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vampyrial · 1 year ago

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A World For Her Alone | Sisyphus

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

cw (chapter specific): child neglect, very vaguely implied forced prostitution, death, abuse, poisoning, suicide, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, arranged marriage, infidelity

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: we take a brief intermission from claude's suffering to examine what the fuck is wrong with reader's family

author's note: me and my husband we're sticking together🎵

Claude lingered around your parents’ manor like a ghost after you died. In the middle of the night, every night, he found his way to your bedroom, standing at the foot of the bed you��d died in, remembering the shape your body formed in the sheets. The room still smelled of your blood and sweat, though the room had been cleaned up by the maids as soon as your body was taken out of the room. Your absence was starker than your presence. After the funeral, Diana expressed that she wanted to go home, heavily implying she would leave if he came with her but Claude was no longer beholden to her wants. He had no reason to care whether she came or went.

He was wielding grief as the knife he held up to cut deeper into himself in hope that if he only suffered enough, his hands would wash clean of your blood. But in the end, he had already decided to live, if only because he could do nothing else. Morbid thoughts plagued him, swirling around his head like unquiet spirits begging him to give in. He thought perhaps he should cause his own ruination and this time, live with it. He thought he should make for certain that both of your houses are set aflame and collapsing on top of the lot of you, to bury and burn your sycophant parents, his helplessly selfish wife and even his own child. He thought that nothing should be spared from complicity. He knew not anymore if he truly believed that it would save you, or if this was what some divine terror was willing him to do even still, but he began to long for punishment. It became catharsis, the thought of being punished.

He roamed through the house you grew up in, searching for any trace of you that survived, as if some inkling of you would help him to save what had already been lost too many times. Even so, it was automatic for him at this point, no longer even really a choice. He had no direction, only frantic need pulling him toward the doomed task. He was trying to get to the dregs of a goblet of wine which never ran dry, he kept drinking until he was sick but never satisfied, never finished.

Your parents’ manor was an eerie place, he’d always thought. Wind blew in from an opened window in the hall and the house seemed to breathe, and its hollow bones creaked softly. Despite her gentle ultimatum, Diana could not actually follow up on it, she must have known that but she believed better of him at the time and thought that everywhere she went, he would follow her like a lovestruck teenager again. There were things to be done at manor that she could not neglect as its lady even if he chose to neglect his own duties. She had come into her own as a marchioness, no longer the shy and unassuming lady that lay in bed sick day in and day out. She would not leave the territory without management though he knew she desperately wanted him to come back home. She seemed dazed to return home without her husband for that purpose, for the lament of a sister she had infinitely more right to grieve so egregiously. Even after all those years, the silly girl was only just beginning to grow aware of the disparity of marriage.

Somehow he felt it was hard for her to reconcile that she wasn’t a precious young lady anymore. Even as he was mired in a pool of half catatonic grief, she dared ask him to leave with her because she truly expected he would do so if she did. Had she not grown out of the habit of expecting to be near worshiped no matter what that her parents instilled her? He remembered how she was after your funeral, when he was sitting in the dark of a guest room. She had come to him, tried to hold him, to kiss him; believing all this would be a comfort and not a further indignity. She’d had arrogance enough to look hurt as he pulled her from him and recoiled from her touch. She must have still believed she was the cure to all ills because she was once more in a house where she was always treated as though she truly were.

He found his way to the library where you’d spent much of your life, if Felix’s word was truth. He brushed his fingers along the spines of the books, looking for the one that he left his missive in, the one Diana read and did not want understand. He searched through the categories of books that contained subjects you three would have studied together as he could not remember which particular book it was, but even after pulling all the books and flipping through the pages, he couldn't find the letter. He wondered if you had ever even set eyes on it once before Diana got to. Had it been your catalyst to run away? Had you read the note and understood that the effort of trying to be happy at his side was a fool’s errand? Was he again the cause of your downfall?

As he gave himself to thought of you, he continued looking through your family’s collection of books. It was all fairly standard and even a bit utilitarian, lacking any of the fanciful novels so beloved by many young nobles. He assumed if there were any, they’d be in Diana’s room because they’d be bought for and read by her alone. But there was something that struck him as he roamed around the shelves, his eyes scanning aimlessly for a book that looked as if it had been perhaps been misshelved. It was subtly tucked into the highest shelf but it still stood out to him eventually among droll guides, needlework books and encyclopedias emblazon with gold lettering. It was hastily bound looking more like a journal and it was worn, unlike the rich and well maintained leather of the other books and it was small, leaving a wide gap between the top of the shelf and the top of the book. Its spine did not read a title.

When he pulled the book, he understood what it was. Its title read “The Princess and The Knight,” signifying it was some common, tawdry romance novella. Still, he began to read it, the absurdity of its place in a house so heavy and serious intriguing him. Could this book have belonged to you? Could it have been an escape for you who was locked firmly out of girlhood when you were only just betrothed? When he’d read the title, his mind flashed with the memory of your face as Felix’s body fell into the dirt in front of you. He remembered how fiercely Felix had protected you even in this life. The rage and grief in his voice when he came for retribution. Though he knew you were ever dutiful and if there was love between you and Felix, it was never more than courtly, maybe you had seen this book and it had reminded you of some place where it could be more.

The story revolved around the love affair of a princess from a bloodline with an affinity for magic fleeing her country at wartime and being assigned a knight from the neighboring kingdom she sought refuge in. The two began a passionate and sanguine love affair in secret, all while living under of the tension of war and the threat of both of them losing everything to their love. But when the war was won, thanks in part to the wits of the two characters, and peace spread over the kingdom, she and her knight were able to be wed and live happily ever after. He had been searching for you in the pages, interpreting the knight and the princess, looking for traces of a love you might have had once. He had been looking for you so closely in every word that he hadn’t realized the grander scale of things until the end; when he flipped over the last page to read the epilogue, on the blank side of the page he saw a sketch.

The drawing was finely, intricately done in ink and resembled…Diana. The owner of this book had drawn Diana so vividly, yet there were a few differences in the likenesses of the two. This woman had long spools of curly hair spilling over her shoulders and a mole near her gently smiling lips. She was older than Diana must have been when the book was written. She looked like the heroine that had been described in the novel. For some reason, he found himself fixated not in awe or admiration but in mind numbing shock. He could feel the love that went into each stroke of the pen and a knot formed in his stomach the longer he stared. It was uncanny in a house like this, to find anything that should mark vulnerability or simple folly. He recalled an occasion where your father had gifted her a portrait he’d made of her and their daughter. Though two different mediums, the style looked so similar. From what Claude saw, it seemed that your father seldom made art of anyone but Diana. Your father surely had not been so passionate about a throwaway romance that he had ignored his bias and poured so much love into an image of the heroine.

The only one who could be so brazen as to have a romance novel among his books wherein which they lovingly drew an almost intimate image of a woman, worn with the spine slightly bent from being handled so many times— not even properly hidden away, would be your father. Your father who paraded his illegitimate child, born from a mistress. The revelation gave him pause. What did Claude truly know about Diana? He couldn’t remember having ever asked her if she’d known her mother because she so resolutely accepted the countess as her only mother. But this woman sketched onto the page of a well loved romance, was this her mother? She looked as if she could be. Portraits of Diana hung in exposed parts of the house, he did not seem to care that the custom of having an illegitimate child was to have them separate from one’s “official” family, to not love a child born of one’s own lust so openly. Even if one had a particular love of their mistress and child, he would simply put them up in a nice mansion close enough for him to come and go but your father had your mother raising his illegitimate child. He celebrated her birthdays lavishly and even allowed her to go to the academy. He absolutely refused to hide her, to show shame in her. So why was this woman Claude presumed to be Diana’s mother who was clearly beloved by him even now, shut up in the back of a romance novella?

A thought occurred to him then, that perhaps the otherworldly force pulling him into Diana, entangling him in her was not otherworldly at all. Perhaps it had not originated in him alone as some primordial curse formed around him before there even was a him. He thought of just how besotted he was with Diana the first time he met her in each life, how the greater part of him felt foreign. He thought of your mother’s unusually devoted love for a child that wasn’t her’s, a product of her husband’s disloyalty. Something inside him thought that the answer lay at Diana’s feet. In her very blood, he was convinced, was the answer.

Such a tenderly written romance, signed with a carefully drawn illustration of the woman who could be Diana’s mother. The part of “The Princess and The Knight” which struck him so was the bit about the princess possessing capacity for magic. It was not mentioned much nor utilized greatly in the plot but it made an impression. Magic users had decreased over the years, their powers waning until they were unheard of entirely. To anyone else who read the novella, it must have given the story to a bit of fantasy but to Claude, it was almost uncanny. He could not take it for an unassuming romance. To him, the story hid some truth under its veneer, for it was no coincidence that the princess resembled Diana so and that it ended up under the same roof as her, worn with years of eager hands flipping back over the pages. The princess’ power was never described in detail but if she were based on a real woman, then perhaps she had something to do with his situation.

He might’ve gone to Diana right then for answers but he feared his body might be taken over again at any time. He did not want to see her, did not want to feel the familiar paralysis of affection reaching up through his body. He did not want to see himself bed her again while the memory stood frozen in his eyes. Each time he saw her after he’d been set free, he’d worried that it would happen again. That his body would betray his mind and he’d never find anything of substance to end the cycle of misery the two of you shared. And he was committed to the task of trying, even if he could never succeed. He was ready to succumb to the greater sense of careworn madness he found in you.

He decided to explore the unattended corners of your home further, thinking there would be— must be more. If ever Diana’s mother had lived here, someone left a trace that he intended to find. He might’ve asked your father directly but as much as he was a lickspittle, something told him that your father would be afflicted by the same paralysis of mind that he had when he belonged to Diana. Unable to share the love he held for her but unable to hide it either, culminating in a pathetic sort of half-baked defensiveness. He wasn’t likely to get anything out of that, even you hadn’t been able to get anything out of him when he was like that. Worse still, he might try to cover up all that he kept that ever indicated Diana’s mother had lived there once, that she had a name and a face. And then what?

No, it was better this way. Better to find it all before he got the chance to hide any of it.

