#dare i say a miracle of a character

[gael-garcia]

The magazine rated her as "a woman afraid to claim her freedom." Luisa didn't agree.

Maribel Verdú as Luisa Cortés in Y tu mamá también (2001)

[kaiser1ns]

𝗶𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗿𝗶𝗻 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

╹synopsis :: in an attempt to win once again, rin is betrayed by his own children who seemed to love their mother more.

╹contents :: domestic life with rin, characters are 25 years old, FLUFF, the kids betrayed rin wopsie, personal headcanon is that when he grows up he tends to be more gentle but only for you tho <3

╹notes :: posting this and going into hibernation again , I am cooking up some fics and drabbles tho

Never in your life would you have guessed and expected that you would have a family not with anyone, but with Itoshi Rin. The sixteen year old boy who ignored your existence but always gave you his English notes. The boy who always listened to your complaining during breaks, that you are thirsty or hungry and when you left the classroom and came back there was always a strawberry milk with a chocolate cupcake on your desk.

The boy who is now your husband, a successful young footballer who at only 25 years of age has a lot of achievements — in career and personal paths of course. Winning another treble with his team, he had a break during the summertime where he could spend more time with you and the twins — Haruto and Hinata.

Rin had never thought he would be a good father, that he would be a father at all if he was being honest with himself. But the miracle happened and now there are two little nine-month-old babies waiting to be fed sitting in their high chairs.

You sit at the kitchen table, feeding Haruto and Hinata their breakfast while Rin sips his coffee, a soft smile adoring his now more matured face as he watches the three of you. He was smitten by how fast you adapted to parenthood because just twenty years ago you were kids playing house taking care of the many baby dolls you had and now the game came into life.

"He's trying to stand again," you say, glancing over at Haruto, who's attempting to pull himself up on the edge of his high chair.

Rin looks over at his son, who looks exactly like you, but can't get by without the genes and the visible lower eyelashes. "Hinata's been babbling non stop. I swear she probably got that from you." Setting his cup down wiping the mashed potatoes from his daughter's mouth. As for her, she is Rin's copy , as you sometimes tend to joke that Rin and Hinata look more like twins instead of her brother.

Rolling your eyes at his comment as Haruto took another spoon of the puree. "Well, it's good that she is trying to say her first words." Looking at your husband with this glint in your eyes that now spark and he just knows that this stare is up for no good. "But with you always staying quiet, I think, it will take her way more time to say the two syllables."

Rin raised an eyebrow. "Careful who you are challenging now." As the babies giggle and play with their food, you and him engage in a staring contest, each silently daring the other to back down.

"I bet Haruto will walk first," you declared confidently, eyeing the little boy as he was just playing with his food along with his sister. Rin scoffed, furrowing his brows as he crossed his arms. "Hinata will definitely beat him to it. She's already trying to stand on her own and talk."

Just then, amidst the 'fight' a glob of potato puree escapes Haruto's grasp and lands on Rin's shirt, much to your amusement and his dismay.

"See, even your son disagrees with you," you replied, unable to contain your laughter as you got a napkin to wipe the mess off your husband's shirt.

Rin's expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his annoyance. "Looks like Haruto is already making his own statements," he remarked, glancing down in an attempt to be angry at his son for throwing the mashed potatoes but he just couldn't. Not when he looked so cute, with his little baby eyes that were the same color as yours, it was really scary how each of you had a little copy of yourself.

"Maybe he's trying to tell us that he's ready for solid foods," You joked, reaching for another napkin to clean up the rest of the mess on your son's chair.

Rin shook his head, going to take a sip of his cold coffee, "Or maybe he's just following in his mother's steps to be a troublemaker." he teased, earning a playful swat on the arm from you making him nearly choke. "Oh, please! Just because I had detention twice in highschool doesn't mean anything."

"And why did you have detention?" That you didn't like to answer because he will again make fun of you for doing it when you were kids. "You know why, Rinnie."

He actually doesn't know because they didn't want the reputation of the school to be tarnished and kept it secret between the teachers and people involved.

"How lukewarm, and I wanted to show our kids who not to take an example from." Rin said, reaching out to tickle Haruto's chubby cheeks as if seeking his son's support in his quest for answers. A small smile playing on your lips despite your attempt to stay neutral. "Fine, fine. I may have... uh, taken matters into my own hands when some idiots decided to talk shit about you," you admitted shyly, trying to downplay the seriousness of the situation.

Rin's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You got detention for defending me?" he couldn't believe it, actually he can, sometimes you get aggressive, be it because of people who shit talk him, a video game, or the fact that your favorite flavor of ice cream was out of stock. "That's... You are actually insane."

For once you expected something romantic to come out of his mouth but having big expectations can only let you down. You didn't mind though, that was his way of showing his appreciation and apparently it was sarcasm with witty remarks. "Well, you know, I couldn't just stand by and let them bully you," you mumbled, busying yourself with cleaning up Hinata's highchair now, trying to avoid further discussion on the topic. "At least they stopped messing around with you."

Rin reached over, gently lifting your chin with his finger to meet his gaze. "Thank you, Y/N," the tenderness in his voice and the love in his eyes told you enough. And you felt sixteen again when you got your first kiss. Leaning closer his nose touching yours, his lips barely brushing against yours , suddenly the babies started crying, interrupting the moment. With a soft sigh, you pulled away, smiling apologetically at Rin before rushing to attend to the crying babies. Rin glared at the twins for momentarily stealing his wife's attention. And he wonders, from where did they get to be so clingy?

Changed and cleaned, Haruto and Hinata played with their toys on the soft rug in the living room, as you and Rin sat on the couch, enjoying a rare moment of relaxation and not changing diapers or removing food from your clothes but instead watched Mickey Mouse Club House.

Suddenly, your attention was drawn to Hinata, who was attempting to pull herself up using the fence of their playing crib. "Look, Rin, she's trying to stand!" Y/N exclaimed, excitement evident in her voice. Didn't Rin bet on Hinata being the first to talk? “Quick open your camera, if I don't have this moment recorded, I swear Itoshi!”

Rin quickly reached for his phone as you went inside the mini playground. "It's recording, calm down," he said, already tapping on the record button.

Hinata wobbled on her tiny legs, her little giggles with a gasp of surprise, she took her first uncertain steps, stumbling slightly before falling into Y/N's waiting arms.

Your heart swelled with joy as you hugged Hinata close. "You did it, sweetheart! You took your first steps!"

Meanwhile, Haruto, who had been watching his sister intently, seemed to be trying to do something. Suddenly, he blurted out, "Mama!"

You and your husband exchanged stunned glances, eyes wide with disbelief. "Did he just...?" Rin trailed off as he was trying to process everything.

"I think he did," you replied, voice trembling with emotion. Tears of happiness welled up in your eyes as you looked at Rin, Haruto crawling to you as you placed Hinata on your left.

Rin's expression mirrored yours as he stared at the children, phone still in his hand, "I can't believe it,”

“Me too… Our babies grew so fast, oh my I need to call both of our moms and tell them about this!”

“They prefer you instead of me...” As you reached for your phone, Rin pouted "I didn't know I had 3 babies instead of 2." His mock hurt expression made you burst into laughter.

Grinning, you teased, "Well, Haruto seems to be leaning towards Mama, but don't worry, I'm sure Hinata's first word will be Dada."

As if on cue, Hinata reached out towards Rin, her tiny fingers curling around his shirt sleeve. Rin's heart melted at the sight, and he scooped her up into his arms, pressing a kiss to her rosy cheek. "Looks like she's already practicing saying 'Dada'," you said, unable to hide the happy tone in your voice. One thing was for sure that Hinata was daddy's girl and you will practice saying da-da just for Rin to have his moment of glory.

“Do you want to go to call Isagi and brag about our kids?"

"Absolutely.”

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[13knowge]

Hi. For a long time i thought this was pretty weird (?) but after doing more research i found out that many people shared it and it made me pretty happy, i found a part on the internet pretty funny and i want to have fun too.

I'm not very good at English but i tried my best getting a little help.

So, these are my favorite OP characters and some headcanons i have of them of how they are when they are in love or in a relationship.

CW: SFW / KINK

Kaido

Kaido in love can get pretty scary, he knows he's scary and uses it to make fun of you. He also invades your personal space.

When he is drunk he seeks physical contact, sometimes he doesn't measure his strength and you get to feel a bit of discomfort to his grip.

He doesn't care if his subordinates are present or not when he shows his affection towards you, he likes to show you off.

His way of flirting is to take you on his ship to accompany him to eliminate his enemies, he wants to show you how strong he is and the respect his crew has for him.

In intimacy he likes to use intimidation and point out how small you are and that he could tear you apart if he wanted to.

Rob Lucci

He definitely chases you everywhere, no matter where you go, he will follow your footsteps wherever you decide to go. You will never be out of his vision. It's not that he distrusts you, he trusts you wholeheartedly, it's just that his favorite activity is to always be with you even though he recognizes that you need your "space".

He spies and reports on every person who approaches you to know if they are to be trusted. Regardless of your opinion, that is up to him to decide.

It will be better for everyone's sake that no one dares to even draw a tear from you or else he will commit the most violent and bloody murder. Eventually you will realize that this person has disappeared.

He doesn't show you affection in front of others, for him that's too private, but he also doesn't bother if it's you who shows some kind of affection, in that case, he doesn't ignore you.

When it's just the two of you alone, he never lets go, he's a cat that climbs on top of you to lick your neck.

During sex he has absolute control over your body, he knows perfectly where to touch you and how to make you go crazy. He uses his hybrid form to leave marks like scratches and some bites.

On special occasions he likes to be treated as a pet and to wear a collar to dominate him and follow your orders.

Shanks

He is very attentive and dedicated, he treats you with great delicacy and gentleness. Very gentlemanly.

He will always give you the best of the best, you will never be disappointed. He looks for the best treasures to be your property.

He will make you laugh many times, he is a very funny man, especially when he is drunk.

All the time he is talking about you. Even when he fights with his enemies, before finishing them he presumes that he has to leave quickly because he has to kiss someone.

He recognizes your strength and independence but is secretly terrified of something bad happening to you.

In a drunken state is when he is most sexually active and becomes a complete stranger, he is very wild. He has a fetish for smells and is very aroused by the contact when both are sweaty. In the midst of this activity he likes to talk dirty.

Sir Crocodile

It must be a miracle when he says something nice about you. He is not very affectionate, it is very difficult for him, sometimes it seems that he is not even interested in you.

He is a man of very few words, he has peculiar ways of letting you know he loves you and makes sure they are unique and special.

He does not like you to get involved in his work. He will keep the relationship very private and would expect you to do the same.

He is very jealous, as soon as someone wants to flirt with you, Crocodile squeezes your waist with his hook.

He doesn't like to murder people when you are present, he thinks it's something you shouldn't witness.

Although he thinks Buggy is an idiot, he is one of the few people next to Mihawk that he feels safe for you to be with.

When it comes to sex he is rough and gentle at the same time. He makes sure you feel comfortable. After that he feels more open to express his feelings and tell you how much he loves you.

I had a lot of fun writing this hahahahaha, hope you like it <3

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter one || vessel

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. will have a happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later. wc || 6.2k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || next chapter

The sobs wracking your body were a small window into the pain you felt as the sounds of the sterile room began to fade, replaced by ringing in your ears. The warmth leaving your father’s body as you sobbed over his hospital bed, begging him to cling to life although your pleas were met with silence.

Doctors and nurses began to trickle out of the room, leaving you the space to mourn. A curtain was pulled around the small hospital bed, separating you from the young boy sitting alongside his mother in the bed behind you. You could only hope the dread you felt in that moment as your father’s presence faded, to be replaced only by memories, wasn’t a feeling the young boy would experience at such a young age.

“I miss you, dad.”

The silence following your weak and broken words was louder somehow than the commotion of trying to keep him with you only a few minutes ago. A silence that weighed you down and threatened to drown you with every waking moment.

“I’d give anything to have you back,” you whisper through broken weeps.

Leaning over the bed, you were oblivious to the sudden commotion restarting in the room outside the curtain. The deafening ringing in your ears, the tears blinding you, your world crumbling around you, it was all too much and you almost didn’t notice when your father’s finger twitched beneath you. Blinking away your tears, you slowly sit up, shaking hands staring at his fingers, which grew warmer. Your eyes trail slowly towards the monitor hooked up to your father as it beeps and all you can do is stare in disbelief. How could it even be possible what you were witnessing? He remained still, but warmth flooded his body.

As hope floods your grief-filled body, you become suddenly aware of the noise around you, the nurses and doctors flooding the room behind you in an effort to save the boy’s mother behind you, but she was gone already, as quickly as your father had returned.

Your emotions felt like a physical weight dragging you down as you dared to poke your head through the curtain that cordoned your father off. As the commotion died down around the family behind you, it picked up again where your father was now that his monitor had restarted.

Puzzled, you found yourself unable to do anything but stare at the poor young boy, clinging to his mother and weeping helplessly. What left you puzzled was the strange residue that lingered both in the air and around the woman’s body. It was indescribable, like some sort of smoke, yet it clung to her like a net.

That is cursed energy.

Startled, you flung yourself around to face- no one? Nurses worked tirelessly around your father as they tested and monitored his status, but none of them seemed to be paying you any mind.

I apologize, I did not intend to scare you, the voice, one of a calm and gentle demeanor, spoke one more. Your eyes scanned the room again, but you couldn’t identify the source no matter how hard you tried. You weren’t even certain where the voice had come from.

Holding your head in confusion as it began to pound in pain, you stumbled back to the chair beside your dad’s bedside, groaning as it felt someone was pulling your consciousness from your own body. Opening your eyes in an effort to make a desperate plea for help to one of the nurses, your vision blurred, a white light blinding you before you could so much as think, and you found yourself whisked away from the waking world.

You stood now on a massive wooden ship, creaking wood beneath your feet. Sat atop the bridge of the ship was a large serpent-like dragon with ethereal white scale, silver hair and long, slender horns. Its appearance was almost angelic, with the way its scales shimmered in the dim lighting of the cave that surrounded you. The ship swayed slightly as the creature’s tail twitched, pulling along with it a ghostly humanoid figure that fell back outside the boat. You found your eyes trailing to the edge of the ship, met with a river of apparitions, all human in appearance though they lacked distinctive features. A lowly hum reverberated through the cave from the river as they lapped against the side of the ship as though they were waves, causing a gentle rocking motion of the ship.

Stumbling backwards, your breathing quickens as you attempt to take in the sight. A dream, for sure. It had to be.

“Y/N,” the creature’s voice echoes through the cave, glowing red eyes ripping away the veil of what you had once thought of as an angelic creature.

Your words fail to reach your lips and all you can do is gasp as the creature slinks forward, moving as though the ship is a part of it.

“I do apologize for startling you,” the creature’s voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the red eyes that bore into you, leaving you paralyzed in fear as the gentle breaths of the creature waft over you.

“What are you?” You whisper in disbelief, your eyes flickering between its massive glowing eyes.

It doesn’t move as it responds very simply. “I am a curse,” your furrowed brow tells it to continue in its explanation. “I am a being caused by the negative energy of humans. Very few people know of the existence of us.”

“I don’t understand,” you shake your head, shuffling back to try to put any amount of distance between yourself and the monster.

The serpent straightens its long neck, towering over you menacingly, though it seemed to hold no malice towards you. “It would appear I have laid dormant within you for a few years,” it seems to say more to itself than to you. “When your mother passed during your birth, she requested I look after you.”

“My mother… cursed me?” You ask in disbelief, wide-eyed. Surely this was all just some sort of weird dream after the day you had had.

“I would like to think she didn’t,” to your surprise the creature seems to rumble as though it’s laughing, although it comes out more as a guttural noise, nearly a growl. “You were meant to die in childbirth. She asked me, as her companion for many years, to save you, at the cost of her life. It took a great deal of energy to transfer myself and it would appear I have laid dormant since then.”

Trying to take in all the information, you blink, slowly nodding. “So this isn’t some sort of sick dream, huh?” The dragon doesn’t answer. It knows you’re smart enough to answer your own question. After a short silence, it speaks once again, returning to its place on the bridge as it does so.

“Whether you intended to do so or not, you utilized my powers today.”

You examined the creature’s expression from where you sat below it, its majesty towering tall over you. Did it have the power to bring people back as it had done for you so long ago? Did you somehow call on it to save your dad? Your jaw slacks as a realization hits you and you barely manage to choke out the question that makes your stomach churn.

“That kid’s mother-?” Your voice betrays you, breaking before you can finish your sentence.

“Yes.” The creature doesn’t miss a beat as it responds, its voice unwavering.

A lump forms in your throat as your body begins to feel weak. Not only was this real, but you were now responsible for the death of a little boy’s mother. A weak whimper escapes through your lips as you feel your elbows weaken and you collapse to the floor of the ship. Your skin paling as your breaths grow ragged, you grip at your chest, clawing desperately in search of air, but nothing comes to you.

“I recognize I cannot offer much comfort, but you should not blame yourself for this.”

You can’t do anything but stare at the monster before you, tears trailing down your face as your shaking body betrays the panic coursing through you.

“What the fuck are you?” Your words are a desperate plea, a question you can only hope the dragon understands.

“I am death,” the dragon’s head lowers to meet your gaze with its own. “And you are my vessel.”

– 10 years later –

“Shoot,” you mutter to yourself, scratching at the back of your neck. You were nearly finished with the flower arch that had been ordered by your latest client for their wedding, but you were missing the twine necessary to complete the order. The arch was meant to be picked up tomorrow with the wedding coming up on the weekend, leaving you no other choice than to make your way into town.

Pushing yourself up from the ground, you dust your flower dress off, grab your bag and sunglasses, and make your way out the door in the direction of the outskirts of Tokyo. A walk couldn’t hurt anyway, it had been a bit since you had been in town. Your little cottage was located on the outskirts of Tokyo, hidden away in the trees with only your father knowing where it was located.

It was a lonely life, but it was safer. Safer, away from anyone you could hurt.

Is that a veil?

Your steps falter as you pause upon hearing Miriko’s voice, your eyes scanning the line of trees until you see the veil in question.

You grimace, debating whether it’s worth it to make your way to Tokyo later, but figure you can slip by unnoticed if you simply mask Miriko’s cursed energy, shutting her out. To anyone capable of seeing cursed energy, you knew your energy stood out, Miriko had told you that you were strong, stronger than most with her at your side. In addition to that, you had been shocked to find your eyes had become a dull crimson, replacing the color your eyes had been when you had grown up, but it was easy enough to hide behind the pink-tinted sunglasses you wore everywhere.

Pushing along the path, you shut Miriko out completely, masking your cursed energy. Continuing along the gravel and dirt path, you find yourself kicking at a pebble along the path, your eyes flickering up to the pile of rubble that stood where your neighbor’s house had once been, the veil now dispelled. You didn’t know your neighbors well, but still a pang of sadness pulled at your chest. They had been kind.

To your surprise as you stared at the pile of rubble, a pair of kids no older than sixteen were making their way out of the rubble towards you and the limousine car parked on the other side of the gravel road. They were loudly bickering over something to do with a curse, hopping over the rubble of the house. A girl holding a long weapon with deep green hair pauses as she hops down from a piece of splintered wood.

“Y’alright?” She frowns, grabbing your attention, as well as that of the blonde-haired boy beside her.

“Yeah, um,” you hum thoughtfully, a shiver running down your spine as you suddenly feel like you’re being watched. “The couple that lives here, are they alright?”

The girl nods slowly. “There was only one person here. Our friend took ‘em to the hospital.”

“Right, um, thank you!” You say in an effort to slip away unnoticed as the growing unease within you begins to itch uncomfortably within you. Turning to leave, you lock eyes suddenly with a white-haired man leaning against the limo behind you that you hadn’t noticed before. He’s smirking, but you’re unable to read his expression otherwise, his eyes covered by a black blindfold. You feel relief wash over you as you realize he can’t see you or more specifically your eyes as you were certain you would have accidentally locked eyes with him through the edge of your glasses. Your shoulders relax as you begin to make your way again to Tokyo.

“Why don’t we give you a ride?” His voice sounds behind you and you turn back to him, shooting you a smile he can’t see.

“That’s kind, but I’m good. Thank you,” you tell him, bowing your head and turning back towards the city, picking up the pace as your unease began to return, despite the offer sounding kind. Except-

You let out a sharp gasp as you turn around and are met with the sight of the tall man facing you, mere inches in front of you. Your heart falters and you jump back, blinking in disbelief at him. Could he see you after all?

“I insist.” His voice held a much darker and firmer tone despite his smirk.

“I’d rather not get into a car with a man I don’t know,” you stand your ground despite the voice within you begging you to get out of there.

“I’d get in the car if I were you,” his voice is lower yet as he crosses his arms over his broad chest, his muscles pulling the fabric of his black jacket taught. His smile doesn’t waver as he silently awaits your response. You straighten, about to stand your ground but before you have the chance to argue with him, he brings a hand up to pull one side of his blindfold down. His eyes are a brilliant and bright blue. They’re so bright, you almost wonder if they’re glowing, a horrible jolt of fear running straight up your spine, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

Even with your cursed energy blocked, you recognized immediately that his eyes were like yours. He could see after all. He had seen your crimson eyes. Your lips pressed into a thin line, you slowly nod and let him corral you into the back of the limousine. Closing the door behind you, you watched from within the car as the white-haired man spoke to the two boys with a beaming grin.

“Ijichi, the school please,” he calls as he hops into the car, pressing a button on the console that separates the seats you both sat in, facing one another, from the seats the two boys and the driver were in.

“So,” he begins, leaning back with arms crossed behind his head in a deceptively relaxed manner. “A curse-user with no cursed energy? Seems a bit unheard of, no?” The playful lilt to his tone was unnerving and grated. Your jaw clenches and your eyes scan your surroundings as you debate whether it’s worth it to simply throw yourself out of the moving vehicle.

Staying silent, you steel yourself as you meet his gaze, although you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew very well that he could see you now.

“More the silent type, hmm?” He hums playfully, leaning forward until his face is barely a foot from you. Your breath hitches in your throat at his close proximity to you and he smirks as your control wavers, your cursed energy slipping through the cracks. “That’s what I thought,” he chuckles lowly, leaning back again. You swallow hard at the menacing cadence his voice held despite his simple smirk.

Get out of here.

You grimace at Miriko’s words, your eyes scanning your surroundings once more. The stranger chuckles as he watches you scan your surroundings. Your anxiety rises as your cover cracks, your cursed energy growing more and more apparent. As your composure cracks, the white-haired man across from you pulls his blindfold down to lay around his neck. You swallow hard as your gaze locks on to his.

He is the user of the six eyes technique. A member of the Gojo clan. You’re in danger.

Her words in your mind did you no favors as you take a breath to steady yourself and keep your composure. Regardless of how strong your cursed energy was, your abilities came at a great cost and you couldn’t afford to get into a fight with someone that even Miriko considered a danger.

“Listen Gojo-”

“So you do know who I am?” He interrupts with a smirk, his blue eyes shining as though he’s proud to know that you know him, despite the fact that in truth you were lying. You nod slowly before he continues, leaning forward. His electrifying blue eyes are close enough to you that you can feel his breath warm on your cheeks. “In that case, let’s do this the easy way.”

Your eyes follow his actions as he lifts a hand, his fingers pulling your sunglasses down off the bridge of your nose. You stand your ground, your jaw clenching visibly. Gojo’s fingers brush your temple as he pulls your glasses away, moving them to hang off the collar of his black jacket in one swift movement.

“So let’s go over this, huh?” He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “A low cursed energy output, and yet you’ve got red eyes that you’re hiding. Now what kind of technique could you possibly have?” His blue eyes narrow, his smirk widening. “But that’s not the case at all, is it?” His voice is dangerously low, coming out as a near-purr. He didn’t seem angry, but rather curious. He was teasing you, playing with his food.

You stay silent, not daring to answer. Let him play with his food, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of the anxiety bubbling in your stomach, nor lashing out at him and giving in to his questions.

“So,” he leans forward with a grin. Your brow twitches at the close proximity as you feel his minty breath on your face, earning a satisfied hum between his words. “Care to tell me ‘bout yourself?”

