#and when i read something my emotions shift with the story | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 1 month ago

Text

love is the law, religion is taught — ryomen sukuna.

"And what does that make me, my lord?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Sukuna looked at you again, his smirk returning but softer this time, almost wistful. "It makes you the only one who matters. Out of everyone, every woman in these lands. You are the only one that matters above them. Behind me.” And behind that, behind Hiromi. You whisper in your head.

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, forced parenthood, hurt, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, toxic relationship, depiction of suicide, depiction of suicidal ideation, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of parenthood, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 20k words

NOTE: when i was writing this, i thought it wouldn't be this long. but when i ended up writing more and more, i just couldn't stop. i ended up writing this as a sort of prequel to the other woman's latter parts. if people are aware of me from other websites or just here, you know i write a lot. this 20k usually was my usual writing. but i feel like people like a lot of short stories. i'll post about that some time else. i'm gonna be sorry for breaking more of your hearts like this. the reason this took so long as me drafting multiple times. and then my exams. so, it just...this will be a read. anyway, i love you guys!!! thank you for your birthday wishes. see you later <3

main masterlist

the other woman masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

══════════════════

YOU COULD FEEL THE YEARS IN YOUR BONES. You had been Ryomen Sukuna’s concubine for nearly ten years, a role that once filled you with dread and uncertainty. Over time, however, the nature of your relationship shifted. Unlike the others who served him out of fear or obligation, you had managed to carve out a space for yourself in his world—one of strange but growing trust.

It wasn't love, at least not for you, but it was something. Ryomen Sukuna treated you differently from the others. He sought your company more often, and the violent edge in his voice seemed to soften when he addressed you.

What set you apart wasn’t just your demeanor or willingness to adapt—it was your face, the way you looked almost identical to Ryomen Hiromi, the only woman your husband Sukuna had ever loved.

At first, you didn’t know why he lingered in your presence or why his temper cooled when you were near. It was only after overhearing a conversation between two of his most trusted advisors that you realized the truth. You looked just like her—the woman whose memory still haunted him. You had become a ghost of his past, a stand-in for the love he had lost long ago.

As the years passed, you began to understand Sukuna in ways no one else could. He never spoke of Ryomen Hiromi to you, but in quiet moments, you saw the flicker of something softer in his gaze.

Perhaps he found comfort in your presence because you reminded him of her. Or maybe, in some twisted way, he had come to care for you—not as the woman you were, but as the reflection of someone long gone.

Even so, you knew where you stood. You were the favored concubine, yes, but the specter of Ryomen Hiromi loomed between you, casting a shadow over every fleeting moment of tenderness. You were not her, and you never would be. But in this cruel, tangled relationship, you had become the closest thing Sukuna allowed himself to care for.

You had long since come to terms with your place in Sukuna's world, understanding that his affection for you wasn’t truly yours. Still, it made life easier, gave you a strange sort of power in a place where others lived and died on his whims.

Once in a blue moon, sometimes, you both sat together for dinner. It was a rare occasion, that was for sure. Ryomen Sukuna often eats alone, served by his most loyal servant Uraume. But there were times when he would ask you to join him. It was often late at night, Sukuna didn't sleep well. You doubt he ever does.

As the sun set and the air turned cool that night, Uraume had come to your chambers and told you that Sukuna summoned you to his chambers to sup with him. You were surprised. But you immediately dressed with the help of your servants and as soon as the last of your satin ribbons were tied to your hair, you rushed out towards his chambers.

When you had arrived, the servants had been tense. It is usually like that when your lord Sukuna does not get what he wants. You apologized to them quietly, as quietly as possible for your lord husband not to hear. You would rather not have him do so. He does not like anyone, anything he owns lower themselves. You told them to leave, to go away. You would rather that it be you in that room alone with him. It would be easier.

It was one of those rare moments where he wasn’t looking to dominate or torment. Instead, he seemed pensive, sitting by the window, staring out at the horizon. Trays of food were scattered with luxurious food and luxurious ceramic tiles of alcohol. It was not for your husband. He does not need such sustenance.

It was for you, even with your small appetite. You could feel a bile rip through your throat. You purse your lips, walking inside the room and slowly lowering yourself, to bow. His crimson eyes flickered to you as you entered, and the smallest of smirks tugged at his lips.

“You're late, little one.” he said, his voice deep and teasing, though there was no real malice in it.

"I was making sure I looked presentable, my lord." you replied calmly, accustomed to his games. "I didn't think you'd appreciate rushing in disarray with your servant.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, but you had learned to discern when that sound held genuine amusement. He urges you forward from your bowing position and you stand up, moving towards him and sitting on the silk pillow as gracefully as you could.

"You always did know how to play the part. Perhaps that's why I tolerate you more than the others."

You sat across from him, not too close, but not far enough to seem distant. "Or perhaps it's because I remind you of her."

At this, his expression shifted. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought you had overstepped. But instead of lashing out, Sukuna leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering on you. You looked over the meal and started to plate for your husband, even if he does not eat it. And then yourself. You slowly moved your sleeve away, carefully as you took the alcoholic beverage and started pouring it upon silver cups, first for him and then on your own.

"You think you're clever, little one?" he said, his tone neutral, betraying nothing. "But tell me... do you believe that’s all you are to me? A ghost of someone who no longer exists?"

It was a question you had pondered many nights alone in your chambers, alone and cold, unable to sleep whatsoever. You wanted to believe that over the years, you had carved out a space of your own in his cold heart, but the truth was undeniable. You were Ryomen Hiromi’s echo, the closest thing he would allow himself to love again. But how much of you, the real you, did he see?

"I don’t pretend to know what goes on in your mind, my lord." you said carefully, holding his gaze. "But I know I am not her. And I know you don’t care for me the way you cared for her."

Silence hung heavy between you. Sukuna's eyes, burning with something unreadable, bore into yours before he spoke again, softer than usual. He uncharacteristically lets his hand move towards the table and slowly takes one of the silver cups full of sake and raises it to his lips. He downs it slowly, letting the cool smooth taste echoes on his throat.

"You're right, little one." he admitted, surprising you. "You're not her. You never will be. Best remember it, hm?"

His words were sharp, meant to cut, but they didn't sting the way they once might have. You were used to those words. And so you do not speak. You let him say what he does and slowly let yourself consume the warm flavorful broth.

Sukuna looks towards you once more, watching you eat some meat. Silence echoes through the room. Instead, they hung in the air like a truth neither of you could avoid. And yet, as he turned his gaze back toward the setting sun, his voice grew quieter.

"But you're the only one who's come close."

It wasn’t an admission of love or devotion—you already know that your lord Sukuna wasn’t capable of that, not anymore. You were used to it. And yet, even if it was something you were used to it — you were still pained by it. But it was the closest you would ever get to understanding his complicated feelings for you. It was all that was left in his pitch black heart that never belonged to Ryomen Hiromi. You swallowed the last of the meat.

"And what does that make me, my lord?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sukuna looked at you again, his smirk returning but softer this time, almost wistful. "It makes you the only one who matters. Out of everyone, every woman in these lands. You are the only one that matters above them. Behind me.”

And behind that, behind Hiromi. You whisper in your head.

He rose from his seat, approaching you with the predatory grace that always reminded you of the monster he truly was. He cupped your chin, tilting your face up toward him, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. You could feel your breath hitch hotly as his gaze burned your own. You purse your lips, trying to maintain control of yourself.

"But never forget, little one." Sukuna continued, his tone dropping. "You are here because I allow it. You may remind me of her, but you are still mine to control."

You held his gaze, unflinching. "I haven’t forgotten, my lord."

For a moment, the two of you remained like that for a moment. It was as though you were both locked in a silent struggle of power, emotion, and unspoken understanding. Even after ten years, it was just that way. Finally, Sukuna released you, stepping back as though the moment had never happened.

"Good." he said, turning away once more. "Now leave me for the night, little one. I’ve had enough of this sentimental nonsense for one night."

You nodded at him. You drank the last cup of alcohol and let the bitterness burn you. Soon after, you rose without a word, bowing slightly before you made your way to the door. Just before you left, you paused, glancing back at him one last time.

"I wish you a good night, my lord."

He didn’t respond, his attention already back on the horizon. But as you left, you couldn't help but wonder if somewhere, buried deep within him, there was more to his feelings than even he understood.

══════════════════

THE PEOPLE OF HIDA VIEWED YOUR HUSBAND LIKE A GOD. They always have, for as long as you could remember. The grand hall of Ryomen Sukuna’s temple buzzed with the presence of those who had come from all corners of Hida.

The heavy doors swung open to let in petitioners, men and women alike, who approached with heads bowed low, their faces masked with fear or desperation. Some came seeking mercy, others with requests for blessings or favors only Sukuna could grant.

They dared not meet his eyes as they offered up their pleas, knowing that their fates rested on the whims of the man seated high upon the throne.

And there you sat, just below him, on a fine mahogany chair that had been made specifically for you, a symbol of your status within the temple. The carved wood was smooth beneath your fingers, but no amount of comfort could erase the tension simmering beneath your skin.

Sukuna's gaze swept across the crowd with indifference, his presence towering over all as his blood-streaked eyes flickered lazily between the petitioners. You could feel the immense weight of his power bearing down on the room, as though his very presence could crush anyone at will.

But what irked you the most wasn’t the groveling or the constant fear that filled this place. No, it was her.

Directly in front of you, standing tall in the center of the hall, was the statue of Ryomen Hiromi. The woman who had haunted you from the moment you became Sukuna's concubine. The resemblance between you and her was striking—uncannily so.

The cold, lifelike stone eyes stared straight ahead, almost as if they were judging you, just as she had judged countless others. The figure of Hiromi was positioned so that it faced not just Sukuna, but you as well, creating an eerie sense of being under constant scrutiny. Her hands, carved with impeccable precision, reached out in a serene pose, like a goddess looking down on humanity.

It was not just this one statue, either. There were others scattered throughout the temple—statues, paintings, carvings—each one depicting Hiromi in a different light. She was revered here, just as much as Sukuna himself.

The woman Sukuna loved most, the woman you could never truly become, was enshrined in every corner of his temple. Her image lingered like a ghost, haunting you, reminding you that no matter how close you sat to his throne, you would always be second to her.

Sukuna’s voice echoed in the chamber, deep and commanding, as he passed judgment on the next petitioner, his words casual as if human lives were merely tokens to him. You barely listened, too distracted by the sensation of Hiromi’s stone eyes watching you, bored at you with those haunting eyes..

You couldn’t escape her. Not here. Not ever.

Your eyes drifted from the petitioner at Sukuna's feet back to the statue, a chill crawling down your spine. It was too perfect. The way it captured her beauty, her serene expression, the very essence of what made her Ryomen Hiromi—everything that made her more than just a memory for Sukuna.

You wondered, in your darkest moments, whether Sukuna had commissioned these statues himself, making sure they were as accurate as possible, preserving every detail of the woman he loved more than life itself.

The thought gnawed at you.

The crowd shifted again, and you could hear the low murmurs of the people waiting for their turn to kneel before Sukuna. A faint breeze from the temple’s high windows stirred the air, and the faint sound of bells chimed in the distance.

And still, the statue stood, unwavering, staring at you with those lifeless eyes. It was as if Ryomen Hiromi had never left, as if she lingered between this world and the next, a permanent fixture in Sukuna’s heart, never allowing you to forget that you were only here because of her.

“Next.” Sukuna’s voice boomed, pulling you from your thoughts.

Another petitioner shuffled forward, trembling as they knelt. Sukuna watched them with a bored expression, waiting for them to speak.

You didn’t look at him. Instead, your gaze flickered back to the statue—always back to her. She was everywhere. No matter where you turned in this temple, in this life with Sukuna, Ryomen Hiromi was there.

Her presence was eternal, and it was driving you mad.

It wasn’t as if you truly hated Ryomen Hiromi. How could you hate someone you had never met, someone who existed only in the memories of others and in the cold, flawless statues that filled this temple? No, hatred wasn’t the right word. But her presence—her haunting, ever-present likeness—gnawed at you in ways that went deeper than resentment. It was painful.

Painful because every time you looked at her, it reminded you that you would never truly be seen for who you were. Sukuna’s gaze might fall on you often, but you knew the truth. He wasn’t looking at you—he was seeing her. You were a reflection, an echo of the only woman he had ever truly loved. And that knowledge burns inside you, slowly and constantly.

The way her statues were placed, almost reverent, made it clear just how important she was. To the people of this land, Ryomen Hiromi was no less a god than Sukuna himself. Her beauty, her grace, her presence—immortalized in stone—became a legend, a tale passed down from generation to generation. And you? You were simply the woman who bore her face, destined to be a stand-in for a love long lost.

You couldn’t escape it.

Even now, as you sat in that carefully crafted chair below Sukuna’s throne, the image of Hiromi loomed over you. Her delicate features seemed to accuse you, her eyes hollow but full of judgment. It was as if she were silently asking: Why are you here? Why are you in this temple, sitting at his feet, when you could never be me?

Your fingers tightened on the armrests, a subtle but instinctive reaction to the thoughts swirling in your mind. You knew it wasn’t logical to be angry at a statue—at a dead woman whose only crime was being loved by Sukuna—but the feeling still crept in. You had no reason to despise her, but the weight of constantly living in her shadow was suffocating.

Another plea for mercy echoed through the hall, but you barely registered it. Sukuna’s voice was deep, dismissive as he granted or denied requests with a wave of his hand. This was his world, and Hiromi was as much a part of it as you were. More, even. She had her place in his heart, in his temple, in the minds of the people who worshiped them both.

But where was your place? Were you always to be nothing more than a reflection, someone to remind him of what he had lost? And what pained you more was that even after nearly ten years by his side, you hadn’t found an answer to that question. Sukuna had grown accustomed to you, perhaps even fond of you, but you knew that in the deepest recesses of his heart, it was Hiromi’s memory that still held sway.

It hurt in ways you couldn’t explain.

You weren’t her. And no matter how long you stayed by Sukuna’s side, no matter how much you tried to understand him, to navigate the storm of his power and wrath, you could never be her.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you lowered your gaze, away from the statue, away from the memory that plagued you. The hall was filled with voices, but none of them reached you. Sukuna’s voice, sharp and dismissive, barely registered in your ears.

The weight of Hiromi’s existence pressed down on you, heavier than the stone statues that surrounded you, more oppressive than the walls of the temple that bore her likeness in every corner. For a moment, you allowed yourself to wonder—a dangerous, fleeting thought—what would it have been like if she had never existed?

If Ryomen Hiromi had never crossed Sukuna’s path, never claimed the part of his heart that was now lost to time, would his gaze fall upon you differently? Would he see you, truly, and not the pale reflection of the woman he had loved so deeply? Could you have been someone significant to him in your own right, not simply because of your resemblance to her?

The thought lingered, bittersweet, filling you with a longing you barely allowed yourself to acknowledge. It was tempting, imagining a world where Hiromi had never been. Where you, instead of living in her shadow, might have been the first to carve a place in Sukuna’s heart, the one to leave an indelible mark on his soul.

But it was a foolish thought, and you knew it.

Hiromi had shaped him. Her love—or perhaps the memory of her—had molded him into the man he was now. She wasn’t just a figure of the past. She was the cornerstone of this entire existence, the silent foundation upon which Sukuna had built his empire, his throne, his identity.

The cold stone likeness of her didn’t just haunt this temple—it haunted Sukuna’s very being. It influenced his every thought, his every action, even the way he looked at you.

You weren’t just living in her shadow. You were her shadow, a reflection of something he could never truly let go of. And no matter what you did, no matter how close you came to him, you would always be caught between the person you were and the ghost of Hiromi.

And the worst part? You couldn’t hate her. Not really.

You wanted to. In those quiet, agonizing moments when you felt Sukuna’s eyes on you, knowing he was searching for traces of her in your face, you wanted to hate Hiromi with all your being. But how could you? She had been everything to him. Her love had meant something so profound that even in death, she lingered, casting her long shadow over the living. Her presence was woven into the very fabric of Sukuna’s existence.

But more than that, you owed her everything. Without Hiromi, without the love that had marked Sukuna so deeply, would he have ever taken notice of you at all? Would he have seen something in your face, something in your eyes that reminded him of the one woman he had ever loved?

Without Hiromi, you might not even be here. Her memory had brought you into his life, kept you by his side for nearly ten years. The recognition that you shared her likeness had made you his favorite, the one concubine who had stayed when so many others had come and gone. In some twisted way, Hiromi had paved the path that led you to this place, to this seat below his throne, to the strange, fragile bond you now shared with him.

But living in her shadow—it was a torment all its own.

Every statue, every carving, every whispered prayer to her image reminded you that no matter how close you came to Sukuna, you were not her. And you never would be. The affection he might show you was born not out of love for you, but out of a love that had long since died with Hiromi. You were the echo of something that had ended, a reflection of a life he had lost.

It was a strange, agonizing paradox. Without Hiromi, you would have nothing, no connection to Sukuna at all. But because of her, you would also never have everything. You could never be the woman he truly loved, no matter how long you stayed at his side.

And so, you sat there, beneath Sukuna’s throne, as the statue of Hiromi looked down on you with cold, indifferent eyes, her presence an inescapable reminder of the role you played in his life.

A role you hadn’t chosen, but one you were bound to, for as long as Sukuna wished it.

You snap back to the present as Sukuna’s deep voice rumbles through the hall, breaking through your swirling thoughts. “What do you think?” he asks, his gaze shifting from the kneeling man before him to you. His expression is unreadable, cold and calculating, as always, though there’s an edge of curiosity in his tone.

You blink, focusing on the man who trembles at Sukuna’s feet, eyes downcast, waiting for his judgment. The hall, filled with the murmurs of the petitioners, goes quiet in anticipation.

“What is his crime?” you ask, your voice calm, though you feel the weight of Sukuna’s gaze on you.

“He stole, little one.” Sukuna replies, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice as if daring you to suggest otherwise. “From one of my temples.”

You sigh softly, leaning back in your chair, your eyes narrowing slightly as you assess the man. His clothes are tattered, his hands dirty and worn—clearly a sign of the hard times that have plagued the land recently. The famine had hit Hida hard this year. Crops had failed, and many of the people were barely surviving, struggling just to feed their families.

“The famine has been hard on all, my lord.” you say quietly, though there’s an edge of empathy in your words. You weren’t excusing the man, but you understood the desperation that drove people to do things they wouldn’t have otherwise done. Hunger was a cruel master, and you’d seen its effects firsthand in the villages.

“That does not mean he is entitled to steal, little one.” Sukuna counters, his tone sharp, though he doesn’t seem angry—more like he’s making a point. “There needs to be justice.”

You purse your lips, knowing Sukuna’s sense of justice could be harsh, final, and unyielding. He ruled with an iron fist, and mercy was not something he granted easily. But you also knew he valued your opinion, at least in his own little ways. After all, you were the one concubine whose voice he truly listened to.

“Then chain him to me, my lord.” you say, your words surprising even yourself. You sit up straighter, meeting Sukuna’s gaze with unwavering resolve. “Let this man serve me in the Vermillion hall. My private garden needs tending. Let him work under my watch so that he may learn a lesson. Let him toil in the hardship of life for his mistake, rather than meet more... final end.”

The man at Sukuna’s feet looks up, his eyes wide with shock, perhaps hope, though he dares not speak. It was almost rare for anyone to be heard speaking with such authority in this hall the way Ryomen Sukuna does.

It was rarer that your voice was heard with such a loud echo. The other woman speaks, they all must think. The rarest words from her lips. Mercy, the virtue of the woman she could never replace, echoing in the stone sight of her.

The hall remains silent, as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting for Sukuna’s response.

Sukuna’s eyes linger on you, studying you for a long moment. You can feel the weight of his power in his gaze, the way he considers your words, turning them over in his mind. He is not a man to grant mercy lightly, and you know the risk you’re taking by asking this of him.

But after nearly ten years by his side, you’ve come to understand how to navigate his moods, his whims, and his sense of order. You knew when to have him indulge you, even when it was not an occurrence you repeated frequently.

Finally, a slow smile curves at the corners of his mouth. It’s not a warm smile—it never is—but it’s a sign that he’s pleased. “Very well, little one.” he says, his voice carrying the authority of his decision. “Let him serve you in the Vermillion hall. He will tend your garden, as you wish. But if he steps out of line—if he falters, even once—you will bring him back to me. He shall meet his end in the hands of his lord. Do you understand?”

There is no mistaking the threat beneath his words. You nod, accepting his terms.

“Thank you, my lord.” you say softly, turning your gaze to the man who has been spared, for now. He looks up at you with a mix of relief and fear, clearly aware of how close he came to a far more brutal fate.

Sukuna leans back on his throne, watching you both, as if amused by the small victory you’ve won for the man. But you know better than to think Sukuna was softened. This was merely a moment of indulgence, granted to you because of the peculiar bond you shared.

As the guards move to take the man away, you return your attention to the grand statue of Ryomen Hiromi, standing in front of you, her stone eyes as cold and distant as ever.

In the shadow of the woman who had everything, you had won a small victory today. But the haunting presence of Hiromi lingered still, reminding you that no matter what you did, Sukuna’s heart would never truly belong to you. And no matter what – your kindness would never be as beloved by the people who revered the stone that was left.

══════════════════

YOU ENJOYED THE PRIVILEGE OF PRIVACY. Every day, you enjoyed the distant life you had lived here in the Vermillion hall. The Vermillion hall had been a gift from Sukuna, presented to you on your fifth year in his temple.

It wasn’t grand in the way his own halls were, but it was yours. A quiet, secluded enclave within the sprawling temple grounds, removed from the constant presence of the other concubines and the weight of Hiromi’s looming statues.

In the years prior, you had only been given a selection of rooms within Sukuna’s own quarters, close enough for him to visit whenever he pleased. Though his visits were rare, those rooms had been a symbol of your availability to him, a reminder that you were under his thumb, always within reach.

But as time passed, and your bond with Sukuna evolved into something more complex than mere possession, he decided to give you something more. Vermillion hall became yours. It was a gesture that left the other concubines seething with jealousy.

They already despised how close you had become to Sukuna, how often he lingered by your side, and now they had another reason to resent you. You knew that their hatred ran deep, festered in the corridors of his temple, where whispers of favoritism and betrayal echoed in the dark.

To pacify them, and perhaps to create some distance between you and their hostility, Sukuna had given you the Vermillion Hall. It wasn’t a grand act of love, nor was it some romantic gesture. It was practical. The gift served to ease tensions, to quell your growing discomfort, and to offer you a reprieve from the suffocating dynamics of the temple’s inner court.

In Vermillion Hall, you had your own household. Your own space, away from the eyes that burned with envy. Your own garden, tended by servants who answered only to you. There were pleasantries there, comforts that softened the harshness of your life with Sukuna. The hall was peaceful, serene, and for the first time in years, you had a sense of autonomy, a place to call your own.

You were aware of what the gift truly meant. It wasn’t love, not even affection in the way one might hope. Sukuna had never cared in that way. His gestures, while grand, were always calculated.

Vermillion hall was an offering of peace, a way to keep you satisfied, pacified. It wasn’t an act of affection but of convenience. With your own residence, you were removed from the tensions of the other concubines. You were out of the way, kept at a distance while still under his control.

And yet, you were grateful. Despite knowing the reasons behind it, you cherished the hall because it afforded you something you hadn’t realized you craved so deeply—freedom.

You were far enough from the other concubines, from their petty schemes and cruel glares. Away from the prying, stone-cold eyes of Hiromi’s likeness, always watching you from every corner of the main temple. And, perhaps most importantly, you were away from Sukuna’s immediate reach.

Here, in your quiet refuge, you could breathe without constantly feeling the weight of his presence or his demands. The distance didn’t erase your bond with him—Sukuna could summon you whenever he wished, and you would always return—but it allowed you moments of solitude, moments to reflect and gather yourself.

In Vermillion Hall, you found a strange sort of peace. Away from the tempest of Sukuna’s world, you could finally be alone with your thoughts. And in that space, you realized how much you had craved this separation—how, even in your closeness to Sukuna, you had always yearned to be free from the shadow of both him and Hiromi.

The garden at Vermillion hall was your sanctuary. It had been from the moment you first stepped foot into it, surrounded by delicate vermillion petals, fragrant herbs, and the soft hum of nature’s presence.

Sukuna had forbidden the servants from tending to it, decreeing that it was yours alone to care for, a space untouched by others. It was a strange sort of gift—one that granted you solitude but also burdened you with its upkeep.

In the beginning, you had relished the challenge, pouring your time and energy into every plant, every blossom. The act of tending the garden gave you purpose, something to pour your hands into when everything else in your life felt dictated by Sukuna’s whims. It was an escape, a place where you could breathe and let your thoughts wander.

But as the years passed, you found it harder to keep up with. The garden grew wild, sprawling beyond what you could manage alone. The weight of maintaining it, along with the complexities of your life in Vermillion hall, began to overwhelm you. What was once your refuge now became a reminder of your isolation, each untended leaf and overgrown vine whispering of the loneliness you felt within these walls.

That was when Sukuna granted your request—begrudgingly, perhaps—and allowed you a servant. The man who came to you, your new gardener, was named Hironobu. His name meant “gentle abundance” and it seemed to suit him perfectly.

He was a quiet, unassuming figure, with a calm presence that filled the garden like a steady breeze. He wasn’t like the other servants, who always carried a quiet fear of Sukuna in their eyes. There was something different about Hironobu, a certain calm that put you at ease in a way you hadn’t expected.

At first, you barely spoke to him, unsure of how to navigate the strangeness of having someone else in your once-private space. But as days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, you began to find comfort in his presence. He tended to the garden with care, never overstepping, always leaving space for you to do what you wished. But slowly, you began to rely on him more and more. His hands, though calloused, were gentle with the plants, and you found yourself watching him sometimes, noticing the way he seemed to move with the rhythm of the earth.

Conversations began to bloom between the two of you, small at first—a comment about the soil, a shared observation about a plant’s growth. But over time, you began to talk about other things. Life. The temple. The world beyond its walls, which felt like a distant dream. Hironobu listened more than he spoke, his quiet presence a balm to your often lonely existence.

You found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Not in the same way you were tied to Sukuna, but in something softer, something more human. Hironobu didn’t see you as a concubine or as someone living in the shadow of Hiromi. He saw you as you were—a person. A soul, just like him.

There was no pretense with him. No judgment. Just quiet understanding.

In the afternoons, you would find him in the garden, kneeling by the plants, his fingers brushing against the earth as if he were communicating with it. You would sit nearby, watching him work, feeling a peace you hadn’t known in years. It was a strange thing, this growing connection between the two of you.

You weren’t sure when it had started—perhaps from the very first time he smiled at you, or perhaps later, when you noticed that being with him felt different than with anyone else.

With Hironobu, the garden began to feel like a sanctuary again, not just from Sukuna or the other concubines, but from your own loneliness. The space that had once been yours alone became something shared, and in that sharing, something beautiful blossomed—a quiet companionship, a bond that grew in the shadow of the vermillion blossoms.

For the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t completely alone. Hironobu was there, steady and calm, tending to the garden as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And with each passing day, you found yourself growing closer to him, drawn to the gentle abundance of his presence.

One late afternoon, as the sun began to dip beyond the horizon, casting long shadows across the garden, you found yourself kneeling beside Hironobu. He was carefully pruning one of the flowering shrubs, his focus entirely on the delicate task. You watched him for a moment in silence, taking in the way his hands moved with precision, the soft rustle of leaves under his touch.

“You’ve done wonders with this place, Hironobu.” you finally said, your voice breaking the quiet. “I barely recognize it anymore. It feels… alive again.”

Hironobu glanced up, offering a small smile. “It was always alive, thanks to your good work, my lady. It just needed a little bit more care.”

You could feel warmth brush against your cheek as you nodded, brushing your fingers along the edge of a flower petal. “I couldn’t have managed it on my own. I’m grateful that you’re here.”

There was a moment of quiet between you, the air filled with the soft hum of the garden’s life. Hironobu set down his tools and wiped his hands on a cloth, then looked at you with an expression that was both kind and thoughtful.

“You speak as if you’re alone here, my lady.” he said quietly. “But you’re not. Not anymore.”

His words settled between you, a truth that you hadn’t fully realized until now. The loneliness that had once pressed down on you had lifted, little by little, ever since he arrived.

“I suppose… I’ve gotten used to being alone.” you admitted, your voice softer than before. “It’s been that way for so long. Even when I was with lord Sukuna, surrounded by people, it was always the same. The others… they hated me. And lady Hiromi……” You hesitated, glancing at the distant temple where her statues stood in silent vigil. “She’s everywhere.”

Hironobu’s gaze followed yours, but he said nothing for a moment. Instead, he sat back on his heels and watched you with a gentle patience that you had come to value. You could tell that he had some fondness for Hiromi.

Who wouldn’t? His parents must have told her of the good deeds of Ryomen Hiromi. You were but a nobody and Hiromi, she was immortal to the people, to the land. You were an outsider to these people.

“Do you resent lady Hiromi, my lady?” he asked quietly, his tone free of judgment.

You shook your head, though the truth of it weighed heavily on you. “No. I can’t. How could I? Lord Sukuna loved her. And she is kind and generous, she was genuine, I am sure. But I…..I’m… I’m only here because I remind him of her.”

Hironobu’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes thoughtful. “And yet, he chose to keep you close. To give you this hall, this garden. That’s not something he does for everyone, my lady. You are important to our lord.”

“Maybe.” You sighed, the weight of your situation pressing down on you once more. “But it’s not love. I doubt it was. Not like it was with lady Hiromi.”

There was a long pause as you both sat in the quiet of the garden, the only sound the soft breeze moving through the leaves.

“Do you wish it was, my lady?” Hironobu asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the question. His eyes were steady, sincere. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered that yourself. Would it be easier if Sukuna truly loved you? If you weren’t just a replacement for a woman who was no longer here?

But as you looked into Hironobu’s eyes, the answer felt more complicated than it ever had before.

“I don’t know, Hironobu.” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Maybe at first, I did. But now… I’m not sure it matters.”

Hironobu’s expression softened, and he nodded as if he understood. “Love doesn’t always come in the way we expect it to, my lady.”

You met his gaze, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. There was something about the way he said it, the way his words felt more like an invitation than a simple observation.

“I suppose not.” you murmured.

A comfortable silence fell between you again, and after a few moments, Hironobu stood and extended a hand to help you up. You took it, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours, and for a moment, you stood there together in the quiet of the garden.

“Shall we finish up for today?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, but as you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. “Hironobu?”

He paused, looking at you curiously. “Yes, my lady?”

