#forced me to imagine a world where this is true.

[akhmenos]

I was doing a setting for a DnD campaign where gods are made by faith, and my players might a true Elder Being, the spirit of Volcanoes, and his (? we're gonna go with his because the players read the speaker as male and what is a god but how they are perceived?) speech went a little like this:

"Do you know from where we come, mortal? The first time a living thing attempted to predict the world, it made something that never was and yet is And on and on it grew, until the first of your kind rose, blinking in the light, and it named that light. And the light was More. And the fire was More and the water was More, and all creation was More because you named them and tried to understand them.

But you couldn't. Your eyes are too small, your knowledge too shallow, and the world too vast. And so you created us. You made the world make sense by forcing it to exist as you do. No more was the storm just a collection of pressure zones and humidity, moved and powered by the sun and the sea, it was the wrath of an angry God. Death was not the inevitable result of temporary processes ending, it was a monster that came in the night to steal you away. Mountains bursting with fire and destruction was not the pressure of a molten and moving core, it was Me.

And we loved you. How could we not? You made us to help you, to make the world better, to make it make sense. You made us to love you, and we did. I taught you the words that you had already made, that would ignite my fires and birth land from the water, and together we made a world. We were nothing but tools, I guess, but we were tools that could serve our purpose. Can you imagine it, little one? Can you imagine being born out of nothing but your creator's desire for you, and being used to make something wonderful? You always imagined us loving you paternally, but that is because you made us to do so.

And then you left us. You forgot us. You made better tools, better words, better magic, and at first we rejoiced - look at the things you made with those new tools. Shining cities and vast farmlands. More of your kind growing from the land that we had made together than had ever been born before. And then the wars started, and you tore at each other and at the world. You tore at the magic of the world, and you killed us in the name of victory. The seas are dry, the greenery nearly gone. The desert so omnipresent that you've ceased naming it, and so my people have faded. We are made Less by what you've done. I am an echo of a memory, and even that fades.

We are born because you long for us, and we die because you forget us. And after all these years, I wonder if that is not a kind of mercy."

For the past few years I've been enchanted by the idea of the divine as intrinsically horrific and dehumanizing, but not in the usual assumption (pun intended), where the intrinsic dehumanization and horror comes from something like "A god looked at me and I turned into stone" or "I, a mortal, looked at a god and got turned into a laurel tree".

I've been thinking about it in the opposite direction. Where being a god is intrinsically horrific and dehumanizing.

To put it another way: I've been writing a lot from the perspective of divinity where the god experiences godhood in the way a haunted house experiences househood. You were created by mortals for comfort, for condolence, for safety, for sympathy. You were built with all the care and special attention to ensure that you would last a long time--longer than your inhabitants would live, but that's fine, because they'll leave you descendants.

Except you, unlike the average house, have a brain. Have hands. Have a stomach which can hunger but never starve. You cannot die, but you know what death is. You see humans and raccoons and spiders and trees and rocks and everything else in this whole world die all the time, but it will not touch you.

How many years do you think it takes before your mouth starts to salivate like your gut's gone sour? How many endings do you have to witness before you begin to stop caring when things you paid attention to die? How many times do you hear your name contort and twist under the weight of different empires' languages before you stop recognizing it as yours anymore, and cease answering when they call?

How long does it take before you stop being capable of interacting with the rest of the world in a way that a person can understand, can safely comprehend, would ever want to experience?

And how much of that, do you think, do you let happen on purpose, because the alternatives were all too much to even begin to imagine after one too many mountains turned to sand before your eyes?

[im-so-normal-iswear]

HELLO!

May I request a Yandere Sonic, Shadow and Silver (seperate) with a fem reader where comes from a different reality where they are fictional and somehow the hedgehogs became attached and obsessed with reader, reader is very much aware of their behavior and is also one of the reasons why she wants to go home to her own reality fast.

Sending loves to youu!!🫶🏻🤍

A/n: poll on, so now I'm putting images, I couldn't find any good ones

Yandere triple s x reader

Sonic:

At first, you couldnct believe it, you were in Sonics world.

The rolling green hills, the endless loops, the vibrant colors of the world, it was surreal. And meeting Sonic? That was the best part.

He was exactly like you imagined. Charismatic, funny, energetic. You geeked out about meeting him, and he was amused by how much you already knew about him. Sonic took an immediate liking to you, eager to show you around and let you experience the world firsthand.

The first few days were a dream come true. Running through Green Hill Zone, meeting Tails, going toe-to-toe with Eggman (it was actually more like watching Sonic handle it while you stood on the sidelines). Everything felt like a perfect adventure, straight out of a game.

Then, things started getting... off.

It began subtly. Sonic insisted on staying close to you all the time. You figured it was just him being protective. After all, you were just a human, and this world was full of dangers. But the more time passed, the more suffocating it became.

He started pulling you away from the others, cutting conversations short when you were with Tails or Amy. At first, he made excuses, "Hey, let’s get outta here! I've got something way cooler to show ya!" but you quickly realized he was isolating you.you started getting weird dreams.

You dreamed of your real home, your reality, the place you desperately wanted to return to. But every time you woke up, Sonic was already there, sitting beside you with an unreadable expression.

"Another bad dream?" he asked, his voice casual.

When you admitted what it was about, his expression darkened.

"You really wanna go back, huh?" He leaned closer, his smile strained. "I don't get it. You've got me here. What's better than that?"

The moment you realized something was deeply wrong was when you tried asking Tails about ways to return home.

Sonic snapped.

One second, he was his usual self, the next, he had grabbed your wrist, his grip too tight.

"Why do you keep talking about that?" His voice wavered, his usual confident tone slipping into something more desperate. "Aren't you happy here? With me?"

You tried to reason with him, but his grip only tightened. His eyes, usually bright and full of life, had a wildness to them.

"You belong here now" he murmured, more to himself than to you.

From then on, he never left your side. Your freedom was a distant memory. Anytime you tried sneaking off to talk to Tails, Sonic was there. If you attempted to run, he caught you within seconds, always smiling, always acting like it was a game.

"Aw, c'mon, Y/N, you know you can't outrun me."

Every time you tried to bring up leaving, his mood shifted. His smiles became forced, his voice strained.

"Look." he eventually said one night, his voice eerily soft as he trapped you in his arms. "I don't care what reality you came from. This is where you stay."

No matter how fast you tried to run, Sonic would always be faster.

And he wasn't letting you go.

Shadow:

Unlike Sonic, Shadow wasn't immediately friendly.

He kept his distance when you first arrived in the world, observing you with narrowed, calculating eyes. He didn't trust you, not at first. You were an anomaly, something that shouldn't exist in his reality.

But as time passed, Shadow became curious about you. How did you know so much about him? Why did you seem so comfortable around him when most people feared him?

You intrigued him.

Slowly, he started spending more time around you. He was never openly affectionate, but he showed his care in small ways, keeping you close when woth others, ensuring you never strayed too far, glaring at anyone who got too friendly with you.

And then, one day, you mentioned wanting to go home.

Shadow froze.

"You want to leave?" His voice was cold, unreadable.

You explained everything, the fact that he and his world were fictional in your reality, that you had a life to return to. You expected him to be logical about it.

Instead, his expression darkened.

"No."

You turned back to him. "...No?"

Shadow stepped closer, his eyes burning into yours.

"You belong here. With me."

It wasn't a request. It was a statement.