Your parents were still in the house, seemingly without intention of asking him when he was going to leave but there was still a bit of anxiety in the air when they entered the room. He could tell that they very much wished for him to return to their daughter and make her happy again as she was destined to be. It was awkward that their son-in-law had a longer bereavement than your sister did. But still being the cowardly sycophants they were, they could not ask him to leave for her sake—only “encourage” him by tossing out little updates on Diana. “Diana and our grandchild miss you very much,” “Diana takes ill so easily when she works so hard, we should hope you’ll be well enough to go back to her soon,” “Diana sends her love and wants you to know she’s there for your sake.”

Claude wouldn’t care if Diana’s life hung by a thread and he was all that could spare her, frankly and he brushed off all responsibility in favor of giving himself to his task. It was shameless, he knew, but he’d given up everything inside of the barren, hollow shell of his self to save you. It was a task that had already and would yet again supersede death, birth and the enveloping void he fell backward into each time his life was ended. He waited until they inevitably visited Diana, likely to calm her worries with lukewarm supplications about his grief, to go searching in the other parts of the house uninhibited. For, even if the servants were to tell their lord and lady, he’d already have looked through every corner he intended before they’d have a chance to move things around to better hide them.

He started with Diana’s old room. When he walked in, he was surprised to find it was left exactly as childish as it had been when she was only a young miss. Just the scent of the air turned his stomach, heavy and cloying with a pungent smell of medicine that was still sitting on her night stand in a small white bottle. He frowned as something fell clumsily into place. It hit him like the stray sour note of a violin. He recognized the bottle. Where did he last see this bottle?

For how preoccupied he was with the revelation taking slow form, he did not realize that Felix had entered the room until he heard the distinctive sound of a sword unsheathed. He did not turn.

“Felix.”

“Lord Claude,” Felix acknowledged, his voice struggling to keep its softness. “I might’ve known you’d be here. You truly cannot help yourself, it’s like a sickness.”

“Yes, it is very much like that,” Claude agreed easily. “But I’m not here for what you imagine I am.”

“I’m not so sure it matters, my lord.” Felix’s voice was flat.

“Nor am I. But I need you to let me live just as long as it takes for me to make sense of this.”

Felix went quiet for a moment but nothing about the situation made Claude think it was because the knight was going to hesitate. On the contrary, he was sure that his sword would swing just as neatly. “Do you know where I found my lady chained up, my lord? There are places, you know, that they bring women who had no other place to turn. You must know. You were at her side every night when we brought her back, you saw what toll it took. You saw what had been done.” Felix took a shallow breath. “You’re asking me to spare you so that you can make sense of whatever it is your farce of a marriage is built on? When my lady was given no such pardon? I know you’re the head of your house now, honored knight of the crown and you must think yourself above your treatment of others but I assure you, this will be the last time you ever assume so.”

Claude held still, his voice firm even as fear raged through his body. It was not fear for his life or of Felix’s wrath, it was the fear of failing, yet again, to make any movement in saving you. “I know how you think of me, Felix. I know that I have failed my wife. I know that I deserve to die here and now but even so, I can’t.”

“That is no problem, I’ll do it for you.”

Claude smiled joylessly to himself at the devout knight’s words. How could you have been judged so harshly in that life for wanting to run away with him when he so clearly had a loyalty akin to love for you? “You don’t understand. You cannot possibly. But answer me this, do you know who Diana’s mother is?”

The question puzzled Felix but he stood resolutely, ready at any moment to fell Claude’s head. “Everyone else in this household has care for Lady Diana. My duty was to serve my lady, I was the only one and I did not ever lapse. You’re asking the wrong person.”

“Felix, I do not ask for my wife’s sake. I know how this will sound but I’m trying to find out just what exactly it is that Diana holds over me and everyone else. I’m trying to figure out what exactly she is. You have seen it, haven’t you? The disparity between how people treat my wife and how they treat your lady. Do you think it natural to love a daughter born from an affair more than one’s own?”

He heard Felix laugh bitterly. “You believe her to be a succubus? Is that your excuse?”

“No. I believe her to be something worse.” Claude laughed as well, though his was more hysterical than anything. “She rules everything, Felix. Even in death. No, especially so in death. I have lived this life many times. I have died and returned back to the day that I first met her at the tea party. And when I do, I am taken over by her. It feels like love at first, it really does. But then intrusion. And then a curse. It is a cycle of death and resurrection, for myself and for the lady.”

Felix was silent and Claude continued on. “In one such life, she ran away with you, you know. It was raining the night we found you two. You were holed up in some abandoned cottage out there in the countryside, the one with the patches of white clover in the yard and a missing shingle on the roof.”

“What are you saying?” Felix’s voice wavered with near disbelief at the picture he painted but he held firm.

“My knights killed you where you stood and took the lady back to my manor. Your betrothed visited her. She had asked to speak to the woman who had been responsible for your death. She told me you two had planned to get married once the lady and I were finally married and settled in. She could not even mourn you properly because you were compelled to run away with the lady and killed.”

It is clear that Felix still thought Claude had lost his mind but what shocked him was the truth seeded into his madness. How could he have known the intimate arrangements of their betrothal and marriage when even their families had not known the cause for delay? This was not knowledge he could send an errand boy to fetch him nor an illusion he couldn’t hope to keep up, this was lived. It was memory.

“What does that have to do with Diana?” Diana was more likely a seductress than a sorceress in Felix’s opinion. Such a thing as a time loop, how could a girl so weak and childish create something like it?

Claude turned slightly, slowly toward him. “I don’t know yet myself. That is what I seek to find out. So that I can perhaps end it, for the lady at least. I don’t need anything Felix, not Diana, not my child, not my house. All I need and want is for the lady to stop suffering. I only beg you not to hinder me. When the time comes, I swear I will die on my own.”

Felix had no idea what to make of it all. Much of what Claude said seemed stilted, frantic and half thought. Yet he could not help but feel there was a certain sincerity to be had even in the worthlessness of Claude’s promise. And in any case, he was not entirely unfamiliar with the concept that Claude explained but all that it implied, he was not ready to believe. He sheathed his sword again finally and Claude turned to face him with the medicine bottle in hand. “Have you any idea why this would be in Diana’s room? It’s medicine that the lady took before.”

Felix’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “It’s used to treat severe infection. It’s not supposed to be used by just anyone who gets ill. Lady Diana should not have needed that medicine, it would take effect like poison if not administered to someone battling a harsh infection. The doctor sent one of the servants to fetch it in town.”

“Yes, but this bottle is dusty, it’s mostly emptied out and the liquid inside it has congealed. It’s been sitting here for years. The medicine inside is aromatic. It has a distinct smell, doesn’t it? The lady’s room still reeks of it even with the windows opened up. Every time I went into Diana’s room when we were young, I smelled it, I tasted it. That means she was not only taking medicine she did not need but taking it regularly.” Claude said aloud, more to himself than to Felix who had bristled at the way he implied he and Diana were. “Was she…ever even sick?”

“Of course she was. Perhaps madame gave her the wrong medicine. She would not have poisoned herself, far be it from me to defend her but she did not desire to be sick. She seemed to envy the lady for her health, as she saw it.”

“…it was the lady’s mother who administered this medicine?” Claude questioned as new pieces fell together in his mind.

“I only know that the madame came to Lady Diana before bed to give her medicine. I do not know that it was that medicine, I did not see it.” Felix paused. “What is the significance, my lord?” He asked, annoyance creeping into his tone at the extensive talk of Diana.

“I intend to find out.”

He had wished to creep into the madame’s bedroom quickly and easily but the door was locked so they’d needed to fetch the key. Claude was shocked at the amount of sway he had over the servants of a house he was not a part of for the head maid simply handed over the key when he asked for it, albeit hesitantly as though she thought she might be scolded for doing so. When he took in the room, it was tidy and rather plain by aristocracy standards. The room seemed to have a chill about it, there was a draft somewhere that made it feel colder than the other rooms.

He began to pick carefully through her things, looking in every corner of the room for anything hidden. It was all mundane, droll and typical until he reached the last drawer of a dresser that was locked. Sure enough, nine bottles of unopened medicine neatly lined into rows of three. When he tried to pull the drawer out all the way and see what more he could find, it was caught on something that had been pressed against the top. Claude reached in to feel for it and pulled down what looked to be a simple leather bound, worn and yellowing journal.

Immediately he began to read. He was a bit startled at himself when he realized that he was eager to read the contents of his mother-in-law’s mind. He wanted to know how she saw you. How she justified treating you the way she did to uplift a child that was not her’s. A pitiful part of him just wanted there to be reason. He wanted cause for the rift in the relationship. He needed to believe there was a because to your suffering.

But what he read was not as he suspected. In neat, small lettering on the first page, it chronicled her life back to when she had been perhaps 19 years old but it was dated some ten years later. A reflection on her younger self written seemingly less as a journal and more a memoir.

“The princess had always been so gracious a mistress that even her tasks sounded like gifts.

When it was her time to return to her duties in her own kingdom, she resigned to it with great grace. However, she understood that the opposite would be true of her beloved knight. This fragile man only smiled in her company, protected her with wild fervor and once told her that he felt divinely guided to her. That to him, she was the symbol of god’s forgiveness and in serving her, loving her, he saw his life’s purpose. Oh, the princess lamented to me how dark a life her knight had lived, how the blood he shed as a knight haunted him with guilt. How his father had been of a violent sort in his efforts to transform his only living child into a knight of some worth to bring more prestige to their house and in his efforts to vent his own turmoil over his wife taking up with men of far more money, status and legacy than he. Her knight resembled his mother and so became the target of the ire he could not give his wife for the great protection being a mistress to such men afforded her. His mother knew what his father did, she did not care so long as it were not her. My heart came to soften for him too, the more she told me.

He had been a quiet man, shy and quite unknowingly sweet for his reputation as a ruthlessly skilled knight. He opened up to my princess like a flower toward the sun. He loved her so madly that she knew even though it was inevitable, he never intended to be where he could not protect her and stand at her side. The princess feared that their duties as princess and heir to a county respectively would give way to the knight’s devotion. She feared he’d kill himself trying to reunite with her or simply deteriorate under the burden of his own isolation but her own life was dedicated to more than just one person. It was her nation, her home of people waiting to see her return that she could not abandon. So in her stead, she asked me to stay in the kingdom and marry him. To give him a countess and to keep watch of him for anything he might do to interfere in both their duties.

