, and berated yourself for leaving yourself vulnerable. even worse, since your sister had also been hurt. aaron put the blame on himself for leaving you unattended.

no matter what you said, warner seemed distraught. his eyes told you there was more to the issue, he was holding back. as he remembered what the issue was, he grew distant. his grip on your hand loosened.

“is everything okay?”

“as long as you’re okay, amor.” he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “i have to speak with you about something.”

“about what?”

“not here. let’s get you out of here and cleaned up before we talk.”

you nod. you were more than ready to get out the the med bay. your thoughts went to the coming symposium, with you and juliette being temporarily mia, there was likely a plethora of things still needed to get done.

you were happy to finally get a chance to shower. the grime and blood were now down the drain. once done, you changed and went back into your room where aaron was waiting.

before he could get a word in, you embraced him tightly, and he didn’t hesitate to hold you. after almost dying, you just wanted the comfort of aaron. kenji would call you crazy for putting ‘comfort’ and ‘aaron’ in the same sentence.

you kiss him, after what’s felt like forever. it’s not fiery or rushed, but deliberate and emotional. everything was gone from your surrounding for a moment, it was just the two of you. you felt safe. but then aaron pulled away from you, and held onto your hands.

“amor, i need to tell you something. it’s important.” his eyes are looking at everywhere but you.

“you can tell me anything.” you reassure.

he takes a deep breath, running a hand through his blonde hair. your nerves begin to spike, you’ve never seen aaron so hesitant to speak, he’s almost scared.

“i’ll start from the beginning.”

and he did. he told you the start of the reestablishment, their campaigns, ideals, and plans to take over. then, he shifts to the ‘unnatural’s’ and how after they were discovered, they were exploited by the reestablishment.

aaron tells you about two girls who were willingly given over to the reestablishment to be experimented and tested on. you were getting confused on where the conversation was going.

“aaron, why are you explaining all this?”

“because one of those girls is juliette.”

you didn’t know what to say, you were thrown into a loop you still weren’t fully comprehending.

“i don’t understand..”

“the parents you lived with weren’t your biological ones. y/n, you’re both adopted.”

your reality was warped in a matter of seconds. you never felt connected to your ‘parents’, but finding out you came from a different family?

“w-wait… so the people juliette and i lived with for almost our entire lives aren’t our parents?” aaron nods.

“so where are our biological parents? are they alive? wait… who’s the other girl you mentioned before?”

your head was jumbled up, you were trying to get so many answering at once while still trying to process.

aaron closes his eyes for a second before the green is visible again. “that other girl is juliette’s sister. but it’s not you, amor. you and juliette are not biologically related.”

you were frozen, as if time itself had stopped. you free from aaron’s hands and distance yourself. everything had change.

aaron keeps speaking, saying he only knew of juliette’s real sister and parents and sister until recently. castle was the one who told him the information to put the pieces together. castle was the one who urged him to tell you because the reestablishment was was coming, very soon.

“there was no record of you before you were adopted, i had always assumed it was only juliette adopted. it was only after you came here and i ran your dna, along with juliette’s, did i find yours different from your parents.”

juliette wasn’t actually your sister. the parents and girl you grew up with aren’t related to you at all. everytime you talked to aaron about were grateful for juliette as a sister, he knew the truth the whole time.

it took you five minute of speak again. you didn’t care for the rest at the moment, you still had to have another question of yours answered.

“if juliette’s biological parents work for the reestablishment, where are mine?”

“i swear, i had no idea-“

“please. just tell me.”

the more you heart, the more your heart shatters. to stay and watch over sector 45 while his father left to the capital, anderson had him prove himself. it started with emmaline, juliette’s real sister. he was in charge of her imprisonment and torture. but then his father sent him one more task before he was supreme commander.

anderson transported a man and woman to sector 45, aaron was commanded to get information, by any means, out of them. it went on for a year, until anderson saw no value in keeping them anymore.

his father ordered a public execution, and aaron did as he was told. only when finding a journal of his father just hours before you woke up did he get the identity of those people. your parents.

it was the final straw to send you spiraling. you don’t know if you got on the floor or started yelling first. aaron knelt down next to you, trying to soothe you, but it was only making it worse.

you don’t even feel the tears are running down your face. aaron apologizes over and over saying, no matter how many times you told him to stop. you could only keep saying ‘why?’ over and over.

‘why did you keep this from me?’

‘why didn’t you tell me sooner?’

when aaron tried holding you, you roughly shoved him away. his touch no longer felt loving. instead, it became poisonous.

“don’t touch me.”

“amor, please. i love you, so much.”

“you don’t know how to love anyone. you’re a fucking coward.”

the room was suffocating you. you felt trapped and had to get out of there. you got up and booked it out the door, not stopping when aaron called out your name.

you keeping running and let your legs guide you to your destination. the moment you spotted the white door, you came to a halt.

you barge in with no warning, startling the two people in the room. you take big step toward your target and, without hesitation, you slap castle.

“oh my god— what the hell, y/n!”

kenji’s presence does nothing to stop you, “did you have your kicks keeping secrets from us this entire time?”

castle sighs, now unphased by your violence, “i assume warner told you.”

“we trusted you! and all you did was keep us in the dark about our own fucking life!”

“what the hell is going on?”

“does juliette know?”

“i talked to her not long before warner went to you.”

‘oh god,’ you thought. you worried that was the reason juliette has lacked to see you since you’ve woken up.

“miss ferrars, it was not my intention to cause pain to your or your sis— juliette.”

his error struck a nerve, “no, but it was your intention to be a liar and snake, screw you.”

you stormed out in a rage, not before doing a 180 on castle’s desk. you hoped he’d have the worst time cleaning up.

you ran. out of his office and out of the compound. away from it all. you finally stopped after being knee-deep into a forest.

not caring for your surroundings, you sat down on the nearest large rock. it was then you realized how much energy you exhausted. you took in deep breaths to regain your breathing stability. the oxygen filled your lung helped to calm you down for the first time in the past hour.

with no one around, you finally had the time to think straight without anger and despair clouding your judgement. you weren’t even sure if you could exhaust anymore tears.

but it turned out you did. going through the events of the past hour, didn’t help with processing as you thought it would. it only made you relive the heart-ache.

took half an hour to calm down your sobbing. but it was oddly comforting doing it in a place no one would hear you.

you decided didn’t wanna focus on everything you learned. not on aaron. not on being adopted. not on juliette not being your sister. not on your parents being dead before you got the chance to meet them.

you focused on what you could control — the coming continental symposium. it would be in less than a day. you had nothing prepared, not even attire; much less a speech.

you had no idea how you could show up and presume your personality from before. how could you face the supreme commander kids in a state like this? your thoughts wondered to juliette on what her plan would be. but then it hit you; how was juliette handling it?

when you thought about it, you hadn’t seen her all day. she didn’t see you when you woke up, nor before you and aaron talked. she likely didn’t take this news lightly, especially regarding her sister.

thinking about juliette having a sister, that wasn’t you, was painful. your bond wouldn’t be the same. you weren’t blood, juliette no longer had a reason to stand by your side.

despite telling yourself not to, you thought back to warner. his betrayal hurt deeper than castle’s. how could you trust him again? you couldn’t. it was over.

time passed like nothing being amongst nature. the once light blue sky, turned orange with pink hues, signaling the end of the day. you knew you couldn’t hide forever. you had to find juliette.

if your theory was right then juliette was not in her room. you brainstormed possible locations when you bumped into kenji.

“y/n? thank god, everyone’s been worried about where you went, and juliette—“

“where juliette? i need to see her now.”

“y/n… warner told me everything. i know it must be hard for you both, but i think typu both need some spac—“

you snap, “just tell me where she is kenji!”

“she’s not in the best state.”

“take me to her. now.”

kenji reluctantly leads you to the door of anderson’s office. when you saw it was locked, you pounded on the wood relentlessly.

“c’mon, let’s just go.” kenji persists.