Do not speak.

You had no plans to admit anything to him, your eyes flickering down to your glasses hanging off his collar, wishing he hadn’t taken them from you. Though they were fairly translucent, they had felt like a line of defense against his questioning that you now lacked.

Gojo’s eyes narrow when you don’t answer, clearly not satisfied that you weren’t cooperating with him. “Let’s look at your options, shall we?” His hand rises close to your face and your eyes flicker towards the digit he has raised. “One, you tell me everything. Two, I drag every last detail out of you. Or three,” he pauses, his smirk disappearing. “I kill you under the guise of an uncooperative curse-user.”

Your mouth opens to try to defend yourself, but your words die in your throat. You swallow the lump that formed in your throat, trying desperately to think of some sort of secret fourth option. When nothing comes to mind and you remain silent, Gojo sighs and leans back with a groan.

“You curse users are never any fun,” he grumbles. To your surprise, he seems oddly bored. Was this all a game to him? Something he couldn’t lose? You grit your teeth, jaw clenching in response to his childish reaction. Who the hell did he think he was?

If he tries to fight, I’ll take over. Do not let him scare you. The Gojo clan has a good reputation, he shouldn’t be unreasonable.

Miriko’s words in your head were the closest thing you had to hope as you watched Gojo lock eyes with the driver. It wasn’t long before the car pulled over and you both stood on the side of a road in the outer edge of Tokyo, the side opposite of where your cabin resided.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” The eerie grin spread across his face. “Or did you want to do this the hard way?”

You take a step back from him. “I’m not here to fight you.” You’re thankful you’re able to keep your voice steady as you speak, but you aren’t sure how long your resilience will last.

“If that’s the case, then let’s start with names. Mine’s Gojo Satoru, but you knew that already,” his sly tone doesn’t do much to ease the tension in that air that could be cut with a knife.

“I’m y/n,” you introduce yourself uncertainly, eyeing the way he holds himself with a sort of nonchalant confidence. “And I’d like my sunglasses back,” you tell him, but he clicks his tongue at your words.

“These?” He asks, unhooking them from his collar to hold them an inch in the air above his hand. Your gaze narrows at the display.

He has the Limitless technique.

The what? You dare to ask Miriko, as though you knew anything about cursed techniques.

It doesn’t matter. Regardless, we won’t be able to do anything to him even if we were to fight. He is our natural counter.

Your eyes had drifted off to the side as you listened to Miriko, returning to face Gojo as you examined the way he curiously eyed you.

“Spacing out at a time like this?” He cocks his head to the side, his frustrating smirk not leaving his lips. “Unless you were talking to someone?” His voice is an octave deeper, a knowing look in his glowing blue eyes.

Your resolve didn’t waver and for that you were grateful. “Talking to who?” You countered, pushing down the growing feeling of anxiety.

“If you don't care to tell me, I’m sure the curse you were talking to will.”

You don’t make a move, standing stiff as a board. Surely he wouldn’t attack you, would he?

You regret blinking, as only a moment later he’s no longer in front of you. Miriko’s instincts kick in, turning and holding your arms up to block the fist full of cursed energy meant to hit you. Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight of your eyes, glowing a deep and eerie red, your hair now silver as your forearms are strengthened with cursed energy nearly as immense as his own. His punch still hits you hard enough to send you flying back into a tree, fracturing wood puncturing your back as you collide with the trunk.

“So she was talking to someone,” he laughs, clearly amused. From where you watched from within your own body, you could only scoff, Miriko’s words of the Gojo family being reasonable enough to make you roll your eyes. “So if she’s a vessel, who does that make you?”

Miriko pushes herself to her feet, rolling her shoulders as she effortlessly heals your wounds. “Who I am will mean nothing to you,” she calmly explains, red eyes burning into Gojo’s. He raises an eyebrow in response. “However I will give you the answers you seek if you cut a deal with me.”

“A deal? You talkin’ a vow or a handshake, Curse?”

“A deal, as you humans do. I do not wish to enter any kind of binding vow with the likes of you, Six Eyes.”

“Ouch, is that all I am to you?” He feigns hurt at the name Miriko had given him, but she doesn’t react. He sighs, clearly no longer amused with the situation. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

“You will leave us alone. You will not speak of us. You will not mention our existence, and I will give you five minutes of our time.”

Gojo crosses his arms, smirking slyly. “That’s it? What kind of curse wants to be left alone?”

Miriko is unphased by his question, standing her ground. “A curse that has been around for far too long.”

If you weren’t paying attention, you may not have noticed the way his smile falters for a split second, doubt flashing in his eyes, but it’s gone before you can think too hard about it.

“Deal,” he agrees, taking a step forward and outstretching his hand. Miriko takes his hand, shaking it. She glances momentarily down at his hand, his Limitless ability off. For a split second, she thinks about using her technique, but the trouble it would cause you both dissuades her. Regardless, it was an awfully reckless move for a sorcerer as strong as his presence alone felt to Miriko. She couldn’t help but wonder what his reasoning behind it was.

“Ask your questions, Six Eyes.”

“What’s your name?” He leans back against a nearby tree, putting a foot up against the tree’s trunk.

“Miriko,” she responds, giving him no more than exactly what he was asking.

“Miriko, nice to meet ya,” his grin returns. “What’s your technique?”

“Death,” she responds, her lips pressed into a thin line. Gojo’s brow twitches as if in disbelief and he straightens himself.

“Awfully strong technique, no?” He questions, his eyes now narrowed and his stupid grin wiped from his lips. It was a somewhat welcome sight over the frustratingly cocky smirk he so loved to display.

“Perhaps,” Miriko agrees. “No more than yours, Six Eyes.”

“Right,” he hums, narrowed eyes observing your features, however Miriko’s expression is unchanging. “Why have I never heard of a curse with your technique?”

“You have,” Miriko says confidently, observing the way a muscle in Gojo’s jaw works and eventually clenches. “Your kind know me by a different name.”

“Care to enlighten me?” He rebuttals quickly, blue eyes boring into your features as he searches for the answer. Miriko’s short and concise responses weren’t everything he had hoped for when he had agreed to her deal, but he had chosen to make a deal with the devil and would live with the consequences.

Miriko took a moment to consider her answer, the wind blowing through your now-silver locks as she eyed the sorcerer in front of her. “Your kind know me as the Grim Reaper.”

“Ha?” Gojo huffs questioningly, grinning at the response. “And here I thought that was just a story.”

“All stories come from somewhere originally, Six Eyes.” A silence falls between the sorcerer and the curse, sizing one another up through the tension that thickened the air between them, but Miriko had no intention of fighting a sorcerer capable of using the Limitless technique. She knew her limits, and she knew you were no fighter regardless. “Your five minutes are up,” she informs him, the glow of your eyes fading as your hair returned to its usual hue.

Gojo’s brow twitched at the sight of your return but as promised, he let out a deep sigh and pulled out his phone to call a cab for you.

–

Drops of water cascaded over the leaves of the plants you so carefully nurtured for your wedding flower business, each one thriving in the environment you had crafted on the outer edges of Tokyo.

The sense of relaxation and ease that the action of watering your plants brought was one that had become very welcome after the encounter you’d had with Gojo Satoru eight months ago. That encounter had changed much of the way you lived. You had moved to a more remote location, a property with a larger yard, a tall fence, and a big and well-trained dog.

Taro, your Rottweiler, you had trained with the express purpose of warning you about Gojo. You had left your sunglasses mostly untouched after the day of the encounter until you’d had the chance to train your new dog to search for him.

Aside from being a great guard dog, you were thankful for his company as well. You didn’t often visit your father due to the danger of your curse, and while Miriko was generally agreeable, you didn’t make a habit of trying to make friends out of fear. Maybe it was cowardly, but you knew Miriko preferred such a life.

Taro didn’t bark. He was a very quiet dog, so when he did begin barking, you knew exactly why. As if on queue, Miriko spoke in your mind to warn you of a cursed energy user nearby. Your gaze followed Taro to the front gate, where you didn’t yet see any figures. He wouldn’t dare after your encounter all those months ago, would he?

Telling Taro to sit, he did so as you opened the gate though his growls never ceased. The sight before you was one to behold. The white-haired sorcerer’s bloodied figure carried the corpse of a face all-too familiar to you, though a face you hadn’t heard tales of for a long time. Long, raven hued hair cascaded from the figure’s head, draping past Gojo’s arms. Blue eyes bored into yours, sending a chill down your spine at the eerie expression he displayed.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone,” your voice was small, but you were grateful you remained firm in your words.

Gojo’s mouth opens, but the words seem to die in his throat. The man you were staring at was not the same man you had met eight months ago and even if for only a split second, you feel a pang of sympathy. Taro’s growls and the growing feeling of anger from Miriko within you swayed your feelings back to one of resentment as he fails to respond.

Before prodding him again, your eyes flicker down to the man in his arms. Quietly observing the figure of none other Geto Suguru, whom you knew to be responsible for more than one incident, including one in Shibuya only a couple of nights ago, hung limp in his arms. His head was split open in such a manner that caused a shiver to crawl up your spine.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, hostility dripping from your voice like water slipping off a flower’s leaves. Gojo’s face is hidden by his hair as he stares down at the man in his arms, his expression hidden.

“I wouldn’t be here if I had anywhere else I could go,” his voice is strangely hoarse, giving you pause as your knuckles turn white as your grip on the gate increases. In another moment of weakness, your pang of sympathy returns, the strange vulnerability he showed tugging at your heartstrings, but Miriko dissuades the thought quickly.

Do not humor him, he holds a very dangerous curse-user. Do not trust him.

Miriko’s reminder causes your eyes to flicker back down to Geto Suguru and your brow furrows. “Get off my property,” you hiss, steeling yourself finally as the reality of the situation sinks in.

“I know we made an agreement, but-” his voice falters as he searches for words. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you go to close the gate but his foot kicks out in time to keep it open. “Wait, please,” he begs, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he was left with no other option but to physically beg something of you. To think this man had played with you like a toy and now he was here asking something of you, it made you as sick as he looked and likely also felt.

Pushing harder against his foot, your eyes locked with one another and you pause. The usual look of mischief and amusement was gone from his eyes, replaced with a very genuine vulnerability, mixed with anger, and even desperation. With a sigh, you finally opened your gate to him.

You could feel displeasure spreading through your body, clearly Miriko’s own emotion being mixed in with yours, and Taro continued growling in small fits. You had trained him to do so, you couldn’t blame him really.

“Are you able to reverse your cursed technique?” Gojo asks, his lips downturned into a frown as he stood uncomfortably within your garden.

“No,” you lie, taking one look at the man in his arms and resolving to being unwilling to do what he was asking.

His blue eyes narrow for a moment, examining yours, before he sighs. “Right,” he hums, swallowing heavily. “But you’re-” he pauses, “Miriko’s the Grim Reaper right, can you at least let him rest?”

Blinking in disbelief, you let out a bitter laugh. “Peace? Gojo he-” you shake your head, “he killed thousands of people.” Your jaw hangs open in disbelief at the request.

“He didn’t-” Gojo stammers over his words as he watches your eyes widen in confusion. “It wasn’t-” he sighs finally, his head hanging. “I know.”

Again you find yourself with your brow knit tightly together as you eye Gojo cautiously. If you agreed, you would be left extremely vulnerable. Very rarely did Miriko enact on her role as a reaper anymore, there were so many curses these days that her mercy was rarely required, but the one moment where you had used her ability to lead a soul to the afterlife, it had left you in an extremely vulnerable state.

Was Gojo someone you could trust with such a thing? Surely not, and yet… Your mind flashed back to when Miriko had noticed he had shaken your hand with no barrier between you. Was that some sort of act of goodwill to ensure he’d have an opportunity like this now? Was he using you? You had no way to be sure.

The only reassurance you had was the genuine look of vulnerability that shone in his azure eyes.

“Is that something you can do?” You sigh, staring off to the side as you wait for Miriko to respond. Holding out your palm, you stare at the mouth full of pointed teeth that appears.

“Yes,” she responds eloquently, though her tone is less than amicable. She knew you had asked aloud to force her into a corner to agree, as she otherwise would have declined.

“Please,” Gojo’s voice is serious and small, uncharacteristically so.

You allow Gojo to set Geto Suguru, who you can only imagine was at one time a friend, on the ground before him as you kneel down opposite Gojo. You shoot him a cautionary glance before setting your hand on Geto’s robed chest.

Gritting your teeth, you shut your eyes as a familiar pain surges through your mind. Being dragged into Miriko’s domain within you held a familiar sight. The dragon’s scales shone in the dimly lit cave as the familiar lapping of souls against the wooden ship broke the silence of the air. Red eyes shone in acknowledgement of your arrival, before turning to face your visitor.

To your surprise, the soul of Geto Suguru didn’t look as you had expected. He looked younger, his hair up in a bun with only a couple of stray strands of hair falling down over his calm features. He had a much thinner build than Gojo, and tired eyes. He looked… kind. Uneasily, you shared a glance with him. He didn’t seem confused, and he was unable to speak in such a state, but still he shot you a smile.

All you could do was blink and watch as Miriko’s tail ushered him towards her, the ship lurching forward. You managed to catch your balance before you could fall over from the sudden movement, only able to watch as the ship approached a light from a hole in the usually dimly lit cave. Quietly standing at the rear of the boat, you observed as Miriko ushered his spirit towards the light as the ship lurched to a halt. The light from above shone for a moment, forcing you to shut your eyes. Blinking them open once again, you were able to see little more than the familiar shape of a ghostly spirit, not the one you had seen before. It was the residuals of Geto Suguru, which collapsed into the river beneath you.

Bright red eyes shone as the serpent turned to face you once again. Locking eyes with her was something you didn’t often do, however her calming and familiar presence wasn’t unwelcome. Despite her title of a curse, you had never considered her as such. Life was lonely, perhaps, but her company made it bearable.

Her silver mane sways at the hint of a breeze as her long muzzle towers over you for a moment. She takes pause before her breath cascades over your figure and you’re blinking as you take in the sun filtering through the leaves.

Removing your hand from Geto Suguru’s body, you lean back and blink to try to reorient yourself within your surroundings. Finally beginning to come to, your gaze rests on Gojo before you, staring at you intently. His blue eyes are filled with questions that you have no intention of responding to.

“It’s done,” you tell him, pushing yourself to your feet as you brush your knees and dress off.

Gojo took a moment to stare at Geto’s remains. You could see from the sadness in his eyes that he had a connection to the man, but you didn’t intend on questioning him and extending this encounter with the Limitless user any longer than you needed to.

The research you had put time into after your initial encounter with the sorcerer had told you all that you needed to know about him. That he was the strongest. The last thing you needed was him showing up at your door any more than he already had.

Slowly, Gojo picks up the body once more and makes his way to your gate.

“No coming back,” you tell him, your voice firm although you had some amount of sympathy for him after the vulnerability he had shown you.

He turns back to you for only a moment, his blue eyes searching yours from over his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Gojo Satoru.”

series masterlist || main masterlist || next chapter

a/n || hello!! this is the first time i've ever posted a fic despite writing dozens of them. i've actually got the first several chapters written but need to do some heavy editing but at the very least you can expect the early chapters relatively quickly. i hope you like it and appreciate any support ♡ also i feel it's worth mentioning because i think it's very funny - i began writing this fic before i read the manga so the fact that reader is similar to another particular character is a complete coincidence lmao. not really sure how that happened but it is a fun little fact.

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

Yandere! Slasher! Heartslabyul Headcanons

Just a quick ramble hopefully because I saw something by @lustlovehart about serial killer Floyd and Jade and I was like: Jade Leech would make a convincing Hannibal Lector. Then I was like Deuce but Jason Voorhes. Now is the product of my brain rot. Non-Twisted Wonderland setting. Reader is gender neutral unless explicitly stated. Minor characters aged up.

Tw: yandere behavior, medical professional abuse, gore, murder, cannibalism, mentions of murder being recorded, forced cannibalism, verbal abuse, ooc Dylla mentions of some other real nasty shit

17+ CONTENT, DO NOT INERACT IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE TRIGGERED BY THE FOLLOWING CONTENT. IF YOU INSULT MY WORK BECAUSE YOU IGNORED MY WARNING YOU WILL BE BLOCKED! BY CLICKING KEEP READING YOU CONSENT TO READING THE FOLLOWING MATERIAL!

Riddle Rosehearts:

Bros the perfect serial killer I mean he's got it all:

Perfectionist attitude, dedicated to his work, abusive mom. I mean the slasher film practically writes itself.

I'm going with Riddle becoming a doctor like his mother was and being known for being one of the most successful doctors in the city. People are waitlisted trying to visit this "miracle doctor".

By day Riddle is the strict perfectionist who cares deeply for his patients, by night Riddle is meticulously finding and sadistically torturing criminals and "rule breakers" before beheading them. At first, he is seen as a benevolent force for ridding the city of its criminals and scum. However, The Red Queen, as he is called, swings her axe indiscriminately and soon beloved public figures are on the chopping block.

You could meet Riddle a multitude of ways, for this I'll say you are a critically ill patient who is in and out of the hospital. Hearing about the "miracle doctor" lead to you pleading with the red head. Riddle was moved by the "innocence" in your eyes and your desperate tone of voice. You needed him. He agreed and started your treatment.

Riddle grows feelings because of your kind and forgiving nature. You don't hold his strict and commanding behavior against him, only seeing it as him doing his job. Finally, someone worthy of the help of the Red Queen.

The problem came when you came into the office battered and bruised one day. Riddle demanded to know who the perpetrator was, but you kept you lips sealed. Riddle grew angry at your defiance, how dare you defy your queen, your protector. He screams at you, causing you to cry and curl into a helpless ball. Riddle feels guilt at making you feel this way and apologizes before gently encouraging you to tell him who your abuser was.

Riddle felt his rage hit an insurmountable amount when you revealed your abuser was the personal nurse your family hired for you. How dare this insolent peasant lay a finger on your divine form? No matter, Riddle will look through your patient files to find information about this personal nurse. He finds out that this nurse lives with you as a live in nurse, Riddle takes this information in with a sadistic grin.

Time to pay them a visit

You heard a garbled croak as you exited your ensuite bathroom. What could be making such a terrible noise? Cautiously you peeped through the door and crept towards the source of the noise. It was coming from your living room. You pattered over to the living room in bare feet, when a strong odor hit you. Iron. TWACK something slides from the living room to your feet. It was a head, YOUR NURSE'S HEAD! You opened your mouth to scream when a gloved hand silenced you. You stiffened as you hear a familiar voice.

Quiet my patient, you don't want to be framed for murder, do you? They were breaking the rules so I must punish them. The rule being one must never harm the spouse of the Red Queen!

Trey Clover:

Yo can you imagine though?

Your sweet town baker feeding you treats he made with love and your ex-boyfriend's flesh and blood (don't worry you'll only taste it a little). All with loving golden eyes and a knowing smile.

After some time in the big city for college, Trey moved back to his hometown to take over his family bakery. He is immediately accepted by the community at large for his amiable and brotherly aura. In no time at all the bakery becomes popular to people outside of the town as well (particularly cannibals and other shady characters).

People come to the front for sweet treats and are led into the back to become the fresh ingredients. Trey mostly murders people that come from out of town and tourists, people the town folk won't miss. However sometimes he has to make do with the outsiders within the town. Anything to feed his clients and himself.

Let's say that you moved to this small town of Bakersfield (name of town) for a fresh start in life, leaving your toxic family and manipulative ex-boyfriend. You decided leaving the city would allow you to escape your problems (plus there were serial killers loose, you didn't want to be beheaded or killed on tape). You like the idea of being part of a small tight knit community that work as one big family. However, you were disappointed when the community greeted you with a cold shoulder. Already your thought new life was going to be a disaster until you met Trey.

Trey met you when you visited his bakery, he doesn't remember seeing your face around (he wonders what you would taste like). He turns on his customer service smile and greets you kindly. Your glum expression immediately turns into a cheery grin. That's strange he kind of likes making you smile. You order one of his special desserts, which he whips up fresh just for you and your beautiful smile (men have pretty smiles too male readers, if I have any).

You end up coming to the bakery pretty often, not only for the sweets but the charming baker who works the front counter. You're surprised that he's single because you think he's quite handsome and kind. You gotten a tiny crush for the man who serves you pastries with a smile, and gives you back your money claiming your presence is enough. Trey put you in such a good mood that you brought some of the extra sweets for your neighbors and actually started making connections with the town's folk.

Trey saw you becoming more welcome with the townspeople and that left a sour taste in his mouth. He had to bite his lip to the point of bleeding to prevent himself from scowling when you rambled about how nice everyone has been. He was the first person to be nice to you and this is how you treat him? Looks like he'll have to play dirty to get back into your good graces. He may or may not have found the number of your old abusive ex and revealed your location. He knows that its wrong, but he'll make it up to you by being your protector.

Soon enough you'll only depend on him

This man was sick. No person you met could look at you so lovingly while bashing your ex's head in with a crowbar. This psycho killed people and ate them and was forcing you to play a twisted form of house. The chain around your leg reminded you of this fact. Every. Single. Day. "Open up my love, you're losing weight far too much, I can't have you wasting away." You look the devil who called himself your husband in the eyes and glared weakly. "I won't eat anything you make!" Trey laughed callously at your scorn. "It's funny that you think you have a choice." A rough hand grasps your jaw while the other pushes its way inside. You knew better than to bite his fingers, pain was a cruel teacher. The spoon of stew lays in your mouth and the hand holding your jaws puts more pressure on it causing you to whimper.

"If you swallow, you won't have to stay in the cold and lonely basement. Won't that be nice, sweet pea, you'll get to sleep in our nice warm bed. Only if you're a good for me and swallow.

Cater Diamond (longest one by far)

Hoo boy, this dude also is prime slasher material.

We'll keep the backstory of overbearing sisters and constantly moving due to his dad's job. This wore on his psyche harshly and made him more shut off from the rest of his family. Of course, his family only started caring when his grades start to slip. He was diagnosed with depression and ADHD. The medication only helped him get better at faking being happy and carefree all the time. His life allowed for him to become a very good liar and mask emotions very well. When in high school and during his current adult life social media was his one safe place where he could feel happy. Everything was fake and that gave him comfort that others people's lives were probably as miserable as his. He perfected his camera work and putting on a cute face for his audience and became quite a successful instaounce model (haha I made it more American) and influencer. When Cater graduated (barely) he refused to go to college and instead focused on pursuing his dreams of becoming a full-time influencer.

While Cater may seem cute, sociable, and relatable online, he also is jealous, vindictive, and murderous offline. He sees other people who are pretty and popular as a threat to his online presence, and threats must be eradicated. Enter his other pastime on the internet, streaming himself torturing and killing popular people on social media for an eager and sadistic audience. He goes by the username Killer_Diamond 💎💎♦️ and has millions globally bid to see who's suggested method of torture will be expertly carried out by Cater's creepily cheerful persona.

For this we'll say you're the cute new barista at an aesthetically pleasing cafe Cater frequents for coffee pics. You greet Cater with the same positive energy he exudes. He orders a very complicated coffee, and you create the coffee right the first time. No one in all the time he's been here has gotten his order to his high standards. Why are you so special? It almost makes him frown how flawlessly you completed his order, but your genuine smile makes the sides of his fake grin wobble. How could you so openly and freely be happy?

Let's say that you were adventurous and decided to peruse the dark web for some spooky content to sate your curiosity. When you stumble into a red room by accident. What you saw horrified you a person who you recognize as some model your friend gushes about being hot was being tortured as the live chat was filled with other horrific suggestions as what else to do to her. You felt bile come into your mouth as you saw the person in a bunny mask rip the model's eye out, causing her to scream loudly. The bunny mask turns back to the camera and chirps "Ooh a new person tuned in, say hello to them." You slam your laptop shut and lay awake in bed all night.

Cater felt like he had a new pep in his step, humming to himself a popular song he made his way to the cafe. Murdering always cleared his head and helped him destress, much more affordable than therapy. He greets you with a genuine zeal to see you, poor thing with large eyebags and a shell-shocked expression. He didn't like seeing you so disturbed. He asked you what was wrong, only for you to fake a cheery expression and ask him for his order. Cater knew you didn't trust him, so he'd have to befriend you if he wanted you to speak. Perhaps even kill the person who made you so upset.