It was a great honor she had given me entrusting someone so precious to me and given me a title higher than that I had been born with, I still feel that way now but I was foolish then and I did not understand the nature of what I was being asked to do. Nor would I until after it was already done.

You see (and it does, still pain me to even write such a silly thing), I did, at the time believe that I would become close to my husband. I viewed it as a matter of course, for I was far from a home I could never return to and he had no one. We were, for each other, the last traces of the princess. Though I could never think to hope for the kind of love that he gave to the princess, I believed that commonality could be nurtured into love or kinship. I wished for someone to turn to as my heart was sinking faster than a stone the longer I spent from my home. I believed it would happen. I believed he would become someone to lean on.

Though the first months of our marriage were cold, I managed to coax him into trying to have children as was our duty. I saw this as progress both in the way of our relationship as well as keeping him from the princess. I viewed even our coldness then as a sign of something beginning. It was only once, afterward, I think he worked very hard so that I would not ask him to do it again. But even so, I found that I was with child soon. I was a stupid girl then, I believed a child was what we needed to grow closer. I brought this news to him with a smile, I must have looked like an idiot.

My husband’s expression, I can never forget it. He was horrified at this revelation. He looked at me as though I’d announced a death. He looked at me as though I had wounded him. Then his beautiful eyes sparkled with unshed tears and his expression reverted to a weak, helpless smile as he said all the right things in his wavering voice.

It was then that I realized he would never love me. He was horrified at having a child with me, it was sheer terror and dread on his face when I told him. Perhaps he thought that I would not become pregnant at all, he would have preferred it that way. I hadn’t the relationship with him to truly comfort him, to know intimately what he feared about my child. I was useless in that way.

Through the following months, my apprehension was near unbearable. I kept feeling my stomach sink in dread, I kept waking up thinking that I would be home. I kept thinking that I had done something irreparable but I could think of nothing which was actually within my control. Therefore, when I finally gave birth, my relief that it was done with was greater than my joy. But that was alright with me because I had intended to deal with things in my own way."

From there, she went on to describe her rigid attention to being a diligent countess for a few droll pages. But at last, Claude came to another thing of significance. Your father had been summoned to court for political matters regarding the civil unrest which had not been quelled with the end of the war. Your mother could not follow him and leave a newborn alone so she had no choice but to simply trust in your father. She would come to regret that.

"My princess appeared like a bolt out of the blue months later. She was dressed as a peasant and had a somewhat bashful smile on her lips. Although I had missed her, all that I could think in seeing her was, "She should not be here."

But we brought her to the study so that presumably, she would tell us why she had returned when she had surely sworn that she could not. She took off her cloak and then I understood without her needing to tell me. I saw a little bump on her otherwise thin body and I was overcome. When my husband had returned to court, he had not been officially permitted to see my princess but they had met anyway and she was now with child. She had waited until she was just about to start beginning to show in order to take leave from court on the pretense of recovering from illness at her villa in the countryside.

I had been given the task of minding him but I had clearly failed. I should have gone with him no matter what. I should have taken the chance and left my child so that I could have prevented this. But my princess looked at me as faultless and took my hands in hers to assure me that she regretted nothing. She comforted my husband who apparently also knew nothing about this pregnancy until then. She knew his fears like the back of her hand, she knew exactly how to soothe them as I hadn't. He did not even have to speak. She simply knew.

Until then, I had not known that my husband dreaded having children for fear they would be cursed and afflicted with the same moral decay that his own parents had; and because he feared that having a child would bring the same thing out of him. Even if I had known, the princess was the perfect one to comfort him. She asked him if he believed a child born of her could be wicked and of course, he said no. She spun such sugary images of their child together for him with her eyes shining with joy. She told him that their child was special, that she did not fear him becoming a parent like his own because their child would change everything about being a father for him. It surely helped that my princess was glowing as she said such things, that the excitement radiating off of her grew stronger with each passing moment. He could not deny her, could not bring himself to contradict her words because he would always believe in her even if he did not believe in himself.

It went unsaid that the princess would be entrusting the child to the both of us. I had much apprehension about taking care of two babies rather than one and the secrets to be kept piling up above me but I could not complain, it had been my job for years to make everything work. I could not stop then when my princess needed me most. In any case, her presence in the manor brought life to a place that had become so eerie to me. She was the only flame in the dark and we were huddled around her, trying to preserve an ounce of warmth within ourselves. She was joyful through her pregnancy, she could not stop talking about the baby she was to have. The more she chattered, the more excited I became too as though I had any right to be. This was true of my husband too, who tentatively felt the kicks of his child and smiled, genuinely smiled as the princess did. I could see that he loved that child.

She slept in the master bedroom with him, after he left each day, I went in to help her get ready for the day. It was though I was still her maid and I suppose I wanted to be, would rather be that than a wife. But I could not bring myself to complain. I was not unlike my husband, I viewed my duties to the princess as somewhat sacred. I was as honored as I was anxious to raise the child.

On the day Diana was born, my husband was at my princess' side the entire time, as though he could protect her as her knight again. I could only marvel at him. When I had given birth, he stood at the foot of the bed stiffly and asked me what I intended to name our daughter, if I was alright and then told me that if I needed anything to have the butler prepare it at once. After Diana was born, my princess was still beautiful, perhaps even more so in her vulnerability. She held the most beautiful baby I had ever seen, close to her chest as my husband looked down at the both of them with sheer joy. It was as though all the happiness in the world existed between those three. My Diana had been born out of love and so it was easy to love her.

I left my own daughter to the maids in favor of caring for Diana when the princess rested. Her little ruby eyes and her head of soft blonde hair captivated me. Each coo or cry had my focus in a fraction of a second.

I had not yet considered the greater implications of her birth until my princess brought it to me. Diana had been born with an inordinate affinity for magic. The princess, as a member of the royal family had the capacity of a mage, it was kept secret through the death of magic that through her bloodline were those capable of miracles. I only knew after years of my proximity to the princess. This child, born in the time of civil unrest, when the queen had not yet been blessed with a child and the civil war had still bitterly divided the houses, was capable of being seen as a potential figurehead that could be used as a pawn in a new round of rebellion.

It was for me and my husband to put her above all things. Above even our own child. That, to me, went without saying for I did love Diana as my own daughter. But the princess knew that anything could happen and she used all of the strength of her magic to cast a spell over her that would be held with Diana's own great magic. My princess nearly expended all her energy to do so. Magic, she had once told me, was seen as a weak form of power because it relied so greatly upon emotion. It was the transformation of want into will. I knew not the details of the spell which bound my mistress' daughter. All my princess said was that her precious Diana would live happily, that for all the odds against her, she still had odds in her favor."

Claude felt numb as he turned the pages. He was in shock, suddenly the environment of the room felt too harsh and stimulating but he was glued to the journal. He could not dare stop reading it no matter what truths arose. So he flipped the page and read every single entry even as his hands trembled.

From then on, it was Diana, Diana, Diana. With each entry, she recorded a measurement which he assumed was the amount of medicine administered and her symptoms. She fretted over whether it was right to give her more or to give her less. She wrote about denying Diana's requests to go outside, to go to the theatre, to do much of anything besides stay in bed. It chilled him to the bone but more than that, perplexed him. He was staring at a page where your mother had seemed to write sloppily, hurried and anxious when he heard a voice.

"Lord Claude?" It was your mother, standing in the doorway.

He looked slowly up at her, at a loss for words and unable to reconcile the cold mother she was to you with her joy at being Diana's proxy mother. Unable, still, to understand why she was poisoning the daughter she loved so much.

"My lord, you should not be in here," she said softly but in her blank expression, it was apparent that she knew what he was there for. "It will look strange to others, for you to do something like this."

"You poisoned Diana," He was keenly aware of how delicately she was trying to dance around this subject but he was unwilling to indulge her.

Your mother did not even blink. "You must understand me, Lord Claude. Please understand."

"What is there to understand? You neglect your own daughter and fawn over your husband's illegitimate daughter only to poison her."

Your mother shook her head slowly as if she could not believe what he was implying. "I love that girl," she said, moving deeper into the room and shutting the door behind her. "Diana is my little princess. She is my only daughter."

A rush of rage ran up his body, carrying an unbearable desire to hurt her. "She's not your daughter at all. She's the daughter of a woman far more beloved than you."

But your mother could only smile helplessly. "Yes, but even so, she is my daughter in heart. You must trust me when I say that Diana was hopeless before."

"Hopeless?" His brow furrowed and a cold feeling creeped up his back, extinguishing his fury and replacing it with a kind of fear for the woman in front of him. "She wasn't hopeless, she was able to wed me, to live happily." He said it not as a defense of her but as an accusation.

"That poor girl. In the first place, she already had a weak constitution, because her magic was stronger than her body but it was the perfect excuse to keep inside and away from the eyes of those who would want to hurt her. But it was my eldest daughter who kept planting false hope in her. She even sent Diana before my husband to beg him to let her go to the academy because she knew very well he could not say no to her." There was venom in her voice, a sneer on her face. Claude rose to stand slowly, not knowing what he was going to do.

"He cannot say no to Diana because he loves her so, no, he loves her mother so," she sighed. "All the other one did was cause troubles. Diana had already given up but she roused such hope in the girl, false hope, cruel hope. If she had not been able to marry you...I do not know how we would have protected her. If my daughter was still alive, everything would be ruined. It was you who saved her, my lord. That is why I beg of you, don't judge me. You know that Diana is special. You must know."

"I did not want to save her, she did not need to be saved."

She remained with that pitiful smile on her face. "My husband is weak to her. He will...he will never forgive what I've done to our- his little princess. He won't understand. He will think that I have killed my princess. You know, he almost sees them as one in the same." She reached onto her desk, picking up a letter opener. "Diana will be hurt if she knows. I ask that you let the girl live her life believing as I told her. She deserves that much. I let her believe what I did because it was in her best interest. Please take care of her."

Before he could react, your mother plunged the sharp end of the letter opener into her throat.

tags: @kage-tobiuo@kreishin @rosephantomhive@yeahdrarry@splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiesss @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid@ariachaos@cerisearan@irisspade@yaesflorist@jcrml@xiaosprettygf@yevenly@amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @softbummiee@cassanderasblog @waka-babe @bananatwirl@s1mp69 @mitsuyamistress @hottiewifeyyyy @reiko69 @syyyy4ever @pinkpastel-l @dododododooosworld @gwyneveire @mvoonxlightv @noisyenthusiastface @coldpeachkitten @brightykitten @worstliving

#claude x reader #wmmap x reader #claude de alger x reader #claude de alger obelia x reader #wmmap fanfic

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sincerelyamee · 3 days ago

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⛩️ Spices x Cube!Gojo and also Sukuna's animal skull ⛩️

The Origin of Chaos, by Miss_Gawain ⬅️ check out her Twitter to see all versions of this gorgeous piece!