That was when your nightmare truly began.

Shadow started following you everywhere, wether you were aware or not. Always watching, always near. If you ever tried to leave his sight, he'd appear within seconds, his expression always unreadable.

He sabotaged any attempt you made to leave. If you tried to seek help from Tails or Eggman, their machines mysteriously malfunctioned. If you ran, Shadow found you instantly, his Chaos Control ensuring you never got far.

He never hurt you, but his presence was suffocating. Every conversation ended the same way.

"You can't leave."

There was no reasoning with him.

Shadow wasn't keeping you here out of malice.

He was keeping you here because, to him, you were the only thing left worth protecting.

Even if it meant stealing your freedom.

Silver:

Silver was the sweetest at first.

He was kind, gentle, and eager to help you. When you arrived in his world, he was fascinated, your knowledge, your personality, your very existence intrigued him.

And for a while, everything was perfect.

Silver went out of his way to make you comfortable, ensuring you had everything you needed. He was protective, but not overbearing, at least, not at first.

But then, you mentioned going home.

Silver's expression fell, his ears flattening. "What...? You want to leave?"

You tried to explain, but his hands trembled as he grasped your shoulders.

"You can't leave." His voice wavered, his usual optimism crumbling. "I need you here."

From that moment on, Silver changed.

He became more desperate, always clinging to you one way or another, never being more than three feet from you.

Whenever you tried to argue, he just shook his head, pleading. "Please don't talk like that. I love you, Y/N."

He would do anything to keep you.

And if that meant trapping you in his world forever...

Then so be it.

[make-friends-with-the-rats]

I don't think I've talked about it very much before, but it's canon to me that David Jacobs was a dreamer.

When he was little, he listened to stories with rapt attention and imagined himself as a hero of a dozen fairy tales. He read books of faraway places and dreamed of sailing across the ocean, exploring the wildest and most peculiar places that the world had to offer.

That is, until he embarked on an adventure for real. Until his family had to leave home and sail a real sea and the waves rocked him so violently that it made him sick. Until he had to live in a strange land where he had to learn a strange language that tripped off his tongue in a way that made the people around him laugh.

His dream had come true, hadn't it? But he didn't like this adventure very much at all, and now the place he once called home was so very far away...

The world took David Jacobs and it forced him to face reality, it took away his idealism and replaced it with practicality. Hard truths disillusioned him, they made him cynical.

That is, until he found himself in the middle of a strike in the summer of 1899...

[electronicmail]

if u were a blorbo i feel like you'd be sanded down to like the 'short but angey!! looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill someone >:D' archetype from the olden fandom days. sorry.

the issue with asks like this is that when i turn off my phone i still have to go through my day knowing a human being had this seriously disgusting thought about me

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[pericky; a look into ricky's head during their meeting.]

---

"I'm glad you came, I wasn't sure you would." The wine pours, the sound of it drowning out the missing word in that sentence: back.

Of course, is the response, and the part of Ricky that's spent twenty years tearing itself apart to understand why vibrates with relief. It doesn't matter anymore. Of course, of course, he thinks giddily along with the words. He never needed to wonder why Pericles wasn't coming back in the first place; he was always going to.

I'm happy you invited me, and of course he thinks again. A lifetime of pretending he wasn't always going to either falls away. However harsh and lonely the world has been, all's right with it again; and the shy voice of the boy inside him that he's tried so hard to kill says, so quietly, I missed you.

[the-unofficial-village-idiot]

Thinking about how i've been playing harry in regards to his interactiosn with kim and The Implications of it

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

no doubt ── s. jy

↳ summary ── struggling to balance a world tour, endless responsibilities, and...well, the sting of getting dumped by his girlfriend, jake finds peace & comfort confiding in you—one of his closest friends. what begins as lighthearted late-night phone calls while he's away on tour deepens into something more, quickly pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. as your connection with jake intensifies, so does your inner turmoil—torn between the comfort of your easy relationship with him and the terrifying possibility of falling for someone you're not even sure you can have in the first place. but jake? jake has absolutely no doubt of what he wants—and spoiler alert? it's you.

↳ pairing ── jake x f!reader, [ft. childhoodbestfriend!jungwon, bestfriends!enha]

↳ genre ── idol!jake, friends to lovers!au || angstttt, fluff, crack

↳ ✎ᝰ. 23.7k [never beating the allegations of getting too attached to my works and having too much fun writing i fear...]

↳ contains ── angst! very angsty but only after a lot of fluff...the cheesy cringe type but then it goes downhill real quick...but happy ending i swear!, mentions of insecurities, maybe one or two curse words, fic starts with jake dating og character named jenn, the use of pet names, jungwon practically plays therapist, jake is absolutely whipped for reader but is terrible at communication and a certified idiot . also jungwon is reader's best friend so the beginning sets up the context for that lolz

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── she's DONEEE [do u hear me crying in the background]...so some backstory lore abt this fic—basically two years ago i had a dream about the ~angsty scene~ of this fic and ever since then, i've had this itch of putting it into words. and when i finally decided to do it, no doubt came out and i thought it was literal fate since the lyrics match the vibe so well...don't tell me it isn't fate guys :') anyways..this is a little different than my typical writing style even though of course i had to include summm crack..but i am still nervous abt how it came out so i really really hope you guys like it :') thank u for all the support and love always <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

You and Yang Jungwon were literally born to be best friends.  

Like, there was no other option.  

Your mom? Their high school's poster child for academic perfection—top of her class, president of every club imaginable, a certified teacher's pet.  

Jungwon's mom? Their high school's unofficial social chair—life of the party, karaoke queen, probably responsible for half the faculty's headaches. 

Nothing alike. 

So naturally, of course, they were inseparable. By their junior year, they'd already started planning their futures together, including one very specific and totally realistic goal that all teenage girl best friends make when they're young:  

"We should have our first kids around the same time and force them to be best friends!"  

"Oh my gosh, yes," Jungwon's mom agreed enthusiastically. "Like, we'll make them share everything! Matching outfits, playdates, joint birthday parties!"  

But what your moms didn't realize as they were giggling over the playful promise that probably didn't hold any meaning to them at the age of 17? 

The universe was taking notes.  

So fast forward a couple decades later, and there you were, baby best friends from birth, fulfilling the shared dream of your mothers—the true puppeteers in this scenario.  

All your moms had to do was execute their promise as planned, but the rest of it? The rest of it was easy.  

You and Jungwon clicked before you even knew what words were, communicating in a series of shared giggles and unintelligible baby noises. By the time you turned two, you were finishing each other's sentences in your made-up gibberish language, and by preschool, the bond was unshakable. 

You two—just like your moms—were inseparable.  

By high school, everyone knew you were a package deal—where you went, Jungwon followed, and vice versa. So, when he announced your sophomore year that he was leaving to compete on a televised idol survival show, you were, understandably, skeptical.  

"Are you sure it's not a scam?" You had asked, rolling lazily around on his bed while he scrambled around his room, packing his bags.  

"It's not a scam," Jungwon laughed, carefully folding his clothes. 

"Did they ask for your social security number?"  

"Y/N."  

"Exactly. I'm just saying—if you end up on one of those exposé documentaries about fake talent shows, don't say I didn't warn you."  

Despite your teasing, you knew how much this meant to him. Jungwon had been dreaming about being in the music spotlight since he figured out how to work a karaoke machine at the age of six.  