Wait kill? Why did he care what happened to the person who upset you?

Cater offers you to sit and have a coffee with him, you try to explain that you're still on shift but Cater doesn't hear it and sits down beside you. Cater knows how to keep a conversation going and knows just the right things to say to make you more trusting of his intentions. He's a bit irritated that you still won't tell him why you're upset, but no worries he'll get you to open up.

You were losing sleep over the murder you saw take place. It had been weeks ago, but you still could see that eye on the tip of that knife. Should you call the police? No, the murderer might be able to trace it back to you. What on Earth are you going to do? Your phone pings notifying you that Cater or Cay-Cay as he prefers you to call him was messaging you.

Hey babe<3

Found this cute little hole in the wall sushi place, thought it'd be good for you to come and eat some food with Cay-Cay😘💕

Well, you'd always have Cater.

On my way Cay!

Cater has never felt love before. His family meant nothing to him, and he would never reach out to a fan in distress. However, you were perfect, so sweet and friendly. He felt like he could hide his murder stream from you and just pretend to be your normal loving boyfriend. He felt a blush come to his face at the thought of you being officially his partner. You'd take so many cute couple photos! However, you were too cute for your own good, attracting boys, girls, and others by being your sweet little self. It's not fair that you're so charming that other people want you! THIS WILL NOT STAND! Cater ramps up the murders and even ignores his chat pleading for him to drag them out longer. He just needs you to see that he's your perfect match, even if he must kill the ones, you love and isolate you.

No matter what happens Cater will have a place in your heart. Even if he gets that place by killing.

You were terrified, one night of drinking away your sorrows and now you woke up to total darkness. You tried to feel you way out, but your hands were bound behind your back. Oh god you've been kidnapped! You were going to die! A blinding light turns on revealing a luxurious room with red walls. Oh, seven this was the red room you saw! The person with the rabbit mask walks to the camera which was pointed at you. "Hello again my lovely viewers today I have a very special guest, my lovely!" You shake as tears fill your eyes; you try to scream but the tape covering your mouth prevents you. "Ah, ah, dear, wait till we get home to let out those pretty screams. My audience is not allowed to hear them." Another spotlight lands on a terrified friend of yours who you remember vanished a few days ago. They looked to be in rough shape. The rabbit figure bounced on their heels and walks very close to you with his back to the camera. "Before we start, I'd like to give my co-star a quick kiss for good luck. The figure takes the mask off and you gasp at the familiar face of you friend Cater.

"I know it's not the real thing, but I'll kiss you right on the tape. Oh, don't cry darling you'll have all of Cay-Cay later tonight. For now, we have an audience to entertain!

Deuce Spade:

Bro's literally just Jason Vorhees and Bubba Sawyer I mean come on, a puppy dog like killer who listens to the dead voice of his mother and you only.

Let's say Deuce was raised alone with his mother in the woods, his mother only leaving him to go gather supplies in the town. His mother had to raise him on her own and instilled in him a fear and hatred towards outsiders. Due to his mother raising him by herself and him never attending school, he isn't very educated and had delayed speech. His mother died when he was ten making him officially go crazy and hallucinate his mom still being with him. He's a hermit who lives off the woods and kills anyone who steps foot on his property.

You were a case worker who found a case of a woman who "abandoned" her child in the woods. Weird it's been swept under the rug for twelve or so years. Well, you weren't one to heed the warning of other case workers who begged you not to go. You weren't going to let some child continue to be neglected.

Deuce was going through the motions of his routine. Waking up, dressing, putting on his mask, kill something for breakfast, cook it, and he was currently repairing the small cabin. His mother had gone silent for some time, and it was worrying Deuce. Did his mother abandon him? A loud noise shakes Deuce out of his thoughts, as a terrifying metal monster approaches the house. Mother what do I do?

You drive your car through the woods towards the address on the file. Weird there's no official road up to the house nor any signs signifying that you are going in the right direction. Suddenly an item came hurtling towards your wind shield causing you to scream in terror. Holy shit is that an axe?! You hear a figure thunder up towards you and you scream in terror. A lanky blue haired man with a hockey mask covered in blood grabs the axe from the windshield and raises it above your head. You are prepared to ram the car into his body until he freezes.

Deuce what are you doing? A familiar feminine voice reproaches in his ear. His mother didn't want him to kill the trespasser? Mother I'm getting rid of the trespasser, like you've taught me. A ghostlike pinch formed on his cheek. Why would you try and kill your spouse that I handpicked just for you? After I put all that effort in Deucy you're still so ungrateful! Deuce grunts as he puts a hand up to his masked cheek. No mother I am grateful...they're actually quite attractive. Then stop wasting time and grab them before they drive away!

You scream as a hand breaks through your window and tries to pull you out of your car. You frantically swat at the hand that pulls you out of the driver's seat and places you over his shoulder. You kick and scream as he walks back to the cabin with you in tow, it was insulting how easy he managed to pick you up (Deuce is super strong in this, so fat readers you weigh nothing to him). You didn't want to die before finding the kid. "Hey, let me go, I need to find this kid named Deuce Spade!" The hulking figure freezes.

You are now being held off the ground and, in his arms, (if you're tall your feet are dragging) looking you dead in the eye. You try to maintain calm but who the hell would maintain calm when this muscular hermit is mouth breathing directly on you. The figure takes his mask off to reveal a handsome yet scared face of a man with blue hair, that looked a little too familiar. "Mother was right, you really are made for me." You open your mouth to protest when a pair of rough lips make contact with yours. You pound his firm chest with your fist, to no avail. The man pulls back to look at you with lovesick eyes and a heavily flushed face. "I'm Deuce Spade and mother said you are mine. How wonderful it is to have someone else in the family now!" Oh, geez what have you gotten yourself into.

Ace Trappola:

I heavily dislike Ace, like he rubbed me off the wrong way when we first met him in the game. I know everyone is supposed to be a villain but for someone who's one of our best friends he likes to insult us a little too much (more than the actual ex-bully). I'll try to do my best besides the biased (there are others who I didn't like on first meeting but grew to like).

Ace Trappola and you are childhood friends to your families. To you he's been a monster hell bent on torturing you till the day you die. He'll play the sweet golden boy next door to your parents, asking politely if you're home. Your parents sacrifice you to the demon in front of you to "play". They always blame you for the scratches and bruises you have after the "play date". He always gives you the same sadistic grin when others aren't watching.

Ace is a messed-up boy who wants to make you scared of him. He thinks it's funny when you cry in pain as he tugs your hair or punches you in the face. You're so much weaker than him and that gives him a high like no other. When puberty hit however, you grew much taller and stronger than Ace and wouldn't be pushed around anymore. When he brought a knife to school to scare you, you beat him to a bloody pulp. Something changed in him when you stood over him, once docile eyes filled with rage. It was kinda hot not gonna lie.

Ace goes from the bully to a psycho who stalks you constantly. You must have hit him too hard because instead of wanting to hurt you, he's hurting others who try and be around you. You think he's disgusting every time he groans when you hit him to get him to stop following you. Ace gets taken away to a psyche ward after the Senior Prom massacre. Let's say he didn't take to kindly to you asking someone out to the prom who wasn't him and killed almost every senior in your class including your date. You were the one who knocked him out for the cops to take away. His and your parents were distraught as they never thought an angel like Ace could do something so terrible. You were just glad you'd never have to see him again.

You moved on with your life and worked your way through college getting a degree in your dream field and meeting someone nice. Unfortunately, nothing goes your way as news broke out that an escaped mental patient had fled after a transfer to the mental institution in the town you were in. Ace knew where you planned on going to college and meticulously planned a way to get there so you can be reunited.

You were having a quiet night in, house sitting for a relative who lived nearby. You had ordered some pizza and put on some horror movies. You were watching Hallow's Eve (spoof on Halloween) when the doorbell rang. Must be the pizza guy. To your horror a familiar red head was at the front door in a blue mechanic suit holding a kitchen knife and was drenched in blood. "Hiya (Y/N) hope ya didn't miss yer boyfriend too bad? Cause I missed you a lot. You promptly slamed the door in his face. You don't have time for this.

Mwah different horror tropes hope you liked it. Now that I think about it, Ruggie and Leona or Ace and Deuce would make a pretty good Billy and Stu. Love ya bye!

[shippyo]

@kirbyoctournament

Introducing to you all,the only one and unique....

Personality

She is extremely calm, she never seems to be bothered by anything, she is kind as much as she can be capable of saying something cruel, like life itself is, she always seems patient, because for her anything is ephemeral, even herself, but she will always be open to a conversation, she will advise you and will try to give her point of view about herself, always in a respectful manner.

Powers

Life is ironically capable of taking life from other beings, to reincarnate them into a new being with her mere hands, usually looking like butterflies like her first daughter Morpho Knight.

She is capable to cast divine-looking lights,usually looks like a swarm of butterflies, although she won't attack in 99,9% of the times but the hundreds of her children will defend her.

Its mere presence is calming but its true form is unknown to common sense and if someone dared to see the beauty of life in its entirety, the impact it would have on your consciousness would be devastating, but with it, who knows, maybe it would be able to restore the unimaginable at the cost of resting for eons.

Life is capable of teleporting to any place in any universe, she never chooses a specific place, it enjoys walking and you can see her in the most beautiful fields of flowers or in the cruelest wars, you can consider yourself lucky to witness her, because it is practically a miracle.

And never mess with something beyond your comprehension cause only death can end all what she is.

Canon characters she knows or knows that exist

Morpho

Her first daughter, before it was a different being who arrived by unknown means to the dimension of Life, she begged her not to send her to the afterlife, she didn't want that, the pain was so inmense due to her cruel Life that she just begged to stop existing, life, on the other hand, did something different and used its power for the first time in what became a being, completely new and at peace,Morpho has an unbreakable loyalty towards the being she now calls "mother"

Necrodeus

"Someone I loved? Or do i still love?"

The void

A being from the void reemerges from the heart, all always in a different way like Kirby or Zero himself, as if they were children yet to determine their destiny inside their mother or heart in this case, Life does not know them directly, it only knows that they exist and for some reason, she loves them, she feels a maternal sensation as if all those beings had been part of her at some point, although she can't explain why.

Lore

[this part might not be that extense but cropping to not cluster everything,enjoy💖]

Once life was reborn, but before that, there was a life before, yes, a time when everything was different.

Once there was a woman in whom a new life was generated inside her, all on her wedding day on an now unknown place, butterflies fluttering, next to her pure white bone dress, walking towards who would be her husband, everything was complete happiness everything seemed to never end but...

At one point, when the husband was about to put the ring on the lady that would seal their love, something trembled and out of nowhere, everything broke into stardust, in the last seconds of pain and confusion, the lovers did not know that it was the end of everything known and unknown.

Life had died.

Or was it really like that?

Life woke up once again from...a dream? A nightmare? What was that even? Where was she now?

Is life really itself? She felt a pain that would gradually fade away along with the memory of what happened, at the same time another figure,the death itself also woke up where they were, they both looked at each other, they had never seen each other... like this?

But still they both felt a sense of nostalgia, something empty in them throbbed strongly, while memories of... themselves? or something that seemed like the they that they are now joined in their confused memories

" know you."

"But who were you?"

"Were we them? But who were we supposed to be?"

"Now, what are we?"

They both said, but neither could give an accurate answer.

And it didn't matter anymore.

A new everything emerged from nothing and they were part of that everything.

Life and death separated each one on their own for a long time searching, trying to know what they had to do, what it all meant, who those beings were.

until, one day after eons they met again to conclude that everything was nothing.

Nothing had meaning other than existing.

Nothing they could have experienced was eternal, they both came to the conclusion that everything would die to become a new whole again.

From their past memories they concluded that this was just a new phase in an eternal cycle without explanation, in which life would return only for death itself in its last seconds to kill her so that all of life would re-emerge as a new one when it was about to end and NEVER be the same as before.

And that couple, it may or may not have been them, it didn't matter, because they are no longer those entities and this will happen again and again, they are merely a new version of themselves of those they were and will be in the future.

It didn't make sense, nor did they both want that cruel fate, it's confusing, it's unfair,death even cried out of mere frustration.

But there was no escape, no being could escape it.

After this, now both beings try to find a filling for the void in their hearts, death wandering throught any universe and cursing "the all" for this meaninglessness, while life, still almost always remaining in her own dimension, a blank world that is in everywhere and nowhere, sometimes descends to any world that reaches the imagination wandering through them to perhaps find her own the meaning of life.

[dreamofjoys]

— c/w: Soft yandere Malleus for you, possessive, overprotective, reader is heavily protected, character death(on npc), mentions of torture and blood

— a/n: Yandere Malleus is my fav

Your legs were wrapped around Malleus's torso, ankles locking behind his back as he carries you with one arm under the back of your thighs, walking back to your shared private chambers.

The long meeting with the other nobles had just ended, not that you were paying any mind to it since you were just sitting on his lap while playing with his hair.

Malleus is soft when it comes to you. His clawed hands holding you possessively in his hold, careful to not pierce your soft skin. The stern gaze in his eyes always melts into a puddle of love whenever he switches his attention from his subordinates to you. All he had ever shown to you is his undying love and affection, shielding you from all the negativities in the world.

That's why when one of the nobles called you a good for nothing and a distraction towards their king, you couldn't help the tears that starts flowing down your cheeks. You look up to your beloved, eyes beginning to turn red from the silent tears, lips trembling in fear as the comment from the noble begins to sink down into you.

Were you a bad influence towards Malleus? No one had ever told you stuff like this before. because Malleus made sure non of it reaches your ears

The sight of you crying was not something that Malleus like. You deserve nothing but happiness, to be treated with love and care. So how dare that peasant say something that breaks his beloved's heart?

The tension of the room has begun to tighten so much that it's suffocating just to be there. Everyone (except you) couldn't help but to suddenly sink onto their knees and bow until their head hits the ground.

"Are you sad because of his words?" Malleus asked, his large hands cupping on your cheeks, thumb swiping to wipe away your tears. The noble who criticised you was praying so hard that a miracle would happen, but all hopes had fallen when a soft yes falls from your lips.

"I see." Malleus brings his thumb to his lips, licking off the tears on it.

"It's bitter. I suppose that's how disheartened you are by his comment." Malleus stood up, carrying you in his arms. He pats on your head, urging you to lean onto him. Your hands immediately wrapped around his neck, hiding your face on his chest as he carries you out of the room, not bothering to continue the meeting.

That night, Malleus personally tucks you into bed, pats your head on a steady rhythm, humming a lullaby to lull you to sleep. "Sweet dreams, my love." He leaves a short, yet full kiss on your forehead, before silently retreating away from you, leaving you to rest.

You were already gone in a happy dreamland with no sorrow, fear, or sadness. So of course, you would missed the screams of terror and loud begging for forgiveness in the deep dungeons. You won't ever get to see that terrifying side of Malleus that has his hands stained with blood while torturing the one who hurt you.

[mlm-headcanons]

bottom Bakugo x male reader

Nsfw content, minors do not interact

Aged up characters (they are sharing an apartment)

This is a mlm blog, though no pronouns are used in this scenario, females do not interact.

Your friends are over at your place and Bakugo thinks it would be a good idea to act out in front of them.

“Fu- ha… ngh.. stop it!” Bakugo moaned as you pressed him against the door. “Why would I? If you think you can act all bratty in front of MY friends? Fine, have it your way.”

Your grip tightened on his hardened dick, making him gasp for air. He was almost choking on his own spit. “Y-youu… uhhh.. agh!” “You want to say something?” He tried to choke out something but instead of actual words, only moans came past his lips.

His fingers curled, trying to grasp something, get a grip. Yet he was pressed against your bathroom door, with nothing to get a hold of. His legs trembled and he bent forward a little more, involuntarily giving you better access to his back. Or more his ass.

Three of your fingers moved inside him without a trace of synch and it was driving him insane. Every time you pressed against his prostate hard, he had to suppress a scream. Your other hand was still pumping him, smearing the leak of his previous denied orgasms all over him. “P-please!” You stopped in your tracks. He just whined. “What was that?” You acted surprised, maybe you really were. It was one of the words one heard from him way too rarely. Besides the notorious ‘I’m sorry.’ Hearing that would truly be a miracle. “I said please, motherf- hng, ah!” You couldn’t let him finish that sentence. “Try that again?” you asked with a sweet voice. “Fuck you!”

Enough. Your hand moved from his dick to his neck and you pulled him back to choke him. “Think about that attitude again. Maybe then I’ll let you cum. Tonight.” With that you let go of him and he stood against the door, breathing heavily. His own hand grazed over the bruised skin on his neck while you paid no mind to him and just washed your hands at the sink. “Clean yourself up!” were your last words towards him before you opened the door and left the bathroom.

Outside you were met with your two friends who were now engaged in conversation of their own. As soon as you stepped towards the sofa, they looked up at you. “Is Bakugo-san okay?” one of them asked with a worried expression. You smiled at them. “He’s gonna be just fine. It was one of his scars, like I told you. He’ll be back in a minute.” You sat down with them.

When Katsuki came back soon after, his gaze was glued to the floor, not daring to look at either of you. He had replaced his t-shirt with a sleeveless turtleneck. You noticed one of your friends open their mouth to ask about it, but they closed it only a second after. Bakugo sat down on an armchair opposite you. He knew he couldn’t dare to take a seat beside you again, try his luck by provoking you. He had done that enough. This was gonna be a long evening and he could only hope for the night to be in his favour.

[dark-and-kawaii]

A Father's Demise

Raphael x f!Tav/Reader

Haarlep x f!Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: Two separate stories. Their daughters come back home, only to be met with a sight that seemed to be plucked from their darkest nightmares...

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: Happy Endings?!?! Potentially!! Also, Apologies for being quiet the past couple days. I’ve been really sick! This was also something to make me feel better… Enjoy xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ Character Death | Hurt/Comfort | Fluff At The End | Dadphael | Haarlep As Dad

Prt 1?

Raphael

Raphael's daughter returned to the House of Hope expecting the usual cacophony of the damned and the indebted. Instead, she was greeted by an uncanny silence that hung heavy in the air. A sense of unease prickled at the back of her neck as she called out, "Mother?" Silence was her only answer. "Haarlep?" she tried again, hoping for the usual sardonic reply, yet there was nothing. And finally, with a tremor in her voice, "F-Father?”

Her steps were cautious, timid as she made her way through the dining area, where only the soft crackling of the fireplace dared to disturb the quiet. It was a lonely sound, one that did little to comfort her growing concern.

It wasn't until she ascended the stairs to the grand hall that the silence shattered into a scene of horror. Blood mingled with lifeless bodies, staining the pristine marble with a grotesque tableau. She shrank back, fear gnawing at her insides, “It's okay... it's okay…” She tried to weave excuses, fabricating scenarios where her father's wrath was the culprit, a desperate attempt to shield her mind from the truth.

With each step towards the boudoir, the splashing sound beneath her feet grew louder. She glanced down to see water mixing with the crimson stains on the floor. The door veil that usually keeps strangers out of the room is now gone, revealing the source of the deluge; the healing bath overflowing, its contents spilling out in a ceaseless torrent…

Approaching the bed, her every fear was realized. The blood-soaked sheets were a grim canvas, and atop them lay her father, his once regal appearance now marred by disarray and violence. “F-father?..." Her voice was barely audible, a quiver of hope against the starkness of reality. Her trembling legs carried her closer as she begged him to respond. “P-please, father- say something…”

Her tears flowed freely as she reached his side. There was no rise and fall of his chest, no sign of the life that once filled him… “Father?" she whispered, her nudges growing frantic. “G-get up..." Desperation took hold as she climbed onto the bed, her small hands pushing against him, “p-please…” She tugged at his arm, “You ha-have to get up, mom will- mom will be home soon..."

She couldn't finish; the truth was too much to bear. Curling up next to Raphael, she laid her head against his chest, pulling his arm around her as if to shield herself with his presence, his blood now her own, as her sobs filled the room.

Footsteps approached, and a shard of hope pierced her grief. "Mom!?" But the sound that followed was not the comforting voice she longed for, but a dark, mocking laugh. Haarlep emerged, their expression one of false sympathy, "Fraid not, little one," Haarlep's voice was cool, detached.

Clutching her father, she looked up at Haarlep with eyes that begged for a miracle. "Ha-Haarlep! Help! Please! I don't know what to do- I- I-" Her voice faltered, her world shattering as Haarlep's smirk only twisted further, a silent testament to their betrayal.

And as Haarlep stepped closer, she saw how her fathers crown, the Crown of Karsus rested upon their head. The incubus grinned, her father's blood painting their lips, a sight so vile she felt the warmth drain from her body. Haarlep's tongue flicked out, lasciviously cleaning the blood away. Their command was cold, merciless. "Run from here, and never return."

Frozen by shock and grief, Raphael's daughter felt the very fabric of her world unraveling. The sanctuary of her home, the invincibility of her father, the loyalty she thought unbreakable, all were illusions now shattered. The House of Hope had fallen…

…

“NO!!”

Her eyes flew open, her breath coming in shallow gasps her nightgown clinging to her skin, drenched in the sweat of terror. The nightmare had been so vivid, so visceral, that for a moment she remained still, half expecting to see the blood-soaked sheets and her father's lifeless eyes. But as the fog of fear dissipated, she realized she was in her own room, safe within the walls that had always been her sanctuary.

With a shaky exhale, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet finding the cold floor beneath them. The coolness of the stone was a small comfort, a reminder that this was reality, not the blood-soaked chambers of her nightmares.

Steeling herself, she rose and made her way out of her room. She needed to find her father, to see with her own eyes that he was safe, that the nightmare was just that, a figment of her imagination.

When she reached the boudoir she hesitated. Her hand shaking half expecting to reveal the horrors from her nightmare. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

The room was peaceful, bathed in the gentle glow of the candles and avenues. And there, in the large bed lay her father. His chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of deep sleep, his face relaxed, free from the anguish that had twisted it in her nightmare.

She whispered, her voice barely audible, "Father?"

His eyes blinked open, and for a moment, they were clouded with sleep, searching for the source of the disturbance. When his gaze settled on his heir, clarity returned, and his expression softened..

"What troubles you, child?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and a bit of annoyance.

"I had a nightmare… Y-you… " she wipes a tear away as she confesses, the words of a child seeking solace in the presence of her father. "It felt so real."

Raphael lifted the sheets to his bed, "Just this once," inviting her into the sanctuary of his and your embrace. His tail curling around her in a protective gesture, as if to ward off any remnants of the night's horrors before one of his wings enveloped both his daughter and you.

She snuggled in between both you and her father, the steady beat of his heart a lullaby that promised safety.

Haarlep

The stone walls of your home echoed the sounds of urgency as Haarlep's daughter, her heart filled with the thrill of mischief, raced through the corridors. Her arms were laden with loaves of bread, the spoils of her latest foray into manipulation. A grin played upon her lips, eager to share the tale of her conquest with her father, to see that smirk of approval on their face.

"Dad! Dad, you won't believe what I did!" she called out, her voice bouncing off the walls, searching for the familiar presence of Haarlep. But the house was unusually silent. Her steps slowed, a frown creasing her brow. "That's weird…"

She went to the only other spot they’d be. As she approached her parents' chamber, the memory of the last awkward interruption still fresh in her mind. She hesitated, her hand on the large wooden door, whispering a silent prayer to the darkness that she wouldn't find her parents in a compromising embrace… Again.

Gently, she pushed the door open, only to be met with a sight that drained the color from her face.

The loaves of bread tumbled to the floor as the door shut with an ominous thud behind her. Inside, a strange portal shimmered in the air, its edges flickering with otherworldly energy. Next to it lay Haarlep, her parent, once a figure of protection and guile in her eyes, now still and bloodied. Their clothes were tattered, their body marred, an image so shocking that it stilled her for a moment.

…

"Har har, very funny, Dad," she said with a nervous laugh, hoping against hope that this was just another one of their twisted jokes. She approached her parent cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest. As the portal began to close, she saw a figure on the other side, a creature with red skin, dark hair, and a beard who gave her a smug wave before disappearing into the ether.