“juliette! open the door!”

“go away.”

“juliette, please let me in. i wanna talk.”

“i don’t wanna speak to you.”

“well, i do.”

“you’re not my real sister, so leave me alone!”

“fine,” you scoff, “hopefully you treat your new sister a lot better than your treating me right now.”

“fuck you.”

“fuck you too!” you throw back.

“…bad time to say i told you so?”

you rolled your eyes at kenji’s remark and walk away. your anger resurged, and you needed somewhere to blow off steam. training room had been unfortunate to be your victim.

when you saw no one in sight, you took it as a sign to proceed. in a matter of seconds, objects where tossed across the room through your levitation. weights were scattered, some broken, benches were bent out of shape, even a few treadmills weren’t so kindly spared. you’d feel bad about the damage later, but it felt so good in that moment to get angry.

it was dark outside when your adrenaline was closing to nothing. your only had energy to sit on a mat laid across the floor. you figured you’d take a quick power nap before going back to your room to sleep.

as soon as you closed you eyes, you were passed out. you’d hadn’t realized just how much of your energy you exerted.

aaron warner was getting back from his debriefing with delalieu, when the open door of the training room caught his eyes.

he was more than dismayed to see the damage done to what once was the training center. he was irritated that he’d have to replace basically all equipment. aaron assumed there was violent fight that happened, but then his eyes fell upon your form sleeping soundly on the floor.

now, he was more impressed than annoyed at the damage done. he would’ve been slightly proud of he wasn’t the reason for you to lash out so brutally.

aaron picked up your limp body in his arms, and carried you off to bed; taking advantage of holding you again. because he wasn’t sure the next time he’d be able to.

you were disoriented after waking up in your room, wondering how you ended up in your room when you’d fell asleep in the training room. you threw the possibly of sleeping walking to bed in, but then decides you didn’t care much for finding out.

it had been much later than you anticipated, and you were surprised no one woke you up. you dressed swiftly and headed out the door, despite a dreading feeling brewing in your gut.

first stop was to find delalieu, who actually found you first. he informed you the arrival of the newest guests and listened as he listed name. you stopped when he uttered the word ‘lena.’

“lena? as in warner’s ex-girlfriend?”

delalieu says nothing, but his eyes are looking at the ground. ‘so that’s a yes.’

great, you thought. you broke up less than twenty four hours ago and his ex already shows up.

then delalieu tells you juliette is already greeting guests, so your presence is not mandatory. he likely knows all of yesterday’s events, including your fight with her, so he’s likely trying to prevent conflict before the symposium.

a stronger person would’ve bitten the bullet and showed up anyway. but you weren’t that stronger person today. you would take to chance to avoid people you didn’t wanna see at any point.

perhaps it was a coward’s way, but you believed after everything, you were entitled to have at least one day.

you busied yourself in the office of your room; approving symposium plan and decor, looking through letters, and going through anderson’s old files — provided by delalieu.

kenji came to see you three hours before the symposium. you pretended to not here it the first couple times he knocked, but he was annoyingly persistent.

you weren’t mad at kenji, he didn’t know anything before you. but didn’t mean seeing him was easy, his presence always reminded you of juliette. you three had always hung out. now he was stuck in the middle.

kenji told you nazeera wanted to speak with you, so you granted her permission to enter. nazeera was quick to her point and told you the reestablishment’s plan; destroying sector 45. she advised you and juliette presented yourself strong at the event, to show everyone you’re a formidable enemy. plus, there was the possibility of sudden danger because of the plans the reestablishment had for juliette and you.

you found sudden danger was just always a given in your life.

you weren’t sure how you and juliette could show up united, you both were at odds and still processing everything you’ve been told. it would be nearly impossible to act as if nothing has changed.

were you even still supreme commander? you weren’t sure you ever ‘unquit’.

but, differences would have to be put aside. because everyone will be watching for your next move. and it may or may not lead to the demise of sector 45.

you missed just shooting and punching enemies.

kenji stuck around after nazeera left. you both discussed the danger to come. then, he filled you in on anything you missed, juliette’s buzzcut, warner sulking, the new guests, and, your favorite, lena being humbled by juliette.

apparently, she’d been ‘eager’ to meet you and asked juliette about your whereabouts. she referred to you as an ‘ex-girlfriend’ is what kenji told you. how she knew about the break up, you had no idea.

juliette looked her up and down before telling her you don’t waste your time with other insignificant to you.

you couldn’t help but laugh, maybe you were judging lena before knowing her, but based on that interaction; it told you enough.

once kenji left to get ready, you decided you’d do the same.

your nerves spiked the closer it got time for the big event. you spent a good hour deciding what would be best to wear. you hadn’t realized you relied on warner for fashion help until that moment.

you settled on a floor-length gown with beautiful embroidered and beaded details. you tried to avoid putting any accessories gifted to you by warner, but it was nearly impossible.

you attempted a makeup look, and you thought you did a pretty good job. and if not, kenji never frayed from being brutally honest to your face.

a guard knocked at your door to alert you that it was time. you cross your finger before exiting the room. time to face everyone you’d been avoiding.

everyone who was to go to the symposium was gathered outside the base, awaiting the vehicle to take them to the meeting location. as expected, everyone was dressed formally.

warner was quick to spot you and hurriedly walked to you. you power walked to get away from him, and hopefully find someone you liked at the moment. but, nonetheless, he caught up to you.

“i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“please, amor. hear me out.”

warner pulls you close to him, holding your hands hostage at his chest. you look into his eyes, and you can see how tired he looks. he’s hadn’t slept well, and it was obvious.

“what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“what could i possibly not have to say to you?”

“i’m sure you rather entertain you’re ex-girlfriend over day, glaring daggers to us.”

“you know that’s not true.”

“do i? i don’t know anything that’s true lately.”

“i love you. my hearts burns for you greatly, and a moment without you is one i can’t bare.”

“i don’t want to hear—“

“my heart has always been yours. i’ll never be able to take back everything i’ve done, but i refuse to lose you because of it.”

“aaron.”

“you can scream or yell at me all you want, if it means you’ll stay by my side.”

his forehead presses against yours. his eyes are focused on every feature of your face that hes already committed to memory.

“say you forgive me, amor.” he whispers so vulnerably.

you want to kiss him. you want everything to be magically better after. you want to believe this is another challenge you both can overcome.

but you can’t. at least no so soon.

you’re holding back tears, but aaron already has one going down his face.

“i can’t.” you distance yourself from warner. “every time i see you, i’m reminded of your betrayal. reminded how much heart-ache you’ve caused me. it can’t be so easily forgotten, aaron. not when i still love you so much.”

you were thankful to be distracted when the guards informed you the rides were here. but your thoughts switched as you noticed you’d have to be enclosed with aaron, juliette, and kenji for fifteen minutes, especially when you had to sit next to warner because juliette was just as mad at him as well.

you the were first out given the chance. you were overwhelmed by the amount of people who showed. thinking about juliette and you having to speak in-front of them all was intimidating. and likely all of them hoped for your demise. fun.

now, juliette took the podium, and you were next to her. you two have yet to discuss anything, so you’ll have to wing your speech to match the tone of hers.

but before she could start, the chaos begins. numerous people being protesting and berating both you & juliette and sector 45.

it was all getting jumbled, but there were various ‘traitors’, ‘you’re just children!’, and ‘freaks.’

to defend juliette, you move to the microphone and angrily demand everyone to quiet down, you do your best to yell over the voices rioting.

out of nowhere, the stage you’re standing on explodes. you’re both launched ten or more feet back. then chaos ensues.

theres a ringing in your ear, making it hard to hear anything; only you witness it all from the ground. people running left and right, the stage was now on fire, and men in uniform started invading the premises.

you see juliette lying on the ground not too far from you. you croak her name, then aaron’s and kenji’s, but you’re not sure if you’re even using your vocals.

you feel yourself being dragged away, you’re unmoving. you feel numb, not able to identify which parts of you are injured.

it’s all happening on slow motion in your vision.

you can see the same happening to juliette. with your head above the ground you see a new perspective. you finally see your friends, some are lying motionless, others are running.

you find kenji helping others escape and aaron with him taking down as many guards. then aaron spots you being dragged away, and his eyes widen. he’s on the move to reach for you, but his distraction leaves an opening for a soldier to take him down from behind.

it takes five soldiers to hold him down, he’s yelling your name, and you don’t react. they finally hand cuff him, not wasting a moment to inject him with something strong enough to incapacitate him.

kenji follow the same fate, not being able to get away invisible before nazeera knocks him out.

a man stands in front of you, blocking you from seeing the scene. you recognize the black expensive boots immediately.