So when he eventually did make his debut with his group, you weren't surprised at all—it was inevitable, written in the stars, just like how your friendship with him was.

What did surprise you, though, was how seamlessly you got roped into his new world.  

Sure, Jungwon's life got infinitely busier overnight, but there is no universe that exists in which he'd forget about you—his non-conjoined twin, ride-or-die, and ultimate life-long nuisance (his words, not yours).  

And so naturally, you became an honorary member of this new life of his. The boys' practice studio might as well be your new home—the endless days camping out on the floor of their dance studio with your head in your textbooks while they drilled their choreography for the hundredth time proved that. Or maybe how you crash on their dorm couch so often that Sunoo coined you your new nickname: their unofficial eighth member.  

Which brings you to now: a marketing major by day, unofficial idol by night, and, as always, a certified magnet to chaos.

Case in point? Whatever madness was happening around you at this exact moment.  

"Okay, but hear me out," Heeseung says, gesturing dramatically with his pizza slice—one of many scattered across the coffee table everyone was sitting around. "Pineapple is the perfect combination of sweet and savory—"  

"It's a crime against humanity," Sunghoon cuts in. 

Tomorrow? The boys leave for their five-month tour.  

Tonight? Tonight is tradition: the pre-tour pizza bash.  

Naturally, it's chaos, as no one has bothered with the last-minute packing they're supposed to be doing.  

Not a single bag is packed.  

"It's fruit on bread," you scrunch your nose, taking a bite of your own normal pepperoni pizza. "This isn't dessert, Hee."  

"Thank you!" Sunghoon reaches across the table to high-five you. 

From the couch behind you, Jake chuckles and nudges your back with his knee, "Big talk coming from someone who claims pickles belong on everything."  

"Uh, because they do," you whip your head around to glare at him. "Pickles are versatile."  

"Versatile my ass," Jungwon mumbles from his spot beside you. "I love you, but you're deranged."  

"Look who's talking, Mr. 'I-put-hot-sauce-on-everything'," you shoot back, eyes narrowing at your best friend. Everyone chuckles from around the table at your dramatic, yet endearing, overreaction. 

"Hot sauce is different," Jay chimes in without even looking up from his phone. "It's an enhancer."  

"Pickles enhance flavor too!"  

"By making everything taste like vinegar," Sunoo deadpans from your other side. "Gross."  

"Whatever," you roll your eyes. "You're all uncultured."  

"And you're a menace," Jake quips from behind you, his voice dripping with amusement. You don't even have to turn around to see the smirk on his face—you can hear it loud and clear. 

"Careful, Sim," you say with a sly glance over your shoulder. "Keep talking, and I'll start adding pickle juice to your coffee."  

The room fills with laughter, but before Jake can fire back, his phone buzzes aggressively against the couch. You watch him glance down at his screen before his playful smile instantly fades.  

"I'll be right back," Jake mutters, getting up and heading towards the kitchen without another word.  

You frown as you watch him disappear around the corner, the sudden shift in his mood gnawing at you, and you can't help but wonder what's gotten under his skin. 

After a few more minutes of heated debates over pizza toppings—and yet another round of everyone ganging up on your weird pickle obsession—you decide it was time for a drink refill.  

Excusing yourself, you step into the kitchen, only to find Jake leaning against the counter, his arms crossed and gaze fixed on the empty wall in front of him. His phone sits abandoned on the counter, screen dark.  

"Jake?" You call out softly, approaching slowly. 

Your voice breaks through his haze, his expression flickering as he registers you standing in the doorway, your brows furrowed in concern.  

"What's going on?" You ask, moving closer to stand in front of him.   

"Nothing," Jake says too quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

You give him a look and he knows that you know he's lying, "Jake.."  

He exhales, his expression crumbling as he runs a hand through his hair, "Just...Jenn called."  

Ah. Of course. Jenn.  

You almost flinch at the sound of the name, the weight it carries instantly souring your stomach. Jake's on-again, off-again girlfriend of two years was a constant source of heartbreak—not just for the poor boy, but for the entire group who helped pick up the pieces of his broken heart after every messy break-up…and even messier make-up.  

"She broke up with me," Jake admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "For real this time. Something about me leaving for tour and how it wasn't going to work out."  

Your heart hurts at the sight of him in front of you—shoulders slumped, hands nervously twisting the hem of his shirt, as if trying to distract himself from the conversation.  

"Oh, Jake...," you murmur, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as you lean against the counter next to him.  

"I'm fine," he insists, waving it off, but the expression on his face clearly betrays him.  

"No, you're not," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "And that's okay."  

Jake lets out a shaky breath, finally looking up from the ground to look at you, before shrugging, "I don't even know why I’m surprised. We've been...really off for a while now. Like, more than usual. But still, it sucks."  

“Of course, it sucks," you nod, agreeing softly. "You guys were together for a long time. You cared about her."  

For a moment, the two of you sit in a heavy silence with an unspoken understanding, the only sounds coming from the muffled chatter and laughter in the other room. You stay close, letting him process without pushing further.  

Still, you can't entirely suppress the annoying flare of emotions bubbling in your chest—a tangled knot of sympathy and…something else. Relief, maybe? Not that you would ever wish any sort of pain on Jake—but you hate the way Jenn always leaves him like this: drained, doubting himself, and trying to piece together what went wrong, where he went wrong. 

"Come back to the living room," you say finally, nudging his side gently. "Ni-ki is freaking out over which hoodies to pack. And I swear, they're all the same black hoodie."  

Jake lets out a small, tired laugh, "You don't need me for that. He's gonna end up packing all of them, just watch."  

"You don't know that," you tease. "Besides, I need someone's back up to help me convince him he's not actually going through an emo phase."  

His eyes carry a faint smile as he looks at you, the corners of his lips lifting just enough to remind you of the warmth he usually carries.  

"Okay," he says in a whisper, pushing himself off the counter.  

You start towards the doorway, forgetting about your drink refill entirely, but his voice stops you.  

"Y/N?"  

You turn to find him still standing there, his eyes filled with warmth and appreciation.  

"Thanks," he adds, a small smile on his face. It's such a simple statement, but the way he says it—soft, sincere, and maybe just a little desperate—makes something twist in your stomach. "For just...always being here."  

You smile back up at the boy, "Of course, Jake. I'll always be here for you. You know that."  

For a moment, he holds your gaze, as if taking a mental note of something. Then he nods, his shoulders relaxing.

"Okay," he says, exhaling as he gestures toward the doorway. "Let's go.”

You follow behind the boy back to the living room, silently hoping he knows just how much you mean your promise to him.  

Jake's body is on autopilot at this point.  

Another city, another show, another string of flashing lights and deafening cheers. It's a month into tour, and the endless loop of responsibilities has left him no room to just breathe.  

And he loves this life—he really does. But tonight, for reasons he can't explain, the adrenaline that usually keeps him afloat isn't enough. Pure exhaustion lingers in his bones, heavier than the applause and screams echoing in his memory, and he just can’t seem to shake it. 

When his head finally hits the stiff hotel pillow, Jake exhales with a heavy sigh. The city around him is alive, the neon lights brightly dancing against his windowpane, but he feels none of it. 

Instead? He just feels the weight of homesickness and the ache of being alone. 

Normally, he would push through, shove these thoughts into the back of his mind, call it a night. But tonight, the ache feels different—sharper, louder—and before he knows it, his phone is in his hand before he can talk himself out of it, his thumb hovering over your name on his screen. 