The sickening realization hit her, and her voice trembled. "D-dad…?" She knelt beside them, her hands shaking as she touched Haarlep’s horns, trying to rouse them.

"Th-this isn’t f-funny…" She shook him gently, then began to push on their bloody chest more urgently, denial lacing her voice. "Dad! This isn't a fun game!!"

With each desperate plea, the truth sank in. The silence that answered her was suffocating… The parent she was closest to, her mentor in mischief, the one who wrapped their tail around her in protection, the one who would lift her up and make her feel invincible, was gone... Her heart, a thing not made for breaking, fractured in her chest.

"D-dad…" She wrapped her arms around their neck, her sobs breaking the haunting silence. "Come back, come back!! Please!!" Her cries were muffled against their chest, her tears mingling with their blood.

Her cries, raw and primal, tore through the silence of the chamber. "Mom!!!" she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief.

"Mom!!!" Her voice cracked with pain and fear. "Mmmoommm!!"

Time seemed to contort, stretching and bending as you, her mother, drawn by the cries of your child, burst into the room. Your approach was a slow-motion cascade of horror and realization. She watched through tear-blurred eyes as you fell to their sides, your own anguish mirroring your daughter's.

…

“MOM!!”

She bolted upright in bed, her breathing ragged, her body drenched in cold sweat. The nightmare- was all too vivid in her mind. She clutched at her chest, a strangled sob catching in her throat. The images of her father, still and lifeless, clung to her like chains.

The familiar room came into focus, illuminated by the soft glow of a candle that lingered in the corner. She was in her parent’s room. Her gaze first landed on Impsy, the imp lying sprawled with a twitching foot, then shifted to you, her mother, who was slumbering serenely beside her, before finally settling on the one she was most eager to find, Haarlep.

Their chest rising and falling. The sight of them, the undeniable proof of life, sent a sob tearing through her, silent but profound in its relief.

An arm wrapped around her, pulling her gently but firmly back down. Haarlep, having awakened to the sound of their daughter's distress, drew her close, their senses finely attuned to the emotional currents of those around him. “Did my little imp have a bad dream?" Haarlep teased, their voice a perfect combination of concern and their usual playful mockery. Despite the teasing tone, their eyes searched hers for the depth of her fright.

Nodding, she recounted the terrible vision of her father, bloodied and still, the taunting figure in the portal, the overwhelming loss. As she spoke, your hand ran soothing circles against her back, a silent reassurance of safety and love.

Haarlep, ever being themself, made light of the darkness in her tale. "Ah, my tyrant, even in your dreams, I'm the star of the show," they quipped, a playful grin tugging at their lips.

Gradually, her trembling ceased, and her eyelids grew heavy. As she drifted back into sleep, nestled securely between her parents, a silent exchange passed between Haarlep and you.

Your eyes were filled with unspoken worry, the description of the devil too precise, too vivid. It bore the unmistakable signature of Mephistopheles… In that moment, Haarlep's facade slipped, revealing a glint of apprehension.

Mephistopheles, Haarlep knew the description all too well, a master from their past that they had hoped would never cross into their present, especially not into their offspring’s dreams.

As sleep reclaimed the chamber, Haarlep's arm tightened around their daughter, as if it would be the last time…

[propheticclown]

Gamzee Makara: The Bard of Rage and Puppet of Faith

I've seen a lot of people talk about certain characters classpects and how it plays into their characters. Usually, it's about how Eridan as a Prince of Hope is destined for misery. But I wanna talk about how it relates to Gamzee as a Bard of Rage. Rage is described as this: "Those bound to the aspect of Rage are bringers of chaos. They possess great contempt for lies or false ideas, including the stability that false ideas can impart. To them, the true is far more important than the good; they would tear down a system just to destabilize it if, by their reckoning, it is built on faulty premises. Often the Rage-bound prefer anarchy to any of the alternate forms of civilization, which they believe to be riddled with lies and foolishness and obedient masses. They are bringers of confusion and doubt, and they can be frustratingly difficult to convince otherwise when they have attached themselves to an idea. If they sound dangerous, they are. The Rage-bound tend to be the most volatile and unpredictable of the aspects. At their best, they are original, revolutionary, and fearless. At their worst, they are cruel, uncompromising, and vicious." To summarize; Rage is quite similar to Light in a way, but instead of wanting information, they want the truth. They are skeptical until all possible doubts are not just cleared, but destroyed. So how does this apply to destroyer classes like Bard and Prince? Well, for a Prince of Rage, destroying rage is like destroying skepticism. Obliterating motivation for questions until there is only one true belief, which we see in Kurloz through his unwavering faith. But for Bards, as a passive class, instead of destroying rage actively, they destroy it passively. How do they do that? Simple. Through belief in everything. Saying that Gamzee is gullible is an understatement. As long as it's under the guise of "mIrAcLeS" he'll believe it. As he's dragged along for the ride, his aspect manifests as his observations and passively noting things that don't add up, which we can see through his breakdown during Act 5 Act 2, when Dave shows him the ICP video. He's also shown to be easily mind-controlled and manipulated and that's where the tragedy of the clown shines through. Gamzee is destined to be nothing more than a means to an end. His purpose is to serve and nothing more. If he dares not to do so, he is punished severely. As a Bard of Rage, he is relegated to that of subservience to everyone and everything, due to his lovingly gullible nature. He is more of a puppet than Lil Cal. His breakdown in Act 5 Act 2 was the beginning of his loss of freedom, being controlled by Lord English to kill and bring about his arrival. Gamzee Makara is a character who pleads to have free will and is given nothing but neglect because he is nothing more than a plot device to a cruel story. His own.

[piratefishmama]

Fake It 'till You Make It | Part 1

The phone was ringing. It was eight in the morning, on a Sunday, and the phone was ringing. Eddie rolled over, pushing his face into his pillow in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he’d suffocate in the sweet embrace of his misshapen, well-loved pillow before whoever dared to call at such an ungodly hour, decided to give up.

No dice. However his uncle did seem to be answering it for him, bless that man, bless each and every one of his gray hairs.

“Eddie, up an at em, son! S’fer you!” Damn him. Damn him and all his gray hairs.

“Nggghhhh!!!!” Was his very coherent response

“It’s one of those kids’a yours!” Kids? He had kids? Oh shit he had kids, right. kids who should know better than to call at EIGHT. AM. AM. THE MORNING.

ON A SUNDAY.

Just inconsiderate really. He’d spent the majority of the previous night convincing the Gillespie’s that maybe their daughter didn’t actually need to get onto the endless carousel that was the dating scene.

Convincing them that maybe the dating pool was so batshit insane that it was for the best that she remain perfectly single for a little while longer. That maybe being single wasn’t nearly as bad as being with whatever the fuck Eddie Munson was.

Eddie had spent the entire evening referring to her father by his first name as it visibly pissed him off, called his daughter ‘sweet cheeks’ and slapped her ass as she left the room one too many times (any time more than zero times was too many times), offered her mother a joint to chill the fuck out, talked about his band incessantly, he’d gone all out on the ‘disrespectful sack of shit’ angle until he’d been forbidden to date their daughter.

Then listened with glee outside the door while they declared she was forbidden from dating for as long as it took to shake her from her ‘bad boy’ phase. A job well done, she’d slipped him the fifty bucks she owed for the night through the back window, and he was on his way. Fifty bucks better off!

Megan wasn’t having a bad boy phase. Megan was a lesbian waiting for the perfect opportunity to get the fuck out of Hawkins. She just… couldn’t handle her parents constantly asking about her dating life. Or her lack of a dating life.

She was beautiful, the picture of stereotypical femininity, they had no idea why their daughter wasn’t snagging one of the rich Loch Nora guys like a Harrington, or a Johnson, or even one of the B grade rich guys like Hagan, or Peters.

She was too busy with a Holloway.

Then the following hours before he’d eventually passed out, he’d been slowly working through memorizing the chorus tabs of an Iron Maiden song he’d been meaning to learn for one of the covers used to bulk up Corroded Coffin’s sets. Jeff already had his parts down, Eddie had been lagging.

“M’not here!”

“Says it’s important!”

“Tell em I’m dead!”

There was a pause, and then his bedroom door was opening, and a cushion was thrown at his head, forcing him upright to shout his indignation to the world while his uncle stood there stern and unimpressed “Boy get your backside up an talk to y’damn friends.”

“Nghhh, fine.” He was up anyway. The phone ringing had woken him up. It’d take a miracle to fall back into a full snooze now. He shoved his blankets aside, trudged past his uncle, and snagged the phone from where Wayne had left it on the little table by the window. “Whomever this may be, I’m nuking your stats next session for the unholy crime of waking me up before noon.”

“But I’m calling about a job”

“Ahh, Henderson. Might as well just tear up the sheet for that little gnome now, kid.”

“He’s a dwarf and— ngh whatever, I needed to roll a new character anyway. Listen! I have a job for you, if you want it, one of your weird little rent a guy gigs” not something he was proud to have let slip around the kids. It could get weird if they made assumptions!

But if it got him an extra buck or two without having to do much other than be an over the top version of himself, then what was the harm? It wasn’t like he was selling his body or anything, just his funhouse personality.

“…Go on.”

“Okay so… don’t freak out, but… it’s a guy. He’s cool though!! Like, really cool, super chill, no danger to you what so ever.” That was fine, his ‘dates’ were usually fake but that didn’t erase the very real danger of being perceived by two of an older less cool generation that talked. “He knows it’s all fake so it’s just acting—"

“And this guy’s parents? How cool are they?” It wasn’t just faking a date, it was faking it in front of parents. Parents who usually weren’t about to approve of him when it was a heterosexual relationship. A Homosexual one? He really didn’t want to have to go through the real risks of hate crimes with a teenager, but Dustin clearly wasn’t getting the danger aspect there.

“I don’t know, I don’t really know them, but he says he can explain everything if you give him a chance, he’s free today, he even said he’d buy you breakfast if you meet him early!”

“…And he knows I’m a him, not a her, right?”

“Yeah, I said he was cool! The gay thing isn’t a big deal to him.”

“I’m not—” it was instinctual, Dustin didn’t know what he was, maybe he’d heard rumours, but he didn’t outright know that his dungeon master was a queer. Probably for the best, as lovely as Claudia Henderson was, she was very susceptible to accepting the crowdsourced opinion on things. She didn’t have her sons need to question everything.

She’d probably pull him from every Hellfire meet ever if Dustin let it slip that the guy in charge was queer.

“I know you’re not, but it’s fake right? it’s not like you guys have to do anything other than claim to be dating, right?” True… he never actually did anything with his ‘dates’. Usually just telling the parents they were dating was enough of a shock to the system to hide the lack of proof. The most he’d ever done was slap an ass here and there, maybe wrap an arm around a waist or two.

That was enough for the ‘traditional’ close minded Parents of Hawkins.

“…Fine, I’ll hear the guy out, but I’m only hearing him out alright! I’ll decide on whether or not I wanna take this job only after he explains, got it?”

“Got it!!”

“Alright, tell him to meet me at Benny’s in twenty.” Another quick confirmation and Eddie was hanging up the phone. so much for going back to sleep but at least he’d get a lovely breakfast out of it.

Part 3 

[2knightt]

hiii I was wondering if u could do smth for the outsiders? Like Darry has a s/o who is the mother figure for the gang and often Johnny n pony call her ma / mom? I js thought it was sooo cute but if not it’s also okay dearrr

darry curtis x motherly!reader

!warnings!

1.fem!reader

2.swearing

3.probably ooc LMFAO

darry would literally love you. oh my god.

you’re caring???? you help take care of the gang??? you help ponyboy with homework???

you might as well rip his heart out of his chest cause it’s already yours!

the gang loves you, probably even more than darry does!

but to darry, that’s impossible.

you’re heaven sent to him. he truly believes you’re a miracle!

when he’s stressed out, you’re right there to help him destress!

giving him a massage, giving him tea, shit maybe even all of the above if you feel like it.

“jeez dare, stop overworking yourself so much! you’re gonna die some day because of it!”

“no i won’t, been doin’ it for so long i’ve gotten used to it.”

“thats even worse!!”

when you cook for him he will GOBBLE it up.

homie can taste the love you put in and he thinks it makes the food taste 100x better.

but even you have stressful days! but, expect darry to treat you like a princess!

he will not let you leave his bed, he is getting everything you want.

water? done. a book? already in your hand. a fucking car? he’s wasting all his money for you!

he will follow you to hell if you ask him nicely.

he just loves you so much.

when he somehow get’s hurt in rumbles he’s so glad you’re there to patch him up.

but he isn’t glad that he gets an earful from you.

“you know i hate these things. why do you out of all people go darry? you’re better than this.”

he just grumbles because he doesn’t even want to answer anything with a black eye that’s slowly forming on his right eye.

the gang is so thankful that you can patch them up too. they sometimes fight over who you’re gonna help next.

“i’m goin’ after darry!”

“SODA! YOU’VE GONE SECOND FOR LIKE 3 TIMES IN A ROW. IT’S MY TURN!!”

“PISS OFF TWO-BIT.”

“actually it’s my turn.”

“shut the hell up steve.”

“AYE!”

ponyboy’s just happy he has a mother figure in his life again. his mom was definitely his favourite parent, so now that he has someone to replicate that, he’s on the moon.

he only calls you mom or ma in private, he’s too embarrassed to say it with others in the room.

BUT, he definitely lets the mom calling slip accidentally infront of the gang.

“mom, do you need help with the dishes?”

“MOM?!”

“WHAT?!?”

pony just looks down in embarrassment until you chuckle and agree to him helping you. then he’s all smiles and sunshine!

darry is so happy to see this you don’t get it.

darry asks for advice from you to get to know ponyboy better since he rambles on and on about whatever he’s most interested in at the time.

“so uh, about ponyboy…”

“oh! he really likes ‘gone with the wind’, i know you don’t have much time to read so, i can just tell you the important stuff!”

he just nods and stares at you as you talk about the characters, the main plot, and the small details ponyboy’s obsessed with.

he’s taking mental notes and thanking you heavily when you’re finished talking!

“thank you, y/n. really. i appreciate all you do for me.”

“awe! of course, babe. anything for you.”

he’s giggling and blushing at the last sentence

he’s so thankful that you’re there to talk some sense into the gang.

sometimes he sits on the sidelines and just watches.

“DALLAS WINSTON. WHAT ON GODS GREEN EARTH WERE YOU THINKING PULLING SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!”

“I’M SORRY! JESUS.”

dallas just throws his hands in the air in defeat, knowing that no matter how much he apologizes you’ll continue to scold him.

but he listens, he doesn’t do whatever he did for awhile.

darry just chuckles at the sight.

his mom used to scold dallas like that, so seeing you do the same brought back good memories for him.

being around you just reminds him of the ‘good old days’ so when he’s around you his mood immediately lifts.

like he could be yelling at ponyboy to raise his grades and you could walk in and darry would go “AND STUDY MO- oh hey babyyy!!☺️☺️”

everyone’s eternally grateful for you.

ESPECIALLY JOHNNY GOOD LORD.

he goes to you for literally everything.

something bad happened to him?? he’s at your front door! something good happened to him??? he’s right beside you telling you about it!

yeah, he calls you mom too.

he doesn’t mean to though! he just looks up to you so much, he’s always seen you has a mother figure but he never thought he’d actually call you mom!

“hey ma, does my hair look tuff!?”

“huh?”

he’s FROZEN in place. he’s so embarrassed, he’s literally overheating.

you just giggle to yourself and say his hair does infact, look extremely tuff.

he walks away smiling with a little hop when he walks.

the gang fights over your attention with darry.

they ain’t got a good life at home, but if you give them the motherly love they’ve been missing? they will kill someone for you.

darry loves and hates this.

he loves that you and the gang get along. he can’t be with someone the gang doesn’t like, but he hates that they like you so much they talk to you 24/7.

he sometimes just snatches you while you’re talking to someone in the curtis house.

like you could be talking to sodapop and he’ll come behind you and grab you by the waist and carry you into his room.

all that while soda chases him down, yelling nonsense.

“DARRY! I WAS TALKING TO HER.”

“that’s crazy…”

overall, darry would definitely look for a mother-like lover.

he needs it fr🙏

author notes;

1.EVERYONE SHUT UP THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST I CANT

2.when i read dear i lowkey giggled and kicked my feet

3.should i make a taglist??!!???? would literally anyone like to be tagged in my outsiders fics?!!!????

4.i really hope i did this justice LMFAO

5.btw if you’ve DMed me im not ignoring you, im working up the courage to talk to you. im a very nervous person😭😭

may 11th, 2023. 10:18PM.

[scoobydoodean]

4.15 "Death Takes A Holiday":

SAM Police say Mr. Jenkins was shot in the heart at point-blank range by a nine-millimeter. DEAN keeps eating, speaking with his mouth full. DEAN And he's not a doughnut? SAM Locals are saying it's a miracle. DEAN Okay. SAM It's got to be something nasty, right? I mean, people making deals or something. DEAN You think? SAM What else would it be? DEAN I don't know.

Dean isn't acting like a partner—isn't bouncing ideas off Sam like he usually does automatically when Sam's found a case and begins engaging with him about it. He isn't offering Sam a single thought in his head. He's just chewing his food—playing the role of the dumb brother Sam so clearly wants him to fall into.

Sam made it very clear the previous episode (under the siren's influence) that he's stronger, he's smarter, and Dean is holding him back. Therefore, the role Dean ought to play is "dumb sidekick" who simply concedes to Sam's views and doesn't get in the way—who's not as brave as Sam (an epic lie) or as smart as Sam is (another lie of epic proportions) and shouldn't act like it by daring to contribute thoughts.

Dean isn't playing into this thinking because Dean believes Sam's nonsense about him, or because he doesn't want Sam to leave. He's playing into it to make it very clear to Sam that the follower/leader relationship he seems to want so desperately—where Dean hangs on his every word and never questions him—isn't what Sam actually wants at all. The partner he's benefitted from all this time is much better than a dumb brute who just eats his burger.

SAM puts his laptop in his bag. SAM Get that to go. DEAN looks down and doesn't move. SAM Come on. SAM stands up, picking up his bag. DEAN doesn't move except to chew. SAM looks at him, swinging his bag over his shoulder. SAM What? DEAN looks up and keeps chewing, then glances away and back. DEAN Sure you want me going with you? SAM Why wouldn't I? DEAN I don't want to be holding you back or nothing. SAM Dude, I've told you a hundred times, that was the siren talking, not me. Can we get past this?

This is exactly what Sam did at the end of 1.10 "Asylum"—after spewing a very similar list of Dean's "deficiencies" compared to him. He simply stated that he didn't mean it, and felt that was enough—and because he so blatantly lied, Dean saw there was zero point in pressing the issue. Dean treats Sam's hurtful words (that he knows Sam meant) the same way in 4.14. There is no point in talking about it if Sam is just going to lie.

This time, in 4.15, it's actually worse—because Sam was the one who pushed and begged for Dean to open up about Hell—saying he just wanted to help... and then in 4.14 "Sex and Violence", he took all the trauma Dean trusted him with and spit it back in Dean's face:

You're too busy sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. Whining about all the souls you tortured in hell. Boo hoo. (x)

This is the second time Sam has taken a closely guarded secret of Dean's and deeply harmed him with it after begging and pleading and saying he just wanted to know so he could help. If I was Sam, and I actually didn't mean what I said in 4.14, when my full faculties returned, the very first thing I would do is reassure my brother that he is NOT weak and pathetic for being traumatized. What we get from Sam in 4.14? Not that at all.

SAM Dean, look, you know I didn't mean the things I said back there, right? That it was just the siren's spell talking?

It's said flippantly—the same tone he'd use after accidentally bumping into someone on the street. Sam's concern isn't sincerely reassuring his brother that his experiences in Hell don't make him weak. He just wants the matter not to be discussed. In 4.15, he worsens it, by making it clear all he cares about is how his own character is perceived—not whether Dean is actually okay or might have absorbed with words (even if they HAD been false). Sam’s sole concern is defending his character from "false" allegations. It's all about him being treated unfairly by Dean (who dares to not believe him... because Sam's been lying about everything) and how Dean is so terribly unfair because he hasn't gotten over it yet... which in of itself, only reinforces that Sam is lying about not meaning it. What he says here reinforces that he thinks Dean is overly emotional and fussy and his feelings are irrational.

I also sincerely doubt Dean asked him "a hundred times". I also doubt any of the times Sam "told" Dean he didn't mean it were any less flippant and self-centered than the first time. I wouldn't doubt Dean's been giving Sam a hard time, because he knows for a fact that Sam has been lying to him (he heard him talking to Ruby, Dean called her unlisted number in Sam's recent calls and she picked up) and Sam still refuses to admit it. Why wouldn't Dean assume Sam is also lying about not meaning anything he said? The very fact that Sam's hiding his contact with Ruby (after Dean worked with her and even attempted to thank her in 4.10 and also saved her life) reinforces that Sam's explanation under the siren's influence was real. He is leaving Dean out, because he thinks Dean is stupid and weak and is holding him back. They both know Dean meant every word he said, and so did Sam. And we'll have it confirmed for us that Sam meant it in 4.21. Saying Dean's asked him "a hundred times" is nothing than further invalidation of Dean's feelings—more assertions that Dean's irrational and his feelings are invalid and unfair and he's just being crazy.

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 31: Important tasks

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Insecure MC / minor character death/ Nagini does a gobble gobble A/n: Last year y'all! The story is coming to an end :( [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

Like a reflex, your eyes shoot open as the first water droplet hits the window. You glance at the glow-in-the-dark arms of the clock on your nightstand. 2:41 it reads. 

With your pillow under your arm, you paddle across the hallway, towards the end. You don't knock when you enter the bedroom and you can easily navigate around the furniture in the dark. Siding under the covers, you fluff up your pillow before pressing your face against Theo's back.

He hums, turning towards you and draping an arm over your middle. "What are you doing here?" His voice is low and drowsy.

You burrow yourself further into his embrace. "It's going to storm", is your simple answer. A sleepy laugh rumbles through his chest. It's the same answer you always give when you curl up next to him.

Because the truth is, despite being engaged to each other, you're not allowed to sleep in the same bed. They want little pure-blood Heirs of Slytherin running around, but not out of wedlock. 

Nonetheless, the two of you entangle your limbs and sleep almost every night together. 

And nobody says anything about it. They don't dare to. Somehow, you've instilled fear in the Dark Lord's followers by just existing. The one good thing about it is that they leave you alone. 

"There's another meeting today." You tuck your hands under your face and look at the dark-haired boy next to you. "Wormtail was sent to kidnap someone today. I've heard their screams when walking around the Manor."

A shiver runs down your spine. Theo says nothing, he tugs you on top of him and wraps both his arms protectively around you. "We have to be careful. Of everything we do", he whispers, his voice wavering. 

You say nothing, rubbing your cheek against his chest like a cat. The two of you stay like this for hours until the sun shines through the windows and gives your face a golden glow.

Theo caresses your chin and cheek, tracing over the scar left behind by the Boy Who Lived. You turn your face away so he's no longer touching it. But Theo takes hold of your chin, forcing your face towards him. He tries to meet your eyes, but you keep them downcast.

"Listen... listen to me. Your pretty face and I are going to survive this. Do you understand me? And every scar, wound, or other injury, we're going to wear them with pride. Because we're survivors."

He gives you a look that tells you he's not messing around. A small smile blooms on your face, making Theo smile in return.

The mood at the table is tense. If it was not for the floating Hogwarts teacher, then is it for the fact that Snape is late and the Dark Lord is losing his patience. When the said man finally arrives, he takes place on the left side of the Dark Lord, his blank eyes meeting yours.

"You bring news, I trust."

"It will happen Saturday next at nightfall."

"I've heard differently, my Lord." Everybody's heads are turned to the other side. "Dawlish, the Auror let it slip that the Potter boy will not be moved until the 30th of this month", Yaxley goes on, his hands clasped together. "The day before he turns seventeen."

Your eyes flicker to Theodore, who's between Yaxley and Nott Sr. Theo's eyes are focused on the blond man next to him.

"This is a false trail", interjects Snape, "The Auror Office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter." Snape turns towards the Dark Lord, "those closest to him believe we have infiltrated the Ministry."