“seems we both have a habit of not staying dead.”

anderson lunges the barrel of the pistol against your head — then it all went black.

you were so sick of seventeen.

taglist — @ravisinghs-wife @tom-pls-fuck-me @valeridarkness @fallonaurr @whatsupb18 @letspretendimnottrash @heart-an0n @mrsspector-grant @kikilarast10 @nina357 @lupinswolfsbanes (some aren’t tagging D: ) tysm for the support <3

[creative-frequency]

Raphael x Reader: Act I: The Words

Summary: Despite your drunken ravings tonight, you still remain Raphael's most precious client. And he always takes good care of his clients. This is the third flashback oneshot for the main story. Word count: 2963 Notes: Drunk Tav, a devil and some unresolved romantic tension.

My writing masterlist

Why was the Underdark so gods damn… uneven?

You had to squint to see where to put your foot next amidst the rocks. And even then it didn’t go where you aimed to. Your knee and ankle ached with each step and it was easier to just drag the leg after you instead of walking properly-ish. Your prevailing state of intoxication didn’t exactly make moving easier, but alcohol did help in numbing the pain as much as the temporary solitude did this far away from camp.

Stupid bulette. Stupid tadpole. And most importantly stupid you for not preparing well enough for a road trip in the Underdark. Who knew how many days you would have to spend underground. 

There was no one around to take the irritation out on, but… you did possess the means to summon a certain someone to listen to your nescient complaining. Was it smart? Of course not. You would most likely have to pay for the senseless act of stupor, but being less medicated and more drunk than you would’ve liked to be, somehow made the idea sound absolutely perfect! Like poking a sleeping devil in the eye.

You lifted up your hand, glared at the magic ring with burning ire and recited the incantation:

“Dominus! Inferiooor ad ge–, ad me– shit. AD TE. Me flerco–, me… fleurgh, ugh. For fuck’s sake. Flecto inferni.”

Nothing happened, no surprise there, but your brows furrowed furiously as you squinted to look around. No flames or cinders were to be seen.

“Get your ass over here, you stupid devil,” you cursed and kicked a pebble into the darkness. The sounds of it tumbling down echoed in the chasm.

“You would do well to mind your manners.”

“Oh–!”

You fell promptly to your butt on the cold, hard ground and wailed aloud since your injured leg bent painfully.

What stood in front of you was not the handsome man you had expected to see. It was a towering devil; red skin, majestic horns, leathery, gargantuan wings and claws at his fingertips. His eyes were no longer soft brown, but instead they burned with deep saffron, surrounded by inky black.

Raphael the devil had a pained look on his face and he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

You struggled to get up to save some modicum of self-respect in front of your patron, but trying to put weight on the leg made you wince instantly.

“A tumultuous evening, I presume?” Raphael asked, looking at you from dirt-caked hair down to the injured leg.

“What?”

“I see you’ve decided to take the scenic route to rock bottom tonight. Why haven’t you healed yourself, little raven?” he asked and tutted.

“I am doing it right now,” you replied quickly and a ravaging blush rose to your face. You would have rather died than admitted to the devil that you had ventured into the Underdark ill-prepared.

“Then why, pray tell, are you bothering me?” The snarling words revealed a glimpse of sharp canines.

You braced yourself and channelled the earlier irritation back through the stinging pain. There were also the three times you had already had to explain why you wore a ring in your ring finger and why the infernal rune R was carved on it. You still absolutely refused to take the easy way out and just comply with Raphael’s absurd practical joke with the ring. You would never ever pretend to be married just for his amusement.

There. You were irritated enough to tell stupid, handsome Raphael why you were bothering him tonight.

“I have WORDS for you. So. Uh. Listen carefully, Raph.” Your body swayed a little on the cold, hard ground. Trying to focus on Raphael’s burning stare was immeasurably difficult.

His eye twitched, but that was the only visible reaction. Though, he looked immeasurably displeased.

Scraping around the leftovers of your dignity, your back straightened and you started yapping:

“I have given my, MINE only, soul to you, but you – hic! – won’t remove this teeny tiny” – you made a point to show the size of the worm by pinching your thumb and index finger almost together and squinting at the space inbetween – “worm from my head.”

Before you could finish inhaling for the next words, Raphael leaned right to your face (you couldn’t help realising how huge his horns were!) and snarled:

“You haven’t given anything yet. And with that tadpole eating away at your brain, you might not have a soul to offer in the end.”

You gulped and your hand dropped. Your brain was processing rather slowly, but this revelation caused pause. Mind flayers didn’t possess souls. Well, not knowing before your outburst turned out to be just embarrassing.

Raphael pointed a sharp claw in the air and continued:

“Be grateful that I’m willing to uphold our bargain, forasmuch as I’m invested in your success, my due payment relies on it.”

You didn’t know what to say. Suddenly it became apparent that Raphael found this deal far less favourable than you did. All this time you had thought he had arranged the shorter stick for you to pick and that devils didn’t make bargains that weren’t advantageous to them.

“See that this is the last time you bring this up.”

Nodding furiously, but stopping just as quickly because it made your head spin, you said: “Uh-huh, yes, saer.”

You hiccuped and the pitiful sound echoed from the rocks around you.

Raphael straightened up. “Good. Time to go, then.”

You were sure he was going to just leave you to sit on the ground, but with the snap of his fingers, you found yourself at the House of Hope in the familiar dining room – still inelegantly sitting on the marble floor. And you hiccuped again.

Raphael sighed heavily, though you thought you noticed a hint of amusement in there. He walked over to you and before you could protest, leaned over to lift you into his arms as if you weighed nothing.

“This is emrass–, embar-…sing. Just. Let me down!” you yelped, but held on to his shoulders. He was so tall and you were so high up in his arms that it was enough to trigger reasonable fear of heights.

“Glad we agree on something, little raven,” Raphael muttered.

He walked towards a hallway in resolute steps. People dressed in rags scurried away to give the master of the house a wide berth. There was a faint jingle with each step and in your state of inebriation you were almost sure you were just imagining it.

“Where are you taking– hic! Me?”

“To heal.”

You were taken aback.

“Why?”

An almost smug half-smile twisted Raphael’s lips. His mouth too seemed huge in comparison to yours.

“As I’ve told you, I take care of my clients and despite your drunken ravings tonight, you still remain one of my most precious ones.”

Oh. Heat ravaged your face. Did the devil like you?

Door after door passed as the hallway curved. Each breath teased your dulled senses with Raphael’s scent: surprisingly sweet and musky with smoke somewhere in there. It was gradually lulling your consciousness, as you slowly sobered up, into comfort within the devil’s arms.

As he carried you, you settled to stare at his pretty face from such a close distance. You had never seen a cambion this close. The booze was probably shielding you from freaking out. Despite the infernal red shade of his skin and the burning eyes, his facial features were the same. The same dark eyelashes and brown curls at the tips of his hair.

Raphael was pretending as if he didn’t notice you staring, or he just didn't care. But his lips looked soft and you wondered how they would look like travelling the planes of your naked skin. You bit your lower lip, already feeling the heat and pressure gather between your thighs.

Raphael glanced at your face with an unreadable expression. Could devils smell dirty thoughts? Gods, you hoped not. Your cheeks were blazing.