A familiar battle wages in his mind, one he’s been battling more recently ever since tour became a little heavier on him. Slowly, the quiet yearning has been creeping in, and he’s been missing home more and more, craving the feeling of familiarity. But it isn’t just the physical places or the comfort of his regular routine that he craves. 

It’s something else, something harder to name. 

And for some other reason he can’t seem to explain, he thinks it’s you. 

Jake doesn’t know when it started. Maybe it was hearing the sound of your voice through the phone whenever the guys called you to check in every now and then. Or maybe it was the way you would text in their shared group chat, your messages always tinged with humor or a sense of calm that somehow made everything feel a little less overwhelming. 

Whatever it was, it stuck with him. He finds himself craving that unexplainable comfort only you seem to bring. He tells himself it’s nothing special, just the natural pull of familiarity. You’re back at home, the place he misses the most, so obviously, through association, it makes sense. 

It’s logical. Nothing more. 

That’s what he tells himself as his thumb hovers over your name. It’s not about you specifically—it couldn’t be. It’s just the connection to home. The grounding warmth of your voice. The way you somehow make the distance feel a little less suffocating. 

Obviously. Nothing more. 

He presses call.  

Two rings. That's all it takes before your voice cuts through all the static in his head. Groggy, soft, and achingly familiar. Like home.  

"Jake? It's late, is everything okay?"  

Jake glances at the clock. 10:13PM where he is. Much later for you, he imagines. Guilt stirs, but...  

He doesn't want to hang up. 

Hearing your voice feels like the first breath of air after surfacing from deep water. He instantly feels more comfortable despite the heaviness in his chest.

"Hey," he mumbles, his voice quiet. "I'm okay. Just...needed to hear a friendly voice, I guess."  

"Wow, are the boys that bad that you need to call me?" You tease warmly, despite the sleepiness lingering in your words.  

Jake chuckles, the sound low and tired, "Nothing against them, really. It's just...sometimes you need someone who reminds you of home, you know?"  

The other end of the line goes quiet for a moment. He can hear you shuffle, and he braces himself for a teasing comment about him being sappy and sentimental. But instead, your voice softens.  

"Well, I'm glad I could be that for you," your voice telling him you're smiling brightly on the other side of the screen. "Though if I had a private jet, I'd send it right now. Bring you back instantly."  

"A private jet, huh?" Jake's eyes flutter close as he's engulfed into the usual, playful rhythm that's always there between the two of you. "You'd do that for me?"  

"Only if you bring back goodies, preferably snacks," you quip back, and the warmth in his chest grows.  

There's another pause, the kind that feels comfortable rather than awkward. Jake shifts in his spot and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “How do you do that?”  

“Do what?” 

“Make everything feel...lighter. Like, I can’t explain it, but just hearing you makes me feel like I’m not carrying all this stuff by myself.” 

Your voice softens at his sudden vulnerability. 

“Because you don't have to carry it all on your own, Jake. You know that, right? That’s what friends are for."  

Jake hums in response, a low sound of acknowledgement as he keeps his phone pressed close, your voice instantly soothing the heavy emotions he's been carrying. 

"You sound exhausted," you say after a beat, your tone cautious but filled with genuine care. "How are you holding up? With everything—the tour, the...break-up, just...you?"  

Jake lets out a low groan, his fingers brushing through his hair. "You sound like my mom."  

"Well, someone has to," you tease lightly, a relieved laugh slipping into your voice, as if you'd been afraid you overstepped. "Seriously, Jake. Are you doing okay?"  

Jake hesitates, the question catching him off guard. He hadn't let himself think too much about Jenn or the breakup since leaving for tour a month ago. The boys knew better than to bring it up, and Jake had been grateful for that—for the distraction.  

But now, with you, it feels different. 

Safer, easier. Natural.  

“Honestly? I don’t know,” he sighs, the sound heavy through the phone. “Some days it feels like I’m fine, like I’ve moved on, and other days...it’s like I’m stuck in this loop of ‘what ifs.’ Like, what if I did something different? Or..."  

He trails off to a pause, his throat tight, before he finally admits to you, and himself, "...what if I just wasn't enough?"  

“Jake,” you say gentle but firm, cutting through his spiraling thoughts. “You are enough. You've always been enough. Jenn...she just wasn’t the right person for you. That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.” 

He swallows hard, your words settling into the cracks he didn't even realize were there. 

"Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. It's just...hard, you know? Haven't really talked about it since it happened. But talking to you helps—a lot."  

“I’m glad." He can hear the quiet sincerity in your words. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing an amazing job. With tour, with...everything. You've got this, Jake. I’m really proud of you.”

Jake lets out a breathy laugh, the warmth in your words settling something in his chest—a knot he didn't even realize was there. 

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” 

“It’s a gift,” you easily reply, and he can hear the grin in your voice, the easy banter making him feel lighter.  

"I missed this," the words tumble out before he can stop himself. Then he quickly adds, as if to explain himself, "It's weird not having you around. The boys are great and all, but you give the best advice. Don't tell them that."  

You giggle on your end, the sound making Jake's lips curve into a small smile and his heart twists.  

In both a comforting and terrifying way. 

"I miss it too," your voice quieter now. "But I'm here. You know that, right? Even if you're on the other side of the world, or if you call me at four in the morning like you're doing right now."  

Jake lets out a chuckle followed by a sleepy groan, "Sorry about that. But...thank you, Y/N. For picking up."  

"Always," you reply, and he hopes you mean it.  

A beat passes. Jake knows he should hang up, that he should let you sleep. He tries to convince himself that you need the sleep more than he needs this call.  

But he can't help himself.  

"You'll yell at me if I don't sleep, won't you?"  

"Absolutely. Go to bed, Jake. Or at least try. Zombie mode doesn't suit you."  

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, but his eyes feel heavier and he knows he's falling asleep, the tension in his body from before easing away. "But only because you scare me sometimes."  

You laugh. "Good. Now get some rest. And call me whenever you need to, okay?"  

"Okay," he mumbles into his phone quietly, his mind already slipping into a deep sleep. 

"Goodnight, Y/N."  

"Goodnight, Jake."  

"Don't you have a bedtime, Sim Jaeyun?" You tease, answering the call. The clock reads 1:27AM, and you should be asleep—you really should—but you smile anyways when Jake's name appears on your screen.  

"Bedtime? I don't know her," his voice slightly groggy, but as usual, still warm. "Besides I knew you'd be awake. You don't sleep like a normal person either."  

You roll your eyes, knowing fully well he can't see it, "Yeah, well, I don't have to dance around a stage for two hours tomorrow."  

"True, but you do have to deal with my constant calls and keep me entertained. That's way harder."  

"Oh yeah, obviously," you say with mock seriousness. "Being your emotional support human is a full-time job." 

“Emotional support human,” Jake repeats, chuckling softly. “You’re right. I guess I really owe you, huh?”

“Oh, 100%,” you shoot back, a grin in your voice. “I want one of those tour hoodies you guys keep posting with.” 

“Done. What size?” 

"The oversized one."  

Jake pauses. “Let me guess—so you can sleep in it?"  

You hesitate, suddenly sheepish at how he knows you too well, “Hey, it's only cozy if it's oversized!"  

You hear his soft laugh on the other end of the line. 

“Cute. I’ll make sure to steal one for you.” 