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seonghwaddict · 8 months ago

Text

★ DIVINE RUINATION. [ 001 ] one of them.

in which an angel falls right into the care of eight demons. and as caring they have been, things may not be as they seem…

demons!ot8!ateez x fem!fallen angel!reader. genre. fluff, angst, smut, demon au. warnings. polyamory, blood, violence, gore, alcohol consumption, manipulation, swearing, eventual smut. rating. mature.

chapter warnings. injury description (scarring, scratches), petnames (sweetheart, my dear). wc. 2.7k.

lilo’s notes. taglist is open! CHAPTER ONE RAHHHHHH as always, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated~ i'd love to hear your thoughts!! this chapter is kinda dry tbh but it's just an introduction for what's going on.

main masterlist.

your body hurts as you wake up almost a week after falling into hell.

it’s an unfamiliar feeling, never having been in pain before. but before you dwell on the thought, you notice i’m not anywhere familiar. it takes your eyes a little while to adjust to the low candlelight, realising you’re in a bedroom, your head laying against a foreign pillow as you stare up at the ceiling, the drapes of the bedposts dark and partially hiding the rest of the room out of the corner of your eyes.

you lift your head slightly, looking down as the blanket falls to the juncture of your hips, noticing you’re still in your typical white dress, hair brushing against your shoulders. you look up, your head turning as you glance around the room, freezing in place as you notice the figure of a man standing by one of the tall windows, facing away.

seonghwa had been standing in front of the window of the room you were in for a few hours now, thinking of how he would deal with you, his eyes slowly wandering to your sleeping form every so often to make sure you were still alive.

he saw your eyes slowly flutter open in the corner of his eye and turned around fully to look at you, watching as you looked around the room before noticing him. slowly walking over to the bed you were on, he sits at the edge quietly, looking down at you, studying your features.

you, however, scoot further back into the bed as he comes closer, your eyes wide and fearful as they track him, his presence looming over you overwhelmingly and making it hard to breathe for a while. your fingers curl into the edge of the duvet in your lap as he takes a seat, steeling your nerves as you try not to show how afraid you are. but he only watches as you seek comfort in the blanket, watching your fingers tighten around it, his eyes scanning your face, taking in every subtle expression you make.

seonghwa remains sitting quietly at the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on you. it’s only after a few moments of silence that he speaks, his voice low and calm.

"calm down. i'm not going to harm you."

you still don't relax at his words, your voice quivering as you stutter out the first words the come to mind, “w-where am i? w-who are you?”

he notices that your body remains tense even when he assures you he won't harm you, making a frown tug at his plump lips. your voice quivers as you speak, filled with unease, but he maintains his neutral expression, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible as he replies to your questions. "you’re in hell. and i’m seonghwa., the oldest of the eight demon princes in this domain."

your eyebrows furrow. this can't be. you’re an angel, you’re pure and perfect and belong anywhere but hell. your mind scrambles to remember what happened before you seemingly passed out and ended up here, but it turns up empty, only smudged images of memories you can barely piece together flashing through your mind. the dem– seonghwa's words register. your heart drops and thumps anxiously at the thought of being here all alone with demons that could tear you apart if they wanted–which they probably did. “n-no… that can’t be. i’m an angel, th-there’s no way i’m in hell.”

seonghwa observes your expressions as your eyebrows furrow in confusion, noticing the conflicting emotions that are crossing your mind, his voice remaining calm. "you must’ve been banished from the heavens. dropped straight into hell."

“what...” something shatters in you as he says that, your face falling from fear to something more broken. you shift your gaze away from him, trying to come to terms with what he said. he could be lying, you remind yourself, but the empty feeling on your back, the feeling of not carrying your heavy wings, says otherwise. one of your hands shift from the blanket to touch your back, feeling around for the comforting white feathers, but only feeling brushes of the soft material of the dress and slivers of skin. you practically break down, choking back a sob as your hand returns to the blanket, quivering almost as much as your lips, “b-but i don't get it... i was always good, i-i always did everything right a-a-and now i'm here, this doesn’t make any sense.”

he watches every shift in your emotions, shown clearly on your face, as you struggle to come to terms with his words. still, he sits quietly at the edge of the bed, letting you process the news he just gave you. he can see the confusion and heartache in your eyes, the disbelief and the pain of being torn away from your home. after a minute, he speaks again, his voice soft but firm, his eyes fixed on yours.

"you may not understand it now, but you are here now. in the underworld, hell, whatever you want to call it. so, you were banished from the heavens for a reason."

you glance at him, the tears threatening to spill from your eyes making his handsome features look a little distorted. you sniffle, muttering, “y-you're pretty terrible at comforting.”

seonghwa lets out a small chuckle at your comment, the corner of his lips curling up just a little as he shakes his head slightly, letting out a small sigh. “you're in a place far beyond what you're used to. i'm a demon. we're not exactly known for being comforting, sweetheart."

intentionally ignoring the sudden nickname, you look up at him after a few more long seconds, “you're a prince, right? you and your... brothers?”

he watches as you take a bit to come to your senses, your expression hardening slightly as you look up at him, pushing back your tears. if he notes the slight pause when he calls you sweetheart, he doesn’t mention it, only nodding slowly. "yes, correct. we rule the eight circles of hell together."

“then, c-can't you send me back? you must have… some kind of authority or power…” you ask, sounding just a little hopeful, tilting your head curiously. your grip on the blanket loosens and you lift your hands to rub away the tears caught on your cheekbones with the heel of your palm.

seonghwa leans back slightly on the edge of the bed, resting his back against the bedpost to face you better, his eyes never leaving yours.

he considers your question before responding, the frown returning. "no, i can't send you back. the heavens have banished you, meaning you’re no longer one of them. there really is nothing i can do."

you’re no longer one of them.

the words echo in your head, visibly deflating at the harsh truth. you look around the room, trying to distract yourself. it's neat, a dark and classical style. the drapes of the bed match the duvet, the bedposts carved into intricate designs. there are a few candelabra placed around the room, sat on top of shelves and and the bedside table, giving the room a soft warm glow. you focus on the details—grounding yourself in the feeling of the blanket under your fingertips, the mildly sweet smell wafting through the air, the rustle of fabric as he shifts to look at me. “whose room is this?”

noticing the change in your demeanor as his words sink in and the truth of your situation settles in, he watches you kook around the room, your gaze shifting from one corner to another as you take in your surroundings.

"this room belongs to me. i didn't have you stay in any of the guest rooms as i needed to keep an eye on you. besides, i thought you might be more comfortable in here than in a plain, boring bedroom."

you glance at him, trying to think of what else to say. you’ve always been uncomfortable in long silences, despite your usually quiet nature. “i'm sorry for, um, intruding…”

his eyes are drawn to the slight fidgeting of your fingers, your digits twitching as you pinch the edges of the duvet, the fabric wrinkling on the sides. your voice soft and timid, he can’t help but shake his head lightly, his gaze still focused on you. "it’s quite alright, sweetheart. you’re not intruding—you had no control over this."

the gentleness in his tone surprises you, momentarily making you go silent again as you return to shifting your gaze around the room, easing your grip on the duvet.

“so you all live in this... house?”

the surprise in your expression as he speaks to you gently doesn’t go unnoticed by him, deciding to look out the window as you continue glancing around the room.

"yes, we all live in this manor together. all eight of us."

“so, i'm in a house with eight demons. great.” you mutter under your breath, trying to think of how you would survive this without being torn apart and eaten for lunch.

he chuckles softly at your words, hearing them despite how quiet your tried to be. amused by your comment, he responds with his laced with a hint of playful menace. "don’t worry, sweetheart. we may be demons, but we don't eat our guests. usually."

you stare at him as he responds to your muttered comment, failing to notice the playfulness in his voice and shrinking back a little, apprehensive. you open your mouth to respond, but your stomach makes an odd growling noise, making you look down at it, brows furrowed. it's never done that before, you’ve never felt an empty feeling in your stomach like that

hearing the growling noise from your stomach, seonghwa’s eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. "are you hungry, sweetheart? when was the last time you ate?"

you blink, crossing your arms over your stomach, trying to soothe the uncomfortable emptiness, “there’s food, you know… up there…”

he listens as you speak, nodding slowly in understanding.

"right, i nearly forgot about that. angels don't need food, do they?"

you shake your head, not missing the slightly bitter tone of his previously gentle voice. “we- they don't.”

it’s nothing personal, but he can't help but feel mildly resentful, his sentiments towards angels clear in his tone. “angels are nothing like demons. they're pure, perfect, untouched by the chaos and darkness of hell…” he takes a deep breath, reminding himself of his orders to keep you safe. he continues, his voice still somewhat cold, but less bitter than before. "so... i guess you're not used to being hungry, huh? i’ll ask wooyoung to bring you something to eat."

“wooyoung..?” you question, tilting your head and watching as he stands up from the edge of the bed, the mattress straightening once again as he stands up fully.

he thinks it’s a little cute, the way you tilt your head with a question in your eyes as you repeat wooyoung’s name. seonghwa takes a few steps away from the bed, turning back to look at you as he responds with a slight smile on his lips, "wooyoung is one of my brothers, one of the princes. he usually takes care of food and similar matter, though i suppose he’ll show up with san as well."

you hum, nodding slightly at the little piece of information he feeds you, eyes following him as he walks away. part of you doesn't want him to go, weirdly calmed by his presence despite his species. “so, as the oldest, are you in charge here?”

something about the way you look at him, full of curiosity and seeking answers, makes a soft sense of power flow through him. you’re a helpless little angel in a den of demons, warmth shifting in his usually cold chest at the thought of caring for you.

he gives you a small smile at your inquiry, his head tilting to the side as he responds, "well, no, not really. i do have most of the authority here, you could say."