“I don’t think I could have done this without you.” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “Not just the garden. Everything.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re not alone anymore, my lady. I hope you may remember that.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before nodding, a quiet understanding passing between you. As you walked back toward the hall, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted. Not just in the garden, but between you and Hironobu as well. The distance that once separated you felt smaller, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Perhaps, in the gentle abundance of his presence, you had found something you hadn’t been looking for. Something that, unlike the garden, wouldn’t fade with time.

══════════════════

YOU STARTED TO ENJOY GARDENING WITH SOMEONE. As the days passed in the garden, you and Hironobu grew closer. His laughter filled the spaces that had long been silent, echoing in the air like a sweet melody that danced among the blossoms.

Each shared moment became a thread weaving into the fabric of your existence, bringing warmth and light into your life. The garden, once a sanctuary of solitude and melancholy, transformed into a vibrant tapestry of color and life under his gentle care.

You found yourself eagerly anticipating his visits, counting down the hours until he would arrive, a basket in hand, ready to tend to the plants that flourished under his skilled touch.

The sunlight seemed to brighten when he stepped through the gates of the vermilion hall, illuminating not just the petals of the flowers but your heart as well. Each time he smiled, it felt as though the world around you bloomed anew, and you began to notice the small joys that had previously gone unnoticed—the way the sun filtered through the leaves, the gentle rustle of the wind, and the songs of birds fluttering above.

Conversations flowed easily between you, often starting with the mundane aspects of gardening—discussing the best ways to prune the roses or debating which herbs to plant next. But as you both shared stories and laughter, the dialogue deepened, revealing layers of your souls. Hironobu spoke of his childhood, his dreams of becoming a skilled gardener, and the joy he found in nurturing life. You opened up about your life in the temple, the challenges you faced as Sukuna’s concubine, and the bittersweet longing you felt for freedom.

“Do you remember the first time you showed me how to care for the orchids?” you asked one day, recalling the way he had patiently guided your hands, teaching you the delicate art of nurturing the fragile blooms.

Hironobu chuckled, a warm, rich sound that resonated in your chest. “You were a quick learner. I think you were more excited about getting your hands dirty than the flowers themselves!”

You smiled at the memory, the image of dirt smudged across your palms and the way his eyes had sparkled with amusement. “Maybe I just liked spending time with you,” you replied, your heart racing at your own boldness.

His gaze softened, and you could see a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something that hinted at unspoken feelings. “I like spending time with you too. You make this place feel alive. It’s more than just the plants; it’s the way you see beauty in everything, even in the shadows.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, filling the hollow spaces within your heart that had long been empty. You found yourself blushing, the warmth of his gaze igniting a spark of hope in your chest. In those moments, the weight of your circumstances seemed to lift, if only for a while. You felt cherished, seen, and—dare you think it—truly happy.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks, you were reminded of the solitude that lingered beneath this newfound joy. While Hironobu brought a lightness to your life, there was still an underlying ache, a reminder that this connection, as precious as it felt, existed in a world defined by shadows.

One afternoon, as you and Hironobu knelt side by side in the garden, tending to a patch of vibrant marigolds, he paused, his hands resting in the soil. “You know,” he began thoughtfully, “it’s strange how life brings us together in unexpected ways. I never imagined I would find such joy in tending a garden, especially one that belongs to someone as remarkable as you.”

You glanced at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s not just the garden. You’ve brought joy into my life, Hironobu. I can’t remember the last time I felt this… alive.”

His eyes met yours, and in that moment, the world outside the garden faded away. The towering walls of the temple, the looming presence of Sukuna, and the whispers of the other concubines—all of it seemed to vanish, leaving just the two of you, surrounded by the fragrant blooms and the warmth of the sun.

“I wish I could give you more than this, my lady.” Hironobu said softly, his expression earnest. “You deserve to be happy, to feel free. This garden is a refuge, but I want you to feel that way outside of it too.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the weight of longing and affection intertwining within you. “I… I don’t know what the future holds for me, but right now, I’m grateful for this moment with you, Hironobu.”

One evening, as the sun set in a blaze of oranges and purples, you were gathering a basket of freshly picked herbs when Hironobu approached, his expression unusually serious.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” he asked, his tone almost hesitant.

You set the basket down and nodded, your heart fluttering with curiosity. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

He took a deep breath, his hands clasped together in front of him. “I want to apologize for what I’m about to say, my lady.” he started, his voice steady but laced with a hint of nervousness. “I know it may change things between us.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Hironobu, what do you mean?”

He shifted his weight, glancing away as if searching for the right words. “I’ve grown fond of you��more than I intended to. I can no longer pretend that it’s just admiration or friendship.” He paused, his gaze finally meeting yours, filled with an earnestness that made your heart race. “I’m in love with you, my lady.”

The world seemed to pause at his confession. The weight of his words hung in the air between you, and your breath caught in your throat. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came.

“I know you are married to lord Sukuna, my lady.” he continued, his voice low and filled with regret. “And I never intended to overstep my bounds. But I had to tell you, because hiding it would only cause me more pain and I would not be fair to you, my lady.”

You took a step back, your mind racing. “Hironobu, I—”

“Please, my lady.” he interrupted gently, raising a hand to stop you. “I don’t expect anything from you. I just needed you to know how I feel. You deserve to know that you’ve brought joy into my life, more than I could ever have imagined. And if you cannot return those feelings, I will understand. I just… I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache. You felt a mixture of emotions—surprise, fear, and an undeniable warmth that surged through you at his words.

“I never wanted to put you in this position, Hironobu.” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve enjoyed our time together so much, but I… I’m married to lord Sukuna. You know how he is.”

“Of course, my lady.” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I just thought… perhaps there was a chance you might feel the same way.”

You swallowed hard, the reality of your situation crashing down on you like a wave. Sukuna was a force of nature, and while your relationship with him was complex, it was rooted in years of shared history—of loyalty and duty.

But here was Hironobu, his honesty and vulnerability laid bare before you. He was a breath of fresh air in your life, and the connection you shared felt like a balm to the wounds of your past.

“I—” you began, searching for the right words. “You make me feel seen, Hironobu. Happy. But this isn’t simple. I can’t just—”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured, my lady.” he said, stepping closer, concern etched on his features. “I expect nothing. I only wanted to be honest about my feelings. And take care of you, my lady. You deserve that much.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of your emotions almost overwhelming. “I appreciate your honesty. It means a lot to me, truly. But I can’t deny that this is all very complicated. I never intended for this to happen.”

“I understand, my lady.” he replied, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and sadness. “Whatever happens, I want you to know that I’ll be here for you. I care about you, and I want to help you in any way I can. I will be your servant, for as long as I live.”

In that moment, something shifted between you. The air felt charged with unspoken possibilities, and though the path ahead was uncertain, the connection you had with Hironobu felt undeniable. You might not have the answers now, but there was a warmth in the garden that promised a new beginning.

“I see.” you said softly, your heart pounding.

“My lady, I adore you. I always will.” Hironobu said, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll always be here, tending to the garden—and to you.”

As he turned to leave, you watched him go, your heart racing with a mixture of fear and excitement. You couldn’t help but wonder what this new chapter might hold, not just for you, but for both of you. In the garden’s gentle embrace, you felt a sense of hope begin to bloom, fragile yet persistent.

══════════════════

YOU THINK YOU’VE NEVER BEEN THE PERSON TO PRAY. But in the past ten years, you found yourself finding relief in prayer. It reminds you of your mother’s piety, of your father’s mumbling whispers to the gods, your brothers and sisters sitting beside you.

You haven’t seen them in ten years. But you wish they were well. And even if you don’t see them anymore, this gives you relief.

You knelt in the inner sanctum of the temple, bowing your head in prayer before the statue of Bishamon. Your lips moved silently, asking for a clear mind, but no matter how hard you prayed, you could not banish the thought from your head—Hironobu, your loyal gardener, had confessed his love to you.

It had taken you by surprise. You were Sukuna's concubine. You could not be with Hironobu. And yet, he made you happy in a way you hadn’t known was possible, and your heart was torn. To tell Sukuna was out of the question. If he knew, he could kill Hironobu without hesitation. You shivered at the thought.

The flickering light from the temple’s lanterns cast shadows on the walls, their soft glow doing little to soothe the turmoil raging inside you. How could something so pure—a love untainted by power and possession—be so wrong? How could you feel joy when the very thought of it put Hironobu’s life in peril?

Your mind returned to that moment, the way his eyes had softened when he spoke his feelings, the tenderness in his voice. He had always been gentle, always there with a quiet presence, nurturing the garden you so often found peace in. And now, he wants to nurture you. But you were Sukuna’s, bound to him by fear and something you could never quite define as love. Duty, perhaps. A twisted form of devotion. But love? That was not something you could claim to feel for the man who held you in his iron grip.

A soft breeze swept through the temple, brushing against your skin like a whisper, and you closed your eyes, imagining for a moment what life might be like if things were different. If you could run. If you could be free. But such thoughts were dangerous, reckless even, and you knew you would never act on them.

Just then, you heard footsteps behind you, a familiar presence that made your breath catch. Sukuna.

"I didn’t know you prayed," his voice cut through the silence like a blade, deep and commanding, bringing you back to the harsh reality of your situation.

Your heart raced as you slowly rose from your knees, turning to face him. He stood in the dim light, towering over you as always, his gaze sharp and penetrating.

"I did not take you for a pious woman," Sukuna continued, his eyes narrowing slightly, scrutinizing you.

"Piety is a comfort, my lord," you replied quietly, your voice steady despite the storm in your chest. "It eases the soul to have someone that listens."

Sukuna’s eyes flicked toward the statue of Bishamon for a moment before returning to you. "Hm," he muttered, unimpressed, though his gaze lingered on you longer than usual. "Then do you pray to me?"

You blinked, taken aback by the question. "What do you mean, my lord?"

Sukuna stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his eyes dark and intense. "Am I not a god?" he asked, his tone low and dangerous. "Your god?"

For a moment, your breath faltered, but then you gathered yourself. You had to be careful. You had to choose your words wisely. A soft, almost bitter smile tugged at your lips. "My lord," you whispered, meeting his gaze with a quiet defiance, "do I not worship you already? Does my entire existence, my suffering, my love for you—" your voice grew quieter, but sharper, "—is it not enough worship for you as my god?"

Sukuna’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing. His gaze remained locked on yours, and for the first time in your life, you saw something close to uncertainty flicker in his eyes.

But you did not feel victorious. You felt hollow. Because no matter what you said, no matter how sharp your words were, you were still bound to him. Still trapped.

And Hironobu? He would never be yours.

The silence between you and Sukuna stretched on, thick with tension. His gaze remained locked on you, unyielding, as though searching for something deeper within you—some trace of weakness, some sign of betrayal. But you stood tall, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t let him see your turmoil, couldn’t let him suspect that anyone had stirred your heart, least of all someone as lowly as a gardener.

Sukuna’s lips curled into a smirk, though there was no amusement in his eyes. “Careful with your tongue, woman,” he said softly, but the threat in his voice was unmistakable. “There are limits to even my patience.”

You bowed your head slightly, a gesture of submission. “Of course, my lord. Forgive me if my words displeased you.”

He watched you for a moment longer, his gaze piercing through your very soul, before turning away, his crimson robes trailing behind him as he walked toward the temple’s entrance. For a moment, you allowed yourself to breathe, thinking he was leaving, that the conversation had come to an end.

But then he stopped.

“You seem… distant, little one.” Sukuna remarked, his voice casual but laced with suspicion. He didn’t turn to face you, but you could feel his eyes on you, even without seeing them. “Something troubles you.”

Your heart froze. Did he know? Could he sense the conflict within you?

“No, my lord.” you replied quickly, too quickly, the lie on your lips before you could think. “I am merely tired.”

“Tired? This does not seem to be you, little one.” he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. Slowly, he turned to face you, and the way his eyes bore into yours made your pulse quicken. “I don’t believe you.”

Your throat tightened as you scrambled for something, anything, to say. “I—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna took a step closer, closing the distance between you in an instant. His hand shot out, grabbing your chin with a roughness that made you wince, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I am not someone who tolerates deceit, little one.” he growled, his face mere inches from yours. “If something weighs on your mind, you will tell me. Now.”

The air around you felt suffocating, your mind racing with thoughts of Hironobu. You couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t. The truth would mean death—for Hironobu, perhaps for you as well. But Sukuna’s grip tightened, his impatience growing, and you knew you had to give him something.

“I am troubled, my lord. you admitted, your voice shaking slightly. “But it is not something that concerns you, my lord.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but still suspicious. “Everything about you concerns me. You belong to me.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “It is only… the weight of my life, my place here. Nothing more.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his grip on your chin loosening slightly. “Your place is exactly where I put you, little one.” he said coldly, his fingers trailing down your neck in a way that made your skin crawl. “Do not forget that.”

“I haven’t, my lord. You must not have to worry.” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

For a moment, he seemed to study you, searching your face for signs of rebellion, of disobedience. But then, slowly, he released you, taking a step back. You wonder if it was relief or it was disappointment you truly feel — knowing that he does not ask, that he lets you go. You purse your lips in a tight line. But you know that he does not wish to notice it.

“Good.” he muttered, turning away once more. “Do not forget who holds your life in their hands.”

With that, he strode toward the exit, his presence leaving the room like a dark cloud finally lifting. You stood there, frozen, the echoes of his words reverberating through your mind. He didn’t know. Not yet.

But how long could you keep this secret? How long before Sukuna’s suspicions became too great, before he began digging for the truth? You had already slipped too close to the edge today, and it terrified you to think of how much closer you might come tomorrow.

And Hironobu… how could you ever look at him again, knowing the danger your feelings for him brought? Knowing that Sukuna’s wrath could fall upon him at any moment?

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away. There was no room for weakness. Not here. Not in Sukuna’s world. But in the quiet recesses of your heart, where Sukuna could not reach, the thought of Hironobu lingered—like a fleeting ray of light in a dark, unyielding storm.

══════════════════

YOU HAD EXCUSED YOURSELF FROM DINNER EARLY. And you could not take too much food when you were in Sukuna’s chambers. That had concerned Sukuna, even if he did not want to show it. You were a human being after all. And if anything was wrong with you, it concerns Sukuna. You were his. You were a part of him.

And if a part of him was unwell, he must ensure its settled. Ryomen Sukuna had not meant to stay long when he visited Vermillion hall, your residence. He had come for something trivial, something that now seemed insignificant as his eyes fell upon you.

He stood in the shadows, watching from a distance, concealed by the thick trees lining the garden. You didn’t notice him; your attention was entirely on that servant, that Hironobu. He could feel the air punched out of his chest.

The way you smiled at him, laughed softly at something he said—it was a smile Sukuna had never seen on your face before. Genuine, unguarded, free. Happy. In the truest sense.

That wretched low life Hironobu knelt beside you, tending to the flowers, his hands moving carefully as he spoke to you. There was no fear in his eyes, no hesitation. No, Sukuna could understand it. It was the tenderness he had when he looked at Hiromi. He looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.It was love. It was adoration. It was devotion. Sukuna’s chest tightened painfully, and his fists clenched at his sides.

What was this feeling? A tug, something sharp and bitter gnawing at him, growing stronger the longer he watched you with Hironobu. He wasn’t used to this—this strange, almost foreign sensation. He knew anger, jealousy, possession. But this… this felt different. More unsettling

He wonders now, if he’s ever seen that smile on your face when you look at him. If you’ve ever truly been happy in the grace of his existence. But somehow, within the depths of what remains in his heart, there was pain. There was jealousy. There was anguish. There was grief. And he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he felt like this. His heart had long died. Died with his beloved Hiromi and yet….

His face contorted into a scowl, his jaw tightening. He turned sharply on his heel, his robes whipping through the air as he left without a word. The sight of you with Hironobu left an acid taste in his mouth, and though he hated to admit it, it bothered him in a way he could not explain.

That next morning, he summoned you to break his fast with him—even rarer than supping with him.

When you arrived, the room was dimly lit from the shading silk, the atmosphere thick with something you couldn’t quite place. Ryomen Sukuna sat at the head of the long table, his scarlet eyes dark, his expression unreadable.

You felt a cold knot in your stomach as you approached him, the air between you tense and charged. You were not hungry. You could not feel any pleasure knowing that he was staring at you that way.

“My lord, I greet you with fervent devotion.” you said softly, bowing slightly before taking your place at the table. He didn’t respond immediately, simply watching you with that same piercing gaze that always made you feel exposed.

The silence stretched on, oppressive and heavy, before he finally spoke. “I visited Vermillion Hall last night.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The way he said it, the deliberate pause—it sent a wave of dread washing over you. “I… I was unaware of your visit, my lord.” you replied carefully, trying to keep your voice steady. “You must forgive me if I had not noticed.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Clearly.”

You shifted in your seat, sensing the trap closing in around you. There was a tension in Sukuna that you had rarely seen, something simmering beneath the surface. You remained in your position, feeling a bile stuck on the edge of your throat.

You could feel the sweat fervent on your palm as you gripped your kimono tenderly, hoping he would not notice the tension and fear in you.

“I saw you, little one.” he continued, his tone low and almost too calm. “With that lowly thief of a servant...what was his name....ah yes, Hironobu.”

Your blood ran cold at his words.

You knew what your husband was like.

You had made a mistake, you knew that well.

“I saw how happy you were with him, little one.” Sukuna said, his voice tightening ever so slightly, though his expression remained controlled. “Smiling, laughing, as if there were no worries in the world. It’s a wonder I’ve never seen you look that way with me.”

His words stung, even though you knew better than to show it. You lowered your gaze, knowing you were walking a very fine line. You knew him too well. He considered you a part of him, the god he is.

And everything, it has to be about him. Your existence was taught to worship him. Loving him was the law, even if he would not give it back. And you could not have the same, you know that.

“I—he was simply tending to the garden, my lord. We merely… spoke as we often do. It was a mere passing laugh and enjoyment.”

“Is that all?” Sukuna asked, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “Because from where I stood, it seemed more than that, little one.”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling slightly as you clenched them under the table. You couldn’t lie, not to him. But the truth—how could you explain the way you felt with Hironobu without damaging yourself?

“My lord, I beg for your understanding.” you began, carefully choosing your words. “Hironobu is kind and loyal to me, to you. He tends to the garden and offers his company when I walk, to ensure that he could care for you in caring for me. Nothing more, my lord.”

Sukuna’s eyes flickered with something dark and unreadable. “Kindness?” he sneered, leaning back in his chair. “Is that what makes you smile like that? Is that what makes you laugh so freely? How easy are you, little one? Do you offer such a thing to everyone, is it necessary, little one?”

“My lord—”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his voice cut through the air again, sharper this time. “Do you think I am blind? That I cannot see what’s happening under my own roof?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked up at him, meeting his furious gaze. He wasn’t just angry. No, there was something deeper, something more dangerous. Hurt. Betrayal. You wonder why he feels this way. He had it clear even ten years ago that his heart had died. And that he was a god.

Because how could that be? Ryomen Sukuna was not someone to feel such things, to be vulnerable to them. And yet, as he stared at you, the fury in his scarlet eyes was laced with something raw.

“Answer me, little one.” he demanded, his voice low and threatening. “Is he more to you than just a gardener?”

The truth was clawing at your throat, begging to be let out, but you knew what it would mean. Hironobu would die. Sukuna would never allow it, would never tolerate even the hint of disobedience or disloyalty from you. And yet… Could you lie to him again?

“My lord,he is nothing but a servant tied to me to grace your glory.” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You know…you know I would never betray you, my lord.”

He watched you for a moment. It was then where Sukuna stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he rose to his full, imposing height. He stalked toward you, his scarlet eyes blazing, and you felt a cold sweat break across your skin.

“If I find out otherwise, little one.” he growled, his hand grabbing your chin, tilting your face up to his. “Hironobu’s kindness won’t be enough to save him. And you—” his voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “—you will know exactly what it means to displease me. You know me the best out of those fools in the concubine hall, do you not? You must know what I am willing to do.”

His grip on your chin tightened for a moment before he let you go, leaving you breathless, terrified, and more trapped than ever. You tried to calm yourself, you know you cannot show more. You cannot appear weak, not like this.

Sukuna’s wrath hung over you like a storm, and as he turned and walked away, you were left with the suffocating knowledge that your secret was on the verge of unraveling.

As Sukuna stormed out of the room, the sliding door nearly breaking along the path he left behind him, you remained frozen in your seat. The air was thick with his lingering presence, the scent of incense mixing with the oppressive tension that still hung over you. Your hands, resting in your lap, trembled uncontrollably. You felt the weight of Sukuna’s warning, his threat echoing in your mind.

Hironobu.

The thought of him twisted your heart painfully. You had always known the danger that came with even the slightest hint of affection for another man, but Sukuna had never been this close to the truth before. His suspicion was like a sword dangling over both your heads, ready to strike at any moment.

You rose from the table slowly, your legs unsteady beneath you. The silence of the grand dining hall was suffocating, every step you took feeling heavier than the last. You could barely think, barely breathe. All you could do was replay Sukuna’s words in your mind. The anger, the possessiveness—and something else. The hurt.

Could it be that Sukuna, the mighty king of curses, had actually been wounded by what he saw? You had always believed that you were just another possession to him, another piece in his vast collection of power and control. But tonight, there had been something deeper in his voice, something almost vulnerable.

And that terrified you even more.

When you reached the privacy of your chambers, you collapsed onto the bed, your body trembling from the weight of the evening. Your heart raced as you tried to steady your breath, but it was no use. Every time you close your eyes, you see Hironobu’s face, his warm, gentle smile—and Sukuna’s cold, furious gaze.

What were you going to do? You couldn’t abandon Hironobu. The thought of him being killed because of you, because of a love you couldn’t deny, was unbearable. And yet, if Sukuna found out, there would be no mercy. Not for either of you.

A soft knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts, and you quickly sat up, brushing away the stray tears that had escaped. “You may enter.” you called, trying to keep your voice steady.

The door creaked open, and to your surprise, it was Hironobu who stepped inside. His expression was calm, as it always was, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your chest tighten. Tension passes through you as much as fear does. You cover yourself with the blankets, as though to shield you from the vulnerability you feel for him.

“You shouldn’t be here, Hironobu.” you whispered, panic rising in your throat. “It is not allowed. This is not…..It’s too dangerous.”

“I know, my lady.” Hironobu replied quietly, closing the door behind him. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and knelt beside you, his hand reaching out to gently take yours. “But I had to see you. I heard that lord Sukuna summoned you and everyone was whispering about him. He was mad, and I was worried that he could harm you, my lady.”

You looked into his eyes, the warmth and sincerity in them a stark contrast to the cold, terrifying presence of Sukuna. For a brief moment, being with Hironobu felt like a balm to the storm raging in your heart. But the danger was too real, too imminent.

“My lord will not hurt me. You must know this.” You wonder if you were saying the right words. Ryomen Sukuna has hurt you. He always has, even if he does not lay a hand on you. “You must trust that.”

“My lady, still—”

“Hironobu.” you began, your voice breaking slightly. “Lord Sukuna saw us in the garden the other day.”

Hironobu’s face paled, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “What did my lord say?”

You shook your head, feeling tears prick at your eyes again. “He’s warned me. He said he saw how happy I was with you, how I smiled while we gardened today. He asked if you were more than just a gardener and servant to me.”

Hironobu’s hand tightened around yours. “And what did you tell him, my lady?”

“I told him I would never betray him. That we are only enjoying the garden together.” you whispered, the weight of your words heavy on your tongue. “But I don’t know how much longer I can keep him at bay to keep you safe. He’s watching us, Hironobu. I do not want him to hurt you, over your kindness and friendship and I fear for you—”

“I won’t let him hurt you, my lady.” Hironobu interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “I’ll leave if I have to. I won’t risk your life.”

“No, no.” you said quickly, gripping his hand tighter. “You can’t leave. That would only make him more suspicious. You are bound to me as a servant. My lord will be suspicious.”

Tears finally spilled over, and you tried to wipe them away, but Hironobu cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks softly. “We’ll figure this out, my lady. Do not be afraid.” he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “We have to be careful, even in our friendship, but I won’t let him take you away from me.”

The intensity of his words made your heart ache, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his touch, to forget the danger, if only for a fleeting second. Being with Hironobu felt like a sanctuary, a place where you could be free from Sukuna’s suffocating grip.

But as much as you wanted to stay in this moment, you knew it couldn’t last. Ryomen Sukuna’s shadow loomed over everything, and no matter how careful you were, it was only a matter of time before he would find out the truth. One way or another, even if you had rejected Hironobu, Sukuna will end up being angry. And he would kill him. He would kill him and that would break you.

“I’m afraid, Hironobu.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. Not having a life of my own.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re stronger than you think, my lady.” he murmured. “We’ll find a way, even if it means we have to run.”

You shook your head slightly. “He would find us. You know he would.”

Hironobu didn’t argue. He knew the truth as well as you did. Ryomen Sukuna’s reach was vast, his power unmatched. There was no escaping him, not really.

But for now, in the quiet of your chambers, with Hironobu beside you, you allowed yourself to cling to the hope that somehow, some way, you could protect the fragile love you had found. Even if the world around you was crumbling.

The door creaked again, but before you could react, a cold voice sliced through the air.

“I told you, little one.” Sukuna’s voice was low, deadly, as he stepped out of the shadows, his eyes burning with fury, “there are limits to my patience.”

Your heart stopped.

You felt frozen in place.

He had seen everything.

The room felt as though it had been plunged into icy darkness the moment Sukuna stepped forward. His presence filled the air, suffocating, his crimson gaze searing into both you and Hironobu. The warmth you had felt moments before vanished, replaced by a cold, gnawing dread that clawed at your throat.

You stood up quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. "My lord—"

Sukuna’s eyes flicked to you, and the fury in them made your blood run cold. His face was a mask of controlled rage, but there was a darkness beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

“I warned you, little one.” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, each word like a blade slicing through the air. His attention shifted to Hironobu, who had risen to his feet but made no move to defend himself. There was a strange calm in Hironobu’s expression, but you could see the tension in his body, the readiness for whatever was to come.

“My lord, please.” you begged, stepping forward, your voice trembling. “Please don’t hurt him. He had done nothing wrong.”

Sukuna’s eyes snapped back to you, narrowing. “Do you think your pleas mean anything to me now?” His voice dripped with contempt. “You’ve lied to me. You betrayed me. And for what? A mere gardener?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you forced yourself to stay calm, to keep speaking even though your heart was breaking with fear. “He didn’t—he didn’t do anything wrong, my lord. This is my fault.”

Sukuna’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Your fault? Oh, I know it’s your fault. You allowed this to happen. You let him think he could take what is mine.”

Your breath hitched. The possessiveness in the god Ryomen Sukuna echoed in his voice was suffocating, and you knew he was on the edge of doing something irreversible. Desperation clawed at you as you stepped closer, falling to your knees before him.

“Please, my lord. Please. This is not….” you whispered, bowing your head, your hands trembling as you reached out, barely daring to touch the hem of his robe. “I beg you—don’t hurt him. He… he only cares for me. It’s not his fault.”

Sukuna stared down at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, there was silence—an unbearable, suffocating silence that made your chest tighten with fear. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, terrified of what you might see in his eyes.

“I should kill him where he stands,little one.” Sukuna said softly, though his voice was filled with venom. “I should make you watch as I tear him apart, so you understand the price of defiance.”

You gasped, your heart shattering at the thought. “No! Please, my lord, no!”

But before you could continue, Sukuna moved faster than you could react, his hand shooting out and grabbing Hironobu by the throat. The sound of Hironobu’s breath choking in his lungs was like a knife to your heart.

“My lord, please. Please, please—Sukuna!” you screamed, rushing to your feet, your hands trembling as you reached for him. “Please, no! I’ll do anything—anything! Just don’t kill him!”

Sukuna’s grip tightened, his gaze never leaving Hironobu’s face. “Anything?” he repeated, his voice cold and mocking. “What makes you think you have anything left to offer me, after this?”

Tears streamed down your face as you fell to your knees once more, your voice breaking. “I’ll take whatever you impose upon me, my lord—I’ll never speak to him again! Or any one else I swear to you, my lord! Just… please, don’t take his life. It’s my fault. I should have known better. I’ll do anything you ask, my lord. Just spare his life. He had done nothing wrong.”

Sukuna’s grip on Hironobu’s throat loosened slightly, but his eyes remained locked on you, watching your every movement, every tear that fell from your eyes. His lips curled into a cruel smile, but there was no warmth, no mercy in it. He was enjoying this, owning you.

“Is that what you think will save him?” Sukuna asked, his tone soft, dangerous. “Your submission? Your devotion? Little one, I own you. I do not give your submission. You give it willingly. You know that.”

You nodded frantically, your voice a desperate whisper. “Yes… yes, my lord. But I swear to you. I swear, my lord. I’ll submit to you in every way. I won’t resist, I won’t fight. I would continue to be devoted to you, only you. Just spare him, please.”

Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze flickered between you and Hironobu, his hand still wrapped around the gardener’s throat. The tension in the room was unbearable, and you could barely breathe as you waited for his decision. You feel like you were going to collapse, as you stopped breathing waiting for him to say anything.

For what felt like an eternity, Sukuna said nothing. The silence was deafening, the weight of his power crushing you under its force. You knew that he could kill Hironobu in an instant, with a single flick of his hand. And yet… there was something holding him back.

Finally, Sukuna’s fingers released their hold on Hironobu, and he stepped back, letting the man fall to his knees, gasping for breath. But the danger hadn’t passed. Sukuna’s gaze was still fixed on you, dark and dangerous.

“Get out of my sight.” Sukuna snarled at Hironobu. “If I see you near her again, I’ll tear you apart without hesitation. And there will be no more mercy.”

Hironobu, though clearly shaken, managed to stand, casting a glance at you, his eyes filled with both relief and sorrow. You gave him a small, trembling nod, urging him to leave while he still could. Without a word, he turned and disappeared through the door.

The moment he was gone, Ryomen Sukuna’s attention snapped back to you, and the full weight of his fury descended upon you.

“Don’t think for a moment that this is over, little one.” he said, his voice low and menacing. “You think I’ll just forget this? That I’ll let you off with a warning?”

You looked up at him, your body trembling. “I know… I know you won’t, my lord.” you whispered. “I’ll accept whatever punishment you see fit. Just… please…”

“Please?” he mocked, leaning down so that his face was level with yours. “You think you can still make requests of me after what I saw today?”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “I beg your mercy.”

Sukuna’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, and he reached out, tilting your chin up so that you were forced to meet his gaze. “Mercy, huh.” he repeated, his voice soft, but laced with malice. “You think you deserve mercy after betraying me?”