A Death Eater pipes up. "Well, they've got that right haven't they?" A laugh rumbles through the room.

"What say you, Pius?"

The Imperiused man on the other side of the table focuses his glassy eyes to the best of his ability towards the Dark Lord. "One hears many things, my Lord. Whether the truth is among them is not clear."

The Dark Lord lets out a chuckle. "Spoken like a true politician. You will, I think, proven most useful, Pius." His attention flickers back to Snape. "Where will he be taken, the boy?"

You zone out. It's what you have noticed is most effective for keeping sane during all those meetings. You get pulled out of your trance for a moment as the kidnapped 'guest' in the cellar lets out a yell. But it's not until you feel the Dark Lord's hand trail over your shoulder that you pay attention again.

He stops next to Lucius, holding his hand out for him. "My Lord?", squeaks the blond man.

Voldemort mocks your uncle. He reaches his hand out, "I require your wand." Once he receives the wand, he snaps the ridiculous snake head off and throws it on the table.

He points the wand at the floating teacher, bringing her to a stop over the table. "For those of you who do not know, we are joined today by Miss Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts. Her speciality was Muggle Studies."

You look in fear as the Death Eaters around you laugh mockingly. you know Professor Burbage, very well in fact. Muggle Studies was one of the ways you defied your family's ways. 

"It is Miss Burbage's belief that Muggles... are not so different from us. She would, given her way, have us mate with them."

His speech falls on deaf ears. Your breathing has picked up as you look with big, scared eyes at your Professor. One of your most beloved professors. Her face is morphed in pain as her body is contorted in strange ways. Your bottom lip trembles as she locks eyes with you before moving on to Snape.

You can see her lips move, begging for her life, but the words don't register. With a quick green flash, her dead corpse falls on the table. Professor Burbuga's lifeless eyes stare at you, a tear rolling out of her eye.

"Nagini... dinner."

The snake slithers up the table, through your legs. Everybody pulls their hands away from the table as she makes her way towards the teacher. She opens her jaws and pounces upon the body, ripping her to shreds.

"Young mister Nott." 

Your head snaps from the Dark Lord to the now pale-as-a-sheet Theo. He gives you a look before focussing on the man at the head of the table. "Y... yes, my Lord?"

The Dark Lord has a small sadistic smile on his face. "You are expected to join us, next Saturday in the capture of Harry Potter."

Theodore swallows. "Of course, my Lord. It will be an honour."

"Am I also to join?", you ask, finding your voice.

But the Dark Lord shakes his head. "No, my Heir. I have a far more important task for you."

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry  @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @mqndrqke @llpovi @clairesjointshurt @222244445555 @jolly4holly

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter thirteen || sacrifice

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 11.7k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

The late afternoon sun paints the walls a golden auburn fitting of a king. The still air is tense but the silence that hangs over the heads of the group gathered in the room is more rigid still. The beautiful afternoon sun is so serene you have half a mind to wonder if it recognizes the gravity of the situation you’ve found yourself in.

At the head of the room, Yaga and an older man that had only been referred to as an ‘old fart’ by Satoru stand with stern looks as they wait for a debrief from Choso. Megumi had taken him for a breather when he’d begun to panic and no one seemed to dare speak while they awaited their return.

Glancing around the room, you’re almost surprised by how few people you recognize, but with the higher-ups out of the picture, Yaga and the older man seemed to have been trusted with directing missions now.

When Choso returns, he doesn’t seem any less distraught, lips pressed into a firm and fearful frown. He takes a breath as he stands beside Yaga, exhaling shakily while overlooking the small room crowded with sorcerers.

“Yuji and I were on a mission,” he explains, casting his gaze to the floor momentarily, “when Uraume and Kenjaku appeared.”

Uraume?

Do you know Uraume? You wonder to Miriko.

They have been around a long time if I am to assume it is the very same. They are an ally of Sukuna. I do not believe this bodes well for us.

Your heart pounds in your throat as you find yourself inadvertently backing into Satoru. His arms move from their spot crossed over his chest to rest on your shoulders, soothingly rubbing circles into your tense muscles.

Without his grounding presence, you’re sure you would have fallen apart by now. Of course, you knew this day would come, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less knowing that someone was using the body of the man who was once your world to kidnap your student.

“Uraume cornered me and Yuji chased Kenjaku. I didn’t think about- I should have- I should-” Choso stammers over his words, staring down at trembling hands before a tall blonde woman you don’t recognize reaches out to him. It seems to reassure him as he continues. “Kenjaku led Yuji into a big warehouse on the dock and lowered a veil. I tried to join Yuji so that we could fight together but I couldn’t get into the veil.”

You frown, letting out a long breath of your own as you consider who exactly the veil would be designed to let in, if anyone at all.

“That’s… all I know.” Choso’s voice grows strained as he all but scrambles to join the blonde woman at the sidelines of the room, to get out of the watchful eyes of the room.

“If Uraume’s around, we can assume this is a part of the plan to complete Sukuna,” Yaga states confidently behind dark glasses not entirely unlike Satoru’s. “We should still have one finger which will give us an advantage. Ino, can you check on it?”

The sorcerer you can only assume is Ino salutes and bounds out of the room quickly, leaving behind a tense room of what remains of the sorcerers.

Satoru had mentioned once that the Shibuya incident last year had thinned out the ranks of sorcerers fairly severely. Surveying the room, you wonder if this is truly what’s left of those who can fight Sukuna, as you’re not sure it gives you confidence for the battle given what you’ve heard about the monster of a curse.

“The next question we need to consider is the veil. Given what we know of the Shibuya incident, we can assume it’s likely meant to keep Gojo out.” All eyes turn to you and Gojo and you suddenly want to shrink into oblivion, but the attention diverts quickly to Yaga once more. “We may also want to consider the possibility of multiple barriers.”

“This also brings into question the choice of location,” the older man speaks up now. You can’t help but feel as though he looks like he’s about to croak from the way he’s hunched over a cane, a thought which you’re all too confident comes from spending too much time around Satoru.

“Where was your mission?” Someone you don’t recognize speaks up.

“Takahama.”

The room goes silent in consideration. “The power plant?” Megumi points out, arms crossed over his chest. “Makes sense if it was near the ocean.”

Something nags at the back of your mind. A doubt, a little twinge of worry that you don’t want to allow to spiral, yet the more you consider it, the more it feels like a distinct possibility.

“They’re not trying to keep Gojo out,” you blurt out, cheeks heating up at the sudden attention as all eyes turn to you. The air is rigid around you. “Choso couldn’t get in because they want everyone except Sato- Gojo- out.”

“You think they’re trying to kill him?”

You shrug. “I don’t know what their goal is but he can’t fire off his attacks in there without killing everyone and causing a nuclear meltdown.”

“He’d obliterate Takahama,” the blonde woman agrees.

A tall blonde man in distinguished robes takes a step forward. His hair is black at the tips and his eyes are sharp, devoid of the empathy evident in the rest of the sorcerers. Just the sight of him is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t see why that’s a problem. Just evacuate the area. Not like it’ll kill Gojo,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

Your blood runs cold in your veins, agitation seeping from deep within you like the slow drip of coagulated blood. You consider him lucky you don’t rip him apart then and there when Ino returns to the door.

“The finger’s still there,” he reports.

“See? Feed the kid the last finger and blow the whole thing up. Boom, Sukuna problem solved.”

This time, he’s not quite as lucky. “How about I give you a taste of my technique instead?” You hiss, taking a step towards him.

His eyebrow raises in a silent challenge as he smirks. Confident asshole.

Satoru firmly pulls you back to him. “He’s not worth it, sweetheart. The Zen’in are all pieces of shit.” He whispers loud enough for the man to hear though your gaze never once leaves the Zen’in clan leader.

“Enough, all of you,” Yaga scolds, though the pointed look he sports is aimed at the blonde man and not you. “If you’re right y/n, then we have limited options. We need to figure out if we can get others into the veil.”

“Hold on, Kenjaku is inside the barrier, right?” Satoru finally speaks up, bringing a hand up thoughtfully to his chin.

Choso nods affirmatively.

“... was the warehouse near any kind of plant life?” Gojo’s voice is grave when he asks the question that he knows is dooming for the both of you. The question that will answer every subsequent one all with one response.

“I don’t think so,” Choso responds with a questioning tilt of his head, sunken eyes narrowing as he fails to understand the correlation.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, your head woozy as you exchange a glance with Satoru, leaning further into his hold. His hands tighten on your shoulders, the deep frown on his face telling that the same wave of emotions was threatening to drown him as it does you.

“It’s a death trap,” Yuta gapes in disbelief, equally coming to the realization of just what Kenjaku and Sukuna have planned.

Your breathing grows faint, vision blurring as the world seems to spin around you. If not for Satoru’s firm grip on your arms, you’re almost positive you might have been on the floor by now. “Take a breath, sweetheart,” Satoru urges in your ear, his voice low for only you to hear in spite of all the eyes on the both of you.

As you cling to the string of hope that is Satoru’s strong grip, he goes on to explain his thought process. “They want it to be y/n and I’s graveyard. I can’t attack in a power plant without doing bad damage and y/n can’t use her technique without nature. I'd be willing to bet we’re the only ones meant to get into that veil.”

There’s also the fact that Kenjaku’s current host is Nanami and that’s a bridge you’re not entirely ready to cross yet, but you’re grateful at the very least that your boyfriend doesn’t rip the bandage off the wound that is Kento in front of a room full of your allies and the Zen’in.

You exhale shakily, standing straight with your back to Satoru’s chest. “How strong is Sukuna with one finger?” You wonder aloud, glancing around the room as you silently evaluate the team you have to support you. Half of the room is students, which doesn’t sit well with you. They shouldn’t need to be a part of this.

“He’s not overly strong, why?” The white-haired sorcerer tilts his head in an effort to get a look at your thoughtful expression.

“Then we kill Sukuna with nineteen fingers. If one isn’t a threat, then that can be a problem for later.”

A hum of approval ripples through the room, much to your relief.

“What do you propose then, y/n? It sounds like you have a plan.”

“Miri-” you clear your throat in order to cut yourself off, unsure of how widespread the knowledge of your technique is. “Merely-” you begin, a sad attempt at covering up the name of your curse, “-a guess, but I think I can kill him without hurting Yuji with my technique.”

“Not while we’re stuck in there,” Satoru tries to insist, not willing to entertain the thought of you using your technique without the ability to heal, especially on a being like Sukuna. He’s interrupted by the Zen’in again.

“Y’know Sukuna’s special grade, right sweetheart? What does someone like you think ya can do?” He sneers, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes narrow at you, trying to evaluate your skills as though your appearance was enough to go off of.

“Do you wanna find out?” You hiss back through your teeth, jaw clenched. When Satoru firmly grips your arms again, you actively pull against him this time, wanting nothing more than to clock the asshole.

“Zen’in. Y/n,” Yaga’s voice is stern as he scolds you both, an entire lecture held in just your names. “She’s special grade, Zen’in. Quit your whining,” the older man sighs, unwilling to put up with the interruptions.

The Zen’in’s brow twitches when he hears that and a swell of pride surges through you. You smile snidely at him as he huffs and leans back against the wall, averting his gaze as though he’d lost a battle.

Asshole, Miriko huffs in agreement within you.

“So, what? Do we just look for a way to dismantle the veil, then worry about Kenjaku and Sukuna after?”

“I- I’m actually a bit worried about that,” Choso hums uncertainly as he fiddles with his fingers. “Uraume mentioned something about locking Yuji’s soul away if they have enough time.”

Shit.

“It’s the perfect trap to pull in Gojo and I,” you sigh, resigned. You suppose at the end of the day, you always assumed something like this would happen.

From the moment you first met the white-haired sorcerer, you always figured he would be the reason for your demise. Yet, never in a million years would you have imagined it would be a freak accident which he had no part in orchestrating. Worse still, you can’t fathom the idea of being more afraid of losing him than losing your own life.

“Hey,” Satoru’s thumb and forefinger gently lift your chin, everyone else in the room completely forgotten as the blindfolded man keeps your gaze steady on him. “I know what you’re thinking. We’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out, together.”

“Together,” you repeat, clearly satisfying Satoru when he smiles.

“What do you need in order to kill Sukuna?” Yaga asks. 

Pulling from Satoru’s grasp, you take a breath, stepping forward with more confidence now. “I need Sukuna severely weakened.”

Glances are exchanged across the room. You know very well that’s not an easy condition to fill.

“How long can you two hold out against Sukuna and Kenjaku? Surely we can take Uraume while we figure out how to get through the veil,” the blonde woman beside Choso raises a finger pointedly in the air and you exchange a glance with Satoru.

“I’ll be fine,” he hums confidently. You have to resist rolling your eyes as an overly familiar phrase slips from his grin-laden lips. “I’m the strongest, after all.”

You don’t expect him to speak again. You expect that to be the end of it and for everyone to move out. Satoru Gojo loves to find ways to shock you, though.

“Besides, I won’t be alone.”

Your lips quirk up into a smile.

–

The world around you feels foreign. Like unfamiliar territory, never once charted to paper. It’s as though you’re on a journey through new lands yet to be discovered, yet this experience is without the wonder of exploration.

Each mile closer to the destination is another twist in your gut, another soar of uncertainty in your heart. Another fearful look shared with your boyfriend, doing his best to comfort you even with all the unfamiliar figures alongside you in the car.

Even your own clothing feels unfamiliar. A compression tank top adorns the top half of your body with stretchy, skin tight workout pants on your lower half. Robes cover the outfit that matches those of Satoru, an outfit you’ve never seen him in before.

White robes are tied loosely around his upper half with matching pants around his hips. A black compression shirt is barely visible beneath the robes on his torso, his defined abdomen a treat for prying eyes.

Yet, you can’t bring yourself to feel an ounce of happiness even at the thought of spending time with your most treasured partner.

Because each mile further brings you closer to what feels like a concrete tomb.

Satoru’s fingers glide gently over your knee, squeezing your thigh in reassurance but it does little to ease the growing fear.

“It’s okay, sweet girl. We’ll be okay. We’ll win.”

The look you shoot him is uncertain. He knows as well as you do that no words could possibly ease the anxiety you feel. You wonder if he knows that the reason you’re so scared isn’t even for your own sake either, it’s for him.

The pitious stares from Choso, the tall blonde woman known as Yuki, Yuta, Shoko, and Kusakabe all make you want to shrink into yourself.

Yet you can only imagine how Yuji feels.

It all feels like a cruel, inescapable nightmare. Like you’re chained to the negative thoughts of the past, chained to events that will scar you for a lifetime. Your past always did seem to catch up with you one way or another. You can only suppose that you’re not destined to find happiness, otherwise why would the world be so cruel as to tear it from you each and every time you found it?

You swallow hard, staring at your hands.

You are afraid, Miriko states matter-of-factly.

Your eye twitches.

Thanks, Miriko.

I apologize. I can feel your fear.

Sorry.

With a soft sigh, you shut your eyes and reach for Satoru’s hand in an effort to calm your nerves.

I need to bring something to your attention.

Satoru’s finger intertwine with yours as Miriko continues.

I did not have the opportunity to bring this up when I intended to, but I feel it is worth mentioning that when your mother and I found my second scale, the clans grew weary of us and sent their strongest after us.

The strongest. It couldn’t be… could it?

I believe you are smart enough to piece together what that means, she hums inwardly.

You’re kidding. The Six Eyes?

The one and only.

The irony that that same person would sit beside you four hundred years later, as your partner rather than your enemy.

That is not what truly matters, however. I fear history is repeating itself.

Your brow furrows, deep in thought as Miriko speaks.

Your mother had a partner that day. She fought the Six Eyes alongside him and he fell at her side.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. After four hundred years, everything had come full circle. Here you are, in a battle alongside the user of the Six Eyes, your mother’s same weapons sat at your side, in Satoru’s traditional clan attire that was likely worn back then by his ancestor as well.

Four hundred years apart, and yet the situation bears a horrible resemblance, coming entirely full circle.

Satoru’s on our side, this time. That’ll give us an advantage. You’re sure that Miriko knows you’re trying to convince yourself more than her. She hums inwardly, letting silence return to your mind.

Subconsciously, your grip on Satoru has tightened to a degree that he’s staring at you with concern.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is low, whispered softly for your ears only as Choso and Yuki mutter something between themselves, Kusakabe looks as if he’s half-asleep.

“Hm?”

“You’re squeezing me like I’m the enemy,” he hums with a teasing lilt in spite of the tense atmosphere.

Blinking in surprise, you look down to your intertwined fingers to see your knuckles are white, nails digging into his skin enough to make you wince when you loosen your grip and see the marks left behind.

“Sorry, Toru,” you sigh apologetically, smoothing your hand over the indents left in his skin.

“You’re fine, pretty girl. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you sigh, leaning closer to him to keep your conversation between you. “Just worried is all.”

“Everything’s gonna be alright, love,” he reassures you, kissing the crown of your head so gently that your heart hurts at the thought.

Love. It’s the first time he’s ever uttered the word.

Your heart races in your chest and you shift in your seat in an effort to get your heart to calm and your mind to quiet, but it’s all for nought.

Your bond with Satoru is something you don’t dare question. Intense, passionate, playful, caring, and burning with desire. It came so naturally once you started to get along that you could only wonder how you had let things get so far away from you both in the first place.

He’s your universe.

You should tell him. You should tell him so that he knows. You should tell him so that your past doesn’t repeat itself. So that history doesn’t repeat itself.

“Satoru, I-”

The words die in your throat as the car pulls to a halt and Ijichi announces your arrival. They sit like an uncomfortable lump in your throat, one that makes you want to claw and tear until it’s out in the open, until you can make it known.

It’s not too late, right?

“Alright, let’s go over what we know,” Kusakabe takes charge, jolting to a suddenly wakeful state.

It’s too late.

Kusakabe lays out the plan before you as you do everything in your power to pay attention, but at the end of the day, it’s not much of a plan. You don’t have enough information to go off of and the longer Sukuna is left unattended, the more sullen the situation becomes.

When it comes down to it the plan is throwing spaghetti at the wall and praying you and Satoru can hold out.

No matter how long you spent trying to convince your boyfriend that his stupid title didn’t define him, it always came back to haunt him, only now it haunts you too.

The strongest couple.

When you take a step out into the cool late autumn air, a shiver runs up your spine. The night is fast approaching and with it brings a layer of frost that you can only imagine will make the upcoming fight more tedious.

Concrete warehouse or not, you’ll be inside at least.

The veil before you extends several dozen feet high, a perfect half sphere. It’s positioned to perfectly avoid the ocean that laps and sullies the dock with its harsh salt water and border any grass or nature.

You grip the handles of your sickles in one hand, while Satoru’s fingers haven’t left their place intertwined with your other hand. Although he sports that ever-present nonchalant smirk, you can sense his uneasiness.

“I think I always hoped we’d have more time to prepare,” Satoru speaks up abruptly, confirming your suspicions of his uneasiness as Choso, Yuki, Yuta, Shoko, and Kusakabe all scatter in their designated directions.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” you tell him, examining the way those starry blue pools of his swirl with melancholy.

“I know, my sweet girl,” a pang of heartbreak blankets his tone as he averts his eyes, “but I know this isn’t what you wanted.”

He’s right, but it doesn’t change the fact that somewhere along the way your priorities shifted. Somewhere along the way you realized that Satoru had become your world. The stars in your sky, the tide in your ocean, and the love of your life.

You need to tell him.

“Toru, I-”

CRASH.

Like shattered glass, shards of ice fly in your direction and in an instant Satoru is in front of you. The ice stops and eventually falls short inches away from him as his technique activates like second nature.

“We need to go,” he mutters under his breath, pupils growing small as he focuses on the task at hand. 

Fuck.

His hand presses to the barrier and it relents in an instant, letting him pass through. You steel your resolve and follow after him, passing through shortly after.

You didn’t want to be right about the barrier, but it was too obvious what they’d set out for you. Obvious or not, it doesn’t change the horrible advantage they have over you in this location.

Before you, a jungle of steel and concrete plating and steel beams extends in every direction, towering over you. Two massive reactors can be seen a small distance behind the main building and the low hum of machinery drones around you.

Satoru takes the initiative, cautiously making his way around the side of the building in search of a door while keeping a careful eye on your surroundings. Rounding the corner behind him, you suck in a breath at the sight of a body slumped against the wall, sliced through so precisely you feel sick at just the sight of them.

“Oh god,” you whisper. Satoru pauses, numb to the sight of death. His lips are pressed into a tight line as he turns back to you.

“C’mon, keep moving,” he warns, surveying the area around you. Your grip on your sickles tightens at your sides as you hurry after him with one last uneasy glance at the pooling blood beneath what remained of the body.

A large pair of heavy steel doors stands at the end of the building like an imposing force to be reckoned with, as though it’s your first real opponent.

“Shouldn’t we take a less obvious entrance?” You query with a glance at the rest of the building.

“They won’t ambush us. They already have an advantage and that’s not Sukuna’s style,” Satoru replies with a frown. “He wants to win, fair and square.”

You nod slowly, subconsciously taking a step towards Satoru to feel the warmth of his body against you, but your movement stops an inch from his body. Right, Infinity. You almost had forgotten he had it.

Of course, he notices the way you seek the heat of his body, stopped prematurely. Cautiously, he leans down towards you, Infinity a thought of the past as he cups your face, carefully observing your crimson eyes and uncertain expression. “Will you be okay, sweet girl? Just remember to use the simple domain I taught you if you need to.”

“No- Yeah, yeah of course,” you shake your head, trying to shed your nerves. “I’m just… worried.”

With both Kento’s body somewhere within the power plant and Satoru standing before you, you can’t shake the horrible image your mind continues to conjure of both bodies limp before you with Sukuna standing over them. It sends a shiver straight up your spine. You can’t let history repeat itself.

“We’ll be okay, baby.” His tone is firm, reassuring. There isn’t a shadow of doubt in his mind, but he knows this doesn’t come second nature to you. His lips press to your forehead, lingering a moment as he breathes in your warm embrace. “Will you be okay… with Kenjaku?”

“I-” you hesitate a moment, exhaling. “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

“Good,” he whispers against your forehead, “can’t have you going full lizard on me.”

“I take offense to that, Gojo.” Miriko speaks up from the back of your hand.

No matter how serious of a situation you find yourself in, Satoru never can resist cracking a joke. Strangely, you find yourself chuckling at your two companions, helping to ease your nerves.

Satoru’s eyes crinkle at the corners at the sight of your smile before wasting no time as he presses his palm flat on the door before him, ducking through the entrance as he enters the massive facility, holding the door for you to follow him.

Before you is a lobby with red flashing lights and hallways stretching out to either side with a set of doors lightly swinging at the end of the hall ahead. You swallow harshly at the sight of the blood-painted walls and sliced chairs, keeping your eyes fixed on the swinging doors in an effort to ignore the bodies that litter the halls.

Satoru seems unphased by the sight, confidently walking towards the doors that quietly swing back and forth in a subtle, small movement. Following after your boyfriend, you feel your blood run cold when he swings the doors open dramatically.

“Sukuna! Long time no see.”

You wish you had the same confidence as Satoru. You wish you found the same joy in fighting as Satoru did.

“Kenjaku, not a fan of the new look. It makes my girlfriend sad.”

You slide through the swinging doors behind Gojo, mustering every last ounce of confidence to face what you dread most. A massive warehouse stretches high and far on every side with several concrete and steel cylinders on either side of the facility storing the nuclear energy that likely feeds the two massive reactors you’d passed on the way in.

Standing atop one of the cylinders is, to your horror, Kenjaku. He’s adorned Kento’s body in a deep red pinstripe suit with a black button-up and yellow tie, while Yuji stands opposite him, wearing his usual school attire, however Sukuna’s tattoos adorn his face and his expression is smug and intrigued, a look that doesn’t sport the kind-hearted student you’ve come to know.

Although you’d mentally prepared, the sight of the three people you care for the most getting ready to face off is nearly enough to bring you to your knees and beg them to stop, but all you can do is remind yourself that it isn’t them.

It’s not Yuji. It’s not Kento. Neither of them would want this. You have to kill them.