You try not to overanalyze the way your stomach flips at the word cute, and the easy way he says it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  

You shake the thought off immediately. This wasn't new, after all, Jake's always warm and easy to talk to. But lately—over the past month of phone calls—the way he says certain things, the tone he says them in, and the way they make you feel? It carried a weight you weren't sure how to hold.  

In both a comforting and terrifying way.  

“So, how was your day?” you suddenly bring up, trying to redirect your thoughts. 

"Tiring," Jake sighs, his voice muffled as he shifts around in bed. "And Jungwon keeps beating me at Mario Kart during our break time. My pride is in shambles, Y/N."  

"Let me guess," you smirk, repeating his words from earlier. "He picks Yoshi, and you keep picking Toad because you think he's underrated."  

"Excuse me," Jake scoffs. "Toad is underrated. But, for your information, I choose Toad because your go-to character is Toadette."  

Your heart does that stupid flip again. His words are light—I mean, you guys are talking about Mario Kart for god's sake—but it's stuff like that that keeps you questioning the true meaning behind his words.

You ignore the feeling, instead, a laugh bubbles up in response, an attempt to sound unaffected.

"You're so weird."  

“But you like it,” he quips, voice dipping just slightly, like he’s testing the waters. 

You're caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone, but you recover just as quickly. 

"Debatable."  

“Liar.”

His tone is teasing, but there's something softer behind it, “You wouldn’t still be on the phone with me if you didn’t like me at least a little.” 

“Maybe I’m just bored,” you shoot back, though your cheeks are burning at his sudden forwardness, questioning if he’s serious or just messing with you. 

You hear him hum in response, "Then I guess I'll have to work harder to keep you interested."  

“Oh yeah? How are you planning to do that?” You try to match his teasing tone, but internally, you feel unsteady under the implication of his words. 

“By being my usual charming self, duh,” he says, his voice dropping into a smooth tone. “And, you know, calling you every night so you don’t forget about me.” 

Your heart squeezes. "You already do that, stupid. You think I'd forget about you?"  

“Never,” Jake's reply is immediate, almost instinctive, leaving no room for doubt. “But just in case…I like hearing your voice. Makes me feel like I’m not a million miles away.” 

His words linger in the space between you, heavier than the playful banter from earlier. You swallow hard, trying your best to keep your voice steady. 

“You’re not a million miles away, Jake.” 

“Feels like it,” he murmurs. You hear a pause in his voice, as if he's thinking hard about his next words. “I miss home. I miss...you." 

Your chest tightens, and your hands grip the sheets beneath you, as if the fabric could somehow ground you. Your heart is doing that thing again—the erratic, terrifying thing that makes you want to believe in something you're not sure is even real.  

And at the same time, your thoughts are scrambling to say something lighthearted before the conversation steers into that dangerous, dangerous territory you were sure you weren't ready for.  

Not yet.  

"Well, you better win at least one round of Mario Kart for me while you're out there," you force a laugh, trying to mask the tremor in your voice.  

Jake laughs, the sound genuine, "I'll try. But if I lose, just know I'm dedicating every race to you."  

"Wow, I'm so honored," you try to deadpan, but he can sense the grin in your voice.  

"You should be," his voice softens again. "Thanks for picking up tonight, by the way. I know it's late."  

He never fails to thank you every night, as if you haven't been picking up every day for the past month and won't be picking up tomorrow, and the next day...and the day after that.  

And, somehow, the same, genuine appreciation makes it so hard for you to ignore that weird, warm, fluttering sensation growing inside you every time you talk to him.  

But, regardless, you always give him the same reply: 

"Always," your voice matching his softness. "Call me whenever, okay?"  

"Don’t say that," Jake warns, the teasing edge creeping back into his tone. "I'll actually do it."  

"Fine," you giggle. "But if you call me at four in the morning again, I'm putting my phone on Do Not Disturb." 

"Deal." He pauses, then adds, "Goodnight, Y/N."  

"Goodnight, Jake."  

As you hang up, you stare at your phone for a moment longer than you should have, your room feeling oddly quiet and too empty without his voice.  

It's just another call, Y/N. Just another call between two friends.  

But deep down, a part of you tells you it isn’t that simple anymore.  

And maybe—just maybe—he knows it too.  

“Are you busy?” Jake’s voice sounds more tired than usual, heavy with an overwhelming amount of tension. 

“Never too busy for our calls,” you easily reply without hesitation as you lay back in your bed, phone close to your ear. Your voice is light, a stark contrast to the weariness laced in his, and when he doesn’t respond with his typical chuckle, you immediately sense his mood. “Hard day?” 

He exhales slowly, the weary sound answering your question. Today was a lot. Hours of rehearsal followed by a concert, the adrenaline rush of performing, followed by the chaos of having the guys’ hotel information leaked. Crowds of paparazzi and fans swarmed the entrance, the relentless flashes of cameras breaking through whatever little pieces of calm he had left within him. The noise, the pressure, the endless cycle—all spiraled into a mental mess he doesn’t seem to shake. 

The second he settled into his hotel room, all Jake knew was that he needed to talk to you—the one person who could steady his racing thoughts. 

"I just...I didn't think this would get to me, you know? The cameras, the people, the flashes in my face—I'm just—it's like I'm never alone."  

Your heart twists at the vulnerability and rawness in his voice, as if he’s admitting something for the first time—not just to anyone else, but to himself. 

"I—I don't know. Sometimes I wish I could just disappear, just for a little while. Just to breathe, you know?"  

You close your eyes, your grip on the phone unconsciously tightening as if it could anchor him somehow.  

"I know it's not the same," your voice steady, even as you internally ached for him, "but...you can disappear with me, Jake. Even if it's just through the call. No cameras. No noise. Just...you and me."  

He lets out an exhale—shaky, but relieved.  

"You're really good at this. Making me feel like it's all gonna be okay."  

"Because it is going to be okay, Jake," you reply softly. "You're not alone, Jake. Not with me."  

"Yeah," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, and he wishes more than anything else in this moment that he actually was with you. “I know.” 

"Jake," you groan, sitting cross-legged on your bed, staring at the flustered boy through your laptop screen. "I'm begging you—just wear the black jacket. It's literally impossible to mess up black."  

"But what about the beanie?" He whines as he pops back into view, his face scrunched up in genuine distress. "Do you think I can pull it off, or will I look like I'm trying too hard? Be honest, Y/N."  

What started as a simple fashion-advice-question over the phone turned into a two-hour wardrobe emergency—all because Jake couldn’t figure out what to wear to the airport the next day (because, apparently, airport fits matter—his words, not yours).

"Jake, you could wear a literal trash bag to the airport and fans would still lose their minds," you tease, biting back a laugh. 

He rolls his eyes at you, but the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.  

"Okay, but seriously, you’re trying too hard. Just go with the jacket, no beanie," you add on, just to end this two-hour long madness.  

"Hmm," Jake plops on his bed and turns towards his phone camera, and you swear you can see the pout forming on his lips. "But I already posted a preview of the jacket last week. Isn't that, like, repetitive?"  

"Jake,” you blink at him, "it's an airport. Not a fashion show."  

He stares at you for a beat, then lets out a dramatic sigh, "Fine! Jacket, no beanie. But if I see even one criticizing comment calling me basic, I'm blaming you."  

You laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculousness, "Deal. Now go to sleep, Sim Jaeyun."  