You shook your head slightly, tears still streaming down your face. “No… I don’t. But Hironobu—he didn’t deserve to die for my mistake.”

For a moment, Sukuna simply stared at you, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and something darker, something possessive. Then, he released you, standing up straight once more.

“You will never see him again. Never again. And not anyone.” he ordered coldly. “You will stay at my side when asked where you belong. Know your place. And if you ever defy me again, I won’t hesitate to kill him—and you.”

You nodded, your heart breaking as you whispered, “Yes, my lord.”

══════════════════

YOU HADN’T TALKED IN A WHILE. Somehow you think you had forgotten what your voice sounds like. Silence has embraced you, as much as the darkness of the once vibrant Vermillion hall.

After that fateful night, everything changed. You isolated yourself in your chambers, the once-vibrant world of your garden now forbidden territory. Hironobu had vanished, leaving only a painful absence that lingered like a wound that refused to heal.

And there were whispers from the other halls of the temple that Ryomen Sukuna had killed him. You had expected it more or less. But it did not make it any easier. You wept in the silence of your halls.

And you had refused to eat, refused to change your clothes or wash yourself. Days blurred into one another, and the weight of your choices crushed you beneath their unbearable load.

Sukuna did not come to you. He did not summon you to his side. For a time, it felt as though you had become invisible to him, a ghost haunting the halls of the palace. At first, the silence seemed like a blessing; a reprieve from his suffocating presence, from his cruel words and piercing gaze. But as the days wore on, it began to gnaw at you. The solitude was maddening.

The garden that had once been your sanctuary became an unbearable reminder of what you had lost. You couldn’t bear to see the flowers Hironobu had so lovingly tended, the very space where you had felt fleeting moments of happiness. The very thought of stepping outside filled you with dread. You had no desire to face the world, not like this, not without him.

You were trapped—trapped between the suffocating control of Sukuna and the hollow, aching void left by Hironobu’s absence. Every breath you took felt heavier than the last, until even breathing felt like a burden you could no longer bear.

For a time, you thought it would be better to die.

The thought came slowly at first, creeping in like a shadow at the edge of your mind. But the more you dwelled in your isolation, the more it seemed like a mercy—a release from the endless torment of your existence. You had lost everything that mattered. The love you had found with Hironobu was gone, stolen from you by Sukuna’s wrath. And Ryomen Sukuna… he had broken you. His control, his possessiveness, his cruelty had shattered whatever was left of your spirit.

One night, the darkness in your mind swallowed you whole, and you couldn’t fight it any longer.

You had waited until the moon was high, the Vermillion Hall silent. You like to think that Sukuna had ordered everyone to leave you to your loneliness. But it was too late at night. No one came to your chambers anymore. No one would stop you. With shaking hands, you found a length of silk, soft and delicate, and tied it to the ceiling beam.

The precious gold and vermillion silk had been a gift from Ryomen Sukuna long ago. It was the very name of the hall he had gifted you. One of the hardest silks to find and make. It was a symbol of his wealth, his power. And he gifted it to you, a small echo of ownership to you. How ironic, you thought, that it would be the instrument of your final escape.

Tears blurred your vision as you fashioned the knot, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You stood on the edge, your heart pounding in your chest, and for a moment, you hesitated. But the pain in your heart, the unbearable ache of everything you had lost, pushed you forward.

In the cold stillness of that moment, you stepped off the edge.

You woke in a haze, your body weak and aching, the dim light of dawn filtering through the curtains. You weren’t dead. Somehow, impossibly, you were still here. Confusion clouded your mind as you tried to move, but your limbs feel heavy, your throat raw.

And then you saw him.

You weren’t sure the first time.

But you let yourself look again.

Ryomen Sukuna was sitting beside your bed, his presence unmistakable even in the pale morning light. His expression was unreadable, his dark crimson eyes fixed on you with a strange intensity. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You couldn’t speak well anyway. Your throat hurts.

You had never seen him like this before—silent, unmoving, almost still as a statue. His gaze roamed over you, lingering on the dark bruises around your neck, the evidence of your desperate attempt to escape.

“Why?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, but there was something else there too—something you couldn’t quite place.

You turned your head away from him, shame and sorrow overwhelming you. You force yourself to speak, even if it hurts. “Because… I can’t live like this anymore, my lord.” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “I’ve lost everything.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something passing over his face. “Everything? Do you think I would allow you to take your life without my permission?”

A pained bitter laugh escaped your lips, though it hurt to do so. “I can’t even die on my own terms?”

Sukuna leaned forward, his hand gripping the edge of the bed with barely controlled rage. “You think death would be an escape from me?” he hissed. “You belong to me, even in death, little one. Running away, it will not save you from me.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you couldn’t hold them back any longer. “I belong to no one!” you cried, the words tumbling out in a flood of pain. “Not anymore. Not after what you’ve taken from me.”

For a moment, Sukuna was silent, his expression dark and unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, his voice softened, though it remained cold. “You’re a fool.”

You turned to face him, your eyes red and swollen. “Why? Because I dared to want something else? Because I dared to love someone else? Even as a friend? My lord, I suffered for your sake. Being devoted to you like it is a law. It was…it was just a friend. A friend. And I cannot even have them. What am I to you, my lord? More than…more than someone who suffers worshiping you.”

He stared at you, his gaze penetrating, but he didn’t answer immediately. His fingers brushed against the bruised skin of your neck, and you flinched, but he didn’t pull away. There was a strange, almost possessive tenderness in his touch.

“You think this makes you free?” Sukuna murmured, his voice low. “You’re more mine now than you ever were before, little one.”

You shuddered, his words striking deep. “Why?” you whispered, barely able to hold back the sob in your throat. “Why do you care?”

Sukuna’s eyes burned with an intensity that made you tremble. “Because you’re mine, little one.” he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. “And I do not let go of what is mine so easily.”

There was no warmth in his words, no comfort. But for the first time, you saw something raw in his eyes—something that looked dangerously close to vulnerability. You swallowed hard, your throat aching from both the bruises and the tears.

“Then why did you come?”

Sukuna’s expression shifted ever so slightly, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something like regret, though he would never admit it. You know that too well. Ten years of marriage to this cruel soul, this cursed man turned god — you would never hear those words of comfort. Not even if you asked.

“Because I won’t let you die, little one.” he said, his voice steady but quieter than you had ever heard it. “Not like this.”

You stared at him, your heart aching with too many conflicting emotions to name. In that moment, you realized something. You were trapped, not just by Sukuna’s power, but by the strange, twisted bond that tied you to him. He would never let you go. Not in life, not in death.

And that thought was more terrifying than anything else.

══════════════════

YOU COULDN’T HELP BUT STARE AT HIM. You weren’t fully recovered from your injuries just yet, but the healers had let you return to your daily life. You had just finished attending to your lord Sukuna in the audience hall. You stopped as he appeared before you, as you changed into more leisure clothing.

And you were unsure what he was saying to you. But the weight of Sukuna's words hung heavy in the air, his gaze as piercing as ever as he stood before you, his expression unreadable. He was not giving you anything, but orders. And you’re curious. As much as you were surprised.

“You will take care of the child, little one.” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Your breath caught in your throat. “A child? I know nothing about children, my lord.”

Sukuna’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of amusement in the corner of his lips. “You will learn.”

For a moment, you stared at him, searching his face for any sign of the usual cruelty, but there was something different this time. This wasn’t a command born purely from spite or possessiveness. It felt heavier, more deliberate, as if he had considered this for a long time. You felt the familiar helplessness rise within you, the sense that you were powerless to refuse him.

“I… I will do as you ask, my lord.” you whispered, defeated. The words felt hollow, but they were the only ones you could manage. Sukuna merely nodded, his expression hard, before turning and leaving the room.

Days passed, and the dread settled deep in your bones as you waited for the child to arrive. You didn’t know what to expect, but Sukuna’s commands were absolute. There was no running from this.

And then, one morning, the child was brought to your chambers.

You stood at the door, frozen, as the small figure stepped forward. Your breath hitched in your chest as you looked down at the little girl before you. Her features were delicate, her long hair falling softly over her shoulders. She couldn’t have been more than five or six years old, but there was something far older in her gaze.

The child looked up at you, her eyes startlingly familiar—crimson, like Sukuna’s. They stared into you with a haunting intensity that made your heart skip a beat. But it wasn’t just Sukuna’s eyes that made you pause. No, there was something else, something that chilled you to your core.

The girl’s face, though youthful and innocent, bore the unmistakable likeness of someone you thought you’d never see again.

Ryomen Hiromi.

Your heart clenched painfully, and the room seemed to spin for a moment. It was impossible, and yet… the girl standing before you had Hiromi’s face—her soft features, her kind eyes, but mixed with the piercing gaze of Sukuna. You’ve seen enough of her statues all around the temple palace that you’re too certain.

You swallowed hard, struggling to comprehend what you were seeing. Your chest felt tight as memories of Hiromi flooded your mind, of the woman you had once known, the one who had been so important to Sukuna.

Ryomen Sukuna entered the room behind the child, his presence like a storm cloud looming over you both. He regarded you with cold detachment, though there was something in his gaze that suggested this was not a simple matter for him either.

“This child…..” Sukuna began, his voice calm but commanding. “is Hiromi’s daughter. The child she lost long ago.”

You stared at him, shock rippling through you. “Hiromi’s… child?”

Sukuna nodded. “I found her soul.” he explained, his voice low and steady. “It was not easy, but with the help of a… trusted friend, I was able to bring her back. Her body grew anew, and now, she is here. Alive. For me to keep, as her father.”

Your mind raced, struggling to grasp what he was saying. Sukuna had brought the child back from the dead—had found her soul and, through some dark means, restored her. And now, this little girl, this child with Sukuna’s eyes and Hiromi’s face, stood before you.

And to be her father? Not only that, but to force you to be a mother. To raise her, knowing how much the ghost of her mother haunts you already. You do not know what to do. You could feel your lips still reflect a gaping hole, wide open in shock.

“Why me?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why have you given her to me? Her mother’s kin still lives, my lord. Would they not want to know—”

Sukuna’s gaze darkened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It does not matter what they want. You will raise her, little one.” he said simply. “You will care for her as if she were your own.”

You took a step back, overwhelmed by the weight of his demand. “But I don’t know how to care for a child, my lord I—”

“You will learn. You are not half–witted, aren’t you?” Sukuna interrupted, his voice sharp. “There is no other choice. I have willed it. And you shall follow it.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You wanted to argue, to refuse, but you knew it was futile. There was no escaping Sukuna’s will. He had given you this child, and there was no turning back now.

The girl stood quietly between the two of you, her small hands clasped in front of her, watching the exchange with an unnerving calmness for someone her age. Her eyes—her father’s eyes—bore into you, as if she already knew more than you did, as if she carried the weight of her past life with her. Her mother’s face haunted you already. Why? Why must you be haunted like this?

“This was Hiromi’s child. And I cherish her.” Sukuna said again, more softly this time, as if the words held a deeper significance for him. “Now, she is mine. Mine own daughter. You will raise her for me.”

You could only nod, the enormity of it all crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Sukuna’s presence was suffocating, but the child’s gaze was what unsettled you the most. It was as if Hiromi’s spirit lingered within her, a ghostly reminder of the life Sukuna had shared with her, of a woman who had meant more to him than perhaps you ever could.

And now, you were tasked with caring for the last piece of Hiromi that remained in this world—a child born from tragedy, resurrected by Sukuna’s dark power.

“What is her name?”

He stops for a moment.

“Chiharu.” He says in response. “Ryomen Chiharu.”

“Very well, my lord. I will… do as you ask, my lord. I shall care for your child.” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked down at the little girl. She met your gaze with those unnerving eyes, and you felt a strange chill creep up your spine.

Sukuna lingered for a moment longer, his gaze flicking between you and the child before turning to leave. As he walked away, his parting words echoed in your mind.

“Do not fail me in this.”

Days turned into weeks as you adjusted to the new rhythm of life with Chiharu, the little girl now under your care. At first, it felt surreal to be responsible for someone so precious yet so fragile, a living reminder of a past life you could barely comprehend. But as time passed, the weight of your circumstances began to feel lighter, replaced by a sense of purpose you hadn’t expected to find.

Young Chiharu was a curious child, with a spirit that seemed undaunted by the complexities of her existence. She often wandered the halls of the palace, her footsteps soft against the cold stone floors, exploring every corner with wide-eyed wonder. It was in those moments that you found yourself drawn to her, your heart softening as she chartered away, her laughter ringing like music in the otherwise somber atmosphere of the palace.

Every evening, you would sit together in the garden in the Vermillion hall—the one place you had once avoided. Underneath the lush foliage, you would share stories, and slowly, you learned more about her.

Chiharu would speak of her dreams, her favorite flowers, and the little things that made her smile. She spoke of animals she wished to have, tales she had heard of distant lands, and the kindness she hoped to find in a world that had been cruel to her before.

As you listened to her, you found yourself revealing bits of your own life, your own fears and desires. With each passing day, the bond between you grew stronger, entwining like the vines in the garden. You shared laughter and quiet moments, and you began to feel a warmth blossom in your heart—a sense of family you had thought lost to you forever.

It was during one of these serene afternoons that Chiharu turned to you, her bright scarlet eyes glinting in the sunlight. “Mama.” she said softly, her small hand reaching for yours.

The word felt foreign, yet sweet on her lips. Her mother was someone that she will never get to know again. You knew were not her mother, you knew that too well. But you felt a swell of warmth in your chest at the sound, as if she had bridged a gap that had long remained unfilled. You were not born to be a mother, you knew you would never be one. And yet, in her eyes — you were. You were born to be her mother.

“Yes, my sweet little flower?” you replied, your heart fluttering at the connection that had formed between you.

“Why did lord Sukuna name me Chiharu?” she asked, her gaze steady and curious.

You paused, contemplating how to answer her question. “Chiharu means a thousand springs, little flower.” you explained gently. “It’s a beautiful name, one that speaks of new beginnings, renewal, and growth.”

The little girl tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “But why did he choose that name for me?”

Your heart ached at the thought of Sukuna’s motivations. “I believe he saw something special in you. Perhaps he wanted to honor your connection to your past, to lady Hiromi. You are her child, Chiharu. And in a way, you are also a part of your lord father.”

“But you are my mother.” You hear little Chiharu whisper.

You did not know what to say.

You try to recover from her words.

You smile, for her sake, you think.

But you smiled for your sake too.

“We are both your mother.” You whispered back to her, putting her stray hair against the back of her ear. “But I am the one here at this moment, little flower.”

You watch her eyes brighten at the thought. “Truly?”

“Truly.” You smiled wider at her.

“What about my father?”

“Hm, what about my lord, little flower?”

Chiharu’s brow furrowed. “Do you think he loves me?”

The question caught you off guard. “I know he cares for you. That’s what I believe. In his own way, he has love.” But none for me.

Her small face lit up with a smile, though it was tinged with innocence and uncertainty. “I want to make him proud.”

A lump formed in your throat at her words. “You already make me proud, sweet flower. And that is what matters most.”

The connection between you and the young girl continued to deepen, woven through shared moments and quiet revelations. You discovered that Chiharu had a talent for painting, her little hands creating vibrant images that brought life to the entirety of the Vermillion hall. And you could not help but find joy in such revelations.

You encouraged her to explore her creativity, and soon, the once-dim walls of your home were adorned with her colorful drawings, depicting flowers, animals, and fantastical creatures. Even if the servants were concerned, you waved such words away. The Vermillion hall looked brighter with the scarlet flowers she drew everywhere.

Ryomen Sukuna would occasionally visit, his presence like a thunderstorm that cast shadows over your peaceful existence. When he did, Chiharu would run to him, her bright scarlet eyes sparkling with delight.

Despite the tension that accompanied his visits, you could see that he had a soft spot for her—a fleeting warmth that illuminated his otherwise cold demeanor. He adored this young girl, more than you know. He had given her such warmth more than anyone you had ever seen.

One evening, as dusk settled over the Vermillion hall, Ryomen Chiharu presented one of her paintings to Sukuna, her little hands trembling with excitement. “Look, lord Sukuna!” she exclaimed, holding up a vibrant depiction of a cherry blossom tree, the one standing in the middle of your never–ending gardens. “It’s for you!”

Sukuna studied the painting, his expression inscrutable, but you could see the flicker of something in his eyes. Perhaps pride, perhaps surprise. “You’ve done well, little blossom.” he said, his tone low and steady. “You had captured the lady’s cherry blossom with exquisite likeness.”

The child beamed at his praise, her cheeks flushed with joy. “Do you like it?”

“It is… acceptable, little blossom.” he replied, and though the words were blunt, there was a hint of approval lingering in his gaze. “I am certain that you will make more.”

You had wished that this was your life.

That you live forever in this moment.

But you knew better than to wish for that.

As the night deepened and the shadows in the grand hall stretched longer, Sukuna rose from his seat, his presence overwhelming as always. You called for Chiharu, who hesitated, her tiny face scrunching up in a pout. She clung to you, reluctant to leave, her voice soft, "I don’t want to go. My lord doesn’t come often anymore… I want to tell him about my day."

You knelt down, brushing your fingers through her hair and smiling gently. "He’ll come tomorrow, just like he promised, little flower." you reassured her, though a small part of you doubted the certainty in your words. She needed that hope, even if it felt fragile.

With one last glance toward Sukuna, Chiharu allowed herself to be led away by the servants, her footsteps fading down the hall. Silence settled between you and Sukuna, thick and awkward at first. He didn’t look at you immediately, instead gazing out into the night through the open windows, as if lost in thought.

“You take good care of her, little one.” Sukuna finally said, his tone gruff but softer than you expected. It was strange hearing thanks from him—it sounded unnatural coming from the King of Curses, yet there was sincerity in the rough edges of his words. "For that… I thank you."

You blinked, the weight of his gratitude sinking in. It felt strange, almost surreal. Sukuna, of all people, expressing appreciation. You inclined your head, accepting it quietly. "It’s nothing, my lord. She deserves the best care."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable this time, though. Instead, it felt like a mutual acknowledgment of the one thing you shared—a fondness for Chiharu.

You’ll never love me. you thought, the truth of it sitting heavy in your heart. But you didn’t need to say it aloud. You already knew. Still, the small moments like these, where his walls slipped just enough for you to catch a glimpse of something more, were what you held onto. You treasured whatever you could get, however fleeting.

Sukuna’s gaze finally met yours. It was sharp, piercing as always, but there was something softer lingering beneath his usual coldness. "I’ll come tomorrow. Like I promised."

And for tonight, that was enough.

After he departed, you drank a little.

It was better to mourn what could not be early.

When Chiharu returned, well bathed and dressed for the night, the two of you sat together beneath the cherry blossom tree in the garden. She had to dry her hair before she could get some rest. Her small hands clutching the other painting she had made tightly.

“Do you think he really liked it?” she asked, her voice soft.

You smiled gently at her, cupping her face in your hands. “I believe he did. He may not show it, but he cares for you in his own way. You are a light in his life, little flower.”

Her eyes sparkled with hope, and for a moment, you felt a sense of unity in your small family, a connection that defied the darkness surrounding you.

As the petals fell around you like confetti, you realized that despite the chaos of your circumstances, you had created a sanctuary for both yourself and Chiharu—one filled with laughter, art, and the promise of new beginnings.

And in those moments, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could carve out a piece of happiness amidst the shadows.

══════════════════

IT WAS JUST ANOTHER NIGHT. But it was still something that caused you grievance. As night fell and the palace was shrouded in silence, you found yourself restless, wandering the dimly lit halls, your thoughts heavy with the weight of your circumstances.

Chiharu slept peacefully in her little room, the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the window, casting soft shadows on her innocent face. You paused to watch her, a smile tugging at your lips, but it was quickly overshadowed by the familiar ache in your chest.

The truth was inescapable: no matter how much joy Ryomen Chiharu brought into your life, the shadow of Hiromi loomed over you like a specter. You couldn’t shake the feeling that everything she represented was a constant reminder of your own insignificance in Sukuna's world.

Hiromi had been the one to hold Sukuna's love, the one whose memory seemed to linger in every corner of the palace. She was the woman who had given him a child—a child who was now the light of his life, while you remained in the dark, clinging to scraps of his attention. It was a bitter thought that twisted in your mind, gnawing at your heart.

As you lay in bed, staring up at the intricately woven patterns on the ceiling, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to Hiromi. She had everything: his love, his devotion, a child who would carry a piece of her with her always. And what did you have? Nothing but the remnants of Sukuna’s affection, which felt more like an obligation than anything else.

You turned onto your side, burying your face in the pillow, trying to drown out the thoughts that haunted you. But the more you tried, the louder they became. You could still hear the echoes of his voice from earlier, the way he had looked at Chiharu with an intensity that made your heart clench.

He was a monster, but he was her father—someone who had chosen to resurrect her from the depths of despair. He had given her a life filled with warmth, while you were left with the remnants of a hollow existence.

“Hiromi has everything in my lord Sukuna.” you whispered into the darkness, your voice trembling. “A dead woman, and I have nothing.” Tears slipped from your eyes, soaking the fabric of the pillow. “She gave him a child, love, and he keeps it. And nothing of me.”

You couldn’t understand why it hurt so much. You had wanted to be close to Sukuna, to carve out a space in his heart that felt like home, but every time you looked at Chiharu, you were reminded of your failure. You were the one who existed in the shadows, the one who couldn’t compete with the memory of a woman long gone.

You closed your eyes, squeezing out the tears that felt like a dam breaking within you. Each drop felt like a piece of your heart spilling out onto the floor, a tangible reminder of your torment. You were grateful for Chiharu, but the bittersweet reality of your situation consumed you.

After what felt like hours of battling your own thoughts, you finally rose from your bed and made your way to the garden. The night air was cool against your skin, and you could hear the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. As you stepped into the moonlight, you were enveloped in a quiet stillness, yet it did little to ease your turmoil.

You found yourself standing beneath the cherry blossom tree, its delicate petals fluttering like whispers in the wind. It was a beautiful sight, but it only deepened the ache in your chest. You remembered how Chiharu’s eyes had sparkled with excitement when she painted that tree, how her laughter had filled the air like music.

But even as you admired its beauty, you couldn’t escape the lingering shadow of Hiromi. “Why do you haunt me?” you murmured, your voice breaking as you gazed up at the stars. “Why can’t I escape your memory?”

You sank to your knees beneath the tree, your fingers brushing against the cool earth. “I don’t want to compete with you.” you whispered, your heart aching with the weight of your confession. “I just want to be enough… for him, for Chiharu.”

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves above you, and in that moment, it felt as though the world held its breath. You could almost hear Hiromi’s laughter, see her warm smile—a gentle reminder of the life she had once lived.

A tear rolled down your cheek, and you let it fall, feeling the weight of your grief and jealousy wash over you. You had tried so hard to be strong, to forge a bond with Chiharu, but the reality of your situation loomed like a dark cloud, threatening to engulf you.

As you knelt there, surrounded by the whispers of the night, you could feel Sukuna’s presence looming in the back of your mind. He was a force of nature, a tempest that left destruction in its wake, and you were caught in the storm.

“Will I ever matter to you?” you asked softly, the question lingering in the cool night air. The silence answered you, an empty echo of your unfulfilled desires.

The moonlight bathed the garden in a soft glow, but no matter how beautiful it was, the ache in your heart remained. You rose to your feet, wiping the tears from your face, knowing that you had to keep moving forward—for Chiharu’s sake, if not your own.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, and you would face them with the strength you found in your love for the little girl who had unexpectedly entered your life. But tonight, in the shadow of a woman you could never compete with, you allowed yourself to grieve—grieve for what could never be, for the love that felt so far out of reach.

As you made your way back to your chambers, the weight of Hiromi’s legacy still pressed on your heart, but you clung to the hope that perhaps, one day, you could carve your own place in this world—one that belonged to you, and to Chiharu.

══════════════════

YOU WERE EXHAUSTED FROM THE WORK ALL DAY. But as the lord summoned you, you were inclined to attend to him. That is just how it was. It has been two years now, since Hironobu, since Chiharu had come to live with you.

And a lot had since changed with the way you and Sukuna existed together. Perhaps, it is what it is. This is all that is left. You think you would like to be content with that.

The evening was cloaked in a haze of amber light as you and Sukuna sat across from each other in the dimly lit chambers, the air thick with tension. A selection of fine spirits lay on the table between you, remnants of a night that had spiraled into a blur of laughter and inebriation. But the laughter had faded, leaving behind a bitter residue that clung to your heart.

You raise your glass, your hand slightly unsteady as you downed another shot, the liquid fire coursing down your throat. It was supposed to be a moment of camaraderie, an attempt to bridge the growing chasm between you. Instead, it felt like a catalyst, igniting the frustrations that had been building within you.

Sukuna watched you with a bemused expression, but there was a glint in his eyes—something predatory, something that made your heart race. Fueled by the alcohol and the raw emotion coursing through you, you slammed your glass down on the table, the sound echoing in the silence.

"You took everything I have!" you slur drunkenly, your voice breaking as the words tumbled out. "I gave you everything I had, and I am miserable because of it!"

Sukuna’s brows furrowed, and for a moment, the playful smirk slipped from his face, replaced by a flicker of confusion. But you pressed on, the anger and despair and somehow bitter laughter mingling in a toxic blend that fueled your fury.

"You made me miserable with you! The one shot of joy I have in my life—someone who could care for me—and you take him away from me? What have I done to you to make me suffer like this, my lord?"

The room seemed to spin, the walls closing in around you as the weight of your words settled heavily in the air. The tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free, cascading down your cheeks as you fought against the sorrow that threatened to engulf you.

"I regret you, sometimes! Everything of you, I regret!" you cried, the confession tearing from your lips like a wounded animal. A laugh escapes you. “Ah, I am driven mad. I thought….I thought to be content but somehow, I kept thinking and thinking. The questions of what if I had chosen some other path.”

Sukuna’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he took in your words. You could see the tumult of emotions playing across his face—anger, frustration, maybe even hurt. But he didn’t speak, and the silence hung heavy between you.

“You think this is easy for me?” he finally said, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I wanted to hurt you?”

You shook your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “You have no idea what it’s like! To live in the shadow of someone who came before me! To feel like I’m constantly competing with a ghost!”

The bitterness of your words filled the room, and you could see the flicker of something deep within him. A flicker of regret? Anger? It was hard to tell. What could there be left between two people who don’t talk? What could be left between two people who don’t understand each other well, and yet pretend they do?

“You think I don’t suffer too?” he challenged, his voice rising little by little. “You think I don’t care about you?”

You paused, the anger momentarily dissipating as you searched his face for any hint of sincerity. But all you saw was the monster—the god, the force of nature that had swept into your life and turned everything upside down.

“Then why do you make me feel like this?” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice cutting through the tension. “Why can’t you just let me be happy? With Hironobu… with Chiharu… with anyone?”

A shadow crossed Sukuna’s face, and for a moment, it felt like you had struck a chord. But he quickly masked it, his expression turning cold once more. “Hironobu is nothing to me. He is weak, a distraction.”

“That ‘distraction’ makes me happy!” you yelled, frustration spilling over once more. “He cares for me in a way you never could! He makes me feel like I matter!”

Sukuna’s gaze hardened, but beneath that facade, you could see the conflict churning. You took a step forward, your heart racing. “I don’t want to be your pawn anymore. I don’t want to be a part of your world if it means losing everything I love!”

The air crackled with tension as the two of you faced each other, the weight of your words hanging between you. And then the dam broke. You collapsed into tears, the alcohol amplifying your emotions as you fell to your knees, sobs wracking your body. The tears spilled unchecked, your heart breaking under the weight of it all.

“I hate this!” you cried out, your voice muffled by the floor. “I hate feeling like this! I hate you!”

Sukuna stood frozen, a statue of power and control as he watched your breakdown unfold. But as your cries filled the room, something shifted within him.

He took a step closer, his presence looming over you like a storm cloud, and yet, despite the turmoil, you felt a flicker of something more—something like concern.

“Get up, little one.” he commanded softly, his voice low and steady. “You’re stronger than this.”

But you shook your head, your heartache spilling over. “I don’t want to be strong anymore. I just want to be free.”

There was a moment of silence as you both stood at the edge of a precipice, and for the first time, you could see the weight of your shared pain reflected in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” he said finally, the words heavy with unspoken understanding. “You know it well, little one. I will never set you free.”

You didn’t know if he was apologizing for Hiromi, for Hironobu, or for the pain you both carried, but it was a start. You slowly rose to your feet, wiping your tears, though the hurt still lingered in your chest. You think that it doesn’t matter anymore. It never does.

Sukuna stood before you, an imposing figure, but in that moment, you could see the man behind the monster. The flicker of vulnerability lingered in the depths of his gaze, an acknowledgment of the bond that tethered you both to a past neither of you could escape.

“I may never be what you want me to be, little one.” he murmured. “But I won’t take away your happiness again.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity, and for the first time, you felt the hope of a fragile truce forming between you. It was a small step, but it was a step nonetheless, one that could lead you both out of the darkness and into the light—if only you could find the strength to keep moving forward.

The air was thick with unspoken emotions as you and Sukuna stood facing each other, the weight of your words still hanging heavily in the silence. His gaze bore into yours, a mix of intensity and something softer that made your heart race. You felt as if you were standing on a precipice, caught between the fear of falling and the desire to soar.

“I want to believe you, my lord.” you said quietly, the tremor in your voice betraying the storm of emotions still raging within. “But you have to understand… every time you pull me closer, it feels like you’re pushing me away. I can’t live like this—constantly afraid of losing everything.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted, a flicker of regret passing over his features. “I never meant to hurt you, little one.” he replied, his voice low. “But my world is not kind, and I can’t…..I can’t be what you want me to be. I cannot be kind to you.”

“But that’s just it!” you exclaimed, frustration bubbling up once more. “You’re so powerful, yet you let this darkness consume you! You wield it like a weapon, and I’m the one left in the crossfire! Why am I always suffering for your sake?”

He took a step closer, the space between you diminishing as he searched your face for understanding. “I am a monster, little one.” he said, his voice raw. “I have done terrible things—things that haunt me. But I never wanted to drag you into that darkness. You deserve to be happy. But….it is not meant to be. And we are…we are stuck together, whether you like it or not, in this cage.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re the one who keeps me from it?” you challenged, your heart racing. “I’m so tired of living in your shadow, of feeling like a mere afterthought in your life. Every time I see you with Chiharu, it reminds me that I am just a placeholder—a ghost of a memory that doesn’t matter.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you feared you had pushed too far. But then he reached out, his hand brushing against your arm, the warmth of his touch igniting something deep within you.