The only positive is that Sukuna doesn’t appear to have been able to bury Yuji yet. He doesn’t sport the four arms you’d been warned about.

“Oh? Girlfriend, you say?” Kenjaku tilts his head and you swallow hard, biting down on the inside of your cheek as you stand at Satoru’s side in the matching clan attire.

“What a fun development,” Sukuna purrs with an amused grin. Your brow furrows at the deep chuckle that follows, “and here I thought you’d be the easy one to defeat, little Vessel.”

“Mmm, I thought I’d have you at your knees at the sight of me,” Kenjaku agrees.

You grit your teeth, muscles tensing under his sharp glare but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

“You know, I think the Vessel would suit me better than this skin, don’t you think Sukuna?” Kenjaku exchanges a sly look with the tattooed curse.

Your skin crawls at the way he speaks, so out of character for Kento that your chest tightens in pain at seeing him used in such a way.

“I’m ending this,” your words are low, intended only for Satoru, whose overenthusiastic smile shifts to concern.

“Are you sure? I can take Ken-”

“You can’t attack in here, Toru,” you point out in a whisper, glancing between the barrels of nuclear energy. One attack and it would end everyone in Takahana. “I can take Kenjaku. You defend against Sukuna, it makes the most sense.”

He hesitates a moment longer, but when he steels himself, the look he shoots Sukuna is one of amusement. He unties his robe dramatically, tossing it aside with bravado and leaving him in his black compression shirt and puffy white clan pants.

“Alright Sukuna, you always said I’d be first to die, so let’s see it.” Satoru leaps forward as the two bound off of the nuclear storage containers. Satoru’s expression is entirely too thrilled, too wild for your liking, but as your boyfriend still manages to use his technique to his advantage even in such a dangerous and confined space, you know this is what he was raised to be. He’s in his element. This is The Strongest.

Your attention turns to Kenjaku, who stares at you with a bored expression unfitting of Nanami. His leg dangles from the energy silo as he waits for you to make a move. Following Satoru’s example, you pull at the tie at the front of your robe, letting it fall to the ground as well. The cool air of the facility chills the bare skin of your shoulders as you prepare to face Kenjaku.

His eyes glint in the dull light that pours in through skylights on the ceiling. “Done wasting time, my dear?”

You inhale sharply at the sound of Kento’s sultry, honeyed voice calling you his dear. Your grip on your sickles tightens and you dart forward, using cursed energy to push yourself off the ground and into the air just as Satoru had taught you in the short month since you’d been learning to fight.

Landing on the silo alongside Kenjaku, he grins widely and full of malice as he ducks out of the way of your sharpened sickle attack. You reel backwards when he attempts to slice you with a blade similarly blunt to Kento’s, though you know it isn’t his given that you have it.

Narrowly avoiding the attack, he lunges forward with a grunt, the first of many misses that’s exchanged, however you quickly realize you don’t have the skills to face off against him alone. With each narrow miss of your skin, your sickles grow further and further from reaching him. Kenjaku has well over four hundred years of training and your month isn’t stacking up to him.

“Is that all you have for me, dear?” He taunts, voice lowering to a silky murmur as he taunts you with Kento’s voice.

Don’t let him get in your head. Keep trying, I will take over when I feel the time is right. Defend.

Heeding Miriko’s words, you very narrowly manage to avoid two more strikes from Kenjaku, breaths coming in heavy pants as you leap from silo to silo, taking care not to damage the barrels of nuclear energy. You can hear Gojo laughing above you, his form casting a shadow over you from where he stands atop the building windows now.

In the split second you’d spared a glance at Gojo, the blade Kenjaku wields hits you squarely at the ratio needed to critically hit your arm. You gasp in pain, adrenaline and shock spiking through your body like a drug as your sickle hits the ground.

Grab the sickle and find somewhere to hide for long enough that I can heal you.

You huff out groan, picking up the second sickle and throwing yourself down off the silo, using the hook of your weapon to swing yourself beneath one of the raised platforms built as a walkway between barrels.

Miriko takes over, wasting no time in growing your arm back before handing control over once again.

“Oh? And here I thought I’d have the pleasure of meeting your curse.”

“Tough luck,” you grumble, parrying an attack from the curse before just barely missing your target in retaliation. The crimson suit he dons has a hefty slash through the collar now.

“This is a new suit, you know,” Kenjaku hums in disapproval, taking a step towards you and effortlessly blocking an attack before laying hits on hard and heavy.

Three.

You recognize Miriko’s signal, brow furrowing as you focus on blocking hit after hit from the blade Kenjaku has. He hasn’t yet broken a sweat and you know he’s playing with you. Your power doesn’t match his at all.

Two.

The clang of steel is piercing and Kenjaku continues to back you into a wall, seemingly figuring he has an advantage.

One.

As your back grows steadily closer to the wall beneath the steel walking platform overhead, you charge your sickles forward, eyes flashing suddenly as your hair shifts to a dramatic silver.

Kenjaku’s eyes widen as you, no, Miriko, shove him back a step and leap off the wall, swiftly moving behind him and slicing at his dominant arm. It falls to the ground with a horrible splatter as blood pools from his arm.

His lip curls in irritation as he leaps back and picks his weapon up, not yet having noticed the very slow and far weaker decay than your usual attacks that’s been imbued into your weapon. If you can keep his attention pulled from his arm, you can win this here and now.

Never daring to back down, Kenjaku tries to get into a location that betters his advantage, leaping back atop the silo. Miriko bounds after him, following his moves with practiced precision as she leaps forward with eyes on Kento’s shoulder.

Her sickle collides with the cylinder beneath and you’re mentally grateful it only collides and doesn’t pierce.

“So you’re the curse?”

“And if I am?”

Kenjaku’s lips quirk up into a grin. “All the more fun for me.”

Their battle is a dance of elegant and well-timed attacks, blocks, and dodges in comparison to your battle just moments ago. Miriko moves with precision and ease, doing what she can to keep Kenjaku’s attention from the decay steadily crawling up his arm. If it can just reach his shoulder-

Kenjaku’s expression grows frustrated as his attention is drawn to the remaining portion of his arm. Shit, of course he would notice his arm hadn’t yet healed.

His lips quirk upwards in a smile. “Clever old curse, aren’t you?”

Miriko ignores his quip with no desire for chatter, watching as he manages to use the ratio technique barely an inch over the decay and slice off the rest of his arm, healing it as easily as Miriko had healed you now that her decay wasn’t in effect.

Rolling her shoulders, Miriko spares no time in launching attack after attack on Kenjaku, a flurry of missed attacks, until finally her chance comes.

Satoru crashes down from the skylight, spotting an opportunity to create an opening with his keen Six Eyes. Catching Kenjaku off-guard, he lands squarely on top of him, his ever-present Infinity blowing the cursed spirit within Nanami off the cylinder he was standing on.

Having spotted the white-haired sorcerer mere moments before he landed, Miriko made the quick decision to throw herself off the cylinder in her best guess at the direction that Kenjaku would be launched in.

Luckily, a thousand years gives you time to learn math and physics. As Kenjaku plummets down beside her, rolling a few feet and coming to a halt on his back, her sickle is square on his chest before he can recover.

“Still having fun?” She asks with a blazing fury behind her eyes as she plunges the weapon deep within his chest. He sputters and coughs and as Nanami’s pained expression reaches your eyes when Miriko hands control back over, you suddenly feel sick all over again.

No amount of mental fortitude could prepare you to say goodbye to Kento again. With a deep breath, you remind yourself it’s not him.

“You are a unique pair,” he groans out as the decay spreads through his chest and up his neck. You stand back, letting the sickle’s power seep into the man.

Regardless of the anger you feel for what’s been done to Kento, you can’t help the tear that falls down your cheek. The sympathy you feel for someone you’ve long said goodbye to already.

Somewhere beyond my domain, I am certain he is thankful for what you have done.

Thanks, Miriko.

You crack a small smile at the curse’s strangely comforting words as the cracks of decay spread up his face. His breathing grows ragged and increasingly strained until he’s gripping painfully at the sickle, slicing his hands open as decay spreads through his limbs too.

“You don’t stand a chance against Sukuna,” he rasps. “Not with 19 fingers.”

Your lip trembles as you tug the sickle from his chest and blood pours from the laceration. Even knowing it’s not him, the pained look in his auburn eye brings you to your knees beside him.

“Go to hell, Kenjaku.”

It’s the last thing he hears before his world goes dark. Your trembling hand caresses Kento’s cheek gently and you’re grateful you can have a proper burial for him now.

You swallow hard in an effort to keep your tears at bay as your fingers loop beneath the thread that keeps Kento’s head sewn shut. With each loop of thread that you pull, bile rises in your throat until your breaths grow ragged from the mental exertion.

When finally his skull falls open, you damn near wretch, swallowing down the bile just in time as your trembling hands pull the real Kenjaku, a disgusting brain with teeth, from Nanami’s skull. Liquid drips down your fingers and wrists, warm and slimy, as you set the brain aside.

“Never again,” you whisper, jabbing the sickle into the brain. It writhes and pulses when the sickle jabs it as though Kenjaku was trying to hide his ability to stay alive through a body’s death, but you knew better. You knew of Geto. It wouldn’t happen again.

With one final twitch, the brain falls flat as decay continues to spread.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up and spare one final glance at Kento, your heart twisting in pain at the sight of him, his whole body scarred, in a suit not belonging to him, with a weapon not his own and his head hanging open. Your lip trembles as you fight the urge to… you aren’t even sure. Cry? Vomit? Scream?

You don’t have the luxury of any of those.

With a deep breath, your gaze rises to the skylight where you can see Sukuna and Satoru’s shadows moving in a flurry of precise movements. You don’t want to join them, but if you plan on saving Yuji, you’re not sure you have an option.

Wiping a tear from your cheek, you leap up the cylinders, propelling yourself up through the skylight in a crash of broken glass as you lunge at Sukuna, hoping to catch him by surprise. His senses are too keen and he easily dodges, having sensed your cursed energy a mile away.

“Oh? Is your beloved ratio sorcerer dead?” Sukuna taunts with a dark chuckle.

You all know it’s a blow to your gut but you don’t so much as flinch, remaining steady and focused. “Don’t stop your fight on my account,” you reply evenly, glancing over to Satoru to see his skin marred with shallow cuts. Your lip parts in disbelief that Sukuna could ever land a hit on him, but they do seem to be healing.

Satoru’s gaze falls to you, keeping Sukuna in his peripherals. Though he doesn’t say anything, those big blue eyes soften and his eager, battle-ready gaze calms when he meets your eyes. Swirling within his irises is a glimmering reassurance that puts you at least a hair’s width more at ease as you return his gaze silently.

All attention turns to your opponent, grinning across from you. Of course, Sukuna knows more about your abilities than Kenjaku so you won’t be able to take him by surprise like you’d done previously. Sukuna is also more cunning and he knows Miriko better than you’d like.

“Let us see what one thousand years does to a death curse,” Sukuna hums, lunging at you in the same breath as he unleashes a rain of slices down. Satoru’s before you in the blink of an eye, a grin as wide as Sukuna’s spread across his features. His infinity protects you from each of Sukuna’s attacks but Satoru can do very little other than defend given the close proximity to the reactors.

You’re no match for Sukuna, but Miriko is. Your minds meld as you swap back and forth in a flurry of missed punches, kicks, and slices from both sides. Satoru’s six eyes help him manage both your safety, the safety of the facility, and his own as Sukuna unleashes more and more powerful attacks as though testing Satoru’s limits and abilities.

The king of curses’ slices cracks the concrete structure below you and you worry for the stored nuclear energy below, but you don’t have time to think about it when you miscalculate a movement and Sukuna’s slice hits squarely across your chest. You fall back onto the hard concrete with an unfortunate thump.

Blood spills from your mouth as you reorient yourself while Satoru takes over. You allow Miriko control as she heals you before managing to bound back up to Sukuna.

Your chest heaves as the battle rages. Your muscles burn with the intensity as Satoru tosses you around with his technique, both to move you out of danger and in an attempt to surprise Sukuna.

Yet as the sun falls below the surface of the horizon outside the veil, you begin to realize that something is wrong.

Sukuna’s attack launches you back in a flurry of limbs as you hit the concrete beneath and glass embeds itself in your skin. With a cough, you get to your feet as Miriko heals you from within. Satoru stands in front of you defensively.

“You know, this would be more fun for us all if you two would attack me,” Sukuna comments with an arched brow. He knows very well the reason that you won’t, but something else occurs to you as well.

He knows something you don’t.

Something is very wrong.

The veil should have lifted by now. The plan was to lift the veil and move the battle away from the power plant, but if Yuta hadn’t found a way to dispel it yet and defeating Uraume hadn’t done it, assuming they had been able to defeat them, then what kept it up?

Satoru takes a step back to exchange a knowing glance with you, clearly coming to the same conclusion. It’s Sukuna’s veil. The only way to break the barrier is to break Sukuna. That was his plan from the start. Whether it would be him or you, he planned on having only one side leave this battle.

“Fuck,” you mumble, taking a deep breath. You’ll have to adjust your plan. “Toru?”

“I know,” he responds gravely. He knows very well what needs to be done.

So, your strategy is adjusted on the fly. Miriko takes over and launches herself at full force towards Sukuna. His eyes widen at the thrill of what he considers a real battle as her sickle narrowly misses his arm.

Satoru moves to the sidelines, swapping his strategy to defend the power plant rather than you.

Each movement burns as your muscles scream for a break, unaccustomed to this kind of a workout, but each glimpse of Satoru is your reminder to keep going. Keep pushing.

Miriko strategically swaps positions with you at precise intervals, each swap burning into your lungs uncomfortably but you don’t- can’t- stop.

As Sukuna’s slices rain down in a tempest of pain, Satoru moves his body to block the nuclear facility while it rains over you in a flurry of agony. Your jaw slacks at the pain as you stumble over the concrete ceiling that creaks beneath you, holding on by a thread.

Miriko pulls control from you, working through the pain to heal you when she spots a single moment, a single opening.

A chance.

Sukuna and Satoru banter effortlessly while Sukuna pays attention to the sorcerer for just a moment too long. Miriko manages to get into his space, close enough to slash him if she can just manage to-

In an instant, Sukuna’s attention is returned to you and he bats the sickles away with a thrilled grin.

But at the end of the day if this is her only chance-

She has to take it.

Her hand connects with his shoulder in place of the sickle. His eyes widen, expression changing to one of shock as decay spreads through him from his shoulder just as quickly as it rises up your arm.

Sukuna flails backwards and Satoru takes the opportunity to slam into Sukuna with the full force of his infinity, blasting through the side of the buildings and forcing all of you to the small dirt area at the side of the building. It doesn’t offer much space until the edge of the barrier but it’s better than the potential of the roof collapsing.

Miriko heaves in each breath, making a constant effort to stave off the decay as it attempts to spread through your body. Your left hand dangles at your side, cracks trailing up to your jaw and blinding your left eye. Even for her, it’s intensely painful.

“Y/n!” Satoru calls your name, trying to reach your side only for Sukuna to raise his undamaged hand and throw a battering of cleaved slashes in the direction of a reactor and, in turn, Satoru.

Miriko? Even internally, your question is painful. You’re scared.

I apologize, y/n. I am uncertain of any other options.

Sukuna seems mostly unphased by the damage as he continues to attack Gojo, paying little mind to the heavily damaged Miriko who stands a small distance away, evaluating options.

I am truly sorry, y/n.

What?

Sukuna’s had a thousand years to perfect healing Miriko’s technique, yet it still isn’t an easy task. Regardless, the decay still lingers for enough time that there’s a chance. His movements are sluggish enough that there’s another opening.

“NO!” Satoru’s voice pierces the air like a siren, a warning that Sukuna is a split-second too slow to avoid. Miriko’s hand connects with the curse’s legs as she swipes low at him, pulling life from him in order to heal her own decay, however as the stone gray texture spreads up through his body beyond what Miriko can heal, she has to swap her technique again to damage you more.

She doesn’t dare disconnect her hand, her technique inversing itself as the decay spreads back through you and cracks through Sukuna’s lower right eye. He hisses and shatters your arm as he manages to back out of your grasp.

It could work, Miriko could split him and Yuji if she could just-

Decay wraps around your heart as Miriko’s focus wanes, cradling your vital organ like a baby but as she works to stave off the damage and keep you alive, your body collapses. Her breathing grows ragged, the shine in your eyes fading.

Satoru should take the shot. He should risk the facility and take the shot, kill Sukuna, but that’s not what the haze in his mind tells him as control returns to you and your body convulses on the ground.

“Nonono, no, y/n, no,” he breathes out, falling to his knees at your side. He hears Sukuna’s victorious chuckle behind him, ignoring it as he pulls you into his arms, his touch so gentle and delicate you would think you were a flower.

You are his flower. His world, his everything.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, I told you we’d be okay. I- I promised,” he whispers, unsure if you can even hear him as your eyes glaze over. You’re breathing so faintly that fear spikes through him and his eyes go wide with horror. “Stay with me, baby. Come on, Shoko’s just outside, we- we can-” he hesitates, but he knows the barrier won’t let either of you through.

“This is pathetic to watch,” Sukuna hisses with a triumphant grin. Half of his body is still wholly covered in graying cracks and one arm hangs limp at his side. It’s healing slowly but at the end of the day it’s not worth it if you’re not there with him. It’s not worth it if you die and he still has to kill Yuji. Not after everything you’ve been through together.

“You don’t win this, Sukuna. You know that, right?” Satoru’s pupils are pinpricks as he stares at Sukuna, a crazed smile quirking his gorgeous lips up. The curse’s eyes widen, frowning at the sorcerer as he tries to decipher Satoru’s words.

The white-haired man laughs at the distraught and confused expression he receives, his grip on you intensifying.

“Miriko, are you still in there?”

Neither you or her respond, but your eyes flash alight with a glowing crimson that he recognizes as a sign.

“Princess?” His voice softens as he returns his full attention to you, holding you close to his chest, keeping that fading consciousness with him as you cling to life. “I should have said it sooner, but you’re my world. My everything.” He pauses, steeling himself to keep back his tears as he speaks. “I know I’ve said it before but I was a fucking dumbass and you didn’t deserve that and now…”

He shoots a sidelong glance at a confused Sukuna, knowing he needs to speed up his speech if he’s planning on keeping you with him and giving you the shot he knows you have to take as Sukuna is still immobile.

“Now I took everything from you, all over again. I… Don’t think I can live with myself for that. So just know that I’m sorry,” he pauses again, letting out a trembling breath as he cradles your face with his hand. “I love you, y/n,” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. Your lips twitch in an attempt to respond, but you’re too weak.

Satoru Gojo has spent so long thinking he’s the strongest sorcerer, the strongest man, the strongest- well- everything. Yet in this moment, one where you’ve sacrificed your entire life to help him protect Yuji and still failed, one where somehow Sukuna is the one still standing while he cradles the dying body of the person he loves most, he feels hopelessly weak.

His lip trembles as it parts from yours, still brushing the soft skin of your lips as he whispers something meant for only you and Miriko.

“Now, Miriko.”

Life surges back through your body as Miriko grips Satoru tightly. His gorgeous blue eyes fade just as your crimson ones had and the curse within you doesn’t spare a glance back at him as she tackles the king of curses to the ground.

NO!

You scream as you try to pull control from Miriko, but your consciousness is lost in a haze, trapped behind a fog that seems endless. Where normally you would sit comfortably on Miriko’s ship, you’re now trapped in an endless pale fog. Its grip on you is tight and your consciousness falls to your knees, sobbing, begging, screaming.

You can’t feel pain in this form, and yet your lungs and throat sear. Your eyes burn. Pain tears through your body like claws ripping at flesh, threatening to tear you apart from within.

MIRIKO!

You scream for her, but she doesn’t respond.

MIRIKO, PLEASE! Not again, not- please- I can’t-

You can’t even tell if she hears you until suddenly the fog dispels and you’re in an unfamiliar environment.

Your breaths come in harsh pants as you take in your surroundings. The harsh iron smell of blood taints the air and you wrinkle your nose in an attempt to keep the rising bile down. Before you sits a pile of bones while a massive rib cage stretches overhead.

Atop the pile of bones, Miriko’s massive form ducks and weaves through slashes and slices, attacking Sukuna with everything she has. Within his innate domain, he’s at his full force with no need for domain expansion. This is a dangerous play.

“Y/n!” Yuji’s voice cuts through the haze as his footsteps approach quickly, splashing the thick crimson liquid at your feet up your body with each rushed step.

“Yuji?” Your eyes travel slowly from the curses to your student.

“Shit, you look bad,” he comments.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

He shoots you a wry smile, offering you a hand. “Are you alright?” He asks apprehensively as he pulls you to your feet. You’re certain he knows what’s happened, you’re certain he saw through Sukuna’s eyes.

“I’m fine,” you lie, but your voice breaks.

Taking a shaky breath, you spare a glance at Yuji. He looks fairly battered from his fight with Kenjaku and Uraume earlier, but he’s in better spirits than you in spite of everything.

It’s a tragic end to everything, really. To think that you and your student would watch everything and everyone you love get torn down and killed by your own hands and neither of you could do anything but watch.

What a cruel end.

History repeated itself after all.

Miriko cries out in pain as her arm is sliced off. She works to use the reverse cursed technique as she continues her mountain of attacks on Sukuna.

“We can beat him,” Yuji says suddenly, pulling your attention away. You shoot him a questioning glance, although you’re certain he can see defeat written plainly on your expression. “We can beat him and then maybe…” he trails off hesitantly. You nudge him in an attempt to get him to continue. “Maybe if we win, Shoko can…”

Heal Satoru.

It’s too late, you know it is. But if this is what your life was leading to, then fuck it. You’d be damned if it was the king of curses who walks out of this barrier and not Yuji. Even if Satoru and you are left dead, Yuji will live. He had to. Kento and Satoru wouldn’t die for nothing.

“What did you have in mind?”

“We just need to get close enough to hold him down for Miriko. I should be able to get to him if you can distract him.”

You nod solemnly, sparing a glance at the curses that now danced elegantly above the ribs that tower over Sukuna’s innate domain within Itadori.

Miriko slinks around a rib as she whips her tail at the curse.

You leap up the bone pile, letting Yuji throw you upwards until you walk along the long spine.

“Sukuna!” You call, but he pays you no mind. Without Miriko, you’re an insect to him. And you know that. Which is why you play dirty. After all, if he won’t respect you, then you needn’t pay him any respect. “Now, Gojo!”

Sukuna’s eyes widen as he takes in your words.

It’s not Satoru that attacks though, it’s Yuji that tackles Sukuna off the ribs and down into the pile of bones below. The pile clatters as Sukuna and Yuji disperse them and Miriko falls after him.

She moves with urgency as she wraps her snake-like body around the curse once, twice, three times, as decay takes its hold on Sukuna.

“You insect!” He hisses in disbelief as he unleashes wave after wave of cleaves into Miriko’s body.

You watch with anticipation as cracks scatter across Sukuna’s body, over the muscles of his tattooed arms and up his jaw, all the while Miriko falls apart around him with each powerful slash that slices through her scaly flesh.

To your horror, although his body is nearly entirely stone, it’s Miriko’s muscles that twitch and falter first and allow what remains of Sukuna to escape. He chuckles darkly, turning his attention to you.

“No,” you whisper, collapsing to your knees as you stare down at Miriko’s body, limp on the ground.

Sukuna’s skin slowly regains its structure, graying cracks fading and healing gradually as he grins at you. “Did you think you had won, little vessel?” He asks tauntingly.

Kento, Satoru, now Miriko too. They all lay dead at the hands of this monster.

Yuji uses the distraction to leap into action, eyes fiery as he goes hand-to-hand in combat with Sukuna while you sit helplessly and watch. What else can you do? Your technique is dead on the ground below.

Yet… you’re still here. Still using her technique to enter Sukuna’s domain. Your eyes train down to the pool of blood below, looking over Miriko’s body. She’s still in pieces, but she’s in fewer pieces than she was.

Your lips part as you realize all hope isn’t lost, Yuji just needs to bide his time. You silently fall to the pool of blood, letting the warm liquid cover your body as you find Miriko’s head. She doesn’t move when you set your hands on her snout, but her pupil shifts to you.