“Tell me, Raph,” you blurted to divert his attention.

His molten eyes narrowed with warning. You failed to notice as you were busy looking anywhere but at his face.

“Is there a practical reason you’re sooo handsome? Hah! A handsome devil, just like–, just like…”

You couldn’t figure out what the devil was like until his icy stare shut you up.

“S-sorry…”

Raphael finally paused in front of a force curtain covering a huge doorway. It was like solid crystal and streaming water, sparkling in the low light of the hallway. You barely got a good look before it simmered and disappeared completely.

Inside revealed to be a large circular room. The inner circle was surrounded by large stone columns, candles littered every surface as the only source of light. In the middle of the room, amidst teal-hued vapours was a pool with two faucets constantly flowing more steaming water into it. Intricate rugs and plush cushions lay on the floor around it. At the back of the room, high archways lead to balconies overlooking the desolate plains of Avernus.

“Ooh, who is this?” an unknown voice drawled, “A new plaything?”

“Out, Haarlep,” Raphael said in a tone that left no room for arguments. The low voice made his chest rumble pleasantly against your body.

Raphael stopped by the pool, precariously close to the edge. When he stilled and the humid air clung to your every breath, his scent lingered. You couldn’t help the few deep breaths to inhale it, to almost taste it on your tongue.

“You smell like cherries,” you muttered to the devil, “So sweet…”

He cocked a brow at you.

“Swim, little raven.”

Raphael dropped you unceremoniously into the pool of restoration. The impact sent a jolt of pain from your knee through your whole body, but before you even hit the bottom, the pain was already alleviating.

Gasping, you emerged to the surface. Raphael was chuckling, arms crossed over his chest.

“You–! Insolent… devil!” you screamed, spitting water from your mouth.

It took mere seconds to realise your body had never felt more comfortable or healthy, at least not during your tadpoled life.

“You’re welcome. As much as I’d love to stay and chat, there are important matters that require my attention.”

“W-what, you’re leaving?”

“Would you rather I joined you in there?” he asked with nonchalance, his horned head tilting with curiosity.

Yes.

Moments ago the wine in your blood would have provided enough liquid courage to ask him to do just that, but now you hesitated, knowing the devil was just teasing you.

“N-no.”

“Adieu, little raven.”

Just like that, he was gone in flames. You were treading the water, still wobbly on your feet, but feeling constantly better and better.

You looked around the room that was likely Raphael’s private boudoir. The lavish and intricate design of the furniture and multiple paintings depicting the devil himself were way too over the top.

“He always did seem like a guy to have a painting of himself above his bed,” you scoffed out loud.

Since no one was there, you warily settled to sit in the pool and brushed your hair with your fingers. Your leg moved without any pain and all the scratches and bruises were gone from your body, as well as the effects of the alcohol. Shame. The water was almost too hot, but you revelled in it. It had been ages since the last proper bath.

Since there was no sign that Raphael would return any time soon, you started to plan for the next steps – despite how gratifying it was to soak in the bath.

A counter by the side of the pool had a neat pile of towels on it, so you slipped out of the water and paused to wonder if you should take off your wet clothes or not. There were no conveniently placed bathrobes or any clothing in sight, but a huge wardrobe loomed at the side of the room.

Surely there was no harm in borrowing a dry shirt, in the least?

You tiptoed to the wardrobe, huffed in relief since it was open and spent only a second to snatch a white, frilly shirt to change into. It smelled like Raphael – a fact you tried really hard to ignore along with the tender feeling that rolled into your chest.

You left your wet camp clothes by the pool and accepted the momentarily discomfort of keeping your wet undergarments on. Surely they would dry soon enough with the warm temperature of the Hells. Changing into a clean, dry shirt felt amazing. You didn’t dare wonder what Raphael thought of your rummaging through his wardrobe, but he wasn’t there to reprimand you. Come to think of it, what a poor host he was, leaving you alone like that.

The way out of the boudoir was once again sealed by a magical curtain, so you took that as an invitation to look around the room by yourself. The upper part of the room was reserved for a huge bed that looked like the most comfortable one you had ever seen. You would’ve sold your soul again to get a break from camping and get a goodnight’s sleep in a proper bed.

Although… Raphael was nowhere to be seen and it was probably already midnight. You were dead tired.

“Don’t mind if I do…” you mumbled to yourself and climbed into the massive bed, diving under the covers. The sheets carried a strong scent of cherries and burnt sandalwood, mixed with rich, alluring musk.

Within minutes, you drifted into sleep and spared no thought to how worried your companions likely were.

—

“Rise and shine, little raven.”

Your toes curled at the deep, soothing voice. It was just like it had sounded in your dream, but the details were hazy red and enveloped in the misty warmth of the pool. A pleasant feeling wavered through your body at the memory.

“Mm. Is it morning already… Raphael!”

You jumped to sit up on the bed, staring at the master of the house in horror.

He stood by the bed, once more in his human guise and a dark smile on his lips. He mused: “Indeed it is. I see you made yourself at home in my absence.”

“You just left me here! What was I supposed to do?” you argued back and hogged the covers closer to your chest.

Raphael chuckled. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

He offered his hand to you, signalling that it was time to leave his bed and get back to reality. After hesitating only for a heartbeat, you took the hand and let him pull you up, almost right into his chest. He steadied you with a hand on your shoulder and an examining look. A lighter version of the smirk persisted.

Once again you realised how the dark honey-tinted brown eyes of his human form were actually really pretty. Heat radiated off his body, maybe an effect of being in Avernus or a devilish side-effect of his. Nonetheless, it felt nice after being stripped away from the warmth of the bed covers.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave looking unkempt like that,” Raphael said in a soft tone that sent pleasant shivers running up your neck and pooled heat into the pit of your belly.

You started to realise you had just slept in the devil’s bed.

Before you could do anything but swallow, Raphael started undoing the buttons of your – no, his – shirt.

“What are you doing?” you gasped and clutched his wrists. His skin was so warm and the faint smile on his lips was nothing if not suggestive.

“Re-doing your buttons, my dear,” he replied with a hum of a chuckle. “You’re welcome to keep the shirt, but at least try to look like you just haven’t spent the night revelling in debauchery and sin.”

“But I was just sleeping!” you acclaimed.

“My point exactly.”

Your face was burning. From the devil’s expression you easily read that the bastard was enjoying this.

Raphael took his time undoing and buttoning the shirt, fingers travelling dangerously close to your chest and over your navel. An accidental brush of fingers there and another here. You just stood still, breathing shallow in a way that surely didn’t go unnoticed by him. You were fighting the unwanted tingling feeling and heat coiling inside you.

His hands lingered at the last button. You made the mistake of looking up at his face and were encountered with a heavy look that sent you reeling. Your pulse quickened. He was so close, you could have just pushed up to your toes and–

No. No way in Hell. Raphael was gorgeous, but you were not about to sully your soul by sinning with a devil. No matter how inviting the smile on his very kissable lips was or how amazing he smelled.

You had to break the spell somehow.

“Raphael?” You hated how tinged with desperation your voice was.

“Yes?”

You looked away as his hands parted from you. It was a little easier to breathe.

“Um. Thank you for your hospitality,” you said in earnest.

He huffed. “You are very much welcome.” He took a step back and a strange sensation that his thoughts mirrored your own carnal but hesitating ones crept into your mind. Raphael continued: “I’ll add it to your tab, little raven. But now it’s time for you to go.”

Your head snapped up.

“Wait, what tab–?”

In a swirl of devouring flames, you found yourself back at camp and a second later all your companions started yelling. Only then you remembered that your camp clothes had been left by the pool and you were not wearing any pants.

[blackjackkent]

Next on the docket is... Gale!

Or rather the god formerly known as Gale.