“your name was never mentioned up there,” you tilt your head the same way as his, subconsciously mirroring his actions, “it was hong... hong-something, i don't remember. is he in charge?”

seonghwa smiles at your subconscious action, finding it oddly endearing; how you seem to copy his movements like a child copying their parent. the thought makes that warmth return to his chest.

"ah, yes, i know. that would be hongjoong, my dear. he’s more or less our unofficial leader, though we do rule all together. still, my authority predates even his."

“so he’s one of your brothers?” you ask.

he can't help but notice the genuine curiosity in your voice, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes as you continue to ask him questions. he’s aware the other princes, some less than others, might not be as gentle as him, so is it really so bad if he’s willing to answer all your burning questions?

he nods, his expression softening as he responds, his voice still calm. "yes, he’s a couple decades younger than me."

you hum, nodding along as you watch him stand at the doorway. “how come you're not the leader then? since you’re older.”

leaning against the doorway, his body resting against the dark oak frame, seonghwa smiles at your question, his eyes fixated on you. he takes a moment before responding, contemplating how best to explain.

“leadership isn't just about age or seniority. hongjoong has the authority, and the power. i may be the oldest, but i don't want the throne to myself. i’m content with my current position."

“i see.” you nod, falling into silence as you take in all the information, not really having anything else to say.

seonghwa observes you and your silence, a thoughtful look on his face. he can practically see the cogs turning in your mind, the processing of all the information he's given you. your sense slight unease also hangs heavy in the air, but he tells himself you’ll wake up to him and his brothers fairly soon based on how you’ve been responding to him thus far.

he speaks up, trying to ease the tension, his voice soft, motioning towards the door with a nod of his head. "i’m going to go tell wooyoung to bring you some food. stay in here, please."

nodding silently, you watch as he leaves and shuts the door behind him. the click of the handle echoes lightly through the room and you wait, listening to his footsteps fade away before getting out of the bed, the muscles of your limbs and back a little sore.

the long silk of your dress's skirt drags over the wooden floor panels as you walk around the room, looking around as you wait for this wooyoung that was mentioned to come along with food.

pausing, you stop at a mirror, leaned against a wall and framed in gold, looking at yourself in the reflection. the dress was the same, the white silk and flowing tulle draping over your body and the ends pooling on the floor, obscuring your ruffled white socks; surprisingly clean considering you fell all the way here. you turn, looking over your shoulder at your back, you breath hitching as you nearly fall to your knees in despair.

on each shoulder blade, where your beautiful feathered wings once were—the wings that carried you so effortlessly, a reliable and comforting weight on your back—was now occupied by two scars the size of the base of your wings. there seems to be some kind of irritation, patches of pinks and reds on and around the wounds, a few scratches on your shoulders and upper arms.

you’re no longer one of them.

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　DIVINE RUINATION　©　seonghwaddict, 2024

tags

networks. @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet @wonderlandnet @atzhouse @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbouncytits @seonghwasbbgirl

@likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd

@coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf @okdudeiime @jjoongstar

series taglist. @woojirang @ja3hwa @woohwababes @notevenheretbh1 @demonlineslut

@yoonshiiu @adorawritesalot @holytidalwavechees3cake @10nantscompanion @wolfgurl2600-blog

@sanhwalvr @lol-imtrash2000 @mingyusloverrr @chuckychangmin @hwallazia

@yunhowooyo @iyeeeverydee @bluebirdinthesky @vampwritesstuff @shadowvampiress

@dassmyname @cowboydk @klllerwaifu

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redtippedfox · 6 months ago

Note

what are the corrupted holders' new concepts, as well as the ladybug, butterfly, and peacock if they were corrupted?

I made a post about this but it's been updated.

Creation-Manifestation

Destruction-Ruination

Illusion-Reality

Subjection-Submission

Protection-Endangerment

Emotion-Manipulation

Transformation-Alteration

Perfection-Limitation

Passion-Suppression

Migration-Stagnation

Adoration-Humiliation

Determination-Hesitation

Pretension- Ostentation

Elation- Depression

Evolution- Regression

Intuition-Divination

Derision- Adulation

Multiplication- Subtraction

#miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #timey wimey…uh oh au #ask me #TWUO Lore #kwami concepts

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shreyasmixtape · 8 days ago

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a snow white lily with blood

spilled blood

soaks into the soil of her youth as she paints pretty white roses blood red with

scrupulous strokes. gardens of fragile florets and blood thirsty thorns bloom,

brutally bewitching beneath the strangled sun.

she paints

until the brush falls from her fingertips. blood splatters and spills like ink on a

page and through the mess and the madness she doesn't notice the marzipan

moon creeping in or the teeth of nightshade corrupting her gardens with

its venom - a violent vagrant seeking sanctuary from the cold corpse of midnight.

the final white roses are plucked from the earth, the petals fall like feathers and she

holds white hot heaven in her blistered palms. innocence is stolen with the

sun, tainted and painted until the night runs red with bitter ruination, a

flightless carcass and a desperate lover. scarlet seeps and stains, nothing pure can stay.

the night may listen but deadly nightshade doesn't forgive. it courses through her

veins, dark and divine. the cards shuffle and fall to the floor, a queen

of spades or a queen of hearts. ringlets of honey rot and promises are

abandoned. the girl is gone, ruin becomes her and a crown of thorns winds

around her battlefield mind.

her majesty's

mesmerising madness could never be mirrored. she's at war with winter

and her roses are ruined - bloody, beaten and beheaded at her feet. a soul

survivor sits, fragile and fair atop rivers of blood;

a snow white lily.

#poetry #prose #shreyasmixtape #dark acedemia #blog #light acedemia #love #lit #writing #literature #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #writeblr #metaphors #spilled writing #spilled ink #spilled poetry #lily

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gracelyngrausamkeit · 8 months ago

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Luck is a fickle thing. Too little of it and the cruel world swallows you whole. Too much of it and the silvery brambles of complacency and arrogance suffocate you. Intoxicating and ever-elusive, luck is fate itself. For, have many a great conqueror not met a shallow grave after a single unlucky day, and have happy coincidences not given rise to great visionaries?

Uncaring to the world, the Weaver of Fortune walks their transcendent path, spurring Ages of Silver wherever their vigorous foot treads and spelling the ruination of every land only touched by their withered limbs.

It is Fate-Seekers’ holy mission, therefore, to chase after the divine on their inexorable journey. Riding under the banner of a thorn-crowned void, the Silverthorn devotees hope to guide the direction of the very Weaver's pilgrimage.

#art #fantasy #illustration #artists on tumblr #digital art #iconography #fantasy art #fantasy religion #fiction #fictional religion #larp #larp stuff #god of luck #luck #symbol #larp art

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ink-flavored · 2 years ago

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at best, they call us helpless poor lost little girls who can’t find their way in a cruel world and when we refuse their help they call us hysterical young women too lost in their own delusions to see how far they’ve strayed from the path and when we reject them they call us traitors we’ve lost our halos and become demonic men, agents of corruption angry beasts of fire and wrath that seek only to destroy their sanctity and yet— when we live, we are not respected they tape over our mouths and insist we’re mistaken when we die, we do not keep our names they’re taken from us, our last wishes thrown out with our dignity and buried in dresses and they shrug when we ask where our brothers are buried “what brothers?” they say. “those poor women will surely repent” “at the holy gates, admit to sacrilege” “they were never yours to claim” but if the body is such a sacred place we partake in the holy act of creation and your desecration of men made divine in our image is more a sin than any of us have ever been

– lucifer

Poetry Taglist: @elegant-paper-collection @dove-actually @polyphonetic @the-ichor-of-ruination @qelizhus @liv-is

#writeblr #original poem #spilled ink #writeblr community #amwriting #writers on tumblr #queer writers #trans writers #trans masc #trans man #poem #poetry #my poetry #annika talks #feeling very transgender man about it all lately #anyway trans men/mascs/genderqueer men. look into my eyes. i love you

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vitaminwaterwhiteparty · 2 years ago

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Divine Ruination in 5 ... 4 ...

#ff16 #cidolfus telamon #my art

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i-eat-deodorant · 5 months ago

Note

for the "what lines do u remember me by' ask meme:

___

He was like the sun, divinity shed so he could alight at their feet, curled up in their bedroom as a smoldering black shadow in the quiet rays of the morning. He was the beast of chains that had stalked them through centuries, temporarily tamed in a haze of domesticity, all his claws and teeth and sharp edges tucked away because he chose to, for them.

(He was so close. If this was their ruination, they’d gladly destroy themselves on him.)

[...] He was like the sun, and they burned up under his touch.

Lamb drew him closer, and it felt like annihilation at the gates of heaven.

___

(that whole section has me in a chokehold.)

#my asks #YAY TY #me thinking about narilamb: i hope they destroy each other <3 #makes me happy people like my more flowery prose bc i feel it's a little pretentious at times #something something the icarus metaphor of having your wings kiss the sun

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m1ckeyb3rry · 1 year ago

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Pomegranate Ink: XXII

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: Your second exchange event goes awry when one of the disaster curses makes an appearance.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: me when i’m in a “accidentally giving two best friends the most romantic storyline” competition but my opponent is tumblr user m1ckeyb3rry writing pomegranate ink

You all took off into the forest at full sprint, with Maki and Itadori naturally pulling ahead of the rest of you. Clapping his hands together, Megumi summoned Divine Dog Black, who manifested with a unearthly howl. It effortlessly charged forward, nose raised in the air, testing it for the scent of the Grade 2 curse which had been released into the forest. This was the advantage of having more teammates than just Yuta — you weren’t responsible for nearly as much. Doubtless you would take advantage of your cursed signature detection, but the brunt of the tracking would be borne by the shikigami, who looked happy to do it, tail wagging as it bounded along.

At about the same time that you sensed a presence approaching, the Divine Dog barked out a warning. A grade three curse shaped vaguely like a spider dropped down in front of you, baring its fangs in an attempt to look threatening, though none of you were impressed. The Divine Dog looked proud of itself for detecting the curse, but unfortunately, it was not the curse’s signature that you felt drawing nearer.

“Watch out!” you shouted, grabbing onto Itadori’s red hood and yanking him backwards just in time. A huge fist rammed into the air where he had previously been standing, instead making contact with the grade three curse and sending it flying into a tree, where it promptly exploded from the force of the exorcism.

“Y/N L/N!” Todo thundered, pointing at you. “You owe me a fight!”