You don’t dare blow her cover, you don’t dare make a sound.

Her pupils roll over to watch Sukuna again, still distracted by Yuji’s flurry of punches. Sukuna gripes loudly about him using dismantle, his own cursed technique, against him, and you’re glad your training with him paid off.

Miriko’s muscles tense under your fingers and you realize she’s ready to strike, when suddenly the course of battle changes. You would recognize this feeling anywhere. It’s nothing, it’s everything.

It’s Satoru.

Infinite Void.

Your chest tightens as you search frantically for him, but he’s nowhere to be found. No, he’s turning the tides in your favor with whatever power he has left, just as Miriko had brought up months ago.

You frantically look between Sukuna and Yuji, both paralyzed by the domain. Beneath you, Miriko shifts. By all accounts, she shouldn’t be able to move. But unlike last time when Satoru kept only you safe from his domain and Miriko was unable to move, you now were keeping her safe within the innate domain as well. The three of you connected as one within the Infinite Void.

Your fingers tangle in the serpentine curse’s mane as she slinks forward, blood staining her white scales and silver hair.

Under usual circumstances, Miriko is the most angelic form of death, the most merciful end, and you’re her gentle and kind vessel. Covered in the blood of Sukuna’s domain with anger coursing through your veins, you’re the ruler of hell and she’s your most loyal demon.

You leap from Miriko, pulling Yuji away from her form as she wraps herself around Sukuna once more. Satoru’s grip slips just in time for Miriko to wrap around him once again.

“Six Eyes,” Sukuna snarls in disbelief as he unleashes cleave attacks against Miriko again. You watch in horror with Yuji as Miriko’s body falls to shreds once more with each slice through her scales, blood spurting from each laceration.

The difference between this time and last, however, is that Sukuna was already nearing death. And so even as Miriko’s grip on Sukuna slips, so too does his hold on life, and his hold on Yuji Itadori.

Miriko falls to the ground and as she does, she leaves behind a statue of what was once Sukuna.

“She did it,” you whisper in disbelief, taking a step towards Miriko. She shuffles in an effort to face you, red eyes flickering as she searches for you, but her eyes are glazed over, blood dripping from her lashes. She’s blind.

“Miriko?”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, swallowing down the bile rising in your throat as you rest your hands on her snout. She writhes under your touch, her long whiskers twitching as her tongue tastes the air.

“I promised him, you know.”

“Promised who, Miriko?”

“When you were recovering. I promised Gojo that should the time come, I would save you by taking his life.” She exhales heavily and you watch in horror as her detached foot twitches at your side.

Adrenaline, grief, fear, you aren’t sure which one it is that’s keeping you numb, but you don’t realize you’re crying until a tear wets your hand, slipping down to her scales. Your hands tremble as everything begins to crash in on you.

“That asshole,” you whimper, more tears falling down onto Miriko’s scales below.

“Don’t cry, little one.” The timbre of her voice changes as she rasps her breaths.

“Can’t you heal?”

She chuckles lightly, her snout rumbling beneath you.

“Take care, y/n. You make good company.”

“No, no, please. Miriko,” you beg, clutching at her but you feel the innate domain of Sukuna fading and the serpentine curse needs to sever the connection between Sukuna and Yuji before it’s too late.

You glance back desperately at Yuji, your chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Miriko, you have to heal, please,” you beg, tears falling down your cheeks as you sob, falling to your knees.

When next you open your eyes, Yuji sits before you, alive, though his gaze is distant. Where once there was decay, he’s healed now. From within the innate domain, Sukuna must have healed him, expecting to win. The veil has dispelled but there’s no sign of the rest of the sorcerers.

With his knees pulled to his chest and a forlorn expression, your student stares at you with a clearly guilty conscience in spite of the fact that he has no reason to feel responsible for what’s transpired. You swallow your agony as you muster your most convincing reassuring smile, trying to be the responsible adult, but Yuji’s focus is already on something behind you.

Blinking away the disorientation of the innate domain, you feel your chest tighten when you whip your head around, seeing Satoru’s limp body splayed across the ground with his hair over his face. His hand loosely clutches your ankle, other hand still just barely holding the familiar hand sign of his domain expansion.

“Toru?” Your voice barely manages to penetrate the air, not even loud enough to call a whisper.

You scramble to his side, pulling him desperately into your arms. His body is decayed from his feet to just beneath his chest. Miriko must have spread the decay to him from your feet in an effort to potentially save him.

It’s moments like these that make you question whether ‘curse’ was the correct term for her.

Your lip trembles as Satoru’s figure lays limp in your arms. Your mind seems to move slower than your body as your entire frame shakes with your relentless sobs, barely allowing you an opportunity to breathe.

“Gojo-Sensei! Y/n! Yuji!”

Yuta’s voice is a distant sound, blanketed by the shrill ring in your ears with blurred vision as you hold your boyfriend close to you. You bury your head into his shoulder, gripping at him desperately.

Yuta bolts over to you, setting his sword aside as he falls to the ground beside you, although you don’t fully process that it’s him. In truth, you’re not sure you care. It doesn’t matter much at this point, because your love is gone.

In your peripherals, Yuta kneels at your side, looking over Satoru. Shortly behind him is Shoko, who kneels opposite you, healing his surface-level wounds.

“Y/n,” Shoko softly whispers, lost on you. She repeats your name once more, setting her hand over yours. Blinking tears away, you meet Shoko’s gentle gaze, her kind eyes and reassuring smile easing your pain just long enough to hear what she has to say. “Look,” she says softly.

You follow where she points at his torso, eyes widening at the spot where his shirt rides up as you see that slowly but surely, the cracks are healing.

“Is- Is he…?”

“He’s stubborn, is what he is,” Shoko smiles at you with sunken eyes. “Satoru, you dumbass,” she sighs, placing her hand an inch away from him in an attempt to speed up the healing process.

Yuji comes to join you after reuniting with Choso and Kusakabe, all waiting with bated breath to see if he would awaken.

You aren’t sure how long you wait when a muscle twitches beneath your fingertips.

“Satoru?” You whisper desperately, biting your lip as your heart pounds in your ears. His expression is so serene that you wonder if he was an angel in another lifetime. His skin is flawless, with the faintest hint of stubble on his chin that matches the color of his lashes and gorgeous white hair. You feel like you stare at him for an eternity, when it happens again.

His muscle twitches.

“Toru? I need you baby, please, I-”

His low groan cuts you off as one eye flickers open and you let out a gasp, relieved when he shifts in your arms, leaning into your warm embrace.

“You didn’t say it back,” he rasps as tears fall from your eyes like a river, relief coursing through you.

“Oh my god Toru, I love you too, I thought I lost you and I didn’t know what to do, you scared me, you idiot-” your words come out as a ramble when you hug him tight to you. The crowd around you has been long tuned out as you bawl into Satoru’s shoulder. The world slows for you, allowing you the moment to yourselves.

“Hey, pretty girl, I’m here,” he coos, hushing you softly as he reaches up to gently stroke your hair. “I’m here, my love.”

“I thought I lost you too,” you cry, voice breaking and betraying your relief. It’s all so overwhelming to love, to lose, over and over and over, that you clutch to him desperately as though you might lose him again.

“I promised you we’d all be okay,” he whispers, pushing himself up as he heals more. His lips brush yours softly before he kisses you languidly, savoring the moment as though it’s his last. “I meant it.”

Your mouth goes dry as your eyes remain shut and you breathe his living scent in, trying to bury your face into his shoulder again.

“C’mere, love,” he urges, shuffling to take your head in his hands. He lifts your face to his, pulling you into another tender kiss. “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, eyes fluttering open. “And I should have fucking said it earlier,” he chuckles dryly, averting his eyes guiltily.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, voice growing even enough that Satoru’s heart flutters. You’d succeeded. He’d kept his promise. Everything would be okay and you had your way out now, you could finally leave the world of curses and sorcerers and it’s all he could ever want for you.

When your eyes open again, Satoru’s eyes widen. It’s the first good look he’s gotten at you since waking up and his lips purse, brow furrowing. “Your eyes…” he whispers.

Your head tilts as you sniffle, unsure of what he means, until it clicks. Miriko is dead. Your eyes have returned to their natural color. “Oh,” your voice breaks, your grip on him tightening. “Yeah. They were only red because of Miriko.”

Satoru sighs, understanding passing over his features as he solemnly drops his head. You embrace the moment of silence, each paying respects to the curse that likely saved the world and only a small crowd would ever know. “She’ll be back someday, you know. It might be a lifetime from now, but she’ll be back.”

“I think she severed the connection between Yuji and Sukuna and then herself and me. If she didn’t then I… I should be dead, shouldn’t I?”

Satoru grimaces. “You should be,” he answers. “I owe her one for trying to avoid my heart with her attack and bringing my girl back to me,” he whispers hoarsely, a bittersweet timbre to his tone.

Your heart jumps to your throat, pounding as he calls you his girl. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” You tell him suddenly, the words falling from your lips before you have time to process what you’ve said.

His brow furrows.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to say that I love you back again,” you tell him, pinching his shoulder. He recoils, playful frustration passing over his features. “Gimme a break, I told you I shoulda said it earlier,” he grumbles, pouting.

You sigh, leaning your forehead into him. “Just… don’t you dare pull that sort of shit again,” you mumble. He huffs out a sigh, caressing you tightly against his toned form just as he regains movement in his feet.

“I promise, my love.”

You lift your head to look at him. His pout fades, replaced easily by a mesmerized smile, absolutely lost in your gorgeous eyes. “Shit, you have beautiful eyes. I mean you always did, but-” he shakes his head “-I had no idea they weren’t always red.”

Your smile doesn’t quite meet your eyes, after all, you still have a lot to process, but Satoru is just thrilled to be alive to see the way your lips curve so beautifully, the way a timid laugh slips through them as you hold back your grateful tears.

Thank you, Miriko. Thank you for keeping us all alive.

She doesn’t respond, of course, but you hope somewhere out there in whatever afterlife she’s experiencing, that she’s watching over you both.

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a/n || wowowow i just want to say thank you as always for all the support and i'm sorry for the ANGST. holy this hurt to write </3 but i hope you all enjoy and stick with me for the next and final chapter full of fluff ♡

[positivelybeastly]

Hey there! The post you made about the core of a well written Hank McCoy inspired me to ask if you'd be willing to do a similar deep dive into Hanks various relationships over the years. Not in a shippy way in so much as a pros and cons of the relationships ( all relationships have them , even good ones) and how they reflect on and influence Hanks character over time.

Hello hello! I would indeed be willing to do a deep dive, and, at the same time, find out if Tumblr text posts have a word limit! I also realised maybe 20 characters in that you meant actual. Relationships, as in romantic, and I've done just. Basically. All of his relationships. Including platonic ones. Oops. Oh well, hope you enjoy!

These won't be quite as exhaustive as if you asked me about a particular relationship, since I always work best with plenty of image resources and I already know I'm going to hit my image limit early, but I hope I can give at least my general thoughts on how Hank has influenced and changed, and been and influenced by, the following characters.

Edna and Norton McCoy

X-Men Unlimited vol. 1 #10, 1996.

You have to start all the way back at the beginning, and Hank's relationship with his parents is crucial to understanding why he is the way he is. Hank is the by product of a radiation accident that nearly killed his father, which led to the odd nature of his mutation - namely, that it manifested at birth in the form of abnormally large hands and feet.

This was, in many ways, the best case scenario that Edna and Norton could have hoped for, that their child not miscarry, be stillborn, or be born with a disability that would massively impact his quality of living - this was a very real possibility for them. So Hank being the way he was, actually stronger, more agile, and more dextrous than a normal child, and not to mention a genius intellect even at a young age (not related to his mutation, but it certainly didn't hurt) created a bit of a miracle baby effect.

They were unremittingly supportive and loving - they supported his choice in academics, they supported his football career, they supported his choice of girlfriends, they pushed him to be the best that he could be but never put undue pressure on him. He grew up feeling like he could do anything he wanted to, if he simply chose to.

The worst I can say about this relationship is that you could view it as fostering his ego - perhaps if they had tamped down on his ambitions a bit, maybe he never would have turned himself blue and furry in a fit of 'I know better than everyone else,' but I think that's a lot to put on his parents, honestly. He made that decision, and he has no-one to blame but himself for making it. Blaming his parents for that is like blaming your parents for daring to make you believe you can grow up to be somebody - like, what's the alternative, making you believe that you'll never be anybody? Horrible way to parent.

There's a bump in Marvel Team-Up #124 (1982) where Edna freaks out about her child growing up to be a superhero and more physically obvious mutant, but it's resolved when Hank proves himself to be a man of caliber and altruism, putting himself in harm's way to save a child - proving himself to be the boy that Edna raised, and she returns the favour, putting her life at risk to save him from Professor Power.

He may not be the CPA or 'normal' genius she may have wanted, but he's still brilliant, and she realises that quickly. I also think it's notable that Norton, his father, doesn't go through a similar patch, which is attributable to the fact that he sees Hank's mutation as his 'fault', as you can see in the panels above - he can't exactly blame Hank for being who he is, he's explicitly responsible for it. It would be the height of ridiculous for him to come down on Hank for who he is, when who he is is a direct result of Norton's act of heroism.

In many ways, Hank can do no wrong in his parents' eyes - but in many ways, Hank never does do wrong by his parents. He makes their lives comfortable and improves on it in a lot of ways with his intellect, and he keeps them safe as best he can. They're a little disappointed they aren't grandparents when we last hear from them in 2018, in the X-Men Christmas Special, but they're still defensive of him and love him, even though he's changed for a third time.

Charles Xavier

X-Force vol. 6 #20, 2021.

You knew this one was coming. You'll note that this is one of the few times that I'm going to use something from Benjamin Percy's X-Force in this deep dive, mostly because it's one of the few times that Percy comes close to examining who Hank is and why he is the way that he is. It's one of the few times in X-Force that anyone asks, why is Hank doing what he's doing? Why is he committing these actions?

Because, in many ways, he's still chasing Charles Xavier's approval.

Charles does Hank maybe the biggest disservice of any of his original X-Men, save maybe Scott - while he plucks Scott out of an abusive home and then moulds him into a soldier for his dream, pretty much completely failing to give him any coping mechanisms for what that's going to do to Scott's relationships with other people and his ability to maintain a normal life, Charles plucks Hank out of a loving home, and cuts him off from it. He telepathically wipes Hank's parents' mind of his existence for a while, to 'protect' him, but really, he's isolating Hank, and installing himself as a father figure.

Whether he realises he's doing this or not is immaterial, because it's canon, as established in Marvel Presents #85-92 (1991) and reaffirmed in X-Men Origins: Beast (2008). And though Hank doesn't appreciate it, on some level hates Charles for it forever, he falls for it, because he is a fundamentally altruistic person who knows he has a responsibility to use his intellect and his mutation to make life better for other people - this is the canon reason he joins the X-Men, and it's important to remember that, because he has no need of training to foster his gifts like Jean or Bobby, and he has a home, unlike Scott. In many ways, he's actually most like Warren, but we'll get to that.

There are moments where Hank separates from Xavier, most notably in Uncanny X-Men #8 (1964) and Amazing Adventures #11 (1971), and it's significant that the latter split leads to, arguably, the best years of his life, where he's freest to be who he wants to be and enjoy his life. He joins the Avengers and the Defenders, he becomes a sex symbol, he feels comfortable in his own skin, he explicitly feels no pressure to use his intellectual gifts, and instead is, arguably, most himself.

It's especially interesting when you consider that even with all that in mind, he still matures and grows up and realises, independently of Xavier, that he still has a responsibility to help - but rather than being inorganically forced to take on that role by a man he doesn't know, he realises it in New Defenders #142 (1985) when a mutant activist calls him out on his immaturity and his lack of forward momentum.

Hank self-reflects, and self-actualises, and forms a grassroots mutant political activist group called M.O.N.S.T.E.R (Mutants Only Need Sensitivity, Tolerance, and Equal Rights), which is something that Charles would NEVER do. Its emphasis on elevating mutants everywhere, rather than focusing on providing examples of mutant heroism like the X-Men, is unique, and I really do wish we'd gotten to see more of a grass roots approach to mutant politics. But.

Then, Hank gets pulled into X-Factor, and all of that goes away. Then, he gets pulled into the X-Men, and his life becomes smaller. And smaller, and smaller, and smaller. And his life becomes worse, and worse, and worse. Eventually, he hits the point where Charles is handing him an Infinity Stone, and consigning him to joining the Illuminati in his stead, and Hank doesn't want to be there, but he feels obligated to, because this was Charles' last wish, his literal will and testament, and he can't say no to that. But he should've. Because it tortures him, and it all ends up being for nothing anyway. Thanks, Chuck.

That being said, I think one of the most telling depictions of Hank and the Professor's relationship actually comes from Astonishing X-Men vol. 3 #12, where Scott is dressing down the Professor for enslaving Danger. Something I really appreciate about that scene is that it highlights how different Hank and Scott are in their relationship with Xavier.

Perhaps because Scott grew up with an abusive parental figure in Jack Winters and Hank grew up with very loving parents, Scott was able to recognise Charles' toxic behaviour and break away from Xavier - it might also have had something to do with the fact that at least one of Charles' biggest fuck ups had to do with Scott's brother Gabriel? Hard to say. But Hank, who Charles very carefully isolated from his parents by mindwiping them for years of Hank's whole existence, never really managed to break free of him, and it shows here really acutely.

Hell, it arguably never went away, even into the Krakoan era - a more interesting version of X-Force would have really dived into the kind of fucked up dynamic they have, where Chuck keeps covering for Beast's moral transgressions for seemingly no reason, because in some respects, he's responsible for them. He gave him the power, he gave him no oversight, but even more pressingly, he wasn't there for him emotionally. He pulled him into this life and didn't prepare him for the toll it would take, how much it would ruin Beast by the time he gets to Krakoa. Beast needed someone to help him there, and no-one did, which is part of why he went on the skids, I think.

But anyway, Whedon does a lot of moments where Hank is present for scenes but doesn't speak, which is important for a character who's well known for not shutting the fuck up. This, the initial cure conversation, the whole conversation about Piotr - Hank clams up. He doesn't feel like he can talk about it. He's off in his own head, his thoughts are his own, he doesn't feel the need to share them.

And here, it's especially important, because this is a big moral violation that Charles has committed in their name. I know it may be hard to remember, but back in the day, Hank had a moral opinion that was worth something, so the fact that he doesn't say anything here speaks volumes about just how much he feels capable of calling out the Professor, i.e. not at all. He craves Xavier's validation, his approval, he feels a kinship with Chuck. So he doesn't criticise him like he should.

It's especially interesting given that this would continue through the Utopia era. Every time Scott distanced himself from Xavier, Hank was there to comfort Charles, and I feel like that's just something he feels like he has to do. He feels like the devoted brother to Scott's more radical, more willing to criticise brother, and if Bendis had any interest in Beast as a character, he would've played on that in All-New X-Men - the fact that Scott killed their toxic father figure, and Beast feels both free of an influence he didn't know was choking him, but outraged that Scott would break their 'family' like that.

I find Beast compelling because of his flaws, and this is an interesting moment when you take all of that into account. I don't even know if that was the intention of this scene, or if Whedon just wanted to give Scott the speech, but it's interesting, nonetheless, and it really shines a light on how Hank and Charles see each other. I'm very interested to see Hank's take on where Charles has ended up in From the Ashes, because it has the potential to really change that dynamic.

Scott Summers

Astonishing X-Men vol. 3 #34, 2010.

Hank McCoy is Scott Summers' best friend.

I said it because it's true, and it's true reading all the way back to the Silver Age, honestly. Even as Bobby's screaming his head off about Scott being a stuck up asshole, Hank's quietly reminding Bobby that Scott can't be anyone other than who he is, "he can't help his psychological make-up," and I think that gets at a really important part of their relationship. Just as Scott's mind is attractive to telepaths because it's so neatly ordered and makes perfect sense to them, Scott's personality is appealing to Hank because he makes sense to him. Scott is orderly, anxious, dedicated, intelligent, hides his true feelings, and wants to belong, even as he stands apart. Hank is most, if not all, of these things, and so, they get each other. Bobby fucks around, Warren schmoozes and gets cocky, Jean is a GIRL AND THEREFORE SCARY, but Hank and Scott just get each other.

Which makes it all the more tragic when they fall apart, because Hank sees it all and it makes sense to him, even as it breaks his heart. What a lot of people misunderstand about Hank's arc during Utopia is that they read his moral grandstanding as self-righteousness or hypocrisy or a big ol' stick he wants to use to hit people with, and it's honestly not that. I really don't think it is.

I think he sees Scott sacrificing the parts of himself that make him a good man so that he can make a better general, and it terrifies him. He sees him become callous, manipulative, cold-blooded, willing to risk everything on a course of action because he believes he's right. Hank thinks he's fighting for the soul of the X-Men, for his own soul, for Scott's soul, even as everyone else is fighting for mutantkind.

Hank went through his own journey in Endangered Species, and he knows that there's nothing he can do, so why fight it? Why not just stop, and live out his days being the best man he can be, a member of the first and last generation of mutants, and let it go? Because no-one saw what he saw.

No-one saw the end of mutantkind inscribed on the vellum of reality like he did, saw what he would become if he did what Scott did and did anything and everything to stop the death of the mutant race - no-one else knows how close he came to jumping into the abyss and becoming Dark Beast. And no-one, honestly, cares. Hank doesn't tell anyone, because he never does, but it absolutely informs his views going forward. It can't not.

But no-one is interested enough in Hank McCoy's feelings to really ask why he's so insistent, or what happened when he was gone. He's a private individual, and he never told anyone. He felt profoundly ashamed of what he did while he was gone, which didn't exactly help. So his moral insistence just comes across as hatred, and it's not. He loves Scott Summers like a brother. That's why he fought so hard to keep him the way he was, not the way he became.

I also find it interesting that, in some ways, Hank is responsible for Scott becoming a happier, more well-adjusted individual, if in the most fucked up and irresponsible and manipulative way possible. Even in the midst of their relationship being at its lowest point, Hank was inadvertently responsible for time displaced Scott joining the Champions and getting to spend time with his father, giving him precious memories of a life not lived for Xavier that he didn't have before, and it's arguable that that's part of what mellowed Scott, coming out of the Death of X/revolution era.

It's not a good thing that Hank did that, obviously, he did it because - well, because he was having a brain aneurysm called Brian Michael Bendis, but whatever, it wouldn't have happened without Hank's intervention. I don't know if it's fair to give Hank credit for this, because those are Scott's choices and Scott's relationships, but the sequence of events is such. Idk. I try to see the best in Hank's actions and make them make sense to how I see the character.

A better version of X-Force would have made Scott central to Hank's descent into darkness, because it's frankly too obvious a connection to make, but whatever, we missed that boat. I just know that, just like how Hank didn't want for Scott to hollow himself out like he did, Scott wouldn't have wanted Hank to hollow himself out like he did, either, and I'm glad to see that reflected in MacKay's X-Men #1. I hope that friendship is rebuilt, because it deserves to be.

Jean Grey

New X-Men #124, 2002.

Hank McCoy is Jean Grey's brother.

Okay, so maybe not biologically, but they are basically brother and sister. It's why the stabs at making a relationship between them have never really worked for me, and I just enjoy the friendship moments between them too much to think of them together romantically. They're both intensely empathetic, deep feeling, loving characters, and in some ways, despite Jean being a literal telepath, Hank actually gets people better than Jean does sometimes (see X-Men Annual '95) because where she can be blinded by anger and passion and justice, Hank sees people for who they are and what they want very easily.

Almost any time that Hank is feeling blue (heehee) in 90s X-Men or New X-Men, it's Jean that pulls him out of it, because she's spent the most time learning what his habits are, when he's not really feeling as all right as he promises, and I honestly don't think it's a massive coincidence that the period that adult Jean spends dead (2005-2017) is a period that Hank spends alternately depressed, irrational, or alone. Maybe that's a form of dependency? Possibly. I just think they're best friends and that they make each other better when they're around one another.