“I don’t want to lose you, little one.” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “You’ve brought something into my life I never knew I needed. But it terrifies me. And I just….I will not let you go.”

You felt your breath hitch, a rush of emotions swirling within you. “Then show me, my lord.” you pleaded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Show me that I matter to you. Don’t make me feel like I’m just a convenience. I want to be more than that.”

His gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, the god before you was just a man—a man struggling with his own demons, much like you. “I don’t know how anymore, little one.” he admitted, vulnerability lacing his words. “But I will try.”

The sincerity in his eyes pierced through the haze of your hurt and resentment. You had spent so long fighting against the current, desperately trying to find your footing in a world that seemed intent on pulling you under. But standing here, facing Sukuna, you realized that maybe—just maybe—there was a chance for something more, something real.

“I’m scared too, my lord.” you confessed, your voice trembling as the weight of your emotions threatened to crush you. “Scared that you’ll change your mind, scared that I’ll lose everything again. Or maybe you would kill me. But I can’t keep hiding from you. I cannot keep finding ways to escape you.”

The sincerity in your admission hung in the air between you, a fragile thread woven from the strands of your broken heart. Sukuna’s expression darkened as he processed your words, his usually confident demeanor faltering just slightly. He nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

“I know that too well, little one.” He brushes your hair away from your face. “I know it all.”

His voice was steady, almost soothing, but the underlying tension crackled like static in the air. You took a deep breath, a sense of resolve building within you. “I want to believe you, my lord.” you said softly, each word laced with the weight of your doubt. “But you know that you are not speaking true… you lie as easily as you breathe.And I drown loving you like its law and hating you for how you taught me to love you.”

The admission feel like a heavy stone between you, and you could see the flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps regret, perhaps anger. But you didn’t back down. You needed him to hear the truth, the raw, unvarnished reality of your existence.

“It’s as if you’re a tempest.” you continued, your voice rising with the heat of your frustration. “One moment you’re this powerful force, sweeping me off my feet, promising me the world, and the next, I’m left to drown in the chaos you create. You wield your power like a weapon, and I’m the one caught in the crossfire.”

His jaw clenched, and you could see the internal struggle etched on his face. “I never meant to hurt you, little one.” he said, but the words felt hollow, echoing through the chasm of pain that separated you.

“And yet you’re the architect of my suffering.” you challenged, your heart pounding in your chest. “You brought me into your world. And all I’ve known…is misery. You say you want me by your side, but you torture me. You kill me, everyday.”

The vulnerability in your voice cut through the tension like a blade, and you saw his expression shift. There was something there—something that hinted at the turmoil he carried beneath his godlike exterior.

“You’re not just a concubine to me.” he said, his tone softer, but the intensity of his gaze never wavered. “You mean more than you know.”

“More than what?” you spat, your anger flaring up once more. “More than a passing fancy? A moment of respite from your endless hunger for power? I am not a toy for you to play with, my lord. I’m not just a distraction from your demons, your misery. You want me to believe that I matter. You’re using me to fill the void left by Hiromi.”

The name hung in the air, heavy with the ghosts of the past, and you could see the shift in Sukuna’s expression—a flicker of pain, a crack in his facade. “You don’t understand…” he started, but you cut him off, needing to vent the storm of hurt and betrayal swirling within you.

“Understand what?” you cried, your voice breaking. “That I’m just a shadow in the light of a dead woman? That every moment I spend with you is tainted by her memory? You keep her close, a constant reminder of what I can never be. She gave you a child, love—everything I yearn for from you these past few years but can’t have. I feel like I’m drowning in your past while you expect me to be grateful for whatever scraps of affection you throw my way.”

For a heartbeat, the silence swallowed you both, the air thick with tension and unshed tears. Sukuna’s eyes bore into yours, a tempest of emotions raging beneath the surface—frustration, desire, regret. “I don’t want to lose you, little one.” he said, the words almost a whisper.

“And yet you keep pushing me away, my lord.” you shot back, your heart aching with the truth. “You think you can keep me at arm’s length, and I’ll just accept it? You can’t keep pulling me in with one hand while pushing me away with the other. I need to know that I am more than just a fleeting moment for you!”

“I’m trying!” he shouted, his voice rising, but the urgency in it didn’t mask the vulnerability. “You don’t understand the things I’ve done, the things I’m capable of! I’ve been alive for a long time, and you are the first to accept what I am. I am trying to keep you, little one. I need you.”

His raw honesty pierced through the fog of your emotions, and you felt your heart crack a little more. “Let me go, my lord.” you whispered, the weight of your own words settling heavily on your chest. “Let me be free of this burden you’ve placed on me. I want to be happy, but I can’t find that happiness in the shadow of your misery upon me.”

“I can’t.” he replied, desperation lacing his voice. “I won’t. You’re a part of me now, whether you want to be or not.”

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks as the reality of your situation sank in. “But I’m not sure I want to be part of this… this nightmare anymore.” you said, your voice breaking. “I’m tired, my lord. Tired of fighting for a love that feels more like a battlefield than a sanctuary.”

With every word, your resolve crumbled a little more, and you felt the exhaustion wash over you like a tide. The weight of your feelings, the burden of past traumas, and the constant strain of navigating the unpredictable depths of your relationship with Sukuna were too much to bear. You wanted to be strong, to stand your ground and fight for something better, but fatigue was clawing at the edges of your consciousness.

You could see the struggle reflected in his eyes—an intense mixture of determination and sorrow. But even in the heat of your argument, you sensed that his heart was also heavy with burdens he carried alone. You took a shaky breath, desperate for release from this tumultuous cycle of emotions.

As the exhaustion settled deeper into your bones, you felt your eyelids growing heavy, the fight within you slowly extinguishing. “I just—” you started, but the words faded as you succumbed to the comforting darkness that beckoned you.

“Just rest.” Sukuna murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos of your thoughts. “You need to let go for a moment. I’ll be here when you wake.”

His voice wrapped around you like a cocoon, and despite the turmoil of your heart, you found solace in his presence. With one last shuddering breath, you finally surrendered to the pull of sleep, the weight of your burdens slipping away as your consciousness faded into the comforting embrace of oblivion.

In the morning, you know that nothing will change.

In the morning, you will still be miserable with him.

In the morning, you’ll love him like he is the law.

In the morning, you’ll worship him as religion taught.

In the morning, you’ll never be able to be free from him.

859 notes · View notes

kookiewithluv · 1 month ago

Text

ASHES OF A PROMISE

• TITLE: ASHES OF A PROMISE

• PAIRING: Lycan king!Jungkook x Werewolf!Reader

•WORD COUNT: 15.3k

• GENRE: Paranormal Romance, Dark Fantasy, Smut, Slow burn, Fluff (?), Tragic Romance, werewolf au, Royal au

• TRIGGER WARNING: The following content contains themes of emotional distress, manipulation, rejection, and verbal abuse, including emotionally charged arguments and hurtful dialogue that could be distressing. There are references to violence, power dynamics, and trauma. Additionally, there are moments of self-doubt, intense emotional breakdowns, and interactions involving possessive and hostile behaviors. Please proceed with caution if these topics are sensitive or triggering for you.

• SUMMARY: You were a hopeless romantic, dreaming of a mate who would love you as fiercely as you loved him. But when you finally meet your mate, you discover he’s no ordinary wolf — he’s the Lycan king, the alpha of all alphas. Worse, he neither wants you nor is willing to reject you, leaving you trapped in a loveless bond in his kingdom. As queen to a king who resents you, the mate bond grows stronger, making you more vulnerable with each passing day. Now, you must break through the walls around his heart and make him love you, because staying in this bond without love is unbearable, yet leaving isn’t an option he’ll allow.

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv . The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

•a/n: Hey, everyone! How’s it going? I hope you’re all having a blast! So, here we are—Chapter 1 is finally up, and let me just say, it’s a masterpiece of disappointment! Honestly, I think I might hate it even more than the prologue, which is saying something because that was basically my attempt at literary self-sabotage. I’m pretty sure you’ll read this and wonder if I’ve lost my mind—or my talent, if I ever had any. But hey, if you end up hating it, I totally understand; I’ll just be over here, crying in a corner and contemplating my life choices. So, enjoy this train wreck of a chapter… or don’t, because either way, I’ll be doing the same!

PROLOGUE MASTERLIST 02

CHAPTER 1: THE MATE'S LAMENT

You pressed a trembling hand against your chest, the ache inside sharper than any wound. What did this mean? What had you done to deserve this crushing weight?

The thought pierced through you like a knife, and a ragged sob tore from your throat, scraping the walls raw as it escaped. Your whole body shook with the force of it. How could someone so beautiful be so cruel? How?

Maybe you didn’t deserve any of it. Any of the love.

Your spiral was interrupted by the soft creak of the door. Startled, you lifted your tear-blurred eyes just as a small figure stepped inside. Her footsteps faltered as soon as she saw you, eyes wide and doe-like, her breath catching in her chest. One hand gripped the doorknob, knuckles white, while the other clenched into a tight fist at her side. She hesitated, before she finally let go of the door, letting it close with a soft click.

"Luna," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

She took a step toward you, then another, her deamnour unsure, almost hesitant, as if the space between you and her was filled with something fragile, something that might shatter if she came too close. Her small frame seemed to shrink even more as she neared, her shoulders hunched as if the weight of the moment was too much to bear. In three careful steps, she stood in front of you, shifting her weight from one foot to the other like she wanted to leave but couldn’t. Her fingers nervously twisted the fabric of her sleeves, her gaze flickering to your tear-streaked face, then away, unable to hold it for too long.

"Hi," she started again, her voice hesitant, as if unsure of what to say, what to hold back. You could see the confusion in her eyes, flickering across her face as she tried to make sense of her own presence here. She didn’t look like a maid or servant, nothing about her carried that air. Her gaze flitted around the room, nervously taking in everything but you—never you, not for longer than a fleeting second.

"His Majesty mentioned you were injured... and insisted someone should tend to you immediately?" Her words came out like a question, not a statement. Her eyes finally, really, landed on you, sweeping over your body as if searching for visible wounds. But you said nothing, offering her no comfort or explanation. You could see her stiffen, her shoulders drawing up, tension coiling through her body. Her fingers twitched at her sides, clenching and unclenching. Was it anxiety? Or was she angry? You couldn’t tell. Angry at you? Angry at the situation?

She stood there, rigid and uncomfortable, like she was trying to hold back a storm raging inside her.

"You don’t... you don’t look physically hurt," she said at last, her voice faltering despite the firmness she was trying to inject into it. Her tone was small, unsure, like she was afraid of overstepping.

"I’m not," you replied, finally breaking the silence. She let out a soft, breathy exhale, her lips parting slightly in relief. For a moment, the tension seemed to leave her body, but only briefly. Her hands still shook as she moved closer, taking a seat beside you on the bed. She tried to appear composed, confident even, but her worried eyes betrayed her. They darted over your face, as if searching for something she didn’t quite understand.

Her posture was straighter now, but her fingers were knotted together in her lap, betraying her own emotions, she was feeling. She was doing her best to stay in control, but the way her hands trembled gave her away.

You didn’t understand what had her so on edge, not fully. Maybe deep down, you knew, but you didn’t want to acknowledge it. You could feel it—the pull. You were her Luna, and her wolf was bound to you, connected in a way she couldn’t resist. She was loyal to the core, and now that you were hurting, her wolf could feel it all. It was written in the way her breath hitched, in the tightening of her jaw, in the way her hands trembled despite her outward composure.

Even if you didn’t know her exact role within the pack, you could tell she was someone important. The weight of the connection was pressing down on her, forcing her to share the burden of emotions that weren’t her own. She had no choice in the matter—her wolf was loyal, whether she wanted it or not. And here she was, sitting beside you, a silent, anxious witness to the pain you carried inside.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her left hand landing on your shoulder with a slow, soothing touch. But the question felt hollow to you—meaningless. Even she knew the answer. It was as if she didn’t want to hear the truth, didn’t want to face it. She wanted the lie. She wanted you to say you were fine, that everything was manageable. But you couldn’t.

“No,” the word slipped from your lips in a breathy whisper, unplanned, unwelcome. It was already out before you could pull it back, and the floodgates opened. “I’m not.” You shook your head slightly, your voice cracking as you turned to her, eyes wide and raw. “Nothing’s okay. Nothing!” The confession ripped out of you, trembling and desperate, like a wound finally exposed.

She didn’t hesitate. She pulled you into her arms, wrapping them tightly around you, holding you like she could shield you from everything that had broken you. Her embrace was warm, her hands gentle as they pressed against your back, but it still didn’t reach the cold emptiness inside. You were like a traveler lost in a winter storm, seeking shelter but finding nothing, standing on an endless, frozen street with nowhere to go. The comfort she offered felt distant, as if you were too far gone to feel it.

"It will be okay," she murmured into your hair, but you knew better. You weren’t naïve. You had seen the truth—felt it. How could it ever be okay when the weight of everything had already crushed you? There was no hope, only more pain ahead. You could feel it in your bones, in the ache that refused to let go.

“I am sure of it,” she continued, pulling back slightly to look at you, her hands gently wiping the tears from your face. Her touch was tender, but her words stung. “You’re his mate, Luna. He’ll come around. You just have to hold on. Don’t cry, please. My wolf… she’s going crazy.”

Her voice broke, and you realized it wasn’t just her trying to comfort you—it was her wolf, the pull of the bond making her feel everything you were going through. Her desperation was palpable. At least she was here, trying, when the one person who should have been with you had left you to cry alone.

You nodded, your head bobbing violently, avoiding her eyes. You didn’t have the strength to argue, not now. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, the sleeve of your white dress smudging black as your mascara mixed with the salty wetness. But the tears wouldn’t stop. They just kept coming, rolling down your cheeks as if they had a life of their own, and you were powerless to hold them back.

“Come, let’s go.” She stood up, brushing her hands nervously over the front of her gown, before turning to look back at you. Her soft, innocent eyes locked onto your face, but you didn’t move. You just stared up at her, perplexed and still too disoriented to understand.

“What happened, Luna?” Her voice was gentle, almost coaxing.

“Go where?” you asked, blinking slowly, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Oh… to your room,” she said, her voice wavering with uncertainty. Her fingers twisted around the edge of her sleeve as she spoke. “His Majesty told me to prepare it for you.” She hesitated, watching for your reaction, her gaze flickering from your face to the floor, as if unsure whether she should continue. “He chose it himself,” she added, more hesitant now, her words hanging awkwardly in the air.

The statement only deepened your confusion, and your brow furrowed. You had known he wouldn’t let you stay with him in his room—that much had been clear. But why did he bring you here in the first place? What was the point of it all?

“Then why did he bring me here?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice sharper than you intended. It was absurd, the way he had toyed with your heart, made you feel vulnerable, only to discard you like you were nothing. What was he thinking?

The girl fidgeted, her hands wringing together nervously. “I fear only His Majesty holds the answer to that, my Luna,” she whispered, casting her gaze down, avoiding your eyes, as if she could feel the weight of your frustration, your confusion.

“But why not here?” you asked, your voice soft but insistent, as your instincts clawed to keep you rooted in this room. His scent still lingered, that familiar mix of ocean water and coconut, wrapping around you like a lifeline. It was strange, undeniably so, but to you, it felt like home. Your body refused to let go of what little remained of him here, as if holding onto it might somehow ease the ache in your chest.

The girl shifted on her feet, her eyes wide as she struggled to find the right words. “Luna, this is the royal chamber,” she began, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides.

You frowned, glancing around the room. “Isn’t the whole palace royal?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion. You finally rose to your feet, taking in the grand space around you. It was beautiful—majestic, even. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but admire it. A part of you loved this room, wanted to stay here just a little longer.

“That’s true,” she admitted, her voice hesitant. “But…” She trailed off, biting her lip as if weighing whether she should continue. You looked at her, curiosity sparking in your eyes, though the confusion still lingered. “This chamber… it’s reserved for the king and queen. They stay here after the mating ceremony with the pack. It’s tradition.”

She was speaking quickly now, as if nervous about how much she was revealing. Her feet shuffled anxiously beneath her, her gaze darting from you to the door. “What tradition?” you asked, stepping toward her, your voice edged with frustration.

She hesitated, wringing her hands before finally speaking again. “The first time the king brings his mate here, it’s only to…” She paused, glancing up at you, clearly uneasy. “To mate. If they don’t, they must wait for two full moons before… before they can try again.”

“Huh?” The word fell from your lips, flat and disbelieving. It made no sense—if this room held such significance, why would he have brought you here only to leave you feeling like you didn’t matter? You stared at her, trying to piece together what was happening, but the more you thought about it, the less it made sense.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair as the weight of it all pressed down on you. Nothing about this felt right, and yet here you were, standing in the middle of a hall staring at a room that wasn’t meant for you—not yet, at least.

“Luna, please walk ahead,” she urged softly, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. “If His Majesty finds out you were walking behind me, he will have my head. And… well, my mate being the royal general probably won’t help much in this case.”

You blinked in realization, your mind connecting the dots. Her mate… Neil. The royal general. You remembered their story well—how it had caused an uproar just a few months ago. She was an omega, and he was a powerful, high-ranking general. It was unheard of, taboo even, for someone of his rank to mate with someone so low in status. But Neil had fought for her, tooth and nail, defying tradition for the love of his mate.

Back then, when you heard about their story, it had filled you with hope. You had dreamed of a love like that—someone who would fight for you, who would stand by your side no matter what. But now, you weren’t so sure. You had the king himself as your mate, but did you really have him? You had everything… and yet, nothing.

As you nodded at her request, you moved forward through the empty halls, your feet heavy with each step. The silence between you both felt oppressive, weighed down by unspoken questions. One question above all lingered in your mind, echoing with every step: Why did he bring me here?

Everything had seemed fine at first. But as soon as you reached the royal chamber, something had shifted in Jungkook. His whole demeanor changed—cold, distant, like he didn’t want you at all.

Your thoughts churned as you walked, your hands brushing against the fabric of your dress, your fingers absently tracing the delicate embroidery. You remembered the way his jaw had tightened, how his eyes darkened with something you couldn’t quite place—anger? Fear? Disgust?

“Luna, here we are,” Patricia announced softly, her voice warm and welcoming as she opened the door to your room. It wasn’t as grand as the royal chamber, but it had a certain charm. The crimson walls immediately caught your attention, the color soothing and familiar—it was a shade you loved.

Patricia stood by the doorway, a hopeful glint in her eyes. “Do you like it, Luna?” she asked, her voice bright, almost chirping with excitement. She clasped her hands in front of her, shifting slightly from foot to foot, clearly eager for your approval.

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you glanced around the room. “Yes,” you replied, your gaze settling on a vase in the corner. Its intricate design and deep red flowers seemed to echo the mood of the room. “It’s lovely.” You turned back to her, your smile softening, but something felt off. “Thank you…” You trailed off, realizing you didn’t know her name, despite spending so much time with her.

She giggled, the sound light and carefree, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You can call me Patricia,” she said, her tone almost teasing.

“Patricia…” you repeated softly. She smiled wider, pleased with your response.

“Well, Luna,” she said, stepping back toward the door, “I’ll leave you now. You should rest.” Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, as if she wanted to say more but thought better of it. She turned to leave, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Are you heading back to the gathering?” you asked, your voice catching just slightly as you remembered the night’s events.

Patricia paused, glancing over her shoulder. “No, it’s over.��

“Over?” you frowned. “But wasn’t it important?”

She shrugged, her tone light, dismissive. “Not really.”

Her casual response left you with more questions than answers, but before you could say anything else, Patricia moved toward the door, and the only sound that escaped your lips was a quiet, “Oh.”

Patricia’s voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the moment. “Please excuse me, Luna. My mate must be waiting for me,” she said gently, her voice tinged with warmth as she spoke of her mate.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and watched her leave, the soft click of the door sealing you in the quiet room. Alone.

You slowly made your way to the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion. Just as you were about to lie down, you paused, realizing you didn’t have anything comfortable to wear for the night. The realization hit you like a dull thud in your chest—Patricia had taken care of everything, yet this one detail, your clothes, had been forgotten.

You let out a long, tired breath, shoulders slumping as you gave in. "What could I have done, anyway?" you muttered to yourself. There wasn’t much choice left now. You flopped onto the bed, the mattress soft beneath your weight, cradling your tired body.

The room was bathed in a soft silver glow, the moonlight filtering through the open window. Its light danced gently on the floor, casting a peaceful glow over the room as you reached over to turn off the switch. The curtains fluttered, brushing softly against the windowsill, swaying with the rhythm of the cold night breeze. Each gust sent a shiver through the room, a subtle reminder of the world outside, yet it felt so far from where you lay.

You stared out of the window, eyes tracing the outline of the moon hanging bright in the dark sky. It was beautiful, breathtaking even, but your mind was elsewhere. Too much had happened in the past few hours, too many changes for you to grasp. Your life had flipped upside down in the blink of an eye, and you still didn’t know if it was for better or worse.

Your chest tightened with the weight of everything—the uncertainty, the confusion, the aching loneliness that sat heavy inside you like a stone. The whirlwind of thoughts swirled in your mind, twisting and turning, never settling long enough for you to catch your breath.

You didn’t even realize when your eyelids began to droop, when the tiredness finally pulled you under. Your last thought, tangled and blurry, was of him—of the cold distance between you, of the things left unsaid. And then, sleep claimed you, taking you away from the chaos, if only for a little while.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Luna,” a soft, melodic voice broke through the fog of your deep sleep, coaxing you gently. You stirred, rolling to your side, trying to escape the harsh sunlight now streaming through the windows and landing directly on your face.

“Luna, wake up,” the voice came again, more insistent. You groaned, forcing your eyes open, blinking against the light. Patricia was standing beside your bed, crouched slightly, shielding you from the sun with her body. Her lips curved into a smile when she saw you stirring, and she backed away as you groggily sat up, rubbing your eyes.

The groan in your throat grew louder as you tried to shake off the heavy weight of sleep, your body protesting. "What time is it?" you muttered, rubbing at your face, a wide yawn slipping out before you could stop it.

“Seven,” Patricia replied, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as a giggle escaped her. She didn’t seem to understand why you were asking.

“Seven?” you repeated, eyes widening. “It’s so early!” you whined, dragging out the words as you slumped back against the headboard.

Patricia’s eyes went wide in shock, her mouth hanging open as if you had said something utterly ridiculous. “What?” she nearly yelled, making you flinch. Realizing she’d startled you, she quickly apologized. “You must be teasing me,” she said, her voice softer now, though still filled with disbelief.

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. “Why would I do that? Why are you so shocked?” you asked, slowly crawling out of bed, stretching your stiff limbs as you yawned again.

“Luna, it’s past seven, actually,” Patricia said, her tone matter-of-fact as she crossed her arms. “Everyone here wakes up at four!”

Your mouth fell open, and you froze mid-stretch. “Four?” you repeated, staring at her as if she had just said something in another language. "You're joking, right?"

She shook her head, her eyes wide with sincerity, clearly baffled by your reaction. You stood there, at a loss for words, trying to process the absurdity of it all. Four in the morning? That was barely even night!

“Why?” was all you could manage to ask, your mind racing with disbelief. You wanted to scream, “What the hell do you guys do at four in the morning?”

“It’s just how it is here,” Patricia replied, her voice calm now, though her eyes were still fixed on you with a hint of curiosity, as if trying to understand your reaction. “Just bath and get ready. His Majesty wants to meet you.”

“Me?” You pointed incredulously at yourself, your index finger hovering in the air as disbelief washed over you. Why would he want to see you, especially after everything that had happened last night? A cold sensation crept through your bones, traveling up your spine. You took a shaky breath as your wolf stirred at the back of your mind, sensing the mere thought of your mate. She hadn’t spoken to you since last night, and you had been too wrapped up in grief to even consider reaching out.

“Yes. I also brought you some clothes.” Patricia gestured to the edge of the bed, where a beautiful red satin dress lay. You nodded silently, trying to calm the swirl of emotions in your chest. As you took two hesitant steps toward the bathroom, you froze, suddenly unsure.

Patricia seemed to read your thoughts. She pointed to a door on the left side of the room, and you nodded gratefully, giving her a small smile before darting inside.

The bathroom was nothing short of breathtaking, with marble tiles and a large shower that seemed to beckon you. You didn’t have time to admire it, though. You quickly turned on the shower, letting the water warm up as you glanced at your reflection. Your heart raced, knowing you needed to hurry.

As the water cascaded over you, you joked aloud, “If I bathe any faster, I might just become a fish!” You scrubbed yourself quickly, wishing you had more time to enjoy the luxury, but the thought of Jungkook waiting propelled you forward. “Okay, speed bathing, world record, here I come!” you teased, rinsing off and turning off the shower in a rush.

With a swift motion, you slipped into the red dress. It hugged your figure perfectly, accentuating curves you didn’t know you had, the fabric silky against your skin. You spun around, admiring your reflection for a brief moment before your thoughts turned back to the meeting. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom.

“Luna, we’re already late!” Patricia knocked impatiently on the door, her voice pulling you from your trance. The aroma of food wafted through the air, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, but it felt too early for you to consider eating.

“Luna, here, have something before we leave,” she urged, holding out a plate as you emerged.

“I’m not really hungry,” you replied, shaking your head slightly, feeling your stomach churn in nervous anticipation. Patricia’s gaze narrowed slightly as she assessed you for a moment, then she took your hand gently, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I suggest you eat. Believe me, you'll need it," she said, her tone firm, emphasizing the word need. Although hunger wasn't gnawing at your stomach, her earnestness made you feel the weight of her words. You quickly found yourself nibbling on whatever was piling up on your plate, each bite more rushed than the last, as if the food would somehow fortify you for what lay ahead.

After you gobbled down the last bite, you shot up from the bed, the urgency in her demeanor making your heart race. Patricia had gone from bouncing on her tippy toes to sitting next to you, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap, her nervous obvious. You felt her eyes on you, a silent request pushing you to eat faster without her saying a word.

“Let’s go,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the nerves bubbling in your stomach. She nodded vigorously, her eyes brightening as she stood and led the way out of the room.

“Where are we really going?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“To your his majesty's study room,” she stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You could only blink in her as she sprinted down the hall. You followed her, feeling a bit like a lost child trying to keep up with an overly eager parent.

“Luna, please walk beside me, not behind me,” Patricia said, glancing over her shoulder, her voice tinged with silent frustration. You noted how her fingers twisted together, betraying her emotions.

You quickened your pace, taking two long strides to match her side, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you caught up. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to lag behind,” you said, trying to lighten the mood, though a small part of you understood her worry and frustration.

Soon, you found yourself standing in front of a closed door, a chill of apprehension creeping down your spine. Patricia halted, taking a deep breath that seemed to stretch in the air, oppressively. You watched her knuckles turn white as she knocked, each rap echoing through the silence.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

A gruff voice came from behind the door, “Come in.” As she pushed the door open, she gestured for you to enter first. You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing in your chest, then nodded and stepped inside.

As you crossed the threshold, the moment felt surreal. Your wolf stirred at the sound of his voice, an unsettling mix of yearning and pain washing over you, but the overwhelming grief she carried held her back. The room was dimly lit, casting shadows that danced around the edges, but your focus was solely on him. Jungkook sat behind a massive desk, his dark eyes locking onto yours the instant you entered. They seemed to deepen, filled with an intensity that made your stomach drop, and a cold, menacing smirk crept across his softly thin lips.

You felt your heartbeat quicken as you approached him, each step a battle against the swirl of emotions inside you. His brow arched as you stood before his desk, a silent provocation hanging between you. The weight of his gaze bore down on you, and you had to fight the urge to bare your neck to him.

From your left, you caught a glimpse of Patricia standing close to Neil, their heads bent together as they whispered something to each other. Neil gazed at her with an expression that made your heart ache—adoration shimmering in his eyes. Their fingers intertwined behind their backs, a quiet intimacy that made your chest tighten. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, for the warmth of shared affection, and it tugged painfully at your heartstrings. You wanted that too.

With a determined look, you turned back to Jungkook, narrowing your eyes in defiance. He was still watching you, a predator relishing the hunt, and his smile widened at your glare. His lips stretched slightly before he caught himself, the playful facade melting into a serious demeanor. You noticed the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of something mingling with intrigue in his gaze.

"What urgent business made Your Majesty summon me here?" you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. The taunt in your voice hung in the air like an electric charge, sparking a reaction in him. His expression shifted, a flash of irritation crossing his face as he absorbed your words, but he quickly masked it.

“I appreciate your time. There’s an important matter I wish to discuss with you—one that requires your attention.” His tone was unnervingly calm, as if your irritation were merely a nuisance to be brushed aside. It ignited your anger further.

“What matters?” you demanded, your voice edged with defiance as you crossed your arms, refusing to back down from his piercing gaze.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his expression unreadable. “Now that you are here, and this will be your home, it is time to leave behind the ways of your old pack. There are rules you must follow, and you shall learn them in due course,” Jungkook stated, his voice steady, but the words hit you like a slap.

You straightened your spine, glaring at him. “And, may I ask what rules I need to follow?” The irritation in your voice was clear, though you fought to keep it even.

“First, you’re not allowed to leave the palace without my permission,” he replied, his tone calm and unwavering. The calmness only ignited the fire of rebellion inside you.

“What? You’re serious?” You narrowed your eyes, your hands curling into fists. “That’s absurd.”

“very,” he said, brushing off your defiance as if it were a passing breeze. “Second, you won’t form close relationships with the staff or pack members. And third, you're not to attend pack meetings.”

“You’re isolating me,” you accused, each word sharpened by the rising heat of your frustration. “Do you hear yourself? You can’t possibly expect me to follow this nonsense.”

“You’re also restricted from certain areas of the palace, especially the the royal chamber.”

“Is this just another way to keep me locked up like one of your pets?” you spat, sarcasm dripping from your words as you crossed your arms.

Jungkook’s eyes flashed with a brief flicker of irritation, but he masked it quickly. “You’ll present yourself formally at all events. And you’re not to mention our mating bond to anyone.”

Your laugh was bitter, mocking. “This is pathetic. Do you hear yourself? You want me to pretend to be your perfect little queen while you strip me of every ounce of dignity.”

His expression didn’t change, which only fueled your anger more. “You’ll follow a strict schedule, including etiquette lessons, and as I said, no physical training.”

“No physical training? You can’t stop me from fighting.” You took another step forward, daring him to try. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“I just did,” he replied coolly, eyes narrowing as he looked down at you. “You're not to challenge me in front of the pack. You will dress appropriately, as befits a queen."