Oh boy. :P

I've been looking forward to this, to be honest, because a) I know literally nothing about this ending beyond the fact that Gale sort of looks like he's cosplaying as the love child of Zeus and the Tin Man, b) Rakha considers his surrender to his hubris one of her greater failures, because she briefly encouraged his spiral in this direction and there was no pulling him back afterwards, and c) there is no way that Gale's ego has survived this experience without becoming a Hilarious Mess.

Tara is here as well, and has been mercilessly roasting him while I've been wandering around.

Gale: "Haven't you any ambitions, Tara? I could help you, you know." Tara: "Oh? At what cost? Gale: A prayer or two would suffice. Is that so bad? Tara: The day I pray to you, Gale, is the day up is down, left is right, and tressyms are cats. Gale: So very stubborn. Tara: And don't you forget it!

Gale: Tara, you must practice acceptance. My new powers are to be utilised, not feared Tara: The only thing I fear is the ever-growing size of your ego. Gale. Gale: Oh, Tara. It hurts to be so misunderstood by my oldest friend.

Tara: *Hiss!* Gale: Tara, did you just hiss at me?! Tara: Sorry. It's a reflex when I clap eyes on something distasteful.

I decided to have Rakha talk to Tara first, and Tara immediately pivoted to roasting the shit out of Rakha in addition:

"Well, there he is. Gale in all his glory. I hope you're happy. 'The God of Ambition' - have you ever heard anything more ridiculous?"

Rakha winces. "I agree, Tara," she says. "He's not who he used to be."

(She's never met Tara, but she has heard Gale talk about her many times, so it's not hard to guess the name here. And Tara is certainly not making any pretense of not knowing who Rakha is.)

"Not in the least," the tressym snaps back acerbically. "And who lead him straight to such ridiculous notions, hmm? Who left that crown in the river where any foolish wizard could swim down and pick it up?" She hisses softly. "You were looking out for him. I expected better of you."

(A/N: The camera does not cut to Rakha at all during this conversation. I was going to use flycam to get at least a reaction shot or two but it turns out that while we're in this cutscene, Rakha's model disappears from the world entirely, as does Gale's. Very odd.)

Rakha lets out a long, heavy sigh. She can't dispute any of this; she knows perfectly well that it is her fault Gale felt emboldened to pursue this in the first place. That she was picturing a leveling of the playing field between god and man, and not Gale's unilateral ascension, doesn't change the fact that she is ultimately responsible.

"I can't deny," she says quietly, "part of me wishes I'd stopped him."

Tara squints at her for a long moment, and then matches Rakha's sigh, her wings fluttering rapidly. "As do I," she murmurs, and her tone is softer now, with less of a bite. "As do I. I know there's nothing you could've done to stop him. Not really. Once he'd decided to learn nothing from his mistakes, what use were either of our protests?"

Oddly enough, this comment makes Rakha feel rather more comforted than actual absolution might have. She feels a curious sort of comradeship with the little tressym in this moment - and perhaps Tara feels it too, for she pulls her paws under herself and peers up at Rakha thoughtfully.

"Perhaps you'd be willing to come meet Gale's mother some time?" she asks. "She misses him so, and I know it would do her heart a world of good to discuss her son with someone who knew him as he was."

(A/N: Oh. This is sad actually. :( )

Rakha blinks; this question is so outside of anything she expected from Tara that for a moment she simply stares, befuddled. She did not know Gale very well, not really; the two of them clashed as often as they agreed, if not more. What could she possibly say to his mother, who has had to watch him vanish into an ill-advised divinity born of hubris?

But who else is there, if not her?

She and Gale channeled the Weave together, shared talks of magic. Perhaps... perhaps she can speak of that...

"I'll consider it," she says hoarsely.

Tara makes a soft rumbling noise low in her throat, then nods. "See that you do. We'd love to have you," she says. "Things have been rather quiet without himself cluttering up the place."

She stretches, her tail flicking up over her back. "Enjoy your party, dear. I've heard you quite deserve a celebration."

-----

The conversation with Gale himself kicks off to a fine start:

"Goodness. Was Faerun always so... dull? Still, at least the company was worth the trip, if not the view."

Oh, boy. :P

Rakha squints slowly at him. Normally she might be concerned about the already-weird new notes to his attitude, but for a moment her attention is entirely caught by the magic soaking the air around him, dancing over his skin. She can see the intensity with which it swirls in little eddies through his very being, rather like it does for Withers, or for that demi-god playing the lute at the center of camp.

It would be stunningly beautiful if it weren't for the dark, serrated edge that reminds her all too clearly of the thrumming power of the crown in the moments before it split apart.

[WIZARD] "You carry the aura of Netheril about you," she says, her tone deliberately neutral. "Is this what the power of Karsus has done to you?"

"Not to be overly pedantic," Gale says with a slow smile, "but they are my powers now." His voice is strange; there's an odd, resonant echo around it, as if he is speaking in an enormous, high-ceilinged room rather than the open clearing where they stand.

"I imagine you're wondering how all this came to be," he says cheerfully. "The finer points of divine ascension are beyond mortal comprehension, I'm afraid, but I can provide the rudimentary sequence of events." His smile widens. "First, I retrieved the Crown of Karsus, and reforged it using a series of precise and highly-complex Netherese incancations. Then, I used it."

Rakha listens in silence. She wishes that she had the leisure to be unequivocally fascinated with the process he describes - but she is too displeased with its outcome to be able to interest herself in the magical machinations. Also, Gale is speaking just a tad slowly, his enunciation too sharp, as if talking to a child, and it is setting her teeth on edge.

"As you know," he goes on, "the orb within me was the half-formed Karsite Weave, a magic left incomplete by Karsus's self-destruction." The pale white glow of his eyes seems to flare with intensity. "I finished it. Using the Crown of Karsus, I turned it into a new form of magic, fused with my being, driven by my purpose. And then I put it to work."

He flicks his fingers, sending a ripple through the Weave around them like a small thunderclap. "As expected, Mystra was unwilling to hand over the reins of the Weave, so I've claimed dominion over another area with which I've passing familiarity."

"Ambition."

(A/N: One of the dialogue options here is "If that's the criteria for choosing a domain, you should be the God of Wasting Valuable Loot," which, while not Rakha-ish, is very funny.)

It is hard for Rakha to put her finger on exactly what is bothering her about Gale's new attitude. Perhaps it is something about the way he seems to look through her, or the way that his tone reminds her just a little too much of the Emperor, keen to establish its authority, or Raphael and Minthara and Astarion, hungry for power.

"What does the 'God of Ambition' offer to his followers?" she asks slowly, taking care to keep her tone neutral.

Gale laughs. "I 'offer' them nothing! I inspire them to seize their destinies for themselves. Great as the heights I've reached thus far may be, I've not forgotten my humble origins. In fact, they're central to my doctrine! Those drawn to the Galerian creed don't merely seek my guidance as the impressive, all-powerful being I've become."

He leans forward with a conspiratorial air towards her. "Ambition is about beginnings. It is not just about the heights, but the lows that preceded them. I was nothing - a drifting dustmote of a wizard, abandoned by my goddess, my powers lost, my reputation destroyed."

He spreads his arms wide. "And look at me now. I'm their proof. Proof their hopes are not barren wastes, but the loamy soil in which their future achievements will flourish. Proof that with ambition, anything is possible."

(A/N: There are two different dialogue options here that I like for Rakha; they're mutually exclusive in-game but I'm going to squish them together.)

Rakha's jaw works. Suddenly it clicks into place, another reason that this is making her skin crawl. It reminds her of herself - the version of herself that she has seen in scraps of paper, fragments of handwriting that she does not remember putting down. The memorandums of a blood-crazed godspawn, eager to overwhelm the whole world and crush it under her bootheels.

"And what of those with evil ambitions?" she asks tightly. "Do you encourage them too?"

"I am the god of ambition," Gale says airily, "not of the consequences of ambition. Nor am I the arbiter of good or evil, for that matter. At best, those concerned with the consequences of their actions might consult with Savras, god of divination. Though these days, I doubt he'd see them coming." He barks a soft laugh.