“Remember the plan!” Maki shouted.

“Sorry, Todo,” you called over your shoulder as you veered around him. “You’ll have to deal with him first!”

You split up into your predetermined groups, with Toge, Panda, and Nobara going in one direction as Maki and Megumi went the other. You and Tullia continued forwards, though you did turn your head, craning your neck to catch one last glimpse of Maki.

She locked eyes with you, and you tried your best to communicate to her with just that single glance what you wanted to say. Please. I will tell you everything when I can. Please don’t be hurt. Please know that you are my best friend. Something like that. If anyone could understand you from just one look, it had to be her, so you prayed that that was enough.

You couldn’t be sure, though. She rounded the corner before you were able to tell. Gradually, Toge, Nobara, and even Panda’s heavy footsteps faded as well, leaving you and Tullia truly alone. Reaching out with your cursed signature detection, you felt nothing, so you motioned for her to slow down.

“There’s no point in wasting energy,” you said. “There aren’t any curses or students in the immediate vicinity, so let’s slow down until we can pick where we want to go next.”

“Got it. How do we pick? Want me to close my eyes, spin, and point?” Tullia said.

“No,” you said. “I’ll be the one closing my eyes, and stealing some of your cursed energy while I’m at it. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. I’ll keep my eyes peeled in the meantime, just in case, though you know I won’t be much help while you’re borrowing my energy,” she said.

“It won’t be too much. I don’t need to use Composition; rather, I’m using your power to broaden the range of my cursed signature detection,” you said. Her mouth made a small ‘o’ of acknowledgement.

“Makes sense. Good luck!” she said.

You screwed your eyes shut, firstly reaching out for the other presence that was constantly intertwined with yours. It was the core of Tullia’s cursed technique, dancing alongside your own — in tandem for now, until you dipped your hand into it, siphoning it off bit by bit and letting it pour into your own self. It took a moment, but then there was a sudden surge of strength in your veins as the newfound source of power rushed through them.

Taking a deep breath, you widened the area of your cursed signature detection — which was really just an application of Dissection but supremely simplified — and searched the entire forest for the students. They were your biggest threat; although any of your classmates could handle a Grade 2 curse, you knew that some of the Kyoto students might pose some trouble to them, especially if they had teamed up.

Immediately, though, you noticed something curious. Towards the east were the signatures of Megumi and Divine Dog Black, and to the west were Toge, Panda, and Nobara, but for some reason, all of the Kyoto students’ signatures were concentrated near where you all, the Tokyo students, had begun the event. That is to say, all of the Kyoto students and —

“Itadori!” you gasped. “They’re trying to kill Itadori!”

“What?” Tullia said, voice trembling as she pressed a handkerchief to her nose, red overtaking the white of the fabric. Her face was pale and sweaty, but she smiled bravely at you, a reassurance that she was doing fine even if she looked the opposite. Inside, you felt her cursed energy thrum, rallying as she took a sip from the water bottle full of bleach she had brought with her, reinforcing her facade.

“Are you okay?” you said anyways. You often suspected that lending you her energy took a greater toll on Tullia than she’d ever admit to, but whenever any of you — Ieri, Gojo, or you yourself — asked, she denied it profusely. This time was much the same, as she shook her head, balling up the handkerchief and shoving it back in the small backpack she carried with her.

“I’m not the one you should be worrying about right now. What do you mean, they’re trying to kill Itadori? How can you tell?” she said.

“It’s only a hunch, but what other reason would all of the Kyoto students have to be gathered around him? That’s where they’re all located, by the way, and why we haven’t run into any of them despite how proactively they sabotaged us during the last exchange event,” you said.

“Why, though? He’s such a sweet boy!” Tullia said.

“Tullia,” you said incredulously. “You know, I really admire you for getting to know someone like that, but did you forget that he’s literally Sukuna’s vessel? It’s not a surprise that they want to kill him.”

“But killing is forbidden in the challenge. The only objective is to hunt down the curse,” she said.

“Oh, they’re hunting down a curse alright,” you said, pulling out your phone and swearing loudly when calling Noritoshi sent you straight to voicemail, further confirming your suspicions. “Just not the one that was released for us to exorcise.”

“They really see him like that?” she said. You sighed.

“Of course they do. Or maybe it’s just that it doesn’t matter to them; at any rate, I know Noritoshi is the dutiful type. I wouldn’t put it past Principal Gakuganji to ask him to do something like that, and if the principal demanded it, then he’d definitely oblige. And the rest of the Kyoto students would probably follow his lead, so that’s just as likely of an explanation,” you said.

“I can’t believe they’re all ganging up on him,” Tullia said. “That’s ridiculous, and cowardly.”

“No, not necessarily all of them,” you said, allowing yourself to smile fondly. “There’s one that might even take a liking to him. If it’s like that, then he’ll only have to prove himself once, and that’ll be enough. The others will leave him alone then, too.”

“Todo?” Tullia guessed. You nodded.

“He’s that sort,” you said. “If Todo decides he likes Itadori, then it’s just up to Itadori to prove himself worthy of standing beside him and fighting. Whether he fails or succeeds is a different matter entirely, but I know Todo won’t let the others interfere in the process. That’s the scenario we should be hoping for.”

“What should we do in the meantime, then?” Tullia said. “How far are we from Itadori? If you take on Todo, we should be able to deal with the others. Tell me which way so that we can get to him as fast as possible! That would be the best case scenario, right?”

“No,” you said. It was a split-second decision, but you made it and hoped that your instinct was correct. This time, it was Tullia’s turn to give you an aghast look.

“You’re seriously going to leave him to die?” she said.

“Of course not,” you said. “I can guarantee you that Megumi and Panda, at least, have come to similar conclusions as us, just based on how peaceful the forest is at the moment. Megumi won’t leave Itadori to fight on his own, that’s for sure, and Maki will definitely support him in that. Panda always makes good judgments, so I’m certain he’ll split up their group, with him and, if I had to guess, Nobara heading to Itadori’s defense, while Toge, the higher ranked of the group, continues to search for the second grade curse. Just like we will.”

“With Megumi, Maki, Panda, and Nobara there to help him, they should be able to handle things,” Tullia agreed. “But why should we focus on the event? Doesn’t it kind of take a backseat to something like this?”

“Normally, I’d agree. Even now, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth to seemingly abandon him like this; however, leaving him behind and searching for the target is actually the best thing we can do at this point. Think about it: once we kill that curse, the challenge is over. If we do it quickly enough, then they won’t even get the chance to kill Itadori. Furthermore, we can then confer with Gojo about our suspicions and figure out what to do next,” you said.

“I get it now!” Tullia said. “No wonder you’re a Grade 1 sorcerer, Y/N. You’ve got this stuff figured out.”

“Thank you. It’s really just practice, though — you remember how many missions I had to go on as a Semi-Grade 1? Those were the worst few months of my life. I had to get better at reading and adapting to situations in the moment just because if I didn’t, people would die,” you said, shuddering at just the memory of how many odd missions you had been sent on. You thought it was a little cruel that the majority of difficult assignments were actually given to Semi-Grade 1 sorcerers instead of the Grade 1s, but it made sense; after all, once a sorcerer attained the rank of Grade 1, they had weight behind their name. They could make decisions and choose what they did and didn’t do, with the power and status to reinforce those decisions, but the same could not be said for Semi-Grade 1 sorcerers, who were chasing their recommendations and therefore willingly accepted whichever missions came their way.

“I’ll be on your level one day,” she said. “You can count on it.”

“I believe you,” you said. “I don’t think you’re too far off, either. If you do well enough during this event, you’ll definitely get your initial recommendations in.”

“Right! Then let’s get the curse exorcised!” she said, clenching her fist, determination blazing in her eyes. You patted her on the shoulder.

“Yes,” you said. “Let’s do that.”

Just then, a shout resounded through the entire forest. Birds flew out of the trees in alarm, and it genuinely reverberated in your bones from its depth and volume, though you knew that its origin was somewhere far from where you currently were. Though it definitely sounded like something concerning, the voice made you grin widely.

“Wrong!”

“What was that?” Tullia said, literally jumping in surprise. You laughed.

“That,” you said, some of your worry easing at the development, “was Todo. He’s taken Itadori under his wing, alright; it seems like he’ll be okay for now, as long as he can keep up with Todo’s nonsense.”

“Great!” Tullia said. “Though, doesn’t that mean that the rest of the Kyoto students—?”

“—are free to do as we please? Yes, it’s true,” a musical voice said. Before Tullia could react, there was a shrill whistle piercing the air, and then a rope slithered through the underbrush, wrapping around her ankles and pulling her down to the ground.

“Elakshi,” you greeted, tossing a needle at the rope which whipped towards you. Though it wasn’t a human, it was still an object imbued with cursed energy, much like Momo’s broom had been. Therefore, Dissection worked perfectly fine on it, showing its weak spots and allowing you to destroy the entire thing in one hit.

“Hello, Y/N, Tullia,” she said, revealing herself from where she had been hiding in the trees. In the meantime and along with much angered muttering, Tullia managed to untie the rope from around her ankle, staggering to her feet and stomping on it irritation before kicking it away.

“We both know you aren’t a match for me,” you said. “So why’d they send you after us? I thought for sure that Noritoshi would come himself.”

“Noritoshi is otherwise preoccupied,” Elakshi said evenly. You noticed that in the time she had been in Kyoto, her accent had grown thinner, though it would likely completely leave her. This made you strangely proud of her. If her accent was the only thing she had left of who she had been once and where had come from, then you hoped she never got rid of it, that she clung onto it forever.

“Y/N, can you just beat her up?” Tullia complained. Elakshi whistled again, a low, sweet tone. The rope reared up at Tullia, but this time she was prepared, punching it out of the way in disdain. It fell to the ground once more, but Elakshi did not bother with it, instead returning her attention to me.

“What you said is indeed correct. There is no world in which I can beat you. Even Noritoshi would struggle. In this moment, in the situation we are in, you seem to be the strongest sorcerer participating in the event. You, Toge Inumaki, and Aoi Todo: those are the three that we are the most wary of,” she said.

“So Todo isn’t allied with you all,” you said. “I knew he wouldn’t be.”

“Todo isn’t a person who allies with anyone, but he also won’t fight us without reason. As long as we stay out of his way, he’s not an issue. That leaves you and Inumaki as our biggest concerns for the purpose of this event. We spent a long time thinking of ways to counter the two of you, but eventually, we figured it out,” she said.