You clenched your jaw, a white-hot rage bubbling under your skin.

“You’ll attend all royal ceremonies, whether you want to or not. And there will be no emotional displays in public,” he continued, his voice like iron.

You advanced on him, fury swirling in your veins. “And what if I do?” you dared, eyes gleaming with defiance. “What if I make a scene? What if I let the whole pack see exactly how you treat me?”

“There will be no physical intimacy between us, unless I say otherwise.”

That statement landed like a blow. For a second, you couldn’t respond, your heart hammering in your chest. But you recovered quickly, your lips curling into a sharp, humorless smile.

He remained unmoved. “You will not voice your opinion on pack matters, nor will you challenge the council.”

Your eyes burned with a fierce light. “I’ll challenge anyone I damn well please,” you snapped, stepping even closer. “You can make all the rules you want, but I'll do what I wish.”

“Thats all! I trust that’s clear?”

“Crystal clear,” you growled, sarcastically, your fists shaking with the need to lash out. “But don’t expect me to just obey like one of your trained wolves.”

“patricia will accompany you back to your room,” he said, gesturing toward Patricia, who stood dumbfounded, her mouth agape, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook.

“Ye-yes, Your Majesty,” she stammered, clearly as shocked as you were.

She stepped closer to you, grabbing your hand and tugging gently as if to coax you away, but you couldn’t help throwing daggers at Jungkook with your eyes.

“Luna, please,” Shina pleaded, pulling at your sleeve.

But you weren’t done. Not by a long shot.

You turned sharply, locking eyes with Shina, who was pale and clearly terrified, but before she could speak, you whipped around to face him one last time. “I’m not your possession, and I never will be. One way or another, I will make my own choices.”

His lips twisted into a tight smile. “We’ll see,” he said, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“I guess we will,” you shot back, your voice steady, daring, as you stormed out of the room, Patricia scrambling to follow.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, the floodgates of your emotions burst open. “He is a bastard!” you yelled, the words echoing through the room. Patricia’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in shock as she darted a nervous glance at the door.

“Luna, he can hear you!” she hissed, but your anger had already ignited a fire within you, consuming all rational thought.

“I know!” you snapped back, a defiant spark igniting in your chest as you started walking like some deranged animal.

“Wait!” she called, scrambling to catch up to you. “Where are you going?”

“To my room! Duh!” you exclaimed, rolling your eyes as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.

“It’s on the other side,” she said, pointing right with an urgency that made her look almost comical. “And don’t say ‘duh!’”

“Whatever!” you shot back, heading in the direction she indicated, arms swinging at your sides.

As soon as you reached your room, you let out a primal scream of frustration, your voice ricocheting off the walls. You began to roam the room, while Patricia watched you with concern, her brow furrowing.

Just then, a sharp knock interrupted your spiral. You turned to Patricia, who nodded at you, her eyes wide as if to say, “Brace yourself.”

“Come in!” you called, trying to sound nonchalant, though your heart raced.

The door swung open, revealing Shina, the beta female, stepping inside with a bright smile. “Shina, FINALLY!” Patricia exclaimed, relief flooding her voice. You felt a flash of offense bubble up inside you—was it really that bad with you?

Shina let out a light laugh before turning her gaze to you, offering a small nod. “I’ve been told to serve as your etiquette teacher,” she said, executing a playful curtsy that made you giggle. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

You couldn’t help but smile back at her eagerness, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Fun? Is that what we’re calling it?”

“I thought she would be provided with a real teacher,” Patricia chimed in, throwing Shina a side-eye that was dripping with sarcasm.

“Are you doubting me?” Shina asked, feigning offense, a hand on her hip, her expression a mix of mock indignation and amusement.

“No, of course not!” Patricia replied, forcing a sweet smile that barely hid her skepticism. “I’m just doubting your etiquette. Do you even have any?”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. You’d never seen Patricia like this; she was usually a bundle of nerves. But now, a smirk played at the corners of her mouth.

“Excuse me?!” Shina gasped, placing a hand on her chest in mock horror. “I’ll have you know that I can differentiate between a salad fork and a dessert fork!”

“Yeah! And, I eat water. But seriously, why you?” Patricia asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. Shina simply shrugged her shoulders, a nonchalant gesture that only fueled your suspicions. You knew the answer all too well: he didn't want anyone to know you were his mate—just the people who had to be in the loop.

“Shall we start?” Shina asked, breaking the tension as she clapped her hands together. Patricia flopped down onto a nearby chair by the window, her movement unceremonious as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, be ready. But let me warn you, she’s the same woman who once called the duke ‘Dukie.’”

“Don’t mind her,” Shina said, waving her hand dismissively as if brushing away a fly. “She’s just a whiny ass.”

“I heard that!” Patricia shot back, her voice sharper than a knife, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“I wanted you to hear it,” you chimed in, stifling a laugh at the bickering.

“It’s fine then,” Patricia said, crossing her arms defiantly, her chin tilted up as if she were accepting a challenge.

The two of them were practically squabbling like an old married couple, and you couldn't help but feel amused. Shina leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, Luna—”

“Call me Bee,” you said, cutting her off as a genuine smile breaking through the heaviness in your chest. The nickname, a sweet remnant from your mother. Since her death, no one had used it, and it stung to remember how alone you felt without your wolf at your side after Jungkook had left you. It was as if a gaping void had settled in your mind.

“Are you sure?” Shina asked, glancing at Patricia, who wore an expression of surprise that mirrored your own.

“Yes,” you affirmed, nodding your head fervently.

“Okie!” Shina chirped, bouncing on her feet.

The next few hours dissolved into a whirlwind of laughter and playful jabs from Patricia as Shina animatedly imparted lessons on royal protocol and warrior ethics. You found yourself gasping for breath between fits of giggles at their banter, the absurdity of their comments lightening your mood. Shina was undeniably fun, and you noticed how Patricia relaxed, the rigid lines of her discipline softening in Shina’s presence.

“Finally, we are done!” you screeched, flopping onto your bed like a rag doll, your limbs sprawling out. Patricia, who had been perched on the edge of the bed for what felt like an eternity, looked over at you, a mix of concern and amusement on her face.

“Bee, that wasn’t very queen-like—” she began, her tone teasing, but you shot her a playful glare.

“Shut up!” Shina interjected, her laughter ringing out like a bell. Patricia merely shook her head, a smile breaking through her feigned exasperation. You found it funny how their relationship worked; Patricia was the serious one, and Shina was the carefree one. You couldn't help but wonder how the two of them got along so well in a world that felt so strange to you.

“Bee, now we gotta go,” Shina said, her voice dropping slightly as she held out her hand to Patricia, their fingers interlacing.

“Where?” you asked, a flicker of disappointment gnawing at your insides. You didn’t want them to leave. They had become your lifeline, distracting you from thoughts of Jungkook and the confusion he left behind. Without them, the looming silence would creep back in, suffocating you to no end.

“I’m sorry, Bee, but we have urgent matters to address,” Shina said, her smile tinged with sadness. “But you can come with us if you want to,” she added, her expression brightening as hope glimmered in her eyes.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! I want to come!”

The three of you made your way out of the room, and a big smile spread across your face. Life in your old pack had been tough, each day a struggle to find your place, but it was different here. Despite Jungkook’s coldness and the constant feeling of not being enough, you were grateful for the friendship blossoming around you. You didn’t know if Patricia and Shina considered you friends, but you sure did. Patricia still maintained a hint of formality, but you sensed she’d warm up eventually, just like Shina had.

“Where are we heading to?” you asked, glancing between the two as they shared a conspiratorial look, excitement dancing in their eyes.

“To the training field,” Shina answered, her voice light and cheerful. She looked at you with a soft smile that made her cheeks flush. “she is the general’s mate, so she is responsible for training the female wolves.” she said pointing at Patricia, as she also blushed for the reasons unknown to you. Her shyness was endearing, but the way her smile faded a bit as she added, “And we also need to train,” hinted at the challenge ahead.

Unfortunately, Jungkook had forbidden you from training—an order that left you feeling more like a caged bird than ever. You didn’t understand why he loathed you so much; his harshness felt like a wall between you. But deep down, you knew this couldn’t last. You couldn’t keep stewing in sadness and anger while he remained a closed book, hiding his emotions from you. You needed to confront him soon; you needed your mate, and he needed you, too, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Oh! So you mean you’re going there to train and not to eye-fuck the beta?” Patricia piped up, her voice teasing, a wide smirk lighting up her face and a laugh bubbled from your throat.

Shina’s eyes widened in mock horror, her mouth forming an exaggerated “O.” “Patricia! You can’t say that! We have to keep it professional!” She feigned scandal, a hand pressed dramatically against her chest, yet the laughter dancing in her eyes betrayed her.

“Professional? Please!” Patricia rolled her eyes, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a flourish. “The only thing you do professionally is blushing every time beta Kian walks by! I am like woman, he is your damn mate. Get a grip!”

“Oh, and what about you, Miss ‘I Can’t Stop Staring’?” Shina shot back, playfully bumping her shoulder against Patricia's as they walked side by side. “If I recall, you nearly drooled on Neil the other day!”

“Hey! He’s just so—” Patricia started, her cheeks flushing a deep red, “—dreamy! I can’t help it!” She huffed, crossing her arms defiantly but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“Dreamy? More like a heartthrob disaster waiting to happen!” Shina retorted, throwing her head back in laughter, their voices filling the hallway with warmth.

“Will he be there too?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly as both of them paused their bickering to focus on you. Shina’s eyes lit up with a knowing smirk that made your heart race, while Patricia's expression softened, a hint of sympathy in her gaze. She smiled gently, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she whispered, “Yes.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of her understanding hanging in the air. Patricia knew the ache of longing all too well; she had fought her own battles to be with her mate. Neither of you spoke further on the subject as you continued walking toward the training ground. It felt like a long trek, the palace sprawling before you.

As you entered the training field, the chaos hit you like a wave. The air buzzed with energy as female wolves sparred, fists flying in a flurry of movement. Grunts of exertion and the thud of bodies colliding filled the space. It was a sight to behold, but not the prettiest—some faces were twisted with concentration, others were flushed with effort, while some were twisted in pain.

Shina and Patricia quickly motioned you to take a seat in one corner, a quick nod from Shina signaling for you to stay put while they dashed off to change into their training gear.

You took a moment to absorb the scene before you. The female wolves fought with determination, their bodies glistening with sweat under the warm sun. The breathy grunts hanging heavy in the air and... you wanted to join too.

Yet, as you sat on the sidelines, you felt a pang of frustration at Jungkook’s orders. Why had he insisted you stay away from training? You glanced toward the empty side of the field, the male wolves’ training area—silent for now, but you knew they would be there soon. Would Jungkook be among them? Your heart raced at the thought, and your wolf stirred again.

Soon, both Shina and Patricia came sprinting toward you, their bodies clad in sleek training gear that hugged their athletic frames. Shina practically leaped into your space as she exclaimed, “Bee, she will measure the performance of them all! You can wait here while I go help her.” The brightness in her eyes was contagious, and you nodded in agreement, feeling a little like a lost puppy trying to keep up.

They dashed away toward the combat pit, and you watched as Patricia's voice rang out like a bell, instantly commanding attention. “Listen up, everyone!” she called, her tone firm yet encouraging. The warriors immediately fell into line, forming neat rows as Shina moved among them, dividing them into teams with an air of authority that surprised you. It lasted only a moment before the clashing of fists and feet began, filling the air with a rhythm of combat.

You leaned back against the cool wall, eyes wide as you observed the spectacle. The warriors displayed impressive skills, each move fluid and powerful. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of inadequacy—there was no way you could compete, even against the weakest here. This was the royal pack, after all, and they were warriors forged from years of dedication and strength.

Still, you found a sliver of enjoyment in the chaos. Watching them fight was far better than sitting alone in your room, staring at the walls that felt like they were closing in on you. And soon the other training area began to fill up. You spotted Kian entering first, his presence commanding. Shina’s eyes lit up, practically sparkling as she stared at him, her focus wavering. “Shina, focus!” Patricia called out, exasperation lacing her tone as she tried to bring her back to reality. But Shina’s gaze kept drifting back to her shirtless mate, who seemed completely oblivious to the effect he had on everyone around him. Kian was not just hot; he was undeniably hot hot, the kind of hot that drew attention without effort.

You let out a soft chuckle at their antics, but then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a dark figure emerging from the shadows. Your heart skipped a beat as a chill raced down your spine. The air around you shifted, crackling with an intense energy that sent heat biting through your bones. A deep, primal desire ignited in your core, wrapping around your heart like a vine.

He was here.

Jungkook.

You turned your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of him without being obvious, and there he stood in the farthest corner of the training ground, shirtless. Jungkook's eyes were locked on you, igniting a fire deep within your chest. His jaw tightened, and his brows furrowed in a way that made your heart race. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only his intense gaze that set you ablaze.

With a deliberate slowness, he strode toward the combat pit where Kian waited, a devilish glint flashing in his eyes. Neil, the general, stood off to the side, focused on the other male warriors, a commanding presence that left no room for doubt. But all you could think about was Jungkook. Your breath hitched as he casually began to unbutton his white shirt, each button giving way one by one, exposing more of his chiselled torso. You let out a low whine before you even realized it was your wolf reacting to the sight of him.

Out of all the times for your wolf to make her presence known, she chose now? But who could blame her? Your mate was standing there in low-hanging trousers, his bare skin catching the sunlight and highlighting the contours of his muscles. The sight was intoxicating, and a primal urge surged through you as your wolf growled in your mind, a low rumble of frustration mingling with desire.

“Look at him, Bee. He is so hot,” she purred, her voice sultry and teasing. “Bee, why doesn't he want us?” You could feel her longing vibrating through your very being, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

As Jungkook and Kian circled each other in the pit. Kian lunged first, throwing a sharp right hook aimed at Jungkook’s jaw, but Jungkook sidestepped with lightning speed, barely lifting an eyebrow in acknowledgement. Kian was quick to recover, spinning on his heel and throwing a swift jab to Jungkook’s ribs, but it was met with nothing but air. Jungkook had already ducked low, his body moving like it had anticipated the strike long before it happened.

Kian came in harder this time, eyes blazing with determination, throwing a barrage of punches. Jungkook dodged the first few easily, his movements fluid, then caught Kian’s wrist mid-punch with a grip like iron. For a second, they stood there, locked in place, the power struggle evident. Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening just enough for Kian to wince.

Without warning, Kian yanked his arm free, pivoting low and sweeping Jungkook's legs out from under him. Jungkook hit the ground hard, but before Kian could press the advantage, Jungkook rolled out of reach, popping back up to his feet with the same effortless grace.

Kian charged again, this time aiming a vicious uppercut. Jungkook ducked just in time, feeling the brush of Kian’s fist pass over his hair. Jungkook countered immediately, his fist slamming into Kian’s gut with a dull thud that echoed in the pit. Kian grunted, staggering back a few steps, but he didn’t go down.

Jungkook didn’t let up. He stepped forward, driving his elbow into Kian’s side, a brutal strike that sent him stumbling to his knees. For a moment, Jungkook paused, chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes locked on Kian. It was like he was waiting — giving him a chance to get up, to fight back. There was no malice in his eyes, only dominance.

But Kian wasn’t finished. He sprang up, swinging wildly, desperate now. Jungkook blocked the punches with ease, his forearms absorbing the blows like they were nothing. When Kian threw a wild hook, Jungkook sidestepped, grabbed the back of his neck, and yanked him forward. They collided, chest to chest, Jungkook’s lips curling into a smirk as Kian struggled to free himself from his grip.

In one smooth motion, Jungkook twisted and slammed Kian to the ground, hard. Kian gasped, the wind knocked from his lungs as he hit the dirt with a heavy thud. Jungkook loomed over him, his knee pressing into Kian’s chest, pinning him in place. The fight was over — Jungkook didn’t need to say a word. His body, his presence, declared victory.

He stood slowly, letting Kian catch his breath, but his gaze never once wavered. He rolled his neck, muscles flexing as he looked down at his fallen opponent, then turned away without another glance.

Your heart sank, disappointment washing over you like a wave, leaving you breathless. Your wolf, however, was undeterred.

“He doesn’t even looked at us,” she sulked, her voice a mix of longing and frustration.

As you watched him turn away, the heat in your core only intensified as you unknowingly pressed your legs together. Your gaze lingered on his retreating figure, every step he took echoing in your chest. You couldn’t help but think of how strong he was, how much power he radiated, and how desperately you wanted to be close to him.

The combat pit was still bustling around you, but all you could see was Jungkook, the way he carried himself with a confidence that made your heart race. “Why won’t you look at me?” you thought, frustration bubbling within you as you watched him leave.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself wandering back to your room. Shina escorted you, but you could sense her eagerness to leave as she still had to bath and wash away the sweat of training. After a brief goodbye, she left you alone, and the silence settled heavily around you.

At night dinner came and went, delivered by a maid who whisked in and out with a tray of food that you barely touched. The sheets cool against your skin felt nice, but sleep eluded you. Tossing and turning only brought frustration, and after hours of restless thoughts, you resigned yourself to the fact that tonight would be a long one.

With a deep sigh, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood, the cool floor grounding you. You stepped out into the empty halls of the palace, the quiet amplified by the vastness of the space. The air was thick with a stillness that made every sound seem sharper.

As you walked, your eyes drifted over the majestic paintings that adorned the walls. Each one was a reminder of the lineage that loomed over you. You paused before a portrait that caught your attention—a striking depiction of Jungkook’s father, the late Lycan king. His strong features were chiseled in a way that demanded respect, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for Jungkook. He had lost so much at such a young age, thrust into a role that should have belonged to a father, a king. You could only imagine the weight of that responsibility, the expectations that came with it.

Taking a deep breath, you continued down the hallway. The corridor opened into the royal garden, where the moon hung high in the sky, casting silvery light over the landscape. You stepped outside, the cool night air wrapping around you like a soothing balm. The moon was full, its glow reflecting off the petals of the flowers and illuminating the leaves of the trees.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the serenity wash over you. This was the time when werewolves felt most connected to the world, to each other, to the wild magic that flowed through your veins. You could feel the pull of the moon, urging you to embrace your true nature.

As you gazed up at the night sky, a sense of calm enveloped you. The moon was a reminder that even in darkness, there was beauty to be found. You longed to share this moment with Jungkook, to let him see the side of you that yearned for love and understanding. The thought made your heart flutter, igniting a flicker of warmth within you.

“What brings you here?” The voice came from behind you, deep and resonant, causing you to turn around, startled. There he stood—Jungkook, the moonlight casting a silver halo around him. For the first time since you met, his expression was calm, devoid of the anger and confusion that usually clouded his features. In that moment, he looked almost ethereal, and you felt your heart race.

“Nothing,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “I wasn't able to sleep, so I was just wandering around and found myself here.” You shrugged, your hands fidgeting nervously at your sides.

He motioned for you to follow him, and without hesitation, you fell into step beside him. The soft crunch of gravel underfoot was the only sound accompanying the stillness of the night as he led you deeper into the garden, the fragrant scent of blooming flowers enveloping you both.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Indeed, your majesty,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper. The night was enchanting, each star twinkling like diamonds against the velvet sky, but an unsettling feeling clung to you.

Suddenly, he halted, turning to face you, his gaze intense. His eyes widened slightly, and the soft pout of his lips drew your attention. “You can call me by my name; you’re my mate,” he stated, a hint of authority in his tone, as if there was no room for argument. Before you could respond, he resumed walking, leaving you momentarily stunned.

His words, sweet yet loaded with expectation, he himself was unable to fulfill, left a bitter taste in your mouth. A sharp retort bubbled on your tongue, a protest against the very idea that he could command you so easily. But instead of voicing your anger, you chose silence. You swallowed hard, forcing down the instinct to lash out. Instead, you fell in step behind him, your heart racing, a storm of emotions swirling inside you.

As you walked, the tension hung heavy in the air, a force that wrapped around you both. His broad shoulders were relaxed, yet you could sense the underlying power that radiated from him with each step. You stole glances at his profile, the way the moonlight danced along his sharp jawline, the faint shadow of stubble framing his lips.

You soon found Jungkook stopping, settling down on the soft grass beneath him. He motioned for you to join him, but you shook your head, a sudden shyness washing over you. “I can’t sit on the ground,” you said, gesturing toward your clothes. “It’s expensive.”

A flicker of confusion crossed his features. “What do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his dark hair catching the moonlight.

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I come from a low pack. We don’t wear things like this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never owned anything so fancy.”

For a moment, you braced yourself for his reaction, expecting him to laugh or make some snide remark. Instead, to your astonishment, he shrugged off his coat, laying it down on the grass. “Here,” he said, his voice steady. “Sit on this.” He extended his hand to you, palm up, inviting you to take it.

Your heart raced as you hesitated, then slowly placed your hand in his. A low, breathy moan escaped your lips as a tingling sensation flooded through your body. His eyes widened for a brief moment, and you could see the flicker of surprise before he masked it, helping you lower yourself onto his coat.

“It feels nice,” you murmured, your heart pounding. The warmth of his hand lingered in yours, and you didn’t want to let go. “Is it really okay?”

“It’s just a coat,” he replied, though the intensity in his gaze suggested otherwise. “I’d rather you be comfortable.”

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, the silence stretching between you. Finally, you decided to break it, curiosity nudging at you. “So… what’s it like being a king?” As soon as those words skipped your lips you internally cringed, this was embarassing, you wanted to take, but not like this.

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. There are expectations, duties—lots of politics.”

“Sounds boring,” you said, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Do you ever get to do anything fun?”

He smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Occasionally. But mostly, I have to focus on the pack. It’s a lot of responsibility.” His tone turned serious, and you could see the weight of his role pressing down on him.

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” you asked, tilting your head, trying to gauge his reaction. “Being king and all, with so many people around but no one really understanding you?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted, looking away into the distance, his jaw tightening slightly. “But I have people I trust.”

You didn't said anything after that and a calming silence enveloped the two of you, as peaceful as the soft glow of the moonlight overhead. Unable to resist, you broke the stillness, once again. “Jungkook?”

“Hmmm?” His voice was low and gentle, his eyes fixed on the moon, reflecting a light that felt almost ethereal.

You hesitated, then spoke with a mix of hope and vulnerability. “Do you know… when I was young, I always dreamed of dancing under the moonlight with my mate.” You paused, gauging his reaction as the words hung in the air, thick and heavy. "Do you dance?" You couldn't help but ask as you braced yourself for the rejection.

His gaze shifted from the moon to you, and for a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance. “No,” he admitted softly, the vulnerability in his voice surprising you. But then he added, “But I might,” and something in his tone sent shivers down your spine, a hint of something deeper glimmering in his eyes.

Your heart raced as you felt a warmth blooming in your chest, something dark yet lovely igniting within you, making your pulse quicken. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, and you couldn’t look away from him.

Without warning, he rose to his feet, extending his hand towards you. You smiled brightly, your heart soaring at the gesture, and without hesitation, you grasped his hand. The familiar tingling sensation surged through your body, igniting a warmth that spread from your fingertips to your core.

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting, and you felt your breath hitch as you stood beside him. He gently pulled you closer, his other hand resting lightly on your waist, guiding you into a slow sway.

But as the dance slowed, reality crept back in, and he gently pulled away, his hand still clasped around yours. “I should escort you back to your room,” he said, his tone shifting back to that of the king, though the warmth in his gaze lingered.

You nodded, a hint of reluctance creeping in. “I guess it’s late,” you replied, your heart still racing from the dance.

As you walked side by side, the silence was comfortable. Jungkook led you back through the garden. When you reached your door, he turned to face you, his expression softening once more. “Goodnight,” he said, a hint of something deeper in his voice.

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you replied, you wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but instead, you simply smiled.

As you closed the door, you made your way to the bed, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The cool sheets felt inviting against your skin as you slipped under the covers, your heart still racing from the dance and the fleeting touches. You closed your eyes, as you smiled softly. Maybe, just maybe everything was finally falling back to it's place. You were not to lie, you liked Jungkook and mate bond was thickening every second every minute, it was only strengthening your feelings and was making you more vulnerable to him. And, who are you to deny the truth that you desperately needed that doe eyed king. You let your thoughts drift, a soft smile spreading across your face. In the quiet of your dreams, you found him again, lost in a world where he was as desperate for you as you were for him. You dream of him, you dream of him dreaming you as desperately as you were dreaming of him.

In the middle of the night, you jolted awake. The room around you glowed with dancing shadows, moonlight slipping through the curtains like whispers, casting silver patterns on the walls. You blinked, it was past midnight and you were unable to go back to sleep.

Cocooned in warm sheets, you took a deep breath, the scent of something sweet and salty wrapping around you like a gentle embrace.

You quietly slipped out of bed, the soft pad of your feet brushing against the cool floor. For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of what to do, scanning the darkness that enveloped you. Your instincts kicked in, sharpening your senses as you stepped out of your room, the shadows swallowing you whole. Each step felt instinctual, as if an invisible thread tugged at your heart, beckoning you forward. It was a magnetic pull, calling your name, compelling you to follow like a desperate devotee.

Suddenly, you heard a low murmur. It was coming from a room. You hesitated, knowing you shouldn’t intrude, but that voice broke something inside you. With trembling hands, you slowly opened the door, and the sight before you shattered your heart.

There lay Jungkook on his bed, thrashing about, his face twisted in distress as he murmured incoherent whispers. His brow was furrowed, and his lips trembled, as if he was fighting against some unseen torment. You didn't even realised you had come all the way to price chamber. You rushed to his side, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Jungkook,” you called softly, reaching out to gently shake him. “Wake up.”

His eyes flew open, wide and confused, the fear in them piercing through the haze of his nightmares. For a brief moment, shock flickered across his face, and then he froze, taking in your presence.

“Why are you here?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and raw.

“I heard you,” you whispered, your heart racing.

"What were you doing tiptoeing around my room?" He practically screamed screamed at you, pushing you away.

"N—no. I—I wasn't," you said, shaking your head trying to reach out to him.

Anger flashing in his eyes. “You think you can just come in here and play the savior?”

“Jungkook, what? What are you even say? I just wanted to help!” you pleaded, stepping closer, desperate to reach him.

“Help? You think you can help? You think you’re the solution to my problems?” he sneered, his expression hardening. “I hate you! You think this is love? I will ever love you? Never!”

The pain in his words felt like a physical blow. “That’s not fair!” you cried, your voice shaking. “I’m not trying to intrude. I just want to—!”

"I don't care," he growled, glaring at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think you can understand what it’s like to be me? To have everyone around you suffer because of your existence?”

You felt your heart sink further, but you were unable to understand his words. It was like they were written in a foreign language and although you did know the alphabets, were unable to make sense of a whole sentence. “I’m not trying to do anything! I’m here because I care about you!”

“Care? Is that what you call this?” he shouted, his voice rising with frustration as a low whimper left your throat. “Oh! Sweet mate, do you really think a weak voice and sad eyes would help you? Do you think you get to be all fragile now?”

Tears stung your eyes as you fought to hold them back. “But I merely intended to help!” you insisted, desperate for him to see the truth. “You don’t have to push me away!”

“Why would I want you around?” he hissed, his gaze piercing through you. “You’re nothing but a reminder of everything I can’t have, everything I shouldn't have, and I’m here to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

With each word, your heart broke a little more, the weight of his rejection crushing you. “I thought... I thought we, toge—,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Together?” he echoed, his voice dripping with scorn. “You think that’s what this is? You’re wrong! The moon goddess has cursed you, and now you have to deal with it."

"But—"

"Leave!”

Without another word, you dashed down the hall, the world around you blurring as you pushed the door to your room open and locked it behind you. Sliding down against the cool wood, you let the tears flow freely. You couldn’t believe this was happening. For years, you had dreamed of having a mate. After losing your parents at such a young age, you had felt all alone. Life had been hard, but the thought of having someone to love, cherish, and adore had kept you going. But how had it all come to this? After praying to the moon goddess for years, you finally had a mate, and he didn’t want you. Was it true what your pack members always said? Were you really cursed? Were you really destined to be nothing but an abomination?

Now, it felt like you truly were cursed and unlovable, an abomination. You called out to your wolf, reaching for her, but she felt so distant, drowning in the loss of a mate she never really had. Jungkook’s words echoed in your mind, and the pain of his rejection was nothing compared to the hollow ache of losing your wolf.

“Please,” you begged again, your voice cracking, but silence filled the empty corners of your mind. A shrill sob escaped your throat, a sound of desperation and grief. You cried, each sob tearing through you as you let the waves of sorrow wash over you. You cried until you couldn’t anymore, until your tears ran dry, and exhaustion pulled you under like a heavy blanket.

Finally, the weight of it all became too much, and you fell into a deep slumber, your heart still aching but momentarily free from the torment of reality.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

"Bee." A soft voice pulled you out of the fog of sleep, nudging you back to consciousness. You groaned as the sunlight filtered through the window, the brightness bouncing off the walls and stabbing your eyes like tiny needles. You turned your head away with a low whine, squeezing your eyes shut tighter against the overwhelming light.

"Bee?" The voice was closer now, more insistent. You blinked your eyes open reluctantly and saw Shina crouched beside you. Concern was etched deeply into her face, her brows furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. Her hand reached out, gently gripping your arm, and she slowly helped you sit up from the cold floor.

"Why were you sleeping on the floor?" she asked, her voice gentle, though her worry was unmistakable. Her eyes, wide and searching, bore into yours, trying to find an answer you weren’t ready to give.

You blinked at Shina, still dazed, feeling like you were floating in a fog. The memory of last night twisted in your chest, squeezing tighter with every second that passed. His words, so sharp and cold, cut through you again, making it hard to breathe. You had tried to push them away, but the hurt clung to you, pulling you down.

"Bee, what happened?" Shina asked again, her voice low but urgent, her grip on your arm growing tighter. Her eyes searched yours, wide with worry, but you could barely meet them. You tried to speak, to say anything, but your throat was tight, and the pressure behind your eyes made your vision blur. She was so close, her concern so raw and real, that it only made you feel more fragile. You felt like you could break at any moment.

The weight of it all pressed down on you—her worry, the memory of his cruelty—and you felt the tears threaten to spill over. You blinked them away quickly, refusing to let them fall, and forced yourself to speak.

"I'm okay," you murmured, though your voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. It wavered, weak and uncertain, but you straightened your shoulders, trying to sound firm. Shina's eyes softened, her lips parting as if she wanted to argue, but she held back. Instead, she nodded, though you could tell she didn’t believe a word.

"Right..." she said, clearing her throat. "Ahrm, I came to call you for breakfast." She tried to sound cheerful, but there was a hesitancy in her voice, the usual bounce missing.