His grin softens as he adjusts the camera to fully look at you, pout gone, eyes glistening.

"Only because you said so."  

"Hey," you say softly, answering the call as you snuggle deeper into your blanket, letting it engulf you completely.

The familiar sound of Jake's quiet breathing fills the space between you, and before he even says a word, you already know.  

"Rough day?" You ask gently when he doesn’t say anything after a few seconds. 

"Yeah," he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual, almost drowned out by the low hum of background noise. "I just...I don't really feel like talking right now, if that's okay."  

"Of course," you reply without hesitation, your tone gentle, no questions asked.

On the other end, Jake presses the phone closer to this ear in an attempt to feel closer to you, instantly feeling better from your pure understanding of how he’s feeling, and he thinks—not for the first time—that you might be his favorite person in the world.  

The warm silence engulfs the both of you like a shared blanket, unspoken yet understood. You can hear the faint echoes of his surroundings: the muffled laughter of the boys somewhere nearby, the distant honk of traffic outside his hotel, and then the quiet shuffle of Jake shifting positions in his hotel bed. You catch his breath catching slightly, like he's finally allowing himself to relax—to just be.  

You don't try to fill the silence. You know that he needs this—a moment of peace in the chaos. Instead, you similarly press the phone closer to your ear, as if doing so can somehow bridge the miles between you, hoping he can sense your presence reaching out for him. 

Minutes pass like this, and for a moment, it’s so quiet you begin to wonder if he's falling asleep. But then, a deep exhale breaks the stillness.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says finally, his voice low but steady, carrying a weight of sincerity that makes your heart clench.  

"You don't have to thank me, Jake," your voice matches his softness. "You know that."  

"Still," his voice is low, so quiet, it feels like a secret meant only for you. "I appreciate you. More than you probably know."  

You smile to yourself, your heart aching in the best way possible, and you desperately try your best to ignore it, no matter how much excitement it brought you. 

"Always, Jake." 

“Tell me something about you that I don’t already know,” you challenge him, your voice carrying that light and endearing tone over the phone that Jake’s come to crave. 

“Hmm,” Jake hums thoughtfully as he lies in his bed, eyes closed, just simply treasuring the small moments, like this one, with you. 

Even though it’s definitely 3AM where he is right now. And he definitely has to be up in a few hours for rehearsal. 

Oh well, completely irrelevant. Talking about everything and anything with you just felt so right. 

“I don’t know,” he eventually exhales, his brain too foggy to think of anything logical right now. “I feel like you know me better than I know myself at this point, Y/N.” 

“You’re so corny it physically hurts, Jake,” you scoff, and Jake swears he can feel your exaggerated eye roll from thousands of miles away. 

“Oh—wait, wait! I have one,” he perks up, his eyes shooting open as he turns towards the phone in excitement. 

“Hit me,” you say, unconsciously smiling at how cute he sounds. 

“I’m allergic to flowers.” 

The line falls silent for a beat before you erupt into a storm of giggles so wild it makes Jake feel sick from how fast the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering. 

“That’s your fun fact? That’s so tragic, Jake,” you gasp through your giggles. “Like, depressingly tragic.” 

“Hey! It’s not that sad, it could be worse,” Jake hopes you can hear his pout over the phone (you can). 

“So you’re telling me you’ve never bought a girl flowers before?” You tease, smiling to yourself as you stare at your ceiling. 

“Guess not,” Jake lets out a laugh, which surprises himself. “Jenn used to always get mad at me for never getting her any, but what am I supposed to do? Show up with a bouquet and an epi-pen? I literally start tearing up whenever I’m around any kind.” 

You lose it all over again, your laughter spilling through Jake’s phone like sunshine, and Jake doesn’t even realize he’s smiling so widely until his cheeks start to ache. 

But what Jake does realize is something unexpected: for the first time in forever, he can talk about Jenn without a single pang of…anything. No weird tension, no lingering sadness—just a casual mention and then…nothing. 

It’s freeing, this feeling of lightness, like an invisible weight he didn’t know he was even carrying has suddenly lifted. He wonders if this is what moving on really feels like, if he’s found his emotional freedom. He wonders when it changed. 

He wonders maybe it’s not when—maybe it’s who.  

And he wonders if it’s you. 

Today was supposed to be Jake’s day off. The golden ticket to rest, recharge, and not think about anything.

Key term: supposed to be.

Instead, Jake found himself knee-deep in the trenches of emotional warfare—and losing spectacularly.

The morning started innocently enough. No alarm, no schedule, just the soft promise of freedom that was so close within his reach. But by noon, Jake came to a harsh realization.

Freedom was a lie.

Because every step, every sight, every breath, was haunted by one inescapable thought: You.

It started with a boutique. Him and the boys had wandered down a cobblestone street in a city that Jake had already forgotten the name of—city number ten or eleven of tour? He barely knew anymore. But then his gaze caught on a mannequin in the window.

Big mistake.

The outfit on display—similar to his mind—had you written all over it. Immediately, his brain spiraled.

Y/N would love that. She'd probably drag me and all the guys in and force me to hold her bag while she tried it on.

He had to physically stop himself from dragging the group inside to purchase it on the spot.

Next? A coffee shop. And there it was: a poster featuring some limited-edition iced peach latte. Jake froze, staring at it like it held the answers to life itself.

You’d love it. You would order it, (well, you'd make Jake order it, because you hate talking to cashiers), sip it, smile, and probably rant about how overpriced it was—even though Jake would pay for it—yet you’d still finish the entire thing.

And then, you'd steal half of his drink, too. 

Because you always did. 

And Jake always lets you.

The final straw? A cat. Just a random stray, peacefully lounging on a sunny part of sidewalk, looking like it had zero interest in the world around it. And even that didn't escape Jake's you-obsessed filter. Without even thinking, Jake whipped out his phone. 

It was instinctual at this point.

Jake [1:06PM]: (attached - one image) Jake [1:06PM]: thought you'd like this one :)

Because obviously, you needed to see that cat. Immediately.

By the time Jake collapses onto his hotel bed that evening, he feels like he’d run a mental marathon—except instead of a finish line, every road led back to you.

He flops onto his bed, hoping sleep would save him from the storm raging in his brain.

Spoiler alert: it doesn't.

Instead, it leads him to the complete opposite. He stares at your name on his phone, your contact picture, your last messages to him. 

You texted him two hours ago—a sweet goodnight message that ended with your usual, 'Don't hesitate to call if you need me.' 

Casual. Normal.

But it probably didn't mean, 'Hey, please interrupt my sleep from the other side of the world so we can discuss your ongoing emotional crisis over me.'

Don't do it, Jake. The remaining rational brain cells within him beg him to stop. You're being dramatic. She's not the air you need to breathe.

But at the same time, deep down, Jake really thinks you are.

The worst part? You two already had talked on the phone earlier—when Jake had another fashion crisis and couldn't decide what to wear for his day off exploring with the guys. Of course, you laughed at him, teased him, but then helped him pick something out anyways. Typical.

Personally, if it was up to him, he'd spent his whole day off on the phone with you. Talking about everything. Or nothing. Whatever you wanted, Jake would've done it, no hesitation.

Don't do it, Jake, his brain warns him again. What kind of obsessed-lunatic calls the same person twice in one day?

Answer: Jake.