Rakha scowls. He is not listening to her - or if he is, he is not hearing the import of the question. "I defied my divine fate to live the life I have now," she growls. "The gods prove nothing to me that I haven't already proven to myself."

Gale's lips curl up at the corners, intent, implacable. "But you could be so much *more*," he hisses. "Trust me - I am ambition incarnate, and like seeks like. I sense it within you, even if you don't." He looks her up and down, that pale glow of his eyes seeming to burn through her. "You're not content to fade into the history books just yet," he murmurs. "In time you'll come to see that. This is only the beginning."

Rakha shudders. Does he not see how what he describes is the fulfillment of all of her worst nightmares, the return of that driving, mindless need to consume and destroy? Does he not see what he is accusing her of? Does he even care?

No. Of course he doesn't. He is lost to his own myth.

"I think it's the end," she says coldly. "Of the Gale I knew, at least."

Gale's expression goes hard. "I believed in you for so much of our journey," he says, equally icy. "It's a pity you won't do me the same courtesy."

His lip curls as he looks her up and down again, then turns away. "I suppose it was foolish to expect a mortal to understand."

[persephone11110]

A Different Dialect | b.bradshaw

prompt: “You can’t keep hiding this stuff.”- credit: @memesomething

tw:illness—hiding said illness, past child abuse, self esteem issues, protective b.b, readers a mom| dad bradley bradshaw, reader is masking her pain, the word throw up is mentioned and vomit— also the act of throwing up is mentioned, perfectionism, pushing yourself to exhaustion, 15 years into the future

reader goes by angel

children names: Cobie and and Nicky

this a random one-shot/ apart of FALLEN ANGEL Series

AN: Its been awhile since I posted to this series, random idea was born after listeing to Because of You. And i also pulled a quote from one of my fav shows ever Bojack Horseman , ever have a hard time trying to write the middle of a fic

—

Self care….not your biggest strong suit, which is pretty funny for ER/n. Lets just say Bradley doesn’t find it so funny.

This is all started because of your weak immune system. It was shameful how someone who’s been a ER/n for the past decade and half didn’t recognize the severity and symptoms of the flu. For crying out loud your a mom and a wife, your the definition of unstoppable,someone who doesn’t get the chance to fall apart. And yet here we are—laying on bedroom floor, curled up in pain. Weakness doesn’t look good on you Y/n Bradshaw.

Let’s turn the clock back.

This time, you had the chance to hide your sickness from your other half—since he recently taken promotion of Captain he had been busy with students and paper work. As evil as its sounds—you just didnt want him fretting over you, ruining his work schedule because of you, missing out with friend’s because of you.

Being sick today wasn’t any different, you usually toughen it out—pushing yourself while sick was a familiarity, well before you became an adult. You gone to school with body aches, slight fevers, the twins sports game with severe nausea—taking medicine to soothe it. Nothing made you stop—as you learned at a young age age,“Y/n the world doesn’t stop just because your sick.”

You could remember the last time you got sick as a child and the memories are faint but some of it is ingrained into the back of your mind.

“Y/n remember what we say about crying... crying is stupid!"— Dad had grown tired of your loud wails, having come home from a important dinner, he grabbed you by your jaw and gripped it tightly. “Don’t make me have to tell you again”.

You cupped your forehead once again, it felt like someone was taking a knife pulling it in and out. Only couple more hours and your teenaged twins would grow tired and retire to their rooms.Then you could fall apart—cry if you needed to, throw up if you needed to.

What you didnt expect was your husband to come home early.

“Honey its just a little cold”, you mother batted your hands away from your nose, she stood behind you smoothing the sides of your dresses perfectly.“Your father needs at your best for this dinner, the governor might be considering giving him the funding he deserves”.

You didn’t deserve to be cared for, you didn’t earn the right to stay home like your parents did.

You rolled your shoulders back, you looked in the mirror, praying to god that your mascara didn’t smudge. You put on a fake smile because god forbid you didn’t you smile hard enough infront of strangers your father would have your backside and a belt.

“Come on Y/n, Linda!”’your father shouted from downstairs, he stood at the end of staircase. His shoulders squared straight, his eyes portraying nothing but coldness, it really added to the whole army man persona. “Don’t have all day”.

You sniffled one more time, you swallowed the snot down your throat. Mom hated the way your nose looked after you blew it too many times.

You spent the entire night politely turning down men old enough to your father,while also keeping the bile of vomit down. Multitasker

“Dear god Y/n loosen up, your father needs all the support he can get”. Your mother walked past you, whispering into your ear.

“Yes ma’am, let me go freshen up real quick”, your were face down in toliet, biles of vomit coming up. Remembering where you were, you quickly stood flushing the toliet— you held onto the stall wall.

An older woman passed you onto the way to the sink. “This generation,what makes you think a man is going to want you like that if cant even hold your liquor?”. The silvered hair woman voice held a certain amount of digust that even your own mother couldn’t beat.

Pull yourself together Y/n.

You can do better than this, you were taught trained better than this.

—

Walking through the front door Bradley expected two things, his wife helping the twins with last minute homework Or Cobie and Nicky chasing after Orbit, causing a mess to happen around the house.

Quiet house. Bradley allowed his feet to bring him to their shared bedroom.

He didn’t expect for his wife to laying on the floor curled up in a fetal position.“Angel!” Bradley shouts as he slides on to the ground, he didn’t have time to panic—years of being in miltary and being father kicked in. He pressed his finger into your neck hoping and praying to god there was pulse somewhere.

“Brad?” You open your eyes, your confused the worry look Bradley was wearing.“Whats wrong?”.

“Whats wrong Y/n?” His voice dripping with sarcasm, “I just found my wife unconscious on the floor”. You and Bradley are sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Bradley lets not be hysterical, I wasn’t unconscious I’ve worked a graveyard shift while also taking care of the kids”. Your was voice strained, you lost it while at Cobie soccer game.

You squeezed your eyes the ceiling light was starting to bother you, and because you didn’t want Bradley to see you cry.

Bradley gave you once over and started to feel his bubbling anger starting to faint away. “Angel we’re partners remember?” He’s caressing your face, “I have your six, you know that right?”

You peered your eyes back open, and whispered“I know that, I just…..nevermind it doesn’t matter”.

You start to move away from him“the twins need some important forms signed Brad-Brad and Orbit needs to be let out again”.

“Y/n dont worry about that, right now we need to talk about your lack of self care”. Bradley pulls you back to him, “Please let me take care of you”. The amount of emotion that filled Bradley voice broke your heart, you didn’t mean to make him upset.

“We also need to talk about I didn’t even notice my own damn wife was in so much pain”. Bradley ran his hands through hair, “I mean how I couldn’t I?”.

“Well Brad you’ve been working long hours since becoming a captain, the navy needs you more than usual to”. You smile weakly, the last thing you wanted to do was make Bradley feel bad for being promoted.

“Oh angel Im sorry, thats it I’m taking a leave of absence”. Bradley tone held a no-none sense tone.

“No,no Bradley I’m fine this something im used to, sometimes you need make sacrifices”. You speak like its fact, you’ve never been told otherwise.

Bradley sighs his eyes rimming with tears, its got this far without Bradley noticing.“No Y/n your just used to making unnecessary sacrifices for everyone else”.

“When the last time you’ve been taken care of— when’s the last time I spend the day taking care of you?”. Bradley voice was soft, careful to not wake the kids. “Y/n let me take care of you, my wife the mother of kids deserves to be loved , cherised and taken care of”. His voice is quiet, he puts his hand into yours. “I love you Y/n Bradshaw”.

“I love you to Bradleu Bradshaw”.

[animeyanderelover]

Can I request prompt 56 with Obito?Thank you ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

I’m back from my vacation!