"Breakfast?" you repeated, like the word itself didn’t make sense.

"Yeah," she nodded, motioning toward the bathroom. "You should get ready."

"Oh." You nodded slowly, as if on autopilot, and grabbed the yellow dress sitting on the edge of the bed. Shina had bought it for you, and you knew it meant something, but the significance felt distant now. Your body moved without thought, heading to the bathroom like it was just another day.

Inside, you let the water run hot, scalding almost, trying to feel something other than the ache that had settled deep in your chest. The steam wrapped around you, clouding your vision, but it couldn’t chase away the storm swirling in your head.

When you finally stepped out, Shina was waiting, her smile soft but cautious. “Bee, you look pretty,” she said, handing you a small box wrapped in delicate paper.

You took it, staring blankly at the box in your hand. "What’s this?"

"Jungkook asked me to give it to you." Her eyes flickered with something—excitement, maybe—but you weren’t sure. You nodded, barely acknowledging her as you tossed the box onto the bed without a second glance.

"I’m not opening it," you said flatly, your voice cold and distant.

Shina hesitated, her lips parting to say something, but she closed them quickly, offering a half-hearted nod. "Okay... Let's go."

The walk to the dining hall was quiet, too quiet. Shina glanced at you from time to time, but you were lost in your thoughts, diving deep into the darkness that had settled in your heart. Last night had been a dream—Jungkook had been so kind, so sweet, so real. For the first time, you had believed there might be a chance. But the way he had pushed you away so harshly afterward… it shattered everything.

“Bee, this way,” Shina said, guiding you through the doors and into the hall. The massive dining table stretched out before you, with Jungkook seated at the far end. His eyes were focused on his plate, avoiding your gaze entirely. Kian sat beside him, his arm casually dropped over the table. The other seats filled quickly with Neil, Patricia, and several others you barely registered.

Shina nudged you gently into the seat beside Jungkook, her smile forced, trying to ease the tension. "Come on, Bee. It’s just breakfast. Nothing too dramatic, right?" She chuckled awkwardly, but it fell flat in the heavy air. She glanced at Kian, who gave her a small, supportive smile, but you could tell even she felt the weight of Jungkook’s presence, of his silence.

You sat stiffly, your back straight, eyes locked on the table in front of you. Jungkook’s hand gripped his fork tightly, knuckles white, but he never looked your way. Not once.

Shina, trying to break the ice, leaned forward. "Bee," she started, forcing a grin, "Why don't you try pancakes? It's really good. Right, Kian?" She wiggled her eyebrows at Kian, trying to coax a smile out of you.

You glanced at her, offering a weak, polite smile, but your heart wasn’t in it.

Kian smirked, shaking his head. "Yes, this beautiful beside me loves pancakes!."

Jungkook’s fork clinked against his plate, the subtle sound sharper than it should’ve been. His jaw clenched, and for a second, his gaze flickered to you, something raw and almost vulnerable flashing in his eyes before he quickly looked away.

You felt the knot in your throat tighten, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it show. There was no apology, no acknowledgment, just silence.

"Bee?" Shina’s voice broke through the fog, her hand gently resting on yours under the table. Her touch was warm, grounding you in the moment.

You blinked, shaking your head slightly. "Yeah?"

"Do you want me to take you out after breakfast? You know, just the two of us? We can talk... or not talk, whatever you want."

Jungkook’s shoulders tensed, his breath catching for just a second. But still, he said nothing.

You met Shina’s eyes, her genuine worry for you reflected in them. You gave a small nod, even though your chest felt heavy. "Yeah, sure. I’d love that," you whispered, your voice barely holding together.

Jungkook shifted beside you, his fork clattering against the plate as he finally spoke. "You guys should probably go out. Take Patricia with you too." His voice was steady, but cold, distant. He still didn’t look at you, directing his words toward Shina.

A bitter laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it. The sound made him go rigid, though he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. It was ridiculous, really, how he could be so close yet feel so unreachable.

Breakfast ended in uncomfortable silence. You stood up quietly, your chair scraping the floor as you excused yourself. Jungkook’s eyes followed your movement for a fleeting moment, but when you looked back, they were fixed on his plate again.

Alone, you made your way back to your room, each step feeling heavier than the last. You lingered by the window, staring out at the world beyond. It was strange—Jungkook suggesting you go out, as if it made any difference. As if letting you walk through town would somehow patch the holes he left in you.

But of course, he didn’t care. He made that clear last night.

A knock echoed through your room, loud against the silence, snapping you from your thoughts. Reluctantly, you crossed the room and opened the door to find a man in a black uniform standing there, his posture rigid.

"His Majesty has assigned me to escort you outside the palace, for your protection.," he said with no introduction, his tone all business. The man was imposing—broad-shouldered, with a no-nonsense expression. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. "Please, come. Beta female is already waiting."

You nodded, not really knowing what else to do, and followed as he motioned for you to walk beside him. His steps were measured, precise, and soon you were outside, seated in a car heading who knew where. Kenji, as you later learned his name was, drove with Shina beside him, her usual chatty demeanor subdued, while Patricia sat next to you in silence.

"Kenji, stop by The Velvet Pheasant," Shina said, her voice firm but distracted, not even glancing at him.

"Sure, beta female," he replied, his deep voice steady as he turned the wheel. The car came to a smooth halt outside an extravagant boutique, the kind that screamed prestige from the way it gleamed in the afternoon sun. The building’s grand façade loomed over you, polished and perfect, and you felt a wave of reluctance wash over you.

Stepping out of the car, Patricia told Kenji to wait outside, and he responded with a curt nod and a surprisingly warm gummy smile. You followed the girls inside, feeling the cool air hit you as soon as you entered. An older woman rushed toward Shina with surprising speed, her arms flung wide for an embrace.

"Shina, you’ve completely forgotten about me. Don't come to visit aunt anymore" the woman cried, clutching Shina tightly. "I haven’t seen you in ages! I even asked your mother, and she just said, 'Oh, you know Shina is busy these days.' Busy, huh?"

Shina stiffened in the woman’s arms, her face scrunched up in what could only be described as pure agony. You stifled a laugh but quickly regretted it as the woman released Shina and turned toward you and Patricia, her sharp eyes locking onto you.

Before you could react, Patricia shoved you forward and darted toward Shina, leaving you in the crosshairs. The old woman’s grip was strong, pulling you into a hug that felt more like a bear trap than a greeting. You could hear the two girls giggling behind you as they escaped her clutches, leaving you alone at her mercy.

For what felt like hours, you were trapped in a whirlwind of fabric, as Shina and Patricia pulled you from one section of the boutique to another. Dresses, shoes, accessories—Shina practically bought the whole store for you, her way of making the day brighter despite everything.

As the sun began to set, you all piled back into the car, exhaustion settling in. Kenji, who had been nothing but stoic all day, had softened slightly, sharing small bits of conversation with you along the ride. He was one of the royal warriors, you found out—highly respected, and one of the deadliest. Yet, despite his fearsome reputation, there was a kindness to him that you hadn't expected. You also found out that he was yet to find his mate.

The drive back to the palace felt quieter, more solemn, and the closer you got, the heavier your chest became. The fun you’d had during the day was slowly slipping away, replaced by the cold reality of where you were heading. You stared out the window, watching the world outside blur past, feeling the tightness return to your throat.

As the palace gates came into view, you couldn’t help but sigh, the happiness from earlier fading entirely. You didn’t want to go back. You didn’t want to face him again.

But you had no choice.

The car rolled to a stop, and with a deep breath, you stepped out, the weight of the palace settling back on your shoulders.

You stepped out of the car, the weight of the day pressing down on you. The girls had already been swept up by their mates, leaving you alone with Kenji, who gently helped you with the bags. His kind smile softened the growing pit in your stomach, but even Kenji, as sweet as he was, kept his distance. When you reached your room, he handed you the bags, his hands lingering for only a moment before he stepped back, eyes cast down.

"I can’t enter," he said, almost shy. "It’s not right to be alone with an unmated she-wolf."

You nodded, appreciating the respect, even though it only reminded you of your isolation. “Thank you, Kenji,” you murmured.

He gave a small wave before disappearing down the hall, leaving you to the quiet hum of your empty room. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing the silence.

You tossed the bags onto the bed, your eyes drifting over to the box you’d been avoiding all day. That damn purple-wrapped box. With a sigh, you grabbed it, tearing off the wrapper without care. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a delicate heart-shaped necklace, the same shade of purple that always reminded you of him.

But instead of the warmth it once might have brought, a bitter taste rose in your throat. He thought this would fix everything. That after the things he said, the coldness he showed, a necklace could make it all go away? Your fingers tightened around it until your knuckles turned white. The bastard knew—he knew—how much it meant to you when you told him you’d never owned anything expensive. And now, it felt like a cruel joke, like he was throwing your words back in your face.

Without thinking, you stormed out of the room, the necklace clenched in your fist. Your feet carried you down the long corridors to his chambers, each step fueled by the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t care who saw you, or how fast you were moving. You just needed to see him, to confront him.

As you reached his door, hand raised to knock, the sound of voices froze you in place.

"No," Jungkook’s voice boomed from behind the door, the rage in his tone making your breath catch. "I refuse to be tied to her. I didn’t choose this. I don’t love her. I don’t want any of it."

The necklace almost slipped from your grip, the metal cutting into your palm as your heart cracked.

"You need to understand, Kian," Jungkook continued, voice harsher now, "I’m not willing to do this."

"But even the elders want this," Kian replied, his voice softer, almost pleading. "Today, you were lucky she wasn’t here, but how long can you really hide her from the world? One day, you’ll have to accept her."

"Never," Jungkook spat, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

Kian's next words were too quiet to make out, but they were followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps heading toward the door. Panic surged through you, but before you could move, the door swung open.

There he was, standing before you—Jungkook. His face paled when he saw your tear-streaked cheeks, his eyes widening in shock. His lips parted as if to say something, but the words died in his throat.

He reached out, the apology already forming on his tongue, but you didn’t wait to hear it.

Without a second thought, you hurled the necklace at his chest, the metal clinking as it hit him and fell to the floor between you. His eyes flicked to the necklace, then back to you, his expression one of helpless guilt.

But you didn’t wait for an explanation. Your feet carried you away, heart pounding, vision blurred by tears. You didn’t stop until the corridor twisted out of sight, and even then, the weight of his words echoed in your mind, breaking you all over again.

As soon as you got to your room, you sank to the ground, your body trembling as you wrapped your arms around your knees. Hot tears streamed down your face, each sob tearing through you like a knife. A different ache settled in your heart, a hollow emptiness that expanded with every breath you took, leaving you feeling more lost and abandoned than ever.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Jungkook sat rigidly in the chair beside the window, the moonlight spilling over him like a soft embrace, illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw and the furrow in his brow. Shadows danced across his face, mirroring the chaos swirling within him. He stared out into the darkness, eyes unfocused, lost in thoughts he couldn’t bear to confront. The silence in the room was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. A soft knock broke through, and he turned slightly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Come in.”

Kian stepped inside, his usual calm demeanor replaced by an unsettling gloom that weighed on him like a storm cloud. He crossed the room slowly and settled into the chair beside Jungkook. The air thickened with the weight of their unspoken fears.

“What brings you here, Kian?” Jungkook asked, his tone flat, gaze still trapped in the shimmering night sky. He could feel Kian’s eyes on him, probing, searching for answers.

“Why would you do that, Jungkook?” Kian’s voice trembled, breaking the stillness like a fragile glass shattering. He leaned forward, his brow knitted in worry. “why are you doing this? How could you sit here like this? Like nothing happened? She is your mate. You can’t just push her away like that. That’s not how things work, especially not with a mate bond.”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s gaze snapped to Kian, sharp and defensive. The flicker of vulnerability quickly masked by anger. “What about her?” he demanded, an edge creeping into his voice, the tension coiling tighter in his chest.

“Shina told me Luna has been crying since evening.” Kian’s words were low, heavy with concern, sinking into Jungkook like stones in water. A silence enveloped them, punctuated only by Jungkook’s ragged breaths, as the gravity of Kian’s words settled in.

“Why?” Jungkook found himself asking, the question slipping out before he could stop it, though they both knew the answer. A suffocating heaviness settled in his chest, a mix of guilt and soul crushing swirling within him like a tempest.

“Jungkook, why not just accept the bond? Why—” Kian started, but Jungkook cut him off, frustration bubbling over. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes glinting with an intensity that betrayed his inner turmoil.

“She scares me, Kian,” Jungkook admitted, his voice tight, his jaw clenching as he turned away again. “She’s everything I—” He stopped himself abruptly, the words hanging in the air, unfinished. His fists clenched on his lap, the muscles in his arms tensing as he fought to maintain control.

“What?” Kian pressed, leaning forward, desperate to understand. “Everything you what, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s face hardened, eyes darkening as the vulnerability retreated behind the walls he had carefully constructed. “Forget it,” he snapped, his voice cold. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Kian shook his head, frustration boiling beneath the surface. He leaned closer, his voice growing intense. “Love hurts above all, but we must never cease to do it. It’s painful, but you can’t run from it, Jungkook.”

“Love?” Jungkook scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him, but it sounded hollow. “It’s not meant for me, Kian. I hurt everyone. I’m my father’s son, after all.” He leaned back, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, shutting himself off from Kian’s words.

“You’re not him,” Kian insisted, leaning forward, voice filled with passion. “You’re not your father, and she isn’t your mother. She won’t leave, and you won’t end up like him. Jungkook, don’t let bad memories of past ruin the possibilities of your future.” He reached out, almost as if to touch Jungkook’s arm, but hesitated, sensing the emotional wall between them.

“That’s the problem with memories, Kian,” Jungkook said, his voice dropping to a whisper, eyes darkening. “They never go away. They stay with you, and they eat you alive. I can’t forget, and I can’t love.” His words were cold, final, as if sealing his fate.

Kian’s frustration boiled over, his hands clenched into fists as he tried once more. “It’s not just about you, Jungkook. It’s about her too. You can’t keep pushing her away—”

“Leave, Kian,” Jungkook said, his voice sharp, commanding. His back straightened, the gesture almost regal, but the pain behind his eyes betrayed him.

“But Alpha—” Kian’s protest faded as he sensed the finality in Jungkook’s tone. He sat back, his shoulders slumping, disappointment and worry etched into his features.

“I said leave,” Jungkook repeated, turning his back to Kian, the room growing colder as the shadows deepened around him. The moonlight faded into darkness, mirroring the hollow ache in Jungkook’s heart.

Kian stood up slowly, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the conversation. He glanced back at Jungkook, his face tight with concern. “I just hope you don’t regret this, Alpha,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of finality. Without waiting for a response, Kian walked to the door, the soft click of it closing behind him echoing in the heavy silence left in his wake.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

"Luna, for how long will you keep crying like this?" Shina's voice was gentle, laced with concern as she knelt beside you, offering a plate of food. She watched as you stared blankly at the untouched meal. Tears streamed down your cheeks, an endless waterfall that had begun with the dawn.

“Please, eat something,” she urged softly, but you could only shake your head, the words lodged in your throat like a stone.

“Why? Can’t he just accept the bond, Shina? Why?” Your voice cracked. Frustration bubbled within you, mingling with the heartache that had you feeling hollow.

Shina placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged it off, the gesture feeling too heavy to bear. “Please leave, Shina,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

She hesitated, searching your face for a glimmer of hope, but all she found were shadows of despair. “No matter how much love you give to a bird with broken wings, it won’t ever make it believe it can fly,” she said, her voice quiet yet firm, her eyes filled with empathy. “And even if it did, isn’t it just death, Luna?”

Her words wrapped around you like a cold shroud, leaving you confused and raw. You opened your mouth to respond, but the weight of her statement silenced you. She rose slowly, the sadness in her eyes mirrored by the heaviness in the air, before she turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You stared at the food plate, your heart aching with the reality of it all. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in as you fought to suppress the next wave of tears. Each breath felt like a struggle, the silence around you amplifying the sorrow that threatened to drown you.

Okay, so first of all, if you’ve made it this far, wow, congrats on surviving whatever mess I just threw your way. I mean, let's be honest, this is probably one of the most questionable things you've ever had the misfortune of reading. And for that, I truly, sincerely apologize—well, kinda.

But hey, if you're sitting there thinking, "Wow, this is absolute garbage," you're not alone. I get it. I hated it too. So, feel free to tell me just how much you despised every single word of it. I mean, go on, rip it apart. I'm mentally prepared...sort of. Probably. Okay, not really. But let's pretend I am, and we can bond over how truly awful this was. Thanks for sticking around, though. You're a champ.

Taglist @freyaniobe @piercidh34rts @furioustrashlover @lola75111 @pitchblack0309 @whoa-jo @teeheewhy13 @gojoscumslut @emanyd @sassy-snassy @jksusawife @nnnnmmmuuiu @jiminismine4ever @runariya @btspurplesky

#kookiewithluv #bts ffs #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fiction #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #Ashes of Promises #jungkook bts #jeon jungguk #jungkook #jeon jungkoooook #jungkook jeon #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook bangtan

583 notes · View notes

harryspet · 2 months ago

Text

well kept [epilogue] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, kidnapping, NONCON/DUBCON, emotional/mental manipulation, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: a little wrapup of the story!

word count: 3.7k

In which you begin to question whether submission is the only escape.

well kept masterlist

8 months later …

Monotonously, you brought a wet rag across the large, rough-hewn wooden dining table that dominates the space of the dining room. It took you nearly thirty minutes to clean it thoroughly, wiping away every speck of dust before meticulously arranging the plates, napkins, and glassware with care, making sure everything was just as it should be.

It’s perfect when you get done. With a soft sigh, you flick off the chandelier of large glass lanterns, letting the natural light filter in through the tall windows, casting a gentle, golden glow across the room. You turn toward the kitchen, pulling off your cleaning gloves, ready to move on with your routine.

Then the doorbell rang.

You make your way through the downstairs of the expansive cabin, towards the front entrance. Glancing through the floor-to-ceiling windows as you make your way to the front door, you spot the culprit: a gray van parked down by the lake road. The sight feels out of place, a reminder of the outside world you rarely encounter.

Unlocking the front door, you huff as you pull the large piece of solid wood open. It always feels like it weighs a thousand pounds though you can’t recall Rafe ever having any difficulty with it. Still catching your breath, you greet the grocery delivery man, Connor, with a small smile. Before you, four-hundred dollars worth of groceries sits in plastic bags and you place a hand on your hips as you examine the challenge before you.

“Let me help you carry them inside,” Connor offers kindly but you’re already shaking your head, “Mr. Cameron always tips so well, really, it’s the least I could do.”

“N-No worries, this is mmm-my workout for the day,” You reply, momentarily, taking in the fact that this was one of the few contacts you had with the outside world. Truthfully, Rafe had never explicitly said that Connor wasn’t allowed to carry the grocering inside but everytime you imagined Rafe coming down the stairs and spotting the two of you together. If the young man wanted to keep receiving handsome tips from Mr. Cameron, he’d keep his interactions with you brief.

“Okay,” He seemed to shrug, confused, “I never see you in town … you work from home too?”

“Yeah,” You lie without hesitation, voice steady, “We’re just … homebodies.”

“What do you do for work? … Sorry if that’s intrusive. It’s just … this house is insane. You guys must be loaded.”

You laugh, and Connor shifts on his feet, smiling shyly back at you. To anyone else, the house in all it’s grandeur and isolation, must seem like a dream come true, “I help manage some stuff for Mr. Cameron’s business. I just help out where I can.” You hope it’s enough to end the conversation.

He still looks impressed, gaze wandering back to the cabin’s towering windows. As the silence stretches, you grab a few bags from the ground. He doesn’t immediately notice your discomfort, “I get it,” He adds, “Ya’ll are living the dream up here. Away from all the craziness.”

“Something like that,” You keep your face neutral until it falters. The slightest creak of floorboards from upstairs. Your heart skips a beat and you force yourself to grab a few more bags of groceries, “Well, I should get the ice cream inside before it melts. Thanks again, Connor.”

“I’ll get out of your hair, Mrs. Cameron,” He replied, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, “See in you two weeks. Take care, alright?”

You nod silently, turning on your heels, determined to keep your focus on the task at hand. The rhythmic thud of footsteps descending the stairs grows louder, but you force yourself to keep moving, your eyes locked on the kitchen ahead. With a small grunt, you heave the bags onto the kitchen island, the plastic crinkling as you place them down.

Just as you spin around to grab the rest of the groceries, you collide hard with a solid wall of muscle, Rafe’s chest, unyielding like a brick wall. The sudden impact knocks the breath from your lungs, and you stagger slightly, instinctively looking up to meet his piercing gaze.

“Everything okay?” He asks, most likely taking in your wild eyes.

Wearing a button-up checkered shirt that tucked into well-fitted trousers, you assumed he’d been taking some video calls and wanted to look presentable.

“Yeah … groceries,” You said, gesturing to the kitchen island, “Uhm, C-Connor just dropped them off.”

“That kid knows how to linger, huh?” Rafe placed his hands in his pocket, tongue poking at his gums as he thought something over.

Kid. Rafe was probably only a handful of years older than him. “He’s just doing his job,” you said quietly, your heart racing as you busied yourself with the grocery bags, hoping to avoid further scrutiny. Rafe followed closely behind, a silent reminder of his constant presence, his need to control even the smallest interactions.

It wasn’t like Rafe was resistant to helping around the house. He cleaned after himself for the most part. Honestly, you’d expected just being a house wife to be easier than being a personal assistant, especially easier than being a barista. However, Rafe’s mountain estate was enormous, and Rafe decided against keeping the full staff he had at his Charlotte mansion. It was like he wanted you to handle all of it, to be completely busy, and maybe you wouldn’t get any ideas about wanting more for your life.

He hadn’t realized that you stopped wanting more for your life when you woke up, drugged from whatever he had slipped you, and found him tucked between your legs, mouth wet from tasting you. The memory hit you as you leaned down to grab the next load of grocery bags.

Not able to separate you dreams from reality, you weren’t immediately sure whether Rafe was really in between your thighs. Eyelids heavy, only your mouth opened, a strangled moan left your lips. Lifting your head, you looked down with blurry, hooded vision. You never slept in anything silk yet underneath your fingertips you could feel the fabric covering your chest. Your right thigh was hooked high over your hip, Rafe’s hand firm in the crook of your knee, holding your leg in place as he kept you open.

Even in your weakest state, his touch was commanding, and controlling. You were barely awake and the pressure he was creating didn’t fully register until you were close, the orgasm fully bringing you to consciousness.

Reality came crashing donw like it always did when you woke in the morning. Your life wasn’t your own anymore. Usually, you’d at least have a moment alone, a moment that was still yours before you were back on his routine. But now, even sleep seemed like a choice you no longer controlled, another thing he had taken from you.

You started to register your own breathing, the way your chest rose and fell rapidly, just as he crawled on top of you. Shirtless, his eyes still sleepy but focused enough on the task at hand. He easily pushed inside of you, and as your breathing calmed and you came down from your orgasm, he pressed his chest into yours. Your noses touched together as he sheathed himself inside you further, “You’re getting so good,” He murmured, voice smooth and full of praise, “Taking all of me. Squeezing me so tight.”

You had no choice but to meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his, accepting the intimacy forced upon you.You wouldn’t cry this time, you’d remain stoic, and numb. Mentally, you could try to feel nothing, no matter that you felt him across every nerve on your skin. His praise hung in the air, and his presence consume you.

It occurred to you then that you had no idea how you’d gotten here. Sure, you knew the mistakes you’d made that led up to this point. You knew the lengths Rafe was willing to go to, the power he was willing to yield, lives he was willing to ruin.

You turned your head to look around the room just as Rafe settled into the side of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along your skin. Your lips parted to yelp at each deep stroke, each time he pushed against your cervix, but your eyes darted around the space. You’d been here before, your crotch pressed against a pillow, when Rafe forced you for the first time to make yourself orgasm.

Usually, Rafe was relentless. But as soon as you could put together that you were in his house with no idea how you’d gotten there, his thrusts became sloppier, rushed, and he nestled against the side of your face. His lips brushed your ear, his breath uneven as he spilled inside of you. The intimacy of the moment felt strange, almost out of place, as if he was in a hurry to finish before you fully pieced together what was happening. His weight sagged against you, and for a moment, the room felt suffocating.

He collapsed beside you, though he kept an arm draped over your stomach. Slowly, you lowered your leg until you were laying straight.

You didn’t dare move.

Rafe’s hand brushed against yours and you turned your head quickly to see a concerned look on his face, “Here, let me do it,” You felt that numbness that had been clouding you ever since you realized you controlled nothing. He easily procured the bag from your grip and you watched as he easily took the rest of the bags into his arms.

When you both retreated back inside, you heaved the massive front door shut again, locking yourself back into your gilded cage. Surprisingly, he helped you unpack the groceries. It would’ve been faster to do on your own, you had to direct him a few times about whether certain items belonged in the fridge or pantry but you tried to be thankful for the help.

You were putting up the canned goods in the grocery, neatly stacking them on the shelves of the bedroom-sized pantry, when you felt his eyes still watching you, “He sure does talk a lot though, doesn’t he?”

Better not to use his name, “The grocery guy?” You swallowed, speaking slowly in order to keep your voice steady.

“Connor,” He said, voice dripping in malice.

“He’s j-j-just being friendly,” You said, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Friendly,” He repeated, his tone mocking, “... You know, I don’t like him talking to you.”

“I-I didn’t encourage it,” You said softly, knowing whatever words you had would be a mistake, “If you don’t like him …I-I c-c-could g-g-go to the store from now on.”

For a long moment, Rafe didn’t respond, and you found yourself just trying to maintain your composure, canned goods forgotten in your hands, as you waited for his verdict.

“What do you want me to say, sweetheart?”

You were forcing his hand, asking for too much when you knew he couldn’t give it to you, “Thh-Thhh-That you’ll think about it?”

Lately, you’d been testing his boundaries. Not answering everytime he called. And when you did answer, your tone was flat and indifferent. Wearing clothes from your wardrobe you knew he’d deem unflattering. Yoga pants or shorts were okay, never sweatpants. He wanted to see your every curve. Every inch of what he believed belonged to him. You were his wife after all, he’d paid a handsome price to get you here.

Your obedience occurred in waves. A few weeks on and a few weeks off. It was the best way your brain could cope with the control. He’d grow happy, content with your behavior and that’s when you decided to flip a switch. Sometimes, Rafe was almost reluctant to punish you.

A thought crossed your mind. A way to gain a small ounce of control. Though it came at the high cost of satisfying his urges. You decided to beg. He loved to hear you grovel and degrade yourself. It’s one of the only ways he gets himself off.

“Please,” You whispered, your voice trembling. In your baggy flannel and sweatpants, braids tied back in a messy bun, you stepped forward. You wanted to sound weak. Even weaker than your stammer usually made you sound, “I’ll go with a bodyguard. I-I’ll wear my ring. I won’t t-t-talk to anyone.”

It surprised him. You saw it in the way he shifted on his feet and his head tilted to the side curiously. It was in the way he watched you carefully, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The words were poison on your tongue but it didn’t stop them from filling out.

“Is that right?” His voice was low and dangerous, how it usually was when he was calculating a devious plan in his mind.

When the silence decided to stretch again, you filled it, “I’ll be better. I-I know I–I-I’ve been dissapointing you,” You closed the distance until you were inches from him, letting him look down at you, as you turned your eyes downcast.

“Hmm,” You felt his hand raise and press into the side of your neck, large thumb caressing your jaw, “Then you know that’s the kind of privilege like that you’ll have to work towards?”

Being trapped here with him felt like you’d fallen to the bottom of the totem pole. Somehow being his assistant, hanging on his arm like arm candy, and keeping his cock warm underneath his desk was better than what you were now. At least then you could see your friends. You could interact with people other than Rafe, Topper and Eleanor. Then you had a job. You were a real human.

“Yes,” You began, “I’ll d-do anything.”

Rafe’s eyes turned down as you reached one of your hands into the waistband of your sweatpants and then beneath the fabric of your underwear.

“Y/N…” His voice deepened and you looked up at him with big, wanting eyes.

“Can I please touch myself, Sir?” You asked, “I-I want to shhh-shhhow you how good I can be.”

He kept as still as he could. His eyes were answering your question. He didn’t need to verbally give you permission.Maybe he stayed silent because if he spoke, the desperation in his voice might betray him. Rafe didn’t need his own release in that moment—what he craved more was the sight of you undone, vulnerable, completely under his control. Watching you touch yourself, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure, was enough to satisfy him.

You bit down on your lip, moving your fingers over your soft folds. Gently, you rubbed yourself, teasing yourself. His gaze didn’t waver, but you saw the the way his nose flared, as he tried to keep his composure.

“Please,” A soft moan escaped your lips as you worked yourself up, the motions becoming smoother as you grew wetter, “P-Please, Sir?”

Rafe inhaled sharply and watched as you reached further, towards your aching hole. He couldn’t see it exactly but you showed him with your eyes, with your parted lips and soft expression, that you dipped a finger inside of your aching hole.

Despite how you feared him, how he’d ruined your life, you couldn’t help but enjoy the twisted way that you could control him. The tension in the room was thick and you saw the way he was fighting against exerting his control over you, over taking over. Even in a small way, you could make him bend to your will, you saw it in the way his fist clenched at his side.

Your pace quickened in a way that brought you closer to the edge, the friction sending waves of pleasure over your skin.

He reached out suddenly, grabbing ahold of your arm, his grip strong but not painful. He pulled your fingers away from underneath your waistband, “You don’t get to finish until I say so,” he murmured, his voice low and authoritative. You kept your expression neutral, though every muscle in your face tensed with the effort to hide your frustration, resisting the urge to press your lips into a thin line, “Take off your clothes for me, sweetheart.”

Your body frustrated, you hurriedly pulled down your sweatpants, exposing your lacy black underwear. Next, you removed the flannel, Rafe’s eyes fixed on your newly exposed skin. You would never admit it, but deep down, you always felt comforted by the fact that never seemed to bore of seeing you. Though you’d never had a traditional honeymoon period, now that you’d lived together for so long, you thought he might lose interest at some point. Everytime he saw you it was like he was seeing you for the first time.

Every glance he gave you was filled with that same insatiable desire, as though you were still something to unravel. The thought made something flicker inside you, a mixture of fear, and something far more complicated.