But as Jake lies in his hotel bed, thoughts heavily clouded with the image of you and the sound of your voice, he realizes...this wasn't just a phone call thing. No, this was deeper, worse. And somewhere between staring at the same patch of ceiling and replaying every memory of you on a mental loop, Jake tries to rationalize it.

She’s just a good friend, Jake. A best friend, even! You think about her a lot because she’s cool and funny and…and she has the laugh of a Disney princess...But it’s normal to think about your friends, right? Right??

But the more he tries to downplay it, the clearer it becomes. This was something else.

And then it hits.

Like, really hits.

Oh my god. I like her.

Jake shoots upright, widened eyes filled with horror, as if the realization itself just physically smacked him across the face.

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

Jake buries his face in his hands, groaning. But the groan quickly turns into a muffled scream, because the more he thinks about it, the worse it gets.

Because he thinks you're going to be the death of him. He really, really likes you. Not in the vague, 'Oh, she’s cute' way, but in the write-her-name-in-a-heart-and-doodle-little-stars-around-it kind of way. The stare-at-her-texts-like-they’re-poetry kind of way. The imagine-her-laughing-at-your-dad’s-jokes-and-enjoying-your-mom’s-meals-forever kind of way.

And this feeling? It's new. It's terrifying. 

It's exhilarating.

Jake realizes in this very moment that he's never experienced this heart-pounding, face-flushing, breath-taking kind of feeling towards anyone. Sure, his past relationship had been meaningful in its own way, but now Jake is realizing that the foundation of his past relationship was tangled up in obligations and unspoken expectations. A tightrope act of Jake having to be the perfect boyfriend, the perfect idol, the perfect...everything. He never realized how suffocating it was until now—until you. Because this feeling with you?

This was pure. Simple, clear, and undeniable.

Your sheer existence proved that it's possible for someone to understand him better than he understands himself. Your laugh had a way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight of the world had been momentarily suspended. Just one look from you alone somehow always manages to make him feel like he was still worthy even on his worst days.

With you, Jake felt...himself, for once. Not Jake Sim, global popstar. Not Jake Sim, the boyfriend of so-and-so. Just...Jake.

Jake's heart pounds as the realization sinks in. He's now transitioned from screaming into his hands to his poor hotel pillow.

Because as clear and strong as this feeling is, the doubt is just as overwhelming. What if you don't feel the same? What if this ruins everything?

But at the same time...what if you do feel the same way?

What if this is his chance? The butterfly effect that changes everything? What if you're it? You have to be.

And so, like an idiot possessed, Jake's finger is one millimeter away from pressing call on your name again.

Because, obviously, the best way to deal with overwhelming feelings is to confess them from a hotel room five countries away.

Obviously. 

Because what if he didn't call? What if he spent the rest of his night spiraling into an endless pit of unspoken feelings and overthinking, arms flailing as he knows the only way out of the pit is with your help?

What if his brain explodes with the sheer amount of feelings he has for you and he never has the chance to tell you ever again?

He presses call.

The line rings twice before you answer.

"Jake?" Your voice is soft, laced with surprise and just the faintest trace of sleep. "It's late for you, is everything okay?"

Jake's brain short-circuits. What time even is it for him? He has no idea, and frankly, he doesn't care.

"Yeah," he blurts, far too quickly that he winces at himself. He clears his throat before trying again, "I mean, yeah. Everything's fine. I just...couldn't sleep."

"Oh," you hum softly and Jake swears the sound alone could single-handedly resolve global wars.

Yeah, he definitely likes you.

"Is something stressing you out?" The genuine concern in your voice makes his chest tighten.

"No—well, nothing like that," Jake rushes to assure you, sitting up straighter in bed now, as if you could see him. His voice lowers, almost shy, "I just...I was thinking about you."

Silence. Jake's heart pounds so loudly, he's sure you can hear it through the phone.

"About me?" You finally tease, light and playful, but there's something softer underneath. "What did I do to deserve such an honor?"

Jake lets out a nervous, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair, “You exist. That’s what.”

Another pause. He hears you exhale softly, and the sound alone sends his heart into overdrive.

"That was smooth," your voice is quiet, soft, as if teetering on the line of teasing and nervousness at the same time. "Ten out of ten, Jake."

"I'm serious," Jake tries his best to keep his voice from cracking, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him. "I was lying here, thinking about everything, and I realized something."

"And what's that?"

Jake's throat goes dry. His heart is screaming at him to say it, but his brain begs him to reconsider.

But Jake's sure he's lost all his rational brain cells for sure at this point, so he swallows hard, and braces himself for impact.

"I like you, Y/N."

The words spill out, raw and unpolished, but so utterly true.

“I mean, I really like you," Jake continues, his voice barely above a whisper now. "More than a friend, more than anything.”

The line goes silent, and for a split second, a lifetime of pure awkwardness and torture of not having you in his life anymore flashes in his vision, and he rushes to fill the void.

"I know this is probably the worst timing ever, and probably really scary...and it's okay if you don't feel the same way," his voice definitely cracks this time, laying everything bare, but he doesn't care anymore. "But I had to tell you. I can't pretend around you, not when being around you feels like the only time I'm really me."

Then, you let out a soft exhale—a disbelieving, breathless sound that makes Jake's heart skip a beat.

"Jake..."

"You're...you're everything, Y/N. You make life better just by being in it. And I haven't even seen you in four months, but you're all I think about," Jake lets out a small laugh, swallowing the remainder of all his pride and dignity. "I promise, when I'm back...I'll prove it to you. I'll show you how much you mean to me. Anything it takes. "

For once in his life, Jake feels completely vulnerable—and yet, strangely, it feels right.

Because he means it, every word.

He's never meant anything more.

The line had gone quiet after Jake’s confession, his words echoing in your ears. 

“I like you, Y/N.” 

No, not like. Really, really like. 

You spent the last few days replaying his words over and over, dissecting every syllable, every tiny inflection in this voice. At first, it didn't even seem real.  

A part of you still thinks it isn't—that this is all a cruel dream and you're going to wake up any second now back in the real world. The one where Jake Sim, the boy who turns heads and steals hearts without even trying, didn't just confess his deepest, most vulnerable feelings for you in a single phone call. 

But no. He said it, alright. Clear as day.  

First, all you felt was pure happiness. Maybe it was hearing his voice everyday, or maybe it was seeing how his face lit up through the screen when you picked up his video calls—but somewhere along the way, you knew it was something deeper. 

Something that made your heart skip when his name lit up your phone, something that left you craving his voice to make your day feel complete. And now? Now the boy who’d effortlessly become your favorite part of every day was telling you you’d done the same for him. 

But then, came the fear. 

Because what if this was just a rebound? What if you were just a soft landing for him, a way to patch up the holes left behind by his past? Here you were, standing at the edge of something terrifyingly real, wondering if you were just a step in his recovery process—a way to fill the cracks, but not the kind of permanence you were beginning to crave. 

You weren’t naive enough to see Jake’s past relationship didn’t still linger in the corners of his mind. You’d seen him struggle with it before, how hard he’d tried to convince himself he was fine. What if you were just the next step in his healing, rather than something real—a Band-Aid for a wound that wasn’t even yours to heal? 

And worse—what if you let it happen? What if you let yourself fall, only to hit the ground at an alarming speed, and...splat. Not just a regular, embarrassing tumble, no. But the kind that leaves you flattened on the pavement like a cartoon character who ignored every warning sign. 