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional thoughts, stalking, mentions of arranged engagement, abduction, death

Prompt 56

Nothing had been quite the same. Not since (f/n)'s death. Since their murder. The entire town had been in an uproar ever since, questioning everyone and investing heavily to solve the mysterious and brutal death of your future partner. Well, the one your parents had chosen for you. You hadn't had any say in it when they had arranged together with (f/n)'s parents the engagement, didn't have any right to object when discussions about the wedding had beem brought up. Deep down though you had prayed, prayed to old and new gods to save you, free you from a marriage you didn't want.

However, now that your wishes had been heard, you didn't feel any relief. Never had you wished death upon them, nor any harm as you had known that they hadn't had much of a choice in it either. They could have lived such a long life, far too young had (f/n) left this world. All alone, burnt and murdered. Who would commit such an inhumane crime?

---

You did your best to ignore everyone's eyes as you walked across the marketplace, although your head hung low and your gaze was focused on the ground in front of you. Ever since (f/n)'s funeral, rumors had started to make their way amongst the citizens. Many knew by now how unhappy you had been with the arranged engagement and since no one else had ever felt any ill will against (f/n), you had quickly become the main suspect in this murder case. No one had been able to confirm those rumors though as you had been on that day with your parents who had started preparing you for the upcoming marriage, looking with you for the fitting clothes you'd wear for that day. You had an alibi yet despite it, the gossip hadn't died down. An accomplice. That's what you often overheard as people came up with the conclusion that you probably had someone who had helped you. The question would be who though, you'd be slightly curious to see who they might suspect as your partner in crime.

Not everyone believed the ridiculous talk on the streets yet their pitiful and sympathic attempts to cheer you up didn't make you feel any better. You didn't want to be pitied, suspected or noticed at all. You didn't want to be the centre of attention nor made different in the mind of the people only because of your personal connection to the victim. Sometimes you felt like an attraction more than anything else. You were slowly made into an outsider and you did not like it one bit.

---

Muffled voices from behind the door caused you to stop abruptly, right in front of your parent's house. Only your parents were supposed to be home right now yet you definitely heard more than two voices right now. You slowly put down the bag filled with groceries before pressing your ear against the wood of the door, attempting to identify the muddle of voices inside.

"You're sure that your child will come? They've been avoiding us for those last few days. Mighty suspicious, wouldn't you agree?"

You recognized the sharp and rough voice instantly, even if the sound was still muffled. It was (f/n)'s father, their mother was most likely with him. You removed your ear hastily as you knew what they thought about you, you'd known ever since the funeral where the mother had shouted and cried at you, blaming you for the death of her child. You understood that both of them were in deep grief and sorrow, felt hot anger for whoever had murdered their only child. An irrational feeling that both of them had turned against the first person available, you. They had been the loudest from all villagers, had accused you the harshest. You were innocent and felt unfairly treated, a part of you still felt sympathy for them. You couldn't bring yourself to face them though, you felt too ashamed and scared to do so. So you slowly placed the bag of groceries in front of the door before turning around. It took courage to face parents struck with resentment and grief, courage you did not have.

---

You awoke with a startled gasp in the middle of the night. Strange light was illuminating your room from the window and loud screams could be heard from outside. Many different voices were shouting all at the same time and made it hard for you to distinguish what each of them was saying yet you could clearly hear the sheer panic inside each and every voice. You quickly stood up and hurried over to the window to take a look outside. Your heart dropped and your face twisted into a fearful mask. Fire. There was a fire.

You didn't care that you were still in your night clothes as you stormed down your stairs, hastily put on your shoes and ripped open the door. You stepped on something as soon as you stepped outside though, the object rustling as your foot pressed down onto it. When you lifted your leg confused, you saw a single red rose lying randomly on your doorsill, slightly withered. You picked it up carefully, avoiding to get pricked on the dark red flower. For a few seconds you stared at te flower, trying to come up with an explanation to how that had gotten here when suddenly one of your neighbours called out your name.

"(y/n)! (y/n)!"

They came running from the direction of the fire, fear and worry etched deep into their face.

"Y-you...I think you should get out of the village." they managed to squeeze out in between their panting, wildly gesturing with their hands around.

"What? Why?" you blurted out confused before something clicked in your mind, a bad foreboding as your gaze stared at the brightly burning fire again. If you were right, it came from the direction of...

"What happened?" you asked in a suddenly somber tone, continuously swallowing down the lump in the back of your throat that threatened to appear there and make it hard for you to breathe.

"T-the house of (f/n)'s parents...it's burning! It's on fire, (y/n)! Both of them are most likely..." They couldn't even finish their sentence but they didn't need to, you understood perfectly what had happened right now and you also knew why they urged you to leave as quickly as possible.

"They suspect that I'm responsible for it, don't they?" you pressed out, clutching the rose inside your hand tighter, until you felt the thorns breaking your skin. You yelped quietly as you felt warm blood trickle down your palm, although you were far too stressed in that moment to dwell too long on the mild sting.

"They're out of their minds, (y/n)! They're scared! A few of us tried to stop them but they won't listen! I-I understand that this is unfair of me to ask but I think that it would be safer for you if you'd leave for a while. At least until everyone has calmed down a bit."

"How bad is it?"

"Some of them want to throw you in jail and use force to make you confess that you're the culprit. I don't think that anyone can reason with them right now."

The screams grew slowly louder in the distance, an angry mob that was coming for you. You had masked all your emotions behind a mask as you looked at them with an unreadable expression. They couldn't look you into your eyes and the thought left your lips before you could stop it.

"You're scared of me too." It wasn't an accusation but the stunningly soft tone with which you mumbled those words might have been even more unnerving. They flinched slightly, panicked eyes darting shortly across your face. Their mouth opened shortly as if to negate your statement but they couldn't bring themselves to do so with the way you looked at them.

"I...I'm sorry." they stumbled out, seemingly the only thing that they could come up with in this situation.

"It's alright. Thank you for warning me despite your fear." you replied, numbly stepping forward and walking past them.

"Wait! Are you leaving without any money or clothes?"

"I don't have time for that, I fear." you replied, glancing over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of the first villagers that came storming to your house. Your legs started dashing across the streets towards the nearby forest where you would take shelter for an unknown time. You wondered what would happen to your parents, prayed for their best as you continued clutching the flower as if searching for comfort in the pain.

---

You let your feet carry you through the forest, unaware of where you were going. You just walked and walked further away from the distant screams and the glowing flames and only when everything was only darkness and forest did you realize how uneasy you had been the entire time, holding your breath and clutching the rose in front of your chest, coating it in your blood. A few deep breaths in and out were taken as you took in the sounds of rustling leaves and chirring of the insects, reminding you that nothing would hurt you here. That's when you finally slid down against the trunk behind you, stretching your legs out and laying your hands in your lap, weary gaze focused on your blood-stained palms and the flower, shimmering bloody under the dim moonlight.

A long sigh left your lips, a sound far too old for someone your age, as you leaned your head against the wood behind you. You knew that the question of what to do now was unavoidable but at least for tonight you did not want to worry about it. At least a few hours of peace and silence. That was all you wanted. Heavy eyelids slowly drooped as you didn't even want to bother finding a better place to sleep for tonight. You were exhausted and just wanted to forget everything for a while.

---

Not entirely sure if you had fallen asleep at all and if yes for how long, your head shot up all of a sudden like you had seen in your past with alarmed animals when detecting something. A flash of something black had just appeared in one of the treetops before vanishing in thin air. It could have just been your tired imagination, it could have been just some bird but it had disturbed you nonetheless. Your back was stiff from the wood and your neck cramped painfully. You rolled your neck around a bit, the tips of your fingers digging into the tense muscles underneath your skin and massaging them to loosen them up. Your eyes never darted down though as you searched for the strange shadow from before, without much success though. For a blissful short moment you were able to convince yourself that it had been indeed not more than a fleeting imagination from your tired mind. Until you heard something that dangerously resembled footsteps.