You hesitated when it came to your bra and underwear, suddenly hyperaware that Rafe was fully clothed. There he stood in his work attire and part of you wanted to hold onto those inches of fabric, “All of your clothes,” Rafe added, sensing your hesitance, and he didn’t let you stall any longer. You yelped when he grabbed you by the waist, swinging your body onto the cold, marble countertop of the kitchen island. Determined, his fingers pried your underwear down your thighs and you watched them fall to the floor. Your thin bralette was next, and you raised your arms obediently, letting him tug it over your head.

As soon as you were bare and freezing, Rafe’s lips curled into a devious smirk, “Finish,” He said, “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

His eyes were dark and hungry, watching every movement, every breath you took. Your instinct was to resist, to deny him, but you were too far gone. This is what you wanted in the first place. A trade. Your submission for a chance at freedom. You didn’t test his patience, knowing this was a better option than being bent of the counter. You complied, your hand slowly sliding down your stomach, until they were back between your legs.

Slow, deliberate circles.

You were so used to the feeling of shame, the heat you’d feel in your cheeks, the tears that would sting your eyes. Freezing, like a puppy out in the rain, you trembled. The shame was almost ritualistic, something to expect everytime you were intimate. Your body always seemed to respond, anyways. Maybe it was time for you to fully accept your part in this. Maybe you were beginning to crave that feeling.

Your pace quickened, your fingers moving in urgent circles, and you felt your release building.

“That’s it,” He said, “You’re already close, aren’t you?”

You nodded, fully aware of the smugness in his tone. Your fingers worked and your moans became louder, “Please,” You begged, that pressure between your legs growing unbearable.

“Please,” You heard yourself say over and over, feeling yourself come undone. His hands slowly move to rest on either side of you, trapping you between the cold marble and his towering figure, “Please, Rafe.”

“Come, sweetheart,” He finally said, “Let me see you fall apart.”

A whimper escaped your lips as your orgasm hit you almost painfully. Your release was inevitable, you’d practically perfected getting yourself off, and your body responded to his commands like a pupper on a string. Your body tensed, your back arching, as you gasped over and over. Your fingers faltered, slowly, but soon there were fingers brushing against that sensitive area again.

You tried to scoot your body away but Rafe pressed your thigh with his large palm, keeping you pinned. Slowly, he moved his fingers, prolonging that sensation, drawing out your orgasm, “There it is,” He whispered, “Such a good girl when you want something from me, huh?”

You nodded weakly, agreeable.

As you realized he was trying to work you up again, you panicked, “P-Please.”

“Hmm,” His fingers pressed harder, “Look at you. You know what? If you give me one more, I’ll let you go shopping next week. How’s that sound?”

“I-It hurts,” You whispered, voice braking. A tempting offer that you were now too overwhelmed to even consider. His fingers didn’t relent, rubbing against you harder now, dragging you toward another release whether you wanted it or not.

“That’s not an answer,” Rafe teased, his tone almost playful. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear, “Come on, one more. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Your body betrayed you again. The buildup was slower than your first orgasm, so torturous that tears began to fall down your cheeks. When your body was convulsing again, it was not as sweet as the first, but just as powerful. You came for him again despite how much it hurt, how raw and exposed you felt.

His grip on your thigh relaxed and you body went limp against the counter. You throbbed between your legs, so much so you weren’t sure if you would be able to walk without a limp. You felt his thumb brush over your cheek, wiping your tears, “Good girl. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Too tired to do anything but lay there, Rafe finally stepped back, leaving you shivering on the cold countertop. A coldness returned to his expression. You’d asked for this. Wanted something from him. Somehow, it felt like you hadn’t won anything at all. Now you were realizing this was a punishment, most likely for your behavior over the past weeks.

Rafe turned his back on you, as if he hadn’t just pushed your body and mind to the brink, “Maybe I’ll take you shopping after all.”

The promise of being let out of the house felt hollow. A reminder that your independence was something he could grant, or take away, on a whim.

You lay there, motionless and speechless, trapped in the swirl of shame, regret, and anger. Then, without warning, a dangerous thought crept in, slipping through the cracks in your resolve: Maybe if I’m good enough, if I do everything he asks, I’ll get more freedom. More moments of escape.But before you could push that thought away, another surfaced, darker and heavier: Maybe I deserve this.

i hope you enjoyed this series!!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x black!reader #dark fic #black!reader #well kept #outer banks #outer banks smut #rafe smut

445 notes · View notes

goldfades · 1 month ago

Text

PROTECTIVE P──BUECKERS⁵

request!

─ summary | paige finds you in tears after watching stepmom and, misunderstanding the reason for your distress, instinctively comforts your with her protective nature.

─ pairing | paige bueckers x fem!reader

─ warnings | omg nothing, so short and sweet. paige is being slightly overdramatic, but reader is crying sooo... yeah. literally nothing at all it's so sweet.

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

Tears blur your vision, the dim light of the room making the screen in front of you seem like a watery painting. You quickly swipe at your cheeks, though the attempt is pretty useless considering how soaked the tissue in your hand already is. The closing credits of Stepmom roll in a soft melody, tugging at your chest like a string you can't sever. You take a shaky breath, hugging your knees tighter to your chest, the weight of the movie's ending pressing down on you in waves.

The room feels oddly still, like even the air is holding its breath alongside you. The last few scenes play in an endless loop in your mind: the bittersweet embrace, the tearful goodbyes. It all claws at you, pulling at emotions you hadn’t prepared for. Your heart aches in that way only a well-crafted story can make it—like you're mourning something personal, something real. And as much as you want to pull yourself together, the lump in your throat only grows, tightening with every labored breath.

You stare blankly at the dark screen now, the credits long gone, but the emotional storm inside you rages on. The empty room echoes with the quiet sniffles you fail to hold back. A part of you feels silly for crying over a movie you've seen a million times, but to be completely fair, you were about to get your period.

Suddenly, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching. Before you can react, the door creaks open, and in walks Paige. The look on her face shifts instantly as she takes you in, sitting curled up on the couch, your tear-streaked face lit only by the soft glow of the television.

"Baby?" Her voice is low, gentle, but you can hear the edge to it, like she's holding something back. Her eyes—those sharp, intense blue eyes—narrow as they sweep over you. She's scanning, assessing, the same way she does when she’s reading a defense on the court. "What happened?" she asks, her tone both concerned and commanding, demanding an answer even as her voice stays soft.

Your throat tightens, and you shake your head, unable to explain through the wave of emotion still crashing over you. You know you don’t look great right now—puffy eyes, blotchy skin, a crumpled tissue that’s no match for the tears—but Paige doesn’t care about that. No, she’s laser-focused on the fact that you’re upset, and that’s all she needs to see.

In a heartbeat, she’s crossing the room, long strides eating up the distance between you. She drops down beside you on the couch, her arm sliding around your shoulders in one smooth motion, pulling you in against her chest. Her grip is firm, possessive, like she needs to protect you from whatever caused this. Even if she doesn’t know what “this” is yet.

"You don’t have to talk," she murmurs, pressing her cheek against the top of your head. Her voice is like velvet, low and soothing, but underneath it, there's a quiet storm brewing. Her protective instincts are flaring up, you can feel it. She’s always been like this—fierce when it comes to you, like you're something precious she’d fight the world to keep safe.

Her hand gently cups your cheek, turning your face up toward hers. Paige’s eyes are intense, practically burning with emotion, the warmth of her palm grounding you despite the whirlwind inside. "Whatever it is, I got you," she whispers, and you believe her. You always believe her.

But the softness in her touch contrasts with the edge in her voice. There's a possessiveness there that makes your heart race, a deep need to fix whatever has you so broken right now. She tightens her hold on you, like if she hugs you hard enough, she can shield you from whatever hurt is eating at you.

"Baby-"

"No, it's okay. Shh..." She interrupts before you can finish, and you feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment. She looks ready to go to war, to tear apart anyone or anything that could have possibly made you cry.

You try to pull away slightly, to create some distance, but Paige isn’t having it. Her grip tightens, drawing you back against her chest as if she’s physically unwilling to let you go. "Don’t do that," she says, her voice low but firm. "Don’t hide from me." Her fingers trail down your arm, her warmth seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and you feel the goosebumps rise in response.

You open your mouth, ready to explain, to tell her it’s nothing serious, just a movie, but the way she’s looking at you stops the words before they can even form. There’s something fierce in her eyes, a protective edge that goes beyond simple concern. It’s possessive, almost primal, like she’s ready to tear down anyone or anything that might hurt you—even if that thing is your own emotions.

"Paige, really, it’s not—"

"I said shh..." She cuts you off again, her voice dropping lower, more insistent. Her other hand moves up to cradle the back of your head, gently pressing your face into the curve of her neck. She smells like fresh sweat and a hint of soap—probably from the quick shower after practice—and the familiar scent makes you relax a little more, even if your heart is still racing.

"Just let me take care of you," she murmurs, her lips brushing your hair. "You don’t have to explain anything. I’m here, okay? I’m here." There’s a soothing rhythm to her words, each one a steady beat that matches the rise and fall of her chest.

You can feel her heartbeat under your cheek, strong and steady, grounding you even as you’re still battling the emotional aftershocks of the movie. It’s almost overwhelming—the way she’s holding you so close, her arms wrapped around you like she can shield you from everything, including yourself. And maybe that’s exactly what she’s trying to do.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, massaging your scalp with slow, deliberate strokes, and despite the embarrassment still gnawing at the edges of your mind, you can’t help but relax into her touch. Paige always has this way of making the world disappear when she’s near you, like nothing else matters as long as you’re in her arms.

"Who hurt you, baby?" she whispers, her voice darker now, and you feel the intensity of her question deep in your chest. It’s not just a question—it’s a promise. A dangerous one. You know she’d go to extremes to protect you, to make sure nothing or no one ever makes you feel like this again.

"It’s just... a movie..." you manage to mumble into her neck, but even as you say the words, you can feel Paige tense beneath you.

"A movie?" she repeats, and though there’s a hint of relief in her voice, there’s still a trace of suspicion, like she’s not quite ready to believe it. "You’re crying like this over a movie?"

You nod against her, the heat in your cheeks returning in full force. "Yeah. Stepmom."

Paige lets out a long breath, and you can feel her relax slightly, her grip on you loosening just a little. But even then, she doesn’t let go entirely, keeping you close like she’s not ready to fully release you from her protective embrace.

"Baby, you scared me," she finally says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. Her gaze softens, and a small, almost sheepish smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "You know I can’t stand seeing you like that."

"I’m okay," you whisper, though the way her eyes linger on yours tells you she’s not entirely convinced.

"Next time, just tell me," Paige says, her thumb brushing your lip in a feather-light touch. "I’m here for all of it—the good, the bad, and the sappy movie tears. You don’t ever have to hide from me. Got it?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you," you let out a teary laugh as you look at her. She rolled her eyes, her lips quirking up in that sweet smile you love so much. Paige presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than usual, her lips warm and gentle against your skin.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

458 notes · View notes

cemeteryspider · 3 months ago

Text

The Two of Cups

Remy Lebeau x Mutant! Reader

Summary: Your ability was an innate connection with the world around you which lead you to the Xavier Mansion. As well as a certain Louisiana man.

Word Count: 2.6k

You were an oddball in the mutant community and an outcast of society. Largely you found peace in knowing this due to your connection to the spiritual relam. You found solace in the trees and wind and comfort in the changing seasons. In the lush grass and flower petals that dried your tears when no person was around for you.

Your mind often drifts, allowing you to find new places, unseen by human (or mutant) eyes in thousands of years. Some caves drew you in and allowed you to commune with wandering spirits, other times on high mountains the water would guide you through and out of danger.

It was a mutual trust, that you would respect the natural or physical world and the spirit world would guide you. Sometimes this leads to crystal shops with experts in divination or sad girls who would have their cards read by you and give their lives new meaning and a more hopeful disposition.

So you followed the whispers of the wind and the pull towards new adventures until you came across a quite large estate called Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. You were no longer a "youngster" but still you padded on allowing the soft grass to show you the way to your next venture as you had done so many times before.

A man in an advanced looking wheelchair greeted you at the door, "Ah you are the one I saw in Cerebro. Definitely not what I was expecting."

He looked you up and down from the long thick skirts that gently brushed the ground to your hair you kept up and out of your face. His stare wasn't like any you felt before.

It wasn't the stare your friends gave when you first started reading the cards and could practically see through the girls you read. It wasn't the scared stare your parents gave you when they found you levitating in the air with the cards circling you in a protective manner. It certainly wasn't the stare of the people who yelled at you calling you a witch when walking the otherwise quiet streets of a small town. No, it was a state of awe and understanding.

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Xavier, my name is Y/n and it seems as though something pulled me to this place. Something strong," You looked around and saw children running around in the yard and teenagers practicing fledgling powers under the canopy of trees.

"No, the pleasure is all mine. There have been mutterings of someone with a spiritual connection roaming New York for the past few weeks, and when I saw you on Cerebro I knew I simply had to meet you."

The side of your mouth quirked up and you reached out your hand, which he gladly accepted, "Show me."

He guided you through the main building showing off classrooms filled with students learning math and history. Rooms dedicated to combat and self-defense. There were bedrooms, some colorful, some minimalist, and some dark and gloomy. Each place radiated a different emotion, the classrooms were focused with hints of boredom. The training rooms had an air of confidence and a slight fear of failure. Bedrooms had remnants of comfort and happiness, sadness, rest, wakefulness, love, and pity. Rarely were places so difficult to pin down.

He spoke about the architecture and the school's mission. You listened thoughtfully. Running your fingers along hundred year old wood paneling, and studying repairs made to walls carefully done to match. The kitchen had a rustic charm to it despite the overwhelmingly grandiose spectacle that was the rest of the estate.

Lastly you were on an elevator toward the lower floors of the mansion which were the newest additions to the property if the shift of decor told you the right story. There were endless halls of silver and doors with identity verification and a big doorway at the end with an X over it.

For a moment it overwhelmed you, never once in your travels were you taken to a place so modern, maybe even futuristic. The old towns with stories of witchcraft embedded into their history or rustic cabins next to trees that were hundreds of years old. Even to cliff faces that had been carved into by ancient peoples whose art can only be vaguely understood.