“And what would said counters be?” Tullia snapped from the background. Elakshi rolled her eyes, whistling again at the rope, which once again tried to go after Tullia. This time, though, Tullia took a shot of bleach before grabbing the rope and ripping it in half. It wilted in her hands, and she smugly threw it into a nearby bush, brushing her hands off against her pants.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss such confidential information, but rest assured, they definitely exist,” Elakshi said.

“It has something to do with you. There’s a reason why you came instead of Noritoshi,” you guessed. She hummed in thought before shrugging mysteriously.

“Yes and no. There’s a reason it was me and not one of the others, but it could’ve been Noritoshi if he chose it to be like that. I was not jesting when I said that he was currently engaged with other tasks,” she said.

“Like killing Itadori?” Tullia guessed. This time, Elakshi did not send the rope after her just for daring to speak; instead, she pressed her lips together.

“Todo is the one handling Itadori. The person whom Noritoshi is concerned with is different, but that’s not anything that the two of you need to focus on at the moment,” she said.

“What should we focus on, then? You just seem to be talking a lot at the moment, so what’s the big deal?” Tullia said. Elakshi pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll stop talking then,” she said. “Since you’re so opposed, how about I whistle instead? Would that please you more?”

“Not really,” Tullia said. “But — shit!”

Ropes descended upon the two of you, shooting out from the tree branches, rising up from the grass, wriggling out from under Elakshi’s uniform. It was like a swarm, ropes swirling everywhere and battering at you while Elakshi continued to whistle in the background, an eerie tune that grated on your nerves.

You brandished your needles, but to your surprise, most of the ropes flew past you. The ones that tried to wrap around your limbs were quickly dealt with, bursting into smithereens and then raining down on the grass like the dying embers of a fire. However, the majority of them were concentrated on Tullia, and when the storm finally ceased, all of the ropes now where Elakshi wanted them, you realized why she had targeted Tullia instead of you: Tullia didn’t have a method to completely destroy the ropes the way you did, especially not so many at once. She had clearly managed to rip apart a few of them, but they had remained under Elakshi’s control, and the result was that Tullia was totally restrained, with something resembling a noose hanging around her neck.

“If you don’t drop your needles right now, I’ll tighten it,” Elakshi said. “She’ll die.”

“You can’t kill during the exchange event,” you reminded her. She stared at you blankly.

“Don’t put me in the position to, and I won’t,” she said. You ground your teeth. Would your needles be faster than Elakshi’s whistle? Most definitely, and even if they weren’t, Tullia would probably not be choked for long enough to actually kill her before you destroyed the rope. She’d likely suffer from some injuries, but Composition would be enough to take care of those, so it was a risk worth taking. You had just about decided to throw the needles anyways when you were interrupted by Tullia clearing her throat.

“You don’t have to do that, Y/N,” she said. “You’re already a Grade 1 sorcerer, right? There’s no need for you to play the hero and save me. Let me take care of the situation; I want to look good so I can get a promotion, after all!”

“You’re fully restrained,” Elakshi said, obviously unamused. “What can you even do at this point? It would be in your best interest to ask me not to kill you or to beg Y/N to save you.”

“Those are the kind of options that a sorcerer who doesn’t aim for Grade 1 status would take! But that’s not who I am. I’m a person that’s planning to receive my initial recommendations after this event!” Tullia said.

“It doesn’t matter who you are or aren’t,” Elakshi said. “You can’t do anything. Accept your defeat.”

“This idea came to me earlier,” Tullia said. “After seeing Itadori. Did you know they call Sukuna the King of Poisons, too? I remembered that after looking at him, and it made me think…aren’t I like that, too?”

“What do you mean?” Elakshi said. The corners of Tullia’s mouth curled upwards, but the expression she was donning could not in any world be considered a smile. Biting your lip, you tucked your needles away and bowed your head at her in acknowledgement. If she wanted it this badly, and if she was really so confident that she could beat Elakshi, then it’d be unfair of you to take the chance from her.

“I used to think that the poison I drank was converted directly into cursed energy, but now I don’t believe that that’s the case. For me, poison is a stimulant, something that drives my body’s cursed energy production into overdrive. It can’t harm me for that reason,” she said.

“Get on with it,” Elakshi said. It was clear that she wanted to tighten the noose and be done with the affair, but then she’d have to contend with you, and that was a fight she wasn’t willing to risk, even with the knowledge of whatever weakness of yours that the Kyoto students had discovered.

“That doesn’t mean it leaves me, though,” Tullia said. “It lingers in my body. Again, it doesn’t harm me, but don’t you think that it’d harm someone else? Something else?”

Elakshi’s eyes widened, and she extended her hand as if to stop Tullia. Belatedly, she remembered to whistle, and it was a high-pitched, panicked sound, but it didn’t matter. Tullia had already bit down on her lip, and blood began to flow from her mouth, first in little droplets and then all at once, streaming down her chin and sizzling when it landed on the ropes, reacting with their latent cursed energy and eating away at them until they dissolved into nothingness, leaving Tullia entirely free to move once more.

“No,” Elakshi whispered, now entirely defenseless and facing off against not one but two fully armed sorcerers. “No!”

She whistled again, and the pieces of rope Tullia had discarded in the bush earlier slunk out from it. You prepared to defend yourself, as did Tullia, but it seemed that this time, you two were not the target of the ropes — Elakshi herself was.

“What are you doing?” you said in alarm as she began to choke, the ropes growing tighter and tighter around her neck. “Elakshi, what are you doing to yourself?”

“Seeing if Noritoshi was right,” she wheezed out, coughing dryly from a lack of oxygen. You and Tullia could only watch in horror as she cut off her own air supply until eventually, her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed, the ropes falling limp beside her.

“What the hell?” Tullia said. “Why did she do that?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I’m trying to think, but I genuinely can’t understand why she’d choose to do such a thing.”

“Maybe she just wanted to go out on her own terms instead of ours. I guess it doesn’t matter; if she’s out, she’s out. Do we just leave her here and move on?” Tullia said.

“Let’s heal her first. Neck injuries are no joke, and she should be dazed enough that I can paralyze her with a needle before she thinks to fight back,” you said. “Oh, also, nice job with the blood thing! That was really clever, though I am a little confused. Why doesn’t your blood react with everything like that? Your handkerchiefs, your clothes, why don’t any of those dissolve like those ropes did?”

“It was a wager that I made,” Tullia said. “I didn’t explain it fully. The lingering poison in my bloodstream is closer to cursed energy than anything, as an after-effect of encountering my cursed technique, so I bet that it only reacts to things that also have cursed energy, and even then, only when they were actively using cursed energy — so, like, a sorcerer wouldn’t be impacted unless they were in the immediate process of using their technique or something. I guess my bet paid off!”

“I’d say so. That was definitely good thinking, Tullia, congratulations,” you said. She gave you a thumbs up.

“Thanks! Alright, if you’re planning on using Composition on her, then just know that I’ll be weaker for a bit. It’ll be my second time lending you my cursed energy with not so long in between the instances, so even though I can drink poison to replenish myself, it’ll probably still leave me drained for a bit,” she said.

“I don’t detect any curses or sorcerers in the vicinity, so we should be okay. Once I’ve healed and paralyzed Elakshi, we just have to exorcise the target curse. It won’t be hard for me, so I’ll get it done and then buy you pizza while you relax and recover in bed,” you said.

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” Tullia said, sitting criss-cross on the ground and motioning towards Elakshi. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You knelt by the fallen sorcerer, rolling your shoulders in preparation and then once again seeking out Tullia’s cursed energy. It was there in an instant, and you swallowed before scanning over Elakshi’s body, focusing especially on her throat.

“Composition,” you said. There was a thud as Tullia hit the ground; you must’ve stolen more energy than you had originally anticipated, or maybe she was just that spent. You vowed to heal Elakshi as quickly as possible and set out to do just that, but you soon realized something was wrong: for some reason, despite the fact that you had literally watched her choke herself to unconsciousness, your technique was insisting that there was nothing wrong with her.

A twitch of Elakshi’s lips was all the warning you got before her eyes flew open and she whistled with an ear splitting intensity. The ropes she had choked herself with — no, feigned choking herself with — moved too fast for the eye to see, and by the time you thought to react, they were already wrapped around your hands, binding them together behind your back, your needles out of reach.

“You bluffed,” you said. “That whole thing was just an act.”

“Of course,” she said. “I’m not the sacrificial type anymore. It only worked because we knew you so well, though; at any rate, I was hoping you’d be paired up with that other Zenin girl, but I guess that in a pinch, Tullia and I work.”

“What do you mean? Are you talking about my weakness or whatever?” you said, struggling against your bonds, though it was in vain.

“You haven’t figured it out yet? Well, I can hardly blame you. People tend to be blinder when it comes to recognizing their own flaws,” she said. “Say, do you think I’ll be recommended for promotion now, too? I’ve restrained a Grade 1 sorcerer. I think that’s pretty promotion worthy.”

“I’m going to tell Gojo to levitate outside of your window without his blindfold tonight,” you muttered rebelliously. “I hope you stare into his absurdly blue eyes and feel true fear.”

“Let her go!” Tullia said, though she was obviously a little woozy, stumbling as she ran towards Elakshi.

“Sit down,” you said to her. “You need to recover. I might be out for the count, but you can still fight if you drink some poison and let yourself rest.”

“That’s true, she is still a threat,” Elakshi said, looking at Tullia before clicking her tongue. “It’s fine, though. She won’t recover in time. As long as you’re no longer a viable player, Y/N, Kyoto will win.”

You went to argue in defense of your classmates, but just then, a dark veil began to creep over the sky. You furrowed your brow, giving Elakshi a worried look. She was staring at the sky, obviously just as confused as you were.

“As someone who participated in the event last year, I can say with full confidence that that’s not supposed to be there,” you said.

“Who could possibly be putting down a veil at this moment?” Elakshi said.

“I know it seems counterintuitive, but you have to let me go now. I don’t know what this whole veil thing is about, but if you have me restrained like this, then you’re seriously jeopardizing everybody in the forest. If someone has hijacked the event, then I need to get to Todo and coordinate a plan to take them out,” you said. You thought it might take more convincing, but Elakshi was sensible enough to let her ropes fall away in an instant, leaving you free to move around once again. You flexed your wrists before looking up at the sky, your mind working overtime to figure out what the likely explanation was.