Holding the flower in your hand, unwilling to leave it behind and risk leaving any traces behind, you pressed your feet in the hard ground and shuffled yourself into the ocean of bushes behind the tree. Your hands were still inflicted with wounds and nor did you want to open them again and leave behind a trail of blood, nor did you want to risk any infection. Doing it as fast as possible yet also as quietly as possible was a challenge so much so that with every rustle that came with your movement, your heart seemed to stop for a short moment.

Little twigs poked into your clothes, skin and entangled themselves into your hair, pulling it as you moved further into the bushes. Your view was eventually hidden, the limited light shining through the twigs and leaves limited. Only your ears were reliable now and you hyper-focused as you tried to pick up every suspicious sound.

Apparently whoever was out there though wasn't even trying to hide themselves though as you heard them walking to the spot where you had been resting only moments before. Knowing that, you stopped moving completely, not willing to risk getting caught. The tension was killing you and you would have given everything to just peek out of the bushes and catch a short glimpse but you weighted your chances and arrived at the conclusion that it might be too risky. The person walked across the open space, the pace of their footsteps increasing significantly after a while as if getting impatient or anxious.

"(y/n)!"

It was a male, unfamiliar and high-pitched voice that almost sounded fake in your ears. He knew your name so you couldn't do anything besides assuming that he was also from the village, only that you had never heard this voice before. Your home wasn't very big so everyone knew everyone though so the fact that this voice was belonging to someone you didn't know threw you off. Who else would know your name? You'd never left your town. The urgency in his voice was something that surprised you too, no malicious intent anywhere in his voice. Much on the opposite actually, he seemed scared for you. Nevertheless though, you stayed silent. You did not trust strangers who just knew your name whilst you had never met them before.

"(y/n), please come out. I know that it must be scary for you, you poor thing were chased out of your own village. I'd never harm you though, I'm here to help."

You sat up, slightly alarmed that the stranger knew about the village accident. That must have been only a few hours ago. How did he know? He must have been watching you this entire time, a thought that gave you slight chills.

“Sweetheart…where are you hiding? I know you’re here."

Sweetheart? Why would he call you by such an intimate nickname? That was something usually only lovers called each other or parents their own children. He wouldn't call you that without knowing you long enough, you realized with growing dread. How long exactly had this guy been watching you?

Your thoughts blocked out his attempts to beckon you to show yourself as your mind started peacing together the information like you'd done with puzzles when you were younger.

A stranger who knew you yet you'd never seen him who felt some form of weird affection for you. He'd known about you fleeing from the village mere hours ago so he had definitely been watching you without you being aware of it. Was he a stalker? If yes, for how long exactly had you been watched? Since before your engagement? If that was possible, how would have someone like that reacted to the information that you'd been engaged? He already sounded like he wasn't quite in his right mind so he must have reacted terribly to it. But that would only mean...that he must have murdered (f/n) in some sort of blind rage.

This man out there was the murder of (f/n) and their parents.

You felt your blood freezing in your veins as cold terror embraced you tightly. You noticed how your body had slowly started crawling further away as your survival instinct took over. You'd not stay close to someone who had murdered people for you.

When he suddenly started babbling though, you stopped, alarmed by his silence. Admittedly, you hadn't listened to whatever he had been ranting about but it seemed out of character for him. Had he lost his patience.

You heard him sigh, at least you had to assume that it was him. The voice itself was deep, far more deeper than it had previously been but at least it sounded real now. tThat must have been his real voice, although you had to wonder why he would feign his real voice like that.

"You don't leave me much of a choice if you don't come out willingly, you know?"

The voice seemed to be directed to the bushes as if he was looking straight at you, hidden behind the green leaves and twigs. All hair on your body stood up instantly when you heard his voice, your gut twisting around inside of you and letting you know that it sensed danger. You started moving faster as the sensation filled your veins, urging you to get away from this man as quick as possible.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are. I’ll find you anyways, I can hear your breathing.”

It happened in only a mere few seconds and you couldn't react or do anything. He just appeared, right above you. Hands shot through the twigs and leaves, grabbing you and tugging you forcefully out of your hiding spot. Your heart dropped down to your stomach when your legs were in the air flailing around as you were in the air all of a sudden for a few miliseconds before he lifted you up in his arms and seemingly transported back to the open field. The speed had your head spinning, you'd never encountered someone that fast before in your life.

His hold on you was consistent even when he slowly let you down, taking notice of your dizziness and holding you so that you could steady yourself. The world was turning an spinning and so did your stomach as your senses were overwhelmed with the buzzing dizziness in your brain. You wondered shortly if you'd have to vomit, something you'd rather avoid in front of a stranger. Your eyes closed as you took deep breaths, trying to distract yourself from the nausea and the dizziness somehow. You just had to wait until the world didn't spin anymore.

You caught multipe whiffs of his own scent whilst breathing in and out and the image of an old cave instantly popped up in your mind as you did so because that was exactly what he smelled like. An earthy and dusty odor clung to his clothes and skin which made you wonder if he was perhaps living in one.

"I-it's fine. I'm fine now." you stuttered out when you felt one of his gloved hands brushing through your hair worried, your eyelids slowly fluttering open as you blinked a couple of times. The world at least wasn't spinning anymore so you felt secure on both of your feet now, slowly straightening yourself.

He was wearing an orange mask as you noticed, black and slightly spiky hair the only thing that you could see. A small hole was where his eye should be, although it was weird why he didn't have another hole where his other eye was. You gazed warily at the one black hole, unable to see his eye due to the lack of light.

You attempted to remove yourself from his touch carefully only to stop when he quickly grabbed you and pulled you back, seemingly not tolerating even a bit of distance in between you too. You swallowed heavily, pushing the urge to scream and yell back down as you knew that it would be useless. There was no one around here and acting all hysterical surely wouldn't get you anywhere.

"You're the one who murdered (f/n) and set fire to their parent's house, aren't you?" you questioned with a quivering voice.

He tilted his masked face in an almost childlike manner which was answer enough for you and forced you to breathe deeply out and in, your heart pumping wildly inside your chest.

"What do you want to do with me now?"

A question you dreaded but that you had to ask. He hadn't come all the way just to introduce himself to you surely.

"You're coming with me. I'm not letting you wander around like this. It's too dangerous for you."

"Why do you think so?"

"Because I know how the world is. It's a cruel and unforgiving place. I won't let it harm a single strand on your head."

"But I have parents and friends."

You had said something wrong, you knew that the moment his grip tightened on you and he stood straight, towering over you.

"You mean the parents who wanted to marry off to some random stranger and the friends who wanted to chase you out of the village and hurt you? Those so called precious people of yours sold you, betrayed you and didn't even believe in your innocence! What worth could they have to you?"

His voice was poisonous and his grip tight to the point that it became painful. When you winced slightly and grabbed his arm, he luckily snapped out of it and released his hold. You rubbed your hurting arm, pulling it close to your chest.

"So you're saying that you're better than them? Despite the fact that you murdered people?"

"They deserved it! All of them deserved it! They were out to hurt you, imprison you and make you unhappy! I did it to protect you! I already told you, I won't let anyone harm you."

His voice became soft and sincere at the end and you knew that he meant those words. It could have been almost romantic if you didn't know that this was a deranged killer who had some weird obsession with you.

"And you're different?"

"I am. I'll care for you. I'll love you. I'll protect you."

He sounded eager as you asked him those questions and you had a suspicion he misunderstood your hidden horror as acceptance and your questions as confirmation. You couldn't run away though, he was far too fast so you had no choice but to play it safe.

"You say all of this yet I don't even know your name and your face. Seems a bit unfair, considering that you know me quite well."

You were sure that you saw hesitance flickering shortly across his body as he slowly reached out to his mask, paused for a brief moment before pulling it up. What you saw shocked you slightly as you had never seen something like that before.

One half of his face was covered in scars and you could only fathom what would cause such an injury. You had a feeling though that you shouldn't overreact so you kept your calm face and nodded.

"And your name?"

"Obito."