Except now you were in a different atmosphere, but with what you assumed to be the same goal, to help these people find themselves and provide guidance.

~~~

You entered a room whose ceiling was opened showing the sky and a winged jet landing in the room you were standing in. People descended the short flight of stairs to the floor and looked at Xavier and then to you.

"Is everything alright, professor?" A guy with what seemed to be a red visor covering his eyes. Despite his eyes being covered you could feel the concern radiating off of him. You almost scoffed at the thought that you would harm or threaten the man sitting next to you, but then you remembered how weary you were when you first started traveling the country and eventually the world.

After all, you were kicked out of the house with just what you could carry in your backpack. Even before that being cast aside by classmates who didn't understand you.

"Everything is perfectly fine, Scott. My X-Men I would like to introduce you to Y/n, the mutant I've been telling you about," He smiled and gestured toward you. It seemed as though that flipped a switch in the people before you.

They started to approach you starting with Scott, "I'm Scott Summers, also known as Cyclops, leader of the X-Men," He left you with a firm handshake.

Then a red-head, "I'm Jean Grey, a telepath and telekinetic, part of the X-Men. I've felt your presence in the psychic plane long before we met. It's a pleasure to finally connect with you face-to-face," She gave you a gentle hug and indeed it felt as though you've known each other for a long time.

You met others as well like Ororo, Rogue, and Jubilee but one person in particular seemed to catch your eye, "Bonjour, ma chérie! The name's Gambit, but you can call me Remy if you like."

He extended his hand to you but instead of the handshake the men before had offered he flipped your hand over and kissed your knuckles. You could feel your cheeks heat up, and he walked away with a wink.

"Why does the Cajun get all the pretty ladies that come in?" a figure with grayish-white skin, white eyes, and indistinct features grumbled beside a short man with prominent sideburns.

"Finally, my time to introduce myself. I'm Morph, probably second or maybe third in the mansion's prettiest man competition," he laughed, giving you a friendly pat on the back. "See you around, Tarot."

Then the man with sideburns grumbled something nearly incomprehensible but you could catch the word Logan in the midst of the mumbles.

"Those were the X-Men, my own vision and step toward human and mutant coexistence. I hope that you will stay and perhaps guide the wandering souls that reside here."

For a moment you felt a reluctance, the hope for an adventurer's life still called, wandering the Earth helping as many people as you could handle. Spending as much time as possible in the woods and a life outside the public eye. Then you remembered the pull and how it has never lead you to a place you didn't enjoy or to people you didn't befriend.

So you stayed.

A month after that fateful day you had become an integral member of the Xavier Institute. Caring for hurt children by bandaging their wounds, acting as sort of a counselor for the teenagers who feel abandoned or children who are having a hard time transitioning, and most importantly restoring spiritual balance to the mansion.

Though not quite as spiritual, the Professor, as you had taken to calling him, allowed you to place spiritual protection around the house. Selenite in window sills to cleanse the area and promote positivity. Placed black tourmaline near the doors of the house to absorb negative energies that may come through. Amethyst near the bedrooms for calming energies.

You often could be seen walking around the house with a burning sage bundle in your hand waving it around doorways and windows and sometimes circling the crystals with it. To some of the X-Men it was odd to them, but then they saw the effects on the students.

Some of them were able to look at one of the crystals in any of the rooms in the house and take a deep breath grounding themselves, and then take another stab at what they were working on. Whether that be a math equation, a vocab word, or a new skill with their abilities. Sometimes they even went to you for advice and even asked you to read their cards, which you did every once in a while.

If someone were to peek into the office, that Charles Xavier graciously granted you when you brought it up one day, they would usually see the three card spread. Past, Present, and Future. You gave comfort to the children worried about their lives and if they'll survive their adolescence. Maybe the clarity spreads for teenagers who have a specific situation they want insight on, whether it be a lover, a friendship, or even their mutant abilities.

One day when you were shuffling your deck you heard a sharp knock on the door, "Come in."

None other than Remy Lebeau walked through the door. He looked a tad nervous around at your dimly lit office filled with candles and burning incense.

You had been getting to know him more recently. One on one sparring with him while the rest of the team had paired up. Or sat next to each other at briefings and meals. Sometimes he even sat in your office grabbing bandages or holding hands as you disinfected wounds.

"Hey, Cher... Gambit was wonderin'... maybe you could read my cards,'' He was sharply eyeing a specific crystal with uneasiness. You were aware that he didn't mess with the supernatural.

Your brows furrow and you sit up straighter, "There's no magic here Remy, just a connection to the spiritual, its connection to me, and my connection to the cards."

His eyes soften and he quickly sits in the comfy chair on the other side of your table, "Okay Cher, I trust you."

He came from New Orleans, a deeply spiritual place with strong links to history, slavery, and powerful spiritual figures. You had observed the thin veil between the physical and spiritual during a couple of your many adventures, but you never felt the need to stay. You knew exactly when your time in New Orleans was done as soon as it was, then usually by the next day you were off again.

"Okay, hon," You started shuffling the cards between your hands and between your fingers as you speak, "What are you looking to ask the spirits?"

"Well, I was wonderin', well there's this girl I really like, and I was wondering what I should do about it?" He was idly picking at his fingers, staring at the cards in your hands, or at the walls, really anywhere but your eyes.

You toyed with some ideas in your head for a moment before choosing a spread of your own creation, "This will be a three card spread, the first card is how you really feel about her, no rose tinted glasses no nothing, the second card is how she feels about you, and the third is whether you should act on this or not."

"Okay, petite, let's do this," You fan the cards out and allow him to choose the cards he is most drawn to. You saw him crack his knuckles and reach for the cards. As he touched them you felt a pull towards him, and once the last card was set on the table you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

You gesture him to flip the first card over, and the face of the card is revealed. Four tall pillars holding up greenery with two people and a castle in the background.

You smile at the card, "The Four of Wands."

Remy looked up at you patiently and waited for your words, "This woman is your idealistic love. The universe has gifted you with your perfect match."

A smile started to play on his lips and you nodded your head toward the second card on the table. A naked blonde woman collecting water under a sky brightly filled with stars.

"This is The Star. This is a romantic and spiritual connection, there is a force known or unknown drawing her to you and most likely vice versa," You glance over at Remy's growing smile, "Is this going as you had planned?"

He looked up at you with wide eyes, and shook it off quickly, "Chere, I'm... I'm not sure."

You place your hand on his, "Will you flip the last card, Chere?"

You placed your hand over the familiar card and gently flipped it over. The people facing each other holding chalices.

"This is The Two of Cups, a deep mutual understanding usually of a romantic nature. Looking at this spread I see two people being drawn together both by proximity and spiritual connection. The you should tell her how you feel as the cards seem to point to a potential romantic relationship forming," You look up at him waiting for him to say something.

"Well, Chere, I thought you would talk me out of doing this, but it seems that the stars have aligned," He took a deep breath before looking deeply into your eyes, "Ever since I first saw you, I've felt drawn to you. Moth to a flame and all that, but I wasn't sure about how to approach the topic. I guess I'll just go for it, would you like to go out with Gambit sometime."

You could see him nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and his eyes darting across your face. All you could do was smile, "Yes, Remy I would love to go out with you."

An all out smile formed on his face from ear to ear, the crows feet at the edges of his eyes crinkled. It wasn't long before you were sitting in the kitchen late at night and enjoying Louisiana cuisine made by the Cajun himself.

Then it was a walk around the garden at dawn or training together that inevitably lead to making out against the walls of the Danger Room and quickly rezipping suits and pulling on garments seconds before the next set of people were scheduled to come in.

It had been a few months after you had made the relationship official and you were moving your collection of crystals, books, and other spiritual items into Remy's room with his help of course when you had realized you hadn't felt the pull to leave. You had finally found a place to call home, where you truly belonged and the spiritual world was letting you rest. After years of wondering and meeting and leaving you had found a place to stay.

The very next hour you had approached Charles Xavier and agreed to stay. You had been discussing teaching art and self-control classes with him for a little while, but now you were committed to staying as long as he would have you.

That came with a permanent place among the X-Men team which you happily accepted.

549 notes · View notes

jksoftii · 1 year ago

Text

☆♡ JUNGKOOK FIC RECS ♡☆

this is a list of my favorite jungkook fics! most of these contain smut so no minors allowed. please show your love to all these amazing authors :) !!

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

SERIES

Birds by @missbickerbocker a f s strangers to lovers au (Doctor!Jungkook x TravelBlogger!Reader)

Summary - In Jungkook's world stability is key. He knows what exactly is expected of him as head doctor of Seoul's ER Unit. But when an unfortunate collision lands him at your bedside in his own ER unit, his stable world starts to shift. — the angst, the sexual tension, everything about this is just perfect!! doctor jk 😭🙌🏻

Gradation by @shina913 a f s bestfriend to lovers au fwb slow burn (Bestfriend!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - On your wedding day your fiancé leaves you at the altar. While reeling from embarrassment and heartbreak, your bestfriend, Jungkook, wants to do everything that he can to help you heal. — i remember coming back to this fic again and again because the entire storyline in itself was so comforting, everyone around oc was so caring and jungkook especially made my heart burst in this one!

Friday nights and takeout by @ahundredtimesover a f s strangers to friends to lovers (Idol!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - You meet pop star/idol Jeon Jungkook at the café, you get close, and as Hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. But you’re bad at feelings and so is he — i love love love cute happy endings. there was a lot of scolding eachother but their dynamic itself was just endearing 🤧💖 @ahundredtimesover 's other works are also wonderful! you won't be disappointed checking them out!

Lost Stars by @yoongiofmine a f s strangers to friends to lovers au slow burn (Idol!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. — i read this in one sitting because it was so interesting! the twists in this story kept me engaged, i felt like i was in a movie.

Coquet by @shina913 a f s fake dating au strangers to lovers (Escort!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous. — another one by @shina913 because i can't get enough of their writing! the angst, fluff, smut everything was balanced so well. top notch literally. sexy escort jungkook made me get on my knees no joke 🙌🏻🤧

Once You Realize by @kooala a f s friends to lovers idol au (Idol!Jungkook x Idol!Reader)

Summary - Seeing your friend regularly turned out to be difficult because of your colliding schedules, but seeing him again after a couple of months something about the way you thought about Jungkook seemed to have shifted. If only you wouldn’t have started getting close with someone else before you had realized how you felt about your best friend — this indeed is the cutest falling in love story! it's a slowburn but not overwhelming. sjdhjsjs it's just adorable 🥲

ONESHOTS

In which drabble series by @onlyswan a f s established relationship au (Idol!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - this is the cutest collection drabbles of boyfriend jungkook!! i recommend all of the installments, the writing is perfect, it's packed with perfectly illustrated details and vivid emotions and you can feel the love radiate from them 🥹 Art is by far my favorite writer on here 🙌🏻 these are a few of my personal favs from the installments -

in which jungkook comes home drunk but bam can’t speak f wc: 2.6k

— no because drunk jk is a menace and we all know it. this was so chaotic and fluffy it made me want to scream!!!

in which jungkook stumbles with his new pair of eyes f wc: 2.8k

— jungkook with glasses. my weakness. but this was so cute and fluffy! it's his little journey figuring out how to handle his glasses with oc!

in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give a f s wc: 8.3k

— this is actually a angsty one but it shows their ups and downs as a couple and gives more insight into their relationship!

The Boy with Galaxies in his Eyes by @oddinary4bts a f s wc: 52.9k strangers to fwb to lovers au (Idol!Jungkook x TattooArtist!Reader)

Summary - you had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours? — this has a LOT of angst, i won't lie i cried a few times reading this too. the character growth in this was just so phenomenonal. i go back a lot to this and read it again and again just to re-live the story. and ofc the smut is an amazing add on toooo 😭🙌🏻

My babysitters a quarterback by @ohpretty-baby a f wc: 30k enemies to lovers high-school au (Quarterback/Babysitter!Jungkook x Cheerleader!Reader)

Summary - after getting cheated on by the star of the hockey team, park jimin, your life (as expected) goes downhill. what you don’t expect is your parents being skeptical of whether or not you’re a good older sibling for your sister. you also don’t expect them to call jeon jungkook—the person you hate most—to babysit the two of you.

or, alternatively: jungkook babysits you even though the two of you are the same age. — i love this so much oh my goshhhhh this is one of the fics which will make you laugh and cry at the same time. it's fluffy and their dynamic is absolutely adorable. it's sooooo beautifully written!! :))

Spring will come again by @baepsaesbae a f s wc: 10.9k strangers to lovers au (Photographer!Jungkook x Baker!Reader)

Summary - Springtime generally brings new beginnings, but being stuck in a small town all your life means nothing ever changes. Finally, something, or rather, someone, stumbles into your life. Can this shy boy manage to change your life forever? — everything in this just feels so warm and comforting and jk is so sweet and so precious in here. there's angst but a very cute happy ending. the writing was so well done and so well articulated!! <333

Safety Net by @pradaksj (TWO-SHOT) a f s enemies to friends to lovers roommates au (Boxer!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - On new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together. — this is one of my favorite fics ever. it's hilarious and emotional at the same time. both are literally the definition of dumb and dumber 😭 @pradaksj did a lovely job at illustrating their relationship progression. boxer jk just has my entire heart 😵‍💫🙌🏻

Be-Ghoul-Ment by @dokyeomin f wc: 10.1k idiots to lovers university au (Blonde!Jungkook × Reader)

Summary - [beguilement (noun): an entertainment that provokes pleased interest and distracts you from worries and vexations] --- You hate haunted houses more than you’ve ever hated anything. You don’t understand the appeal. But this Halloween, you decide you might hate Kim Taehyung even more. — the cutest fic ever! jk and oc both being a nervous wreck in this was so relatable 😭, and I loved the side friendships with Taehyung and Hobi. It was so sweetly crafted and left me feeling happy inside.

4K notes · View notes

kaces-graham-crackers · 23 days ago

Text

Trick or Treat, Kiss or Keep - Halloween Special

Astrid Deetz x Reader

Warning: The following themes appear in this story: Bullying, Slight Swearing, Lots of Emotional Stress, and themes leaning towards psychological horror (Please be wary if you read any further!)

Summary: You and Astrid Deetz were once close, but everything fell apart. Now on Halloween night, both are left vulnerable, forced to confront the past. Old feelings resurface, secrets are revealed, and you must navigate the emotional fallout. Be careful what you wish for—everything can change in an instant.

Word Count: 7.4k

Miss Shannon’s School for Girls was buzzing with excitement as Halloween approached. The grand halls were filled with the usual chatter. You were at the center of it all—popular, outgoing, and well-liked. People gravitated toward you, and it wasn’t something you thought too much about. It was just how things were.

But in the midst of all the noise, there was one person who barely seemed to exist in the social sphere.

Astrid Deetz.

You glanced over at her as you walked down the hall, noticing her sitting quietly by herself at the far end of the courtyard, scrolling through her phone, her headphones on. She was always in her own world, a stark contrast to the person she used to be. Once upon a time, she was your best friend. You used to share everything—laughs, secrets, and the occasional mischievous prank. But that was before everything fell apart.

Before her father died.

You sighed and turned away, focusing on your friends as they talked about the big Halloween party that everyone was buzzing about. But no matter how much you tried to stay engaged, your mind kept drifting back to her—to the person Astrid used to be, and the person she had become.

She pulled away, you reminded yourself. I tried to be there, but she didn’t want me around.

At first, you hadn’t understood why she distanced herself. You had offered her comfort, a shoulder to lean on, but she walked away. And after a while, you gave up. What was the point of trying when it seemed like she didn’t want you in her life?

But what hurt more than the loss of friendship was the realization that your feelings for her had shifted. That the crush you had ignored for so long had always been there, lingering beneath the surface. You were so used to pushing it aside that when the distance grew, it felt like you had lost more than just a friend.

Now, as you climbed the stairs toward your next class, you saw Astrid again, walking toward you, head down, focused on her phone. She wasn’t paying attention, her mind clearly elsewhere, and before you could step aside—

Crash!

The two of you collided, sending her books and papers scattering across the floor. You stumbled back, barely catching yourself as you looked up, your heart racing.

“Sorry!” you blurted out, immediately crouching down to help her pick up the things she had dropped.

Astrid didn’t even look at you, her dark hair falling over her face as she mumbled something into her phone. She seemed annoyed, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

The girls nearby—your friends—began to laugh, thinking it was all some kind of joke. Julia Ripley, ever the instigator, smirked and leaned in closer. “Nice move, Y/N. Didn’t know you were so eager to knock her down.”

You shot Julia a look, feeling the embarrassment creep up your neck. “It wasn’t on purpose,” you muttered, picking up Astrid’s phone and handing it back to her. “Sorry, Astrid.”

Astrid finally looked up, her gaze hard and distant. She grabbed the phone from your hand, barely acknowledging your apology. “Watch where you’re going,” she said, her voice sharp.

Her words cut deeper than you expected. It wasn’t like you meant to bump into her, but the coldness in her tone stung, bringing back the old wounds you thought you had buried.

“I wasn’t the one on my phone,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Astrid’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it looked like she might say something, but instead, she just shoved her things into her bag and stood up, her body tense. The girls around you snickered again, feeding off the tension.

You felt something inside you crack. It wasn’t fair—you had always been there for her. You had been the one to stand by her when her world fell apart, but she had pushed you away, and now she acted like you were nothing.

“You know,” you said, your voice louder than you intended, “I was always there for you. You’re the one who didn’t seem to want me around.”

Astrid’s face hardened, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t need you,” she spat, her voice dripping with bitterness. “I never did.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could feel the hurt bubbling up inside you, but you refused to let it show. Not in front of her. Not in front of everyone else.

Your heart shattered, but you didn’t let it show as you muttered, “I was always there for you, Astrid. Always.”

She turned to leave, her head held high, but before she could take more than a few steps, you noticed something taped to her back.

Kick Me.

Your stomach dropped as you realized what had happened. The girls—the same ones laughing at you now—had probably put it there without Astrid noticing.

You pulled the sign off her back and crumpled it in your hand. “Well, I’ll keep that noted,” you said quietly, holding back the anger that was building inside you. You pulled out a small box from your bag—the one you had been holding onto for years, unsure if you’d ever give it to her. “I promise I won’t bother you again.”

Astrid stopped, turning slightly, her expression confused as she glanced at the box you were offering. You handed it off to her and for a moment, it looked like she might say something, but she stayed silent, watching as you walked away, leaving her standing there, the crumpled sign still in your hand.

Without you there to shield her from the worst of it, the bullying came back with full force, creeping into every corner of Astrid's life. It started slowly at first—a whisper in the hallway, a subtle snicker behind her back. The same girls who had once stuck close to her, laughing with her at lunch, had turned on her, mocking her with cruel smiles. They no longer treated her like one of them. Instead, she became their favorite target

"Bad friend." "Such a freak." "Dick."

The names came faster, louder, no longer just murmurs. They trailed behind her as she walked to class, a never-ending barrage of taunts and jeers. Each one stung, each word a reminder of how quickly she had fallen from whatever thin pedestal she had once stood on. The girls would throw fake smiles her way in passing, only to tear her down the second she was out of earshot.

In gym class, they’d intentionally leave her out, pretending not to see her as they picked teams. At lunch, the spot they had once saved for her at their table was gone, replaced by smug looks and snide comments.

"Guess you're sitting alone again," Julia Ripley sneered one day, loud enough for everyone in the cafeteria to hear. The rest of the group erupted into laughter, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Astrid clenched her fists, her stomach turning as she moved to the far corner of the room, sitting at a table by herself. It wasn’t like she was ever one to seek attention, but the isolation stung in a way she hadn’t expected. It reminded her of everything she had lost. Of you.

You were the one who had kept the worst of this away from her. You had stood between her and their cruelty, even when she didn’t notice it. Even when she had been too blinded by her grief and her anger to see that you were protecting her all along.

The realization hit her hard one evening, as she walked through the hallways after class. She overheard one of the girls laughing with her friends. "God, remember when Y/N used to hang around with her? I swear that's the only reason people didn't mess with her back then."

Another voice chimed in, "Yeah, totally. Y/N was the only one keeping her from being a total loser."

Astrid’s heart sank. It wasn’t just their words—it was the truth behind them. You had been her shield, the one person who had protected her from the relentless bullying that was now pouring in from every direction. And she had pushed you away, thinking she didn’t need anyone. Thinking she didn’t need you.

But now? She was alone.

The girls who once stood by her side had turned into her tormentors, and the rest of the school followed suit, treating her like an outsider. The isolation weighed on her more than she ever thought it could. She found herself dreading every moment at Miss Shannon's, wondering when the next sneer, the next insult, would come. She had no one to turn to now—no one to sit with at lunch, no one to talk to during class. The people she once thought were her friends had abandoned her the moment it became convenient.

And you? You were the only one who had ever been real. The only one who had cared, even when she didn’t deserve it. Even when she had lashed out, pushing you away with cruel words. The memory of the argument echoed in her mind, the way you had looked at her with hurt in your eyes, the way she had said things she could never take back.

"I don’t need you. I never did."

The words tasted bitter now, and the weight of what she had done gnawed at her. How wrong she had been. She didneed you—she always had. But she had thrown that away, and now she was facing the consequences.

Every cruel word, every mocking glance, every laugh behind her back—it all felt like punishment. And she wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take.

One evening, as Astrid sat at her desk, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on her, she noticed the small box you had given her earlier that week. She had shoved it aside after your argument, not even considering opening it at the time. But now, with everything swirling around her—guilt, regret, and the growing realization of her mistakes—her curiosity got the better of her.

With trembling hands, she reached for the box, her fingers brushing against the lid. A part of her didn’t want to open it, knowing that whatever was inside would only remind her of what she had lost. But another part of her—a part that missed you more than she cared to admit—couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Slowly, she lifted the lid.

Inside was something she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just any piece of jewelry or a token of the past—it was a small animal tooth, crafted into a pendant. The sight of it hit her like a wave, memories flooding back instantly.

She remembered the day you had found it, the two of you exploring the woods near the school, laughing as you pretended to be on some grand adventure. You had stumbled upon the tooth—an old keepsake of the forest, worn and weathered—and immediately decided to keep it. She hadn’t thought much of it back then, but you had been adamant, saying it would bring you both good luck.

And now, etched into the bone, were the letters “Y/I/H x AD 4Ever.” A promise, a bond that had once seemed unbreakable.

Astrid’s fingers traced the engraving, her heart sinking as the weight of the memory settled over her. The late-night conversations, the shared laughter, the sense of belonging she had only ever felt with you—it all came rushing back, tinged with the bitter sting of regret.

Why did I push you away? she thought bitterly, gripping the bone tightly in her hand. Why did I let this all fall apart?

She clenched her jaw, trying to hold back the wave of emotions crashing through her. She had been so angry, so hurt after her father’s death, that she had pushed you away without a second thought. She had convinced herself that she didn’t need you—that she didn’t need anyone. But now, looking at this simple, meaningful piece from a time when things had been so much easier, so much better, she realized how wrong she had been.

You were always there, she thought. And I threw it all away.

Astrid’s grip tightened on the pendant as her guilt deepened. She didn’t deserve your friendship. Not after everything she had said, everything she had done.

Later that night, as Astrid sat at her desk, her thoughts clouded with memories and guilt, she heard a faint rustling at her door. The soft sound barely registered over the hum of her own mind, but when she glanced down, she saw an envelope—plain, black, and unmarked—slipped under the doorframe.

Curious, she picked it up, turning it over in her hands. There was no name, no sign of who it was from. She opened it slowly, pulling out a glossy, printed invitation:

Halloween Party at Julia Ripley’s House This Saturday—Be there or be forgotten.

Astrid scoffed under her breath. Of course, it was from Julia. It was always her, throwing lavish parties and acting like she owned the school. The thought of going made her stomach turn. The idea of being surrounded by people who whispered about her behind her back, who made her feel like an outsider in every room she entered—people like Julia and her friends—it was the last thing she wanted.

She tossed the invitation aside, rolling her eyes at the pretentiousness of it all. What’s the point of showing up to something where you’re only going to be mocked?

Astrid hadn’t been to a party in ages, and she had no interest in the social scene anymore. Not after everything that had happened. The halls of Miss Shannon’s were already hard enough to navigate, and the idea of facing the crowd outside of school, where the insults weren’t whispered but spat directly in her face, was exhausting.

But then, a stray comment floated through her memory—something she had overheard in the hall earlier that day.

"Yeah, Y/N’s definitely going to Julia’s party," one of the girls had said, laughing about how they couldn’t wait to see what costume you would wear.

Astrid’s heart had lurched at the mention of your name, and now, it did again. You were going.

She bit her lip, glancing at the small black box still open on her desk. The pendant inside—the one with the animal tooth and your initials intertwined with hers—sat there, a reminder of what she had thrown away. The realization that you had never really given up on her, even when she had given up on herself, had shaken her to her core.

The guilt had been gnawing at her for days now, ever since you had walked away from her after your argument in the hallway. She hadn’t wanted to admit it then, but it hurt, knowing how badly she had hurt you. She had pushed you away in her darkest moments, convinced she didn’t need anyone, least of all you. But now, she couldn’t stop thinking about what she had lost.

You were always there for me, and I was the one who left you. The thought kept repeating itself in her mind, over and over again, a painful truth she could no longer ignore.

And now…you were going to be at that party. The chance to see you, to explain, to finally apologize for everything she had done, made her heart race. Maybe—just maybe—this could be her chance to make things right.

She stood up from her desk, pacing her small dorm room as she debated what to do. Part of her wanted to forget about it, to hide away in her room like she always did these days, to avoid the crowd and the stares and the inevitable whispers. But another part of her—a deeper, more desperate part—wanted to see you. She needed to see you.

What if this was her only chance? What if you never spoke to her again? What if the door she had slammed shut so long ago could finally be cracked open, even if just a little?

The thought of you, of the friendship—and maybe more—that she had ruined weighed heavily on her chest.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, her heart heavy with indecision. Could she really face you after everything?

The memory of your face, hurt and betrayed during your last confrontation, flashed in her mind. She had been so cruel, so blinded by her own grief and anger, that she hadn’t realized how much she was hurting you in return. But you had never stopped trying. You had never given up on her, even when she had been at her worst.

And that necklace—the pendant—it was proof. Proof that, even now, you still cared.

Astrid looked at the invitation again, staring at it for a long moment. She had no idea what she would say if she saw you, no idea if you’d even want to hear her out. But she couldn’t hide forever. She couldn’t keep running from the mistakes she had made.

Her fingers tightened around the invitation, determination creeping into her chest. She would go to that party. She would see you. She would find a way to apologize, to make things right, no matter how difficult it might be.

But what she didn’t know—what she couldn’t have known—was that the party wouldn’t be what she expected. Nothing could have prepared her for what was waiting for her when she walked through the doors of Julia’s house.

The night of the Halloween party arrived, and Astrid found herself standing at the bottom of the grand, sloping driveway of Julia’s house. She looked up at the looming structure, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and dread. The house, which always had an air of old-world elegance, had been transformed for the occasion. Black and orange streamers lined the walkway, fake cobwebs clung to the trees, and glowing jack-o’-lanterns grinned wickedly from every corner.

The house itself was a strange sight—a looming, gothic-style mansion with towering spires and a stone façade that seemed to absorb the moonlight. It looked like it had been plucked straight from a haunted movie set, with vines creeping up its walls and the shadow of bare, twisted branches looming overhead. The front porch had been decorated with fake tombstones and skeletal figures, and the grand windows glowed brightly from the lights inside, cutting through the eerie atmosphere.

Despite the elaborate decorations, it was the sheer size of the house that made it unsettling. It felt as though the windows watched her, almost as if the house itself had its own pulse—one that beat in time with the heavy, thumping bass of the music coming from inside.

Astrid hesitated, lingering at the edge of the driveway. She could hear laughter and chatter filtering out through the open windows, the muffled sound of party-goers enjoying themselves. Everyone was probably in some over-the-top costume, laughing and taking pictures, oblivious to the person standing outside, contemplating whether she should go in.

Her grip tightened around her phone, the weight of the invitation pulling at her again. You’ll be there, she reminded herself. Maybe this is my chance.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and made her way up the steps. The porch creaked beneath her feet as she approached the door. A skeleton animatronic on the porch swung its bony arm, a hollow, mechanical laugh escaping its jaws as it greeted her arrival. She forced herself to ignore the knot of unease forming in her stomach and pushed open the door.

Inside, the party was in full swing. The interior of the house was just as elaborately decorated as the outside—blood-red lighting washed over the grand foyer, casting long, eerie shadows against the walls. A giant chandelier hung overhead, draped in fake cobwebs, while ghostly figures dangled from the ceiling. The air smelled like a mix of too-sweet candy and perfume, and the sound of people talking and laughing filled the space, almost drowning out the pulsing music that seemed to shake the floor beneath her feet.

She stood just inside the doorway, scanning the room for a familiar face. But she didn’t see you. Instead, all she saw were people dressed in elaborate costumes—vampires, witches, zombies—mingling in groups, none of them even noticing she had arrived. A part of her wanted to turn around and leave, but she stayed, rooted in place, determined to find you.

Astrid kept to the shadows, moving along the walls to avoid drawing attention to herself. She wasn’t here to socialize or make small talk—she was here for one reason, and that was to find you and apologize. The weight of everything she had done, everything she had said, hung heavy on her chest. She didn’t know if you would forgive her, but she needed to try.

Suddenly, the music cut off.

Astrid froze, her heart skipping a beat as the house plunged into silence. The chatter of the guests grew quieter, murmurs of confusion rippling through the crowd. For a moment, all that could be heard was the soft rustle of costumes and the shuffling of feet. Then, the lights went out, plunging the entire room into complete darkness.

Gasps echoed around her, followed by the sound of people shifting uncomfortably. There was an eerie stillness in the air, as if the entire house was holding its breath. Astrid felt her pulse quicken, her hand instinctively reaching into her pocket for her phone.

Suddenly, the sound of a recorded voice crackled through the speakers, filling the dark space. It wasn’t the music that had been playing before. Instead, it was the sound of people gasping and whispering, their voices faint but filled with an edge of fear. It was as if the very walls of the house had come alive, replaying the reactions of the party guests as they stood in the dark.

Astrid’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t like this—not one bit.

She stood in the corner, frozen, unsure of what to do as the whispers and gasps continued to play on repeat. For a moment, she wondered if it was just part of the Halloween decor—some kind of haunted house effect Julia had set up to scare the guests. But something about it felt off.

She pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight to cut through the darkness. The bright beam of light flickered as it swept across the room, illuminating the faces of mannequins—twisted, grotesque mannequins—that had been scattered throughout the house. They stood motionless, positioned in strange, unnatural poses, their faces twisted into eerie, silent screams. Some had limbs missing, others had blood-red paint dripping down their plastic faces. Each one had a sign hung around its neck, scrawled in dripping red letters.

Bad Friend. Liar. Asshole.

The words stared back at her, harsh and biting, like cruel accusations carved into the very mannequins themselves. Astrid’s stomach twisted with unease. The mannequins hadn’t been there before, had they? She would have noticed. Right?

As she swept her phone’s light across the room, her breath quickened. More mannequins lined the walls, their distorted figures positioned in grotesque mockery of real people. It was as if they were watching her, judging her. And the worst part? Every single mannequin bore a name—her name.

Astrid Deetz.

It was written on every sign, alongside the cruel words: Bad Friend. Asshole. Dick.

Astrid felt a lump form in her throat, her heart racing as panic began to settle in. This wasn’t just part of the Halloween decor. This was something more. Something meant to get under her skin, to humiliate her in front of everyone.

Her hands trembled as she turned in place, the light from her phone casting long shadows on the floor. She could hear the recorded voices growing louder now—mocking whispers, cruel laughter, as if the house itself was laughing at her. The walls seemed to close in around her, the once festive atmosphere now twisted into something sinister.

Astrid’s breath came in ragged gasps as the reality of the situation sank in. This was a prank. A cruel, calculated prank, meant to make her feel like she was nothing. And it was working.

She stumbled backward, her legs shaky as she tried to move away from the mannequins, her light flickering as it caught more of the red-painted words.

BAD FRIEND. ASSHOLE. YOU DESERVE THIS.

The whispers in the recording grew louder, harsher, until they were ringing in her ears, drowning out her thoughts. She pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block out the noise, but it only seemed to get louder.

And then—right in front of her, projected on the wall—was the worst thing of all.

A photo of you, standing with Julia Ripley, her arms draped over you, leaning in as if to kiss you. You were blurred, but the image was clear enough. It was meant to look like you and Julia were together—meant to hurt her, to break her down even more.

Astrid’s knees buckled as she collapsed to the floor, her heart shattering at the sight. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath, tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to scream, to tear down the image, to run. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

She could only sit there, frozen in place, as the world around her fell apart.

The party had dragged on, and you were on the verge of giving up. Astrid hadn’t shown, and as the hours passed, the hope you’d been clinging to slowly dissolved. You were about to grab a drink, resigned to the idea that maybe tonight wasn’t the night to fix things, when something strange caught your eye.

A crowd had gathered around the large TV in the corner of the room. It wasn’t the usual video games or party antics playing on the screen—it was something different. Something wrong. The air in the room felt heavier, the laughter quieting into hushed whispers, and you pushed your way through the crowd, anxiety creeping up your spine as you tried to get a better view.

And then, you saw it.

On the screen was a live feed of Astrid, kneeling in the middle of some dark, abandoned room. Her body was shaking, her hands covering her face as she sobbed uncontrollably. In front of her, projected on the wall, was a cruel, photoshopped image—you with Julia Ripley, standing too close, her lips almost touching yours. The sight of it hit you like a punch to the chest, the knot of horror tightening in your stomach. This wasn’t some innocent prank. This was deliberate. This was cruel.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and the reality of what was happening crashed down on you all at once. They had set her up. This wasn’t a party invitation—this was a trap, designed to humiliate Astrid, to break her down in front of everyone. Julia Ripley was behind this.

You whirled around, scanning the room, your blood boiling as you spotted Julia, sitting comfortably in a lavish chair she had dragged out—her "prom queen" chair, a symbol of her self-obsessed reign over the social scene. She was sitting at the front, watching Astrid’s breakdown on the screen with a smug expression plastered on her face, completely unaware of the rage building inside you.

Without thinking, you stormed toward her, anger boiling over with every step. Julia saw you coming, and before you could even speak, she reached out, her arm moving to wrap itself around you in a flirtatious, almost possessive way. She looked at you with a sly grin, as if she expected you to join her in her twisted satisfaction.

But you were beyond furious.

“You went too far,” you said, your voice low and sharp, your hands clenched into fists as you shoved her hand off you, disgusted. “When you said you invited her, you meant to a prank party, didn’t you?”

Julia’s smirk faltered. Her hand recoiled, but she tried to play it off, huffing in annoyance as she leaned back in her chair. “She deserved it,” she snapped, her voice dripping with condescension. “After the way she treated you, how can you still defend her? You deserve better.”

You couldn’t believe the audacity, and the rage inside you boiled over.

You clenched your fists tighter, every muscle in your body trembling with anger. “Deserve better?” you echoed, your voice shaking with barely controlled fury. “I could never be your girlfriend—I’m in love with Astrid! I always have been, and I always will be.”

Julia’s eyes widened in shock, and a hush fell over the room. The words left your mouth before you could stop them, but you didn’t care. You had held it in for too long, and now it was out, ringing in the air for everyone to hear.

“I’ve always been in love with Astrid Deetz,” you repeated, your voice firm, filled with emotion. “Because unlike everyone else in this room, she’s real. She’s the realest fucking person I’ve ever met. Yeah, she can be a dick sometimes, but she’s mourning. She’s going through life with a mother who is too busy to acknowledge her and a father who was the only person who ever truly understood her, now gone forever.”

The room was dead silent now. You could feel every pair of eyes on you, but all you could think about was Astrid—how broken she had looked, sobbing on her knees in that abandoned house.

“At least Astrid’s dad loved her for who she was, not for what she could do for him,” you continued, your voice growing louder, more passionate with every word. “He didn’t need her to win some meaningless trophies to impress other middle-aged women going through their midlife crises.”

Julia’s smug expression melted away as your words hit her like a sledgehammer, her face paling as tears welled up in her eyes. The entire crowd stood frozen, the weight of your words settling over them like a heavy cloud.

Everyone was silent. The only sound that remained was the faint, echoing sobs from the live feed of Astrid on the TV.

You turned back to the screen, the tears now welling up in your own eyes as you heard the sound of Astrid’s broken confessions playing over the speakers. Her voice, fragile and filled with regret, crackled through the room, cutting through the silence like a blade.

“Where is she?” you demanded, your voice shaking. You turned back to Julia, who had nothing left to say. She stared at you, tears streaming down her face, but you had no sympathy for her. You didn’t care about her tears.

All that mattered was Astrid.

Julia stammered, trying to pull herself together, but she was too flustered to form words. You couldn’t wait any longer. You needed to find Astrid, and you needed to find her now.

Without another word, you rushed toward the door, your heart racing as you prepared yourself for what came next. Astrid was out there, alone, broken, and you weren’t going to let her suffer any longer. You had to save her.

As you sprinted through the streets, your heart racing, you couldn’t stop thinking about Astrid—how broken she looked, how badly you needed to find her. You heard snippets of her confession playing on the live feed, her voice choked with emotion as she admitted her guilt and sorrow.

“I was a terrible friend,” she sobbed. “I didn’t deserve her… She was always there, but I pushed her away. I didn’t know how to handle it… And now, it’s too late. I’m so sorry.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you heard her words. You had to get to her. Now.

Miraculously, You had found the abandoned building. This was the second option for the Halloween party if Julia’s dad wasn’t leaving for a yacht trip. You vaguely remember the room Astrid was in and raced through the abandoned house, your heart pounding. The air was thick with the smell of decay, and the dimly lit hallways were littered with mannequin limbs and scattered decorations. The floor creaked beneath your feet as you pushed open a cracked door, your chest tightening with fear.

“I don’t deserve her… I pushed her away because I didn’t know how to deal with it…,” Astrid’s voice, thick with emotion, echoed through the room as you sprinted through the dark hallways of the abandoned house. Her confession played on the live feed, each word pulling at your heart. Tears pricked your eyes as you heard the depth of her regret, and with every step, the urgency to find her grew.

You finally pushed through the door, in the center of the room, under the faint flickering red lighting of the chandelier, Astrid was kneeling. Her face was buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed uncontrollably in front of the photoshopped image of you and Julia. You could feel the anger bubbling inside you, wanting to scream at Julia for orchestrating this awful setup, for making Astrid feel so broken. But as soon as you saw Astrid, all that mattered was getting to her.

You knelt beside her, gently placing a trembling hand on her shoulder. Astrid flinched at the touch, her body tensing, but when she looked up and saw it was you, her devastated expression deepened.

“Why are you here?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You shouldn’t have come… You don’t need to see me like this.”

Your throat tightened as you fought to keep your voice steady. “I’m here because I care, Astrid. I’ve always cared.”

She shook her head, her eyes filled with regret and self-loathing. “I don’t deserve your care. I don’t deserve you.” She let out a broken laugh, her voice raw with guilt. “I’ve been horrible to you. I said… I said I didn’t need you, but I didn’t mean it. I was just so angry at everything—at the world, at myself.”

Her words cut deep, but you could see the pain behind them. The guilt had been gnawing at her, consuming her from the inside, and now, as you knelt beside her, you realized just how much she had been carrying alone.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “ I know you didn’t mean those things. You were grieving, and I should have understood that. But I never stopped caring, Astrid. I never gave up on you.”

Astrid looked at you, wide-eyed and tearful, her breath catching in her throat. “But I was so awful to you…” she choked out, her hands shaking.

“You were hurting,” you said, gently wiping the tears from her cheek. “And I know that now. But I’m here, Astrid. I’m still here.”

Her sobs began to quiet against your shoulder, her body trembling as the weight of everything she’d carried finally seemed to lift, if only slightly. For so long, she had been drowning in her pain, and you could feel the relief in the way she clung to you, her fingers gripping your shirt like you were her lifeline, afraid to let go in case she sank back into the darkness.

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, letting her sobs subside into quiet, steady breaths. Your hand moved gently through her hair, offering her the comfort she had denied herself for so long.

“I’ve been so stupid,” she whispered eventually, her voice hoarse and heavy with regret. “I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to handle anything anymore. I was angry. I was scared… and instead of asking for help, I turned into someone I hate.”

Your heart ached at her words, hearing how much she had struggled, all the while shutting you out. But now, here she was, vulnerable, her walls crumbling around her as she finally let you in.

“You were hurting, Astrid,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. And I forgive you. We can fix this.”

Her eyes searched yours, wide and tear-filled, as if trying to grasp the truth of your words. “But how can you forgive me after everything? I treated you like you didn’t matter. I threw away our friendship, pushed you out of my life… How do we come back from that?”

You smiled gently, brushing away another tear that escaped down her cheek. “We come back from it by starting right here, right now. You’re not alone anymore. I’m not going anywhere.”

Astrid’s lip quivered, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against yours, her breath shaky as she let out a soft sigh. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmured, her voice breaking with emotion. “But I’m so grateful you’re here.”

You smiled, tightening your embrace around her. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be, Astrid. With you.”

She closed her eyes, resting her head against your shoulder again, her grip on your shirt loosening as she let herself relax for the first time in what felt like forever. The tension between you faded, replaced by the quiet comfort of being together—finally, after so much time and distance.

As the sound of her steady breaths filled the room, you realized that it wasn’t just the apology or the confession that mattered. It was the fact that you were still here, together, ready to rebuild what had been broken.

“We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, your voice gentle but firm. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Astrid nodded against your shoulder, her body calming as the weight of her guilt began to lift. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a second chance with you,” she said, her voice raw but grateful. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

You pulled her even closer, holding her tight as your heart swelled with love and relief. “You don’t have to do it alone,” you whispered softly. “We’ll do it together.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Astrid let herself believe that maybe—just maybe—things could be okay again.

After a long, tear-filled confession, you and Astrid left the abandoned house. The chilly night air hit your skin, the weight of the tension left behind in that eerie place still hanging in the air. The house itself, with its broken windows and crumbling walls, seemed to watch you both as you walked away. Its dim, flickering lights and twisted mannequins were now just a distant memory, but their haunting presence clung to you. The cracked door creaked one last time before closing behind you.

The air felt heavier, but for the first time in a long while, there was also something new between you—hope.

You guided Astrid back to your place, her hand tucked into yours. She was silent most of the way, her fingers tightening around yours every so often, as if she was afraid you might disappear. The long walk through the dark, empty streets felt almost comforting after the night’s emotional chaos, the streetlights flickering softly, casting long shadows on the ground as you both walked side by side.

When you finally arrived at your house, the warmth of the familiar environment enveloped you. Your parents were already asleep, the quiet hum of the house wrapping around you like a protective blanket. You led Astrid to your room, offering her a soft smile as you turned on the small lamp by your bed.

“Come on, let’s get you settled,” you said gently, watching as Astrid glanced around the room with an almost shy expression. She looked so different now—vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. But there was also a kind of peace in her eyes, like she was finally letting herself breathe again.

You both climbed into your bed, wrapping yourselves in the warm blankets, and for the first time in what felt like forever, things felt... okay. You lay next to each other, sharing quiet conversation as the weight of the night slowly faded away.

At one point, you admitted, “I heard most of your confession, you know.”

Astrid stiffened beside you, her eyes widening as she turned to face you, clearly embarrassed. “You did?”

You nodded, your gaze soft. “I did. And I’m glad I heard it, Astrid. I needed to know how much you’ve been hurting.”

Astrid’s face twisted in regret, but before she could speak, you gently wrapped an arm around her. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “You don’t have to say anything else. I’m just glad you’re here.”

She held onto you tightly after that, her body relaxing against yours as the tension melted away. But then, as you shifted slightly to make room, Astrid’s hand gripped your shirt, stopping you from moving any further. You blinked, confused for a moment, until she pulled you back toward her.

And before you could even react, she crashed her lips against yours.

The kiss was soft at first—gentle, almost hesitant as if she was testing the waters. But soon, it deepened, growing more heated and passionate. Her hands tangled in your shirt, pulling you closer as her lips moved against yours, and you responded in kind, matching her intensity.

The kiss turned sloppy, her fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt, tugging you closer. The heat between you both was palpable, the passion years in the making, but just as things started to intensify, there was a sudden creak at the door.

Your mother.

The door opened slightly, and Astrid, in a panic, shoved you so hard you fell right off the bed with a soft thud.

“Oh my goodness!” your mom squealed from the doorway, her eyes bright with surprise. “Astrid, honey, is that you?” She didn’t seem to notice you, sprawled out on the floor, as she focused entirely on Astrid. “Are you staying over tonight? I’m so glad to see you back!”

Astrid, flustered and embarrassed, stammered, “Uh, no—no, ma’am. I’m not staying.”

Your mom beamed, already half out the door. “Well, you must stay for dinner. You’re looking a bit thin! I’ll go tell your father to break out the good china tonight! It’s so good to see you again, sweetie!” With that, she closed the door, leaving the two of you in stunned silence.

Astrid peered over the edge of the bed, looking down at you with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”

You, still dazed from the sudden shove and your mother’s enthusiastic surprise, could only mutter, “You kissed me…”

Astrid burst out laughing, rolling onto her back as she covered her face with her hands. Her laughter was light and mischievous, her embarrassment melting away into something playful. “Duh,” she said between laughs. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You stared up at her, feeling a mix of disbelief and affection swirl in your chest.

“Now,” Astrid said, her laughter still bubbling in her voice, “come on back up here so I can ruin your dinner with some more sweets.”

Grinning, you scrambled back into bed, leaning in to kiss her again, the warmth of her lips meeting yours once more. This time, the kiss was slow, sweet, and filled with everything you hadn’t been able to say before. It was perfect.

The next day at school, the change was obvious. People stared as you and Astrid walked through the halls hand-in-hand. The whispers didn’t bother you. They couldn’t. Not when Astrid was right there beside you, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You walked her to class, stealing a quick kiss before she disappeared inside. She blushed slightly but smiled at you as she waved you off.

As Astrid made her way through the day, she started to notice something—the bullying had stopped. There were no cruel whispers, no mocking looks. Instead, people seemed wary, like they knew something had shifted but couldn’t quite place it.

Later, after classes, Astrid found you waiting for her by the lockers. She was curious, the confusion evident on her face as she asked, “What happened today? Did you… do something?”

You shrugged casually, pulling out your phone and showing her a video. It was of you, roasting Julia Ripley in front of everyone at the Halloween party the night before. You had confronted her, tearing into her with the same fiery passion that had always defined you.

Astrid’s mouth dropped open, completely gobsmacked as she watched the video. “You did this?”

You smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. “I just kept it real. Like you would.”

Astrid’s shocked expression slowly morphed into a smirk. She leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, whispering, "Guess I’m rubbing off on you...knew I would eventually." leaving you blushing as she walked ahead, as you followed suit.

#x y/n #x fem!reader #x female reader #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #wednesday addams x fem reader #wednesday addams x reader #reader insert #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x you #astrid deetz x reader #astrid deetz #kaces-spooky-corner

235 notes · View notes