Like a punch to your stomach, you felt an enormously malevolent presence enter the area of the veil. There was only one type of being that emitted that kind of aura: the disaster curses that you and Gojo had encountered. Your nails dug into the soft skin of your palm, forming crescent moons in the skin, and you shifted from foot to foot at the development.

It had to be the work of the spy. They must’ve informed the curses that you all would be alone in the forest like this, away from the safety of the teachers’ protection. Gojo was all of the way in the faculty building, which meant that he might not even know what was happening — you weren’t sure if Mei Mei’s crows worked through veils, so there was a real chance that he was in the dark. That meant that this was the ideal moment for the curses to strike, and it also supported your earlier assessment.

“Elakshi,” you said. “Take Tullia and get out of here. Forget about the event, just get out of the veil and take her to Ieri if possible.”

“What about you?” she said.

“Whoever put this veil up is working with special-grade curses, one of which is inside the veil at this very moment. Because of the veil, it’s not a guarantee that the faculty knows what’s going on, which means that as of this moment, Todo and I are the highest ranked sorcerers aware of what’s happening. That means it’s my responsibility to take care of everyone. I have to hold this curse off until help can arrive,” you said.

“By help, do you mean Gojo?” Elakshi said, at first trying to get Tullia to lean against her but then giving up and picking her up, carrying her bridal style.

“Yes, he’s the only one who can certainly deal with this,” you said.

“I’ll try to reach him first, then,” she said.

“Sounds like a plan. Be safe. Avoid combat at all costs; this is not an opponent you can fight alone and win against,” you said.

“Understood. You be safe, too,” she said. “Don’t let your weakness make you lose again.”

“I’ll do my best,” you said, even though you still couldn’t understand what that weakness could possibly be. There was no time for further chitchat, though. Without another second to waste, the two of you took off in opposite directions, her towards the exit of the forest and you towards the river where you sensed Megumi facing off against the special grade curse.

It wasn’t the volcano-headed one, that was for sure, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t powerful. And was Megumi fighting it alone? No, there was no way he was. Maki was definitely with him, but you just couldn’t sense her due to her lack of cursed energy. She wouldn’t have abandoned Megumi, and she was fine. She had to be fine. There was no way she wasn’t.

Still, the mere chance that she might not be was enough to push you further, faster, until you were bursting out of the forest and skidding in the slick mud of the riverbank. Both Maki and Megumi did not even notice your arrival, so focused were they on fighting the enormous humanoid curse with the branches for eyes, but the tension left you as you saw that Maki was alright.

The curse must have been the one Gojo and Itadori had encountered the other day, the one who had saved the volcano-head at the last minute. It hadn’t attacked them, only run away with its accomplice, but that only meant that it was theoretically capable of anything, that none of you were aware of what the extent of its skills and techniques were. Maki and Megumi had the upper hand for now, but how long would that last? And everyone was moving so fast that there was no way you could throw a needle, for fear of accidentally hitting one of your allies instead of the curse.

You could not hesitate, though. Even if hand-to-hand combat wasn’t your area of proficiency, you still had to try. You were the Grade 1 sorcerer; you were the one responsible for the lives of your classmates. Todo was nowhere to be found, which meant that it was really up to you. You were not allowed to let any of the others fall before you, especially not her. Especially not your best friend.

There was no one single explanation for it, at least not one that was immediately evident. Maybe Megumi faltered having to use an unfamiliar weapon, or maybe it was the splash of your boots in the current that caught them off guard; either way, for a moment, the two of them were distracted, and in that moment, the curse struck. Strange bud-like growths blossomed in Megumi’s torso, ripping his stomach open and cackling amongst themselves as they did so. He collapsed, and you inhaled, about to run towards him when you suddenly realized something — the curse wasn’t poised to deal a finishing blow to him anymore. Instead, it’s focus was on something — someone else.

“I was hoping you’d be paired up with that other Zenin girl.”

“My needles. My friendship with Maki. Those are mine.”

“The next time you mention my friends — the next time you even dare to say Maki’s name — I will aim my needle a little lower, and I will not miss.”

“Well, I love her. She is the reason that I am the person I am.”

Why had Elakshi said that? What did it all mean? Why were you thinking about these things now? What had Noritoshi and Elakshi comprehended about you that even you had not yet? Because there was something you were missing. It was right in front of you, but you could not understand it yet, nor did you have the time to, because that curse, it was about to attack — it was about to attack —

“Don’t let your weakness make you lose again.”

What was your biggest weakness?

“Maki!” you cried out, wrapping your arms around her shoulders as you shielded her body with your own, knocking her out of the way of the assault. The curse’s branch pierced your back, gouging a hole into it before retracting in victory as you fell to the ground at Maki’s feet.

“Y/N?” she breathed. “Y/N, what are you — hey, don’t you touch her again! Let go of her!”

A root sprouted from the ground, wrapping around you and ripping you away from where Maki had been about to pick you up. Suspending you in midair, the curse regarded you carefully, batting Maki away with a different root as it did so.

“Are you the one that Jogo met? There’s a different air to you than there was to the other two,” it said.

“Y/N!” Megumi said, coughing up blood as he tried to stand. You knew he wanted to protect you, you knew Maki wanted to protect you, but they weren’t strong enough. Both of them were beaten down already, tired off from holding off the curse for so long, but you didn’t blame the two for it. They had done the best they could. In fact, they had done better than anyone could’ve expected them to do.

“It’s alright,” you said, even as your vision began to swim, the pain of your wound and the subsequent blood loss causing your mind to grow blurry. Tullia was exhausted already, so you couldn’t call upon Composition at the current moment, which meant you couldn’t heal yourself, but it was fine. “Megumi. Maki. It’s okay.”

“What do you mean?” Megumi said.

“I’m not the only Grade 1 sorcerer around,” you said. “I think it’s just about time for my rival to make his appearance.”

As if on cue, there was a great crash, the force of which sent the curse reeling backwards. In the ensuing chaos, hidden by the waves of water that were created from the impact, you were dimly aware of your body being snatched from the curse’s grip and cradled in a pair of bulky arms.

“Sorry for the delay,” Todo said, so gentle with you despite how rough his exterior seemed. “Poor Y/N, always getting hurt like this! Don’t worry. My best friend and I will avenge you!”

“Best…friend?” you mumbled. “Never mind. Listen, this thing is a special grade.”

“You think I can’t handle it because of that?” he said derisively.

“No, just be careful,” you said, your head lolling against his shoulder. “Don’t die or anything, okay?”

“Well, if it’s my most trusted advisor and dearest rival asking for that kind of favor, then I can’t say no!” Todo said. “Panda! Take these three and get them out of here. According to Nishimiya’s report, the veil is an anti-Satoru-Gojo veil, so the rest of us can come and go as we please.”

“I’m on it!” Panda said, slinging Megumi over his shoulder, prompting a groan out of him. He went to do the same to Maki, but she shook her head.

“I can walk,” she said. “I’ll take her.”

“Are you sure?” Panda said. “You look tired out.”

“It’s fine,” Maki insisted. “She’s only even like that because she took the blow for me. It’s my fault, so I’ll be the one to take her back.”

“If you say so,” Panda said. Then you were being deposited into another, more slender embrace, and you knew even with your eyes drooping closed that it was Maki’s.

“Maki,” you said. “Maki, I miss you.”

“I miss you too, idiot,” she said. “Why’d you have to go and be all dramatic about it, though, huh? And why aren’t you healing yourself?”

“Tullia’s…unconscious. Can’t draw on her cursed energy when it’s so depleted,” you said, and even though every word hurt, you kept talking, because it was Maki, because you’d take all the pain in the world to keep talking to her.

“I see,” Maki said. “And how’d that end up happening?”

She was trying to ensure you stayed awake. She must’ve been afraid that if you went to sleep, you might not ever wake up again. You didn’t think the injury was that serious, but it must’ve looked like that, with so much blood everywhere and the wound so deep.

“Elakshi,” you said. “D’you know she figured out my weakness? Her and Noritoshi. I don’t even know what it is myself, though.”

“It’s that you’re shitty at hand to hand combat. How many times do I have to kick your ass until you understand that?” she said. “I bet if you trained with me more often, you wouldn’t be like this right now.”

“Maybe not,” you said. “I’m really tired, Maki.”

“I get it,” she said. “Yeah, me too. Can you stay awake for just a little bit longer? We’re almost there.”

“Don’t know,” you said. “Don’t think so.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll watch over you if that’s the case. You can rest, Y/N. You’ve done what you needed to do.”

With Maki’s permission, sleep claimed you all-too-easily, though it was fitful and uneasy, like you couldn’t quite rest yet, like your mind had been jostled and was trying its best to recover. Even the familiar scent of her laundry detergent wasn’t enough to soothe you, and it was only once you were being placed onto the cold surface of a hospital bed that you were able to wake up.

“Mama?” you said. Nothing was in focus, but there was a woman at your side, and even though it should’ve been your father and his Reverse Cursed Technique that you sought out, it was your mother who you hoped was there. Your mother, who you had not called mama since you were a child; even if she couldn’t do anything, you wanted her there.

“No,” the woman said. “Your parents didn’t come to the event, Y/N, remember? It’s me, Ieri. We’ve called the healers of the L/N clan to come work on the rest of the students, but it might be a bit until they get here. I’m healing you and Tullia first in the hopes that you can help me in the meantime.”

“Oh,” you said, and though you had nothing against Ieri, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “Gojo? Where is — where is Gojo?”

“He’s trying to get Todo and Itadori out of the veil,” Ieri said. “I’m sorry. It’s just us two.”

A tear trickled down your cheek, and then another, and another. Ieri was silent; for a while, you thought she might be ignoring you, which you would not blame her for doing. Her job was only to heal you, nothing more but nothing less, either.

Yet she was your teacher, too. You didn’t think she would’ve done it for anyone else, but for you, for the Reverse Cursed Technique user that she had helped train herself, she healed with only one hand, doubling the pain and the effort it would require, doubling the strain she took upon her.

With the other, she held yours and squeezed.

#yuuta x reader #yuuta x y/n #yuuta x you #reader insert #canon au #pomegranate ink #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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