Hank believes in Jean. He walks through the snow, thinking the rest of the X-Men are dead, believing that if he can at least get Jean out, then maybe he hasn't failed. He gets yanked onto the Shi'ar flagship, hears about what Dark Phoenix did, and instantly tries to throw the book at Empress Lilandra because he believes in Jean, and he believes in justice and law and due process. He watches her manifest the Phoenix and piece Emma together with her telekinesis, yanking her consciousness into her body once more, and even though he's afraid, he sticks with her. He trusts her with his mind, giving her his anatomy knowledge so she can work informed, even as the flames of her Phoenix form lick at his arm and burn him.

Hank believes in Jean Grey.

Bobby Drake

X-Men: First Class #4, 2007.

Bobby Drake is Hank McCoy's first best friend.

There were definitely great friends beforehand (Jennifer Nyles comes to mind), but in terms of making Hank feel normal, in terms of becoming friends to have fun and just hang out and because you simply like each other's vibes and feel comfortable each other? Yeah, Bobby is absolutely Hank's first best friend.

It's probably best exemplified in New Defenders, especially #122, where Bobby just. Needs Hank. He needs his best friend. Hank always has a knack for chasing away Bobby's blues, and you see it again and again throughout that run, where Hank is just who Bobby goes to first whenever he's feeling bad (as well as in 90s X-Men), because Hank always seems to know what to say.

I also don't think it's an exaggeration to say that there must've been a lot of good feeling going on for notable stick in the mud 60s Hank and retroactively gay Bobby to go out on double dates with Vera and Zelda. Hank bought an entire cabin so that they'd have a place to go to. Can you think of anyone else that Hank's done that for? I rest my case. (Is it all a little gay? Maybe. But it's not gay if the socks stay on.)

Where this relationship falls apart is when Bobby stops growing before Hank does, and what Hank needs outpaces what Bobby can provide, as seen in Uncanny X-Men #518. It's not necessarily Bobby's fault, he's just - not a very emotionally capable person, a lot of the time, his primary character flaw is an inability to grow up, and so Hank throws something heavy at him, and his best, most immediate impulse is to just say, well, deal with it how you've always dealt with it.

And that's just not good enough. And in many ways, I think Hank just stops trusting Bobby at that point, to the extreme where Bobby calls out for every other member of the original X-Men but him at the 2023 Hellfire Gala as he dies, and I wasn't surprised one bit. They stop appearing in comics together, Hank doesn't feature in his modern solo series' at all, and their interactions are fine, but nowhere near what they were.

Warren Worthington

Uncanny X-Men #297, 1992.

Warren is the original X-Man that Hank is most like.

Which, you might think is strange, given that Warren is a rich kid with wings and Hank is a farmboy quarterback with big feet, but it's true, by virtue of three facts - one, they're the two most obvious, physically mutated members of the O5.

Two, they came to heroism on their own. Warren's turn as the Avenging Angel, and Hank's fighting against the Conquistador in his origin, both predate their time as X-Men, and this is massively important in their development because it demonstrates that altruism and self-sacrifice are intrinsic in their characters. They believe in doing good things to help people, or stopping bad people from doing bad things, because it's the right thing to do. Whereas Scott and Jean and Bobby emerged from tragedy and ruin, Hank and Warren came from a place of stability and a desire to do good.

Three, they both undergo a terrifying physical metamorphosis that causes massive changes in their personalities, Warren becoming Archangel and Hank becoming a much more literal Beast. This point of commonality is a rock for them both, and as you can see, it helps them through. They realise that for all their struggles with the other aspects of their new selves, they're still, in the ways that count, the same people - they're still the friends they always were.

It's also very significant to me that Warren is the X-Man that Hank first 'comes out' to as the Beast, in Amazing Adventures #15 (1971), and I don't think it's a real coincidence that even as Charles tries to assert that Hank's protest that he's his own man, not an X-Man, and Jean shies away in shock from the vehemence with which Hank rejects their telepathic call, Warren calls bullshit and just goes.

He asserts himself. He's independent, and he breaks from the X-Men, much like Hank and Bobby did, Hank going to the Avengers and Bobby and Warren to the Champions, then all three of them to the Defenders - even as Scott and Jean stay with the X-Men, a decision that will lead to a whole line of catastrophe that ends with Jean dead, and Scott resigned to a life left unfulfilled because his one true love is dead.

Meanwhile, Hank, Bobby and Warren are clustered in a borrowed quinjet in their best togs, going to a wedding. Warren asks why he and Bobby are going along, given they hardly know the couple. Hank replies Warren that he's family, and he wants them there, and that's that, and there's a quiet, warm little smile on his face, because he is. They are.

I also find it very interesting that Hank and Warren undergo a very similar trajectory, tracking from Utopia to the Dark Angel Saga for Warren, and All-New X-Men to Krakoa for Hank - they cloister themselves off from others, they lose sight of who they originally were, they roll around in the blood of innocents, and in the end, they both end up dying and losing their memories, born anew.

Like I said. Warren is the original X-Man that Hank is most like.

Jennifer Nyles

X-Men Unlimited vol. 2 #10, 2005.

Jen is an underrated figure in Hank's history, and that's mostly because she has very limited appearances, none of which quite make sense with one another. Her first appearance in Marvel Presents #85-92 posits that she was, in many ways, Hank's first love, the person he missed most of all those who were made to forget him, and that the absence of him in her mind compelled her to study the mind so that she might try and unlock what she knew was missing. In the end, he stays away from her, because she nearly dies and he feels he endangers her. He probably does.

Then, we have a retroactive appearance in Origins: Beast, and the above story in Unlimited. Origins: Beast doubles down on her importance, stating that she's the person who encourages Hank to come out of his shell even before he's an X-Man, to use his gifts and be the brilliant person she knows he is, and while Unlimited agrees with that importance, she knows who Hank is at a time when she shouldn't. How to square it away? Ehh. I kinda don't. I like the three stories and how they impact and change and demonstrate Hank's qualities too much to try and change them. Instead, I just enjoy them.

In another life, Hank and Jen absolutely got married and they had a brilliant history together. She's almost as smart as he is, just as fiery (she punches out a bully antagonising Hank), and she has a strong moral, empathetic core. Hank, honestly, has a type. But even more than a romantic figure, I like her as an inspirational figure for Hank, someone that pushes him in the right direction and leads him to the right answers without giving them to him. She accepts him at a time when he needed it most, and helps him rebuild his life.

Tony Stark

Amazing Adventures #14, 1972.

For a pair of geniuses that snark at each other almost non-stop whenever they're around, and who feel almost constantly at loggerheads in classic Avengers, Tony is very important to Hank's development, sometimes by virtue of his faults.

First off, he's the superhero who turns up to investigate Hank's transformation at Brand, and his apparent death there at Hank's hands (a Mastermind illusion) and his mercy and understanding of the torment that Hank is undergoing are massively formative in Hank coming to terms with his new bestial form. He teaches Hank's two lessons - one, that he needs to control himself in a way he didn't need to before, and two, that he can still rely on people to see the human in him if he acts it.

Secondly - it's his inadvertent dismissal of Hank during the Avengers' examination of Wonder Man that sparks off Hank getting annoyed about his genius being ignored, pushes him out of the Mansion in a snit . . . and that's when he discovers that he's not just adjusting to being a beast anymore. No, he's fucking hot now. Even when he's being a dick (without really meaning to), Tony helps Hank grow, helping him realise that he doesn't need to be the high performing intellectual he was on the X-Men, the Avengers have that covered, but also, that he can afford to be someone else as well.

They continue to be friends for years and years, with their friendship built up over the course of plenty of classic Avengers issues, leading to a complete bypassing of a big ol' hero vs. hero fight in X-Factor Annual #1 (1986) because Hank's just like, oh hey, Iron Man, it's me, and Tony's just like, oh hey Beast, what the fuck's all this about? And it just. Fixes the problem.

I also don't think that it's a coincidence that Hank and Tony are the two most visibly affected when the Illuminati mindwipe Steve during the Incursions arc, with Hank unable to even really look at Steve when it happens, and Hank is constantly pulling on that morality chain even as they tie each other into knots, trying to justify the destruction of worlds. For as much as they give each other shit, Hank and Tony can rely on each other to give it to 'em straight, and that's important when their heads can get as big as these guys.

Wanda Maximoff

Uncanny Avengers vol. 3 #30, 2017.

Hank should hate Wanda more than he does.

The event that Wanda caused, the Decimation, was, in a lot of people's opinions, the beginning of the end for Henry McCoy. It stripped him of his morality and his pretensions and his ability to do anything. It was the height of cruelty, and Wanda did it without arguably meaning to. Not casually, but in a moment of instability. Leaving a gaping wound in evolution that Hank tried to fix.

He threw away a lot, trying to fix it. He wrecked a lot of relationships, came away feeling dirty, consorted with demons. Became acutely aware of every one of his limitations. And yet. He never really blamed her. Because how could he?

After all, he knew Wanda before the mess. When she was a brilliant friend and teammate on the Avengers. When she was shining, glimmering proof that people could change and become better, if only they tried and were given the chance. When she was at her best. And he never stopped believing she could be that again. It certainly didn't help that they had a certain wonder man in common, but honestly, they're just great friends.

Hank supported her in Children's Crusade, even in the face of the X-Men going kill crazy, and he never held a grudge. Even when he finds her, at the end of his rope, in Endangered Species, when he's at his most fraught and defeated, he just. Wants to fix things. It would be so easy to be hateful and resentful, but he just doesn't have it in him. After all, he knows what it's like to ruin your life in an instant because of a bad decision, and to want to claw it back however you can.

Carol Danvers

Ms. Marvel vol. 2 #18, 2007.

Honestly, for someone who you often see getting blasted on the X-Men Reddit for the Superhuman Registration Act/where were you when our babies were burning panels, Carol has a lot of really strong relationships within the X-Men, but I think her bond with Hank is especially strong - which is saying something, considering their first meeting was a fight! But, honestly, they just like and respect each other. They don't tolerate injustice, they believe in being heroes for everyone, not just the few, and they support each other.

Even in the midst of Civil War II, arguably the single worst that Carol has ever been written (not counting Avengers #200, take your pick of a character assassination), there's a moment where Tony is begging Carol to rethink her Minority Report bullshit, and she says, fine, I'll consider your evidence - but only if Hank checks it. And he says he has, and it's not wrong. And she knows that that means something.

The best friends will tell you when you're wrong. And you'll listen to them.

Heather Douglas

The New Defenders #139, 1984.

Hank and Heather have an almost constantly combative relationship from the instant Moondragon joins the Defenders, with Hank never afraid to let her know that he doesn't like her and that he doesn't want her on 'his' team. In his estimation she's high, and mighty, and conceited, and possessed of more power than wisdom.

And. Guess what?

Hank's fucking wrong. Heather is trying. Yes, she backslides, she has her moments of true ego and duplicity, but it takes Hank far too long to come to realise that she's trying as hard as she is - and frankly, she's right to smack him down and humiliate him from time to time, because he can be conceited. He acts as though the Defenders are his team, and he harbours pretensions of leadership that no-one takes seriously, because Hank is not a leader, you don't even have to dislike him to know that - and it takes him a while to realise that.

Their combative relationship keeps the other in check. They grow as a result of being around one another, even if they never quite settled things between them. Hank's maturation into a grown adult, into a man able to be more than just a superhero, is in no small part thanks to Moondragon's barbs and pushes and slaps at his ego, and he should be grateful that he got the chance to make good on that chance to mature, because Heather didn't, in the end.

Alison Blaire

Marvel Heartbreakers #1, 2010.

I'm gonna be real, the Beauty and the Beast miniseries by Ann Nocenti is not great. It has moments of fun, some pathos, but for the most part, it's incredibly soapy, incredibly hackneyed, goes nowhere, has a lot of weird anti-set up, and Hank is strangely incredibly violent and cruel in it at times. For someone claiming Hank was his usual charming self, Nocenti sure wrote him as a borderline psycho.

But. The Heartbreakers epilogue for that relationship redeems it, honestly, and it gains added poignancy when a future version of Alison is killed in Battle of the Atom, in one of the few instances of that series actually managing a moment of pathos. There's no magic trick to why Hank and Alison work, they just sort of find each other hot and fun and they're there for each other in a weird, fucked up time in Alison's life, so maybe it was inevitable that it faded to nothing.

I just like to think there's always a lingering softness, a lingering what if, for the both of them. A potential of something, if not an actual something.

Vera Cantor

The New Defenders #149, 1985.

Oh, Vera . . . you deserved better.

Gonna be brutally honest, Hank treated Vera kinda like shit. I don't think he meant to, it was never a relationship he was invested in, and he said as much, he was interested in the stability it represented, but I'm genuinely sorry for Vera that she got caught up in the crossfire of it. She was dismissed and treated like a pick-up, drop-off girlfriend when she was looking for a good man - and Hank is a good man, but at this point? Not what she was looking for. Not what she needed.

I'm glad we see her again in X-Factor and she's doing well for herself. I'm fairly convinced that she's a lesbian because Hank may have ruined men for her (in the not good way), but hey, a pro-mutant activist? That's pretty worthy - and considering how Hank treated her, pretty big minded. I like to think this taught Hank to be more considerate of people's feelings and grow out of his womaniser stage.

Julio Richter

X-Factor vol. 1 #18, 1987.

For a character often defined by his teaching abilities, Hank actually wasn't a particularly great teacher or carer for children when he first started - I always think there's a good deal of significance in the fact that X-Factor #1 has him searching out a position in academia, being rejected out of prejudice, but then finding his way to a teaching position through way of X-Factor, though I doubt that was planned.

Regardless of whether or not it was planned, I do think his relationship with Julio Richter, or Rictor, is massively important to Hank's development, because everything that Hank gets wrong with Tabitha Smith, he gets right with Julio. He encourages him, gives him his clothes, never talks down to him, nurtures his potential, pushes him to learn and think for himself - and it's rewarded.

Julio imprints on Hank strongly, and you can see that he favours Hank amongst all the other X-Factor members for a reason. This relationship largely went away in future, sadly, but I always like to think that it remains in some fashion, even if only in small ways.

Trish Tilby

X-Factor vol. 1 #36, 1988.

Yeah, you knew this was coming.

Honestly . . . I can see what Hank saw in her as a human being. She's a woman of fierce convictions. She believes in truth, and honesty, and justice. She is pro-mutant, after a fashion. And I have to give her credit, she does have her moments of heroism, like in this issue, when she risks her life to help Hank save a bridge of people as Inferno kicks into high gear. There are moments of good between them.

But fuck me she's an awful human being.

Leaking the fact that the Legacy Virus has jumped to humans directly leads to a mutant hate crime that ends in a death. She barges in to a sick, dying man's hospital room in the search of a scoop. And I'm not even gonna get into what happened when Hank turned feline.

She's just a trainwreck of breaches of journalistic ethics, and I hate her to bits. If she taught Hank anything, it was that the people you admire and love can disappoint you, and it says a lot that it's a one-two punch of her, and Cassandra fucking Nova that shatters Hank's self-esteem into a million pieces. What rarified company. The very fact that she tries to get back together with Hank after this, like, what even the fuck, man.

Jubilation Lee

Uncanny X-Men #308, 1993.

These two make me smile.

I think Jubilee awakens something very simple and immature in Hank, but something healthy at the same time - she encourages him, and everyone else at the Mansion, up to and including Professor X, to have fun. At a time when they were losing people left and right, it would have been easy to lose heart, but Jubilee kept Hank and the rest of the team bolstered, kept them focused. That's no small thing, honestly. Maybe she doesn't have quite as strong a relationship with Hank as she does Logan - that's a hard bond to match - but it's hard not to look at these two and see a true blue friendship.

I also adore that it came back in full force in X-Men vol. 4 (2013), where Hank often acted as mission and home support for the all-female team of X-Men that featured in that book. Taking care of baby Shogo, helping Omega Sentinel with her physical rehab - Hank was an invaluable asset in that run, and his scenes with Jubilee were always a treat.

Dark Beast

X-Men: Endangered Species, 2007.

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

Dark Beast is such a well constructed character because he is not just Henry McCoy if Henry McCoy were evil. Dark Beast is, what if Henry McCoy were raised in an evil world that believes in evil things and the only thing to do is be evil, lest it kill you? There's such a curious drive to betterment, to becoming stronger, smarter, more, to him, that speaks to the same in Hank, but it's all just so twisted up. It's driven by fear where it's driven by hope in Hank.

Because he is afraid. And he is human, much as he might hate the label.

He's a warning. He's a check and balance. He's a cruel joke. He's a monster. He's the other side of Hank's fears. Hank fears devolution, becoming more of an animal, giving in to the Beast, but Dark Beast represents evolution, becoming less animal and more - other. Something that considers itself above human, animal, mutant. Intelligence without conscience, drive without wisdom.

He's not what all Hank McCoys inevitably become. That's stupid, and basic, and anyone who believes that is stupid and basic. That's genetic essentialism, and it's shit media literacy. It's also the basis for X-Force (2019) and I reject that hypothesis entirely.

Henry's much more interesting than evil Hank - not just because he's funnier, and better at his job, and a more efficient villain, but because try as he might, there's still something essentially human inside of him. Something stopped him from killing Hank's - his - parents.

An essential, viral, inescapable fact.

There's something good in him, just as there's something bad in Hank. And it will bedevil them both forever, because they can't get rid of it.

Cecilia Reyes

Astonishing X-Men vol. 3, 2012.

Honestly, maybe the most grown up and equal relationship that Hank ever had, and I don't really feel like he even really had the chance to have it. Cecilia is everything Trish wishes she could be, and much more besides. Uncompromising in her morals, fiercely dedicated to healing, defensive of her boundaries, strong, independent, intelligent, funny - and kind.

She held a torch for him, for a long time. There's a lot of pictures of him in her apartment, both from the 90s and his feline form. She felt for him in a way maybe he didn't realise. Maybe he's the one who got away. Maybe she is. Either way, these two just. Work. There's a world out there where they became something more, and that's a happier world for Hank, honestly. But, hey ho.

Emma Frost

New X-Men #123, 2002.

Sometimes friendships don't make sense. Other times they do.

The friendship between Hank and Emma always made sense to me. The wit, the banter, the emotional intelligence, the willingness to play to roles assigned to them by their image - they were practically destined to be friends. And yet, often forgotten. Every now and then, it crops up, and I cherish it, but for the most part, they're just irrepressibly bitchy all the way through Morrison's run, and that'll always be special to me.

I always try and see good where I can, and I wanted to post an exchange from Secret Empire Omega where Hank tries to bolster Emma in the wake of New Tian's fall, because I like the moment for them, but in the end, it's just too poor of an event and a context for me to share it. All my props to Nadia Shammas in the X-Force Annual, the one issue of X-Force I thought actually had a decent handle on a villainous Beast - by sheer virtue of actually remembering that people would care. Emma would care.

Abigail Brand

Siege vol. 2 #2, 2015.

Abigail Brand did not make Hank McCoy into a war criminal.

To say so is to betray a basic lack of understanding of this entire relationship, but then, what else is new? A lot of people seemingly don't get who Hank is and why he works. Out of universe, but also in, oddly enough.

Kate Pryde and Kurt Wagner both speculate about what made Hank into what he became in X-Force, and they think it's Abigail, because that's an easy explanation, but it's not the truth. Not remotely. It betrays that they didn't know Hank as well as they thought they did, and Hank died not being known by a lot of people.

Which . . . sucks. But it is what it is.

Abigail knew him. She knew him as a kind man. Kinder than her. Kinder than anyone. She wanted that kindness. Craved it. Needed it. Managed to jam it into her work life, by hook and by crook. But I don't think Hank minded. At that point in his life, he needed what she offered, and though I don't think either of them ever thought they'd catch real feelings, they both absolutely did.

He kept her honest, she gave him options. He gave her moral dimension, she gave him self-esteem. They complemented each other perfectly, and I'm sorry that they never got a fair chance, really.

Sure, it was all essentially motivated by a desire to get good dick, but sometimes, that's all it needs to be.

Kurt Wagner

Uncanny X-Men: The Heroic Age, 2010.

Ahhh, Kurt . . . honestly, I don't think Hank and Kurt were ever shown to be quite as close on panel as you'd think they would be, in part because there's a One Blue Limit on X-Men teams for a while (seriously, check the X-Men team line-ups, and you'll realise that Hank and Kurt are pretty much never on the same team until 2015, with Amazing X-Men, a team Hank promptly leaves at issue #5).

But I like to think they're good friends, even if Kurt does fall for Hank's facade of being okay, just like a lot of other people. I like to think that Kurt represents a kind of ideal to Hank - he's what Hank, in many ways, wishes he could be. A better man. A happier man. A more hopeful man. A man who believes in a higher power, still. I certainly don't think it's a coincidence that it cuts Hank deep, when Kurt dies at Bastion's hands.

Steve Rogers

Secret Avengers vol. 1 #21, 2012.

Hank and Steve have an odd relationship. In a way, he does a lot for Hank, bolstering him during his time in the Avengers, treating him as a valued teammate - even if, as is typical of 70s writing styles, they can both come across as cunts to one another occasionally - and one of my favourite moments for Hank is in Avengers Annual #11, where Steve calls Hank out as a man who won't kill. Doesn't have it in him.

Which makes this moment, a sequel to what Steve pushes Hank to do in Secret Avengers #16, hurt so much. Steve had to know what it would cost Hank, to shortcut his way into an Oppenheimer arc, but he hoped the math would comfort Hank. I don't think it did.

I don't know if it was intentional, but it haunts me that both Scott and Steve use Hank (Scott during Secret Invasion, and Steve in SA #16) to commit acts of mass murder, and try to console him with the numbers of people saved through atrocity. Hank tried to escape all of that, fleeing from Utopia, and maybe he was naive to think a band of Secret Avengers would be a place to hide from doing bad things, but it doesn't change the essential fact. Scott and Steve used Hank to achieve their goals, and he had to just deal with it.

"Are you seriously asking a mutant what he'll do to avoid extinction?" Mindwiping Steve in New Avengers vol. 3 hurt, I'm sure, but it's a fine old thing, trying to morally grandstand to a man you explicitly used to make a nuclear bomb. A lot of mixed up history in that room.

Broo

Wolverine & the X-Men vol. 1 #7, 2012.

If only Hank's adopted sons were given as much attention and care as Wolverine's adopted daughters. Ah well. There was a lot of work being done over this run, to make it clear that Hank, Abigail and Broo were forming a family unit, including Abigail being there as Broo's parental figure during his graduation and a possible future showing Broo as head of S.W.O.R.D, but all of it eventually came to naught, which saddens me. Broo deserved better. So did Hank.

Time Displaced Beast

X-Men: Blue #35, 2018.

There was a kernel of an idea here.

It was inevitable that Hank was going to end up hating himself. He's a character largely defined by self-hatred, in most of his forms. The thread that never got pulled was the fact that, honestly?

Older Hank should hate younger Hank just as much.

Younger Hank is much closer to the man who turns them blue, who's ego tripping at Brand, than older Hank is. That's what leads him down this entire path, of magic and demon summoning and servitude, that's broken only by the intervention of other X-Men.

But, whatever. The era of lost potential, tbh.

. . . . . . . .

Oh, hey. You're still here?

Yeah, I guess there is someone missing, huh?

Simon Williams

Uncanny Avengers vol. 3 #28, 2017.

Avengers Annual #6, 1976.

X-Force vol. 6 #49, 2024.

Avengers vol. 3 #14, 1999.

Wonder Man vol. 2 #5, 1991.

Avengers Annual vol. 2 #1, 2012.

They complete one another.

They simply are their best selves around one another.

Even when sick, and twisted, and cruel, and beyond redemption, Hank couldn't bear for the possibility of harm to an invulnerable, immortal, ionic man. He would rather dash all of his plans, make it all for nothing, kill himself, than risk hurting Simon.

At the start of this whole ass breakdown, you said, all relationships have pros and cons. And I think that's true. Mostly. But when Hank and Simon are together, nothing can tear them apart, nothing can bring them down, nothing can stop them, nothing can keep them from doing the right thing.

I can't think of a negative to them being together.

They love each other.

Thanks for bearing with me. :)