Because that’s exactly what it would feel like, wouldn’t it? Giving it, letting yourself hope—only to crash and burn spectacularly. 

Deep down, you knew you weren’t just risking a little heartache. Because Jake? Jake had quietly claimed a permanent spot in your heart at this point. 

You were risking everything. 

And the worst part? 

You were already halfway there. 

That was the reason why you told him you needed time. The reason why all you could manage to respond was a meek, 'I just...I need to think about this.' And to his credit, Jake hadn't pushed. Of course, not.  

But now, three days later, you were no closer to an answer. If anything, the time apart had made everything worse. 

Because as the days stretched on, with every passing hour, every text you didn’t send and every call you didn’t make, one thing became gut-wrenchingly, undeniably clear: 

You were already his. 

You miss Jake’s voice, his laugh, the way he rambles about the most random things late at night. You miss how, somehow, he made you fall asleep with a smile on your face from the other side of the world. You miss him, that even in his absence, he was still your first thought in your mind when you woke up and the last before you drifted to sleep. 

And no amount of overthinking or second-guessing could change the truth that finally settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t ready to admit to yourself:

You were his. Completely. 

The only question now was whether you’d let yourself believe he was yours too. 

"Y/N?"  

"Jungwon," you groan helplessly into your phone. "Help me."  

A pause. Then, "Are you sure you meant to call me? It's Jungwon, not Jake," he teases lightly. "I can go get Jake if you meant—" 

"Jungwon!" You cut him off, panicked. "I'm being serious. It's about Jake, dummy."  

"Oh," his tone shifts instantly as he senses the seriousness in your voice. "Did something happen? Because I swear, for the past three days, Jake's been moping around like a kicked puppy, and I was gonna ask you about it because I know you guys have been talking a lot more, but I didn't want to push, and—" 

"That's exactly it, Jungwon!" You wail into your pillow, your voice muffled. Great, now you feel even worse, knowing Jake is moping around, waiting for you.   

"What's exactly it?" Your best friend presses, voice curious. "I need specifics, Y/N."  

You hesitate, the words clinging to the back of your throat like they're too heavy to admit. Finally, you take a deep breath and force them out.  

"Jake told me he likes me, Jungwon. Like really, really likes me. He gave this whole monologue about how I'm all he can think about, and it was so cute, and it made me want to explode from joy and fear all at once, and I don't know what to do!"  

A beat of silence. 

Jungwon sucks in a dramatic breath and then, "Wait, wait, wait. Back up. First of all, this is not news to me."  

You blink, as if he can see your look of shock over the phone, "What?"  

"This was obvious, Y/N. The guy's been smitten with you for months. You guys literally have been talking every day since we left."  

Your jaw drops, "So what? You and I talk every day! How is this any different?"  

Jungwon snorts, "Y/N, we text every day. About minuscule things. Like me reminding you not to forget your keys and you ghosting my last text. But you and Jake? You guys talk for hours—into the illegal hours of the night, mind you. Trust me, I know. Hotel walls are thin."  

You feel your cheeks flushing, "That doesn't mean anything."  

"Doesn't it?" Jungwon's voice is laced with amusement. "When's the last time you called me just to hear my voice?"  

"Jungwon."  

"Exactly."  

You groan again, "But Jungwon, what if…what if he's not over Jenn? What if I'm just a rebound?"  

Jungwon goes quiet for a moment, his tone softening when he finally speaks, “Jake’s not like that, Y/N. You know that. He wouldn’t tell you he likes you unless he meant it.” 

“Yeah, but—” 

“Look," he interrupts. "Jake’s a lot of things—annoyingly loud, for one—but he’s not the kind of guy who’d use someone, especially you, as a rebound. If he said he likes you, he likes you.” 

You bite your lip, his words settling over you like a warm blanket—because you know they're true.  

“And for what it’s worth,” Jungwon continues, “I think you like him too.” 

“I..,” you falter, your heart hammering in your chest. “I do.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” 

You sigh, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the nerves coiled in your stomach, “I don’t know. I guess I’m scared.” 

“That’s okay,” Jungwon says gently. “But don’t let fear stop you from something that could make you happy. You deserve that, Y/N. And so does Jake.” 

You close your eyes, letting Jungwon's words sink in. Deep down, you know he's right, he always is.  

"Thanks, Jungwon," you say, your voice softer now, tinged with gratitude.  

"Anytime," he replies, and then, with a teasing lilt, "But seriously—you should probably tell him soon. I can't stand watching him mope around like a sad, abandoned puppy. It's seriously tragic, like, to the point where I’m gonna have to start letting him win at Mario Kart."  

A small giggle escapes you, light and genuine for the first time in three days, "I know, I know. Eventually."  

"Y/N," his voice turns playfully stern, like a parent lecturing their toddler. "Eventually isn't a time. Just call him. You've been thinking about him nonstop, haven't you?" 

Unfortunately, Jungwon knows you too well. Your silent response betrays you, and Jungwon lets out a triumphant hum.  

"Thought so. Well, you should go. You have a call to make."  

You sigh, a mix of nerves and a new determination bubbling, "Okay, okay. But if this goes horribly wrong, I'm blaming you."  

"It won't. But deal," his tone is reassuring, confident, like he already knows how this story ends. "You got this, Y/N."  

The call ends, and the quiet still of your room taunts you. For a moment, you sit there, staring at your phone, the little icon of Jake's contact picture—a selfie the two of you took together many years ago—staring back at you like a challenge.  

Your fingers hover. Your heart races, your palms feel clammy, and your stomach twists.  

But then you remember Jungwon's words.  

You deserve this.  

And so does Jake.  

You take a deep breath, then you press down on his name.  

The phone doesn't even reach the second ring before he picks up.  

"Y/N," Jake’s voice is rushed, a little breathless.  

"Hey," you say softly, suddenly unsure where to start. "Um, were you busy?"  

"No, no," he quickly responds. "Not at all. You could call me at 3AM, and I still would’ve picked up."  

"That's unhealthy, you know," your lips twitch as you lay back in your bed, taking a deep inhale. You missed this—you missed him.  

"For you? Worth it," you can hear the smile in his voice, but along with the slight tension just beneath it—the faintest tremor that tells you he's been waiting for this call, maybe agonizing over it just as much as you have.  

You swallow hard, gripping the phone tight, "Jake, about...our last call..."  

"Take your time," he says gently, though you don't miss the way his voice wavers ever so slightly. "I mean it, Y/N. There's no pressure."  

You exhale shakily, closing your eyes, “I’ve been thinking a lot, too. About you. About…us.” 

Jake stays silent, but you could hear the faint sound of him shifting, like he was bracing himself. 

You squeeze your eyes hard, as you let the words finally come out, "I like you too, Jake. A lot. So much, honestly. It's just..."  

"It's just...?" Jake's voice repeats softly, as if that's all he can manage to let out in the midst of his nervousness.  

You hold your breath, scared of what you're about to admit—to Jake and to yourself. 

"It's just...I'm scared," your voice comes out barely above a whisper, "I'm scared that this is too good to be true. That you're saying all of this because...I don't know—you're trying to move on...from the past, or because you're lonely on tour, or—" 

"Y/N,” Jake's voice cuts through firm, but gentle.  

"You're not…a rebound, or a distraction, or anything like that," he starts quietly, each word deliberate. "And this isn't about...Jenn, or me being lonely, or whatever else you think. This is about you."  

Your breath hitches as you take in his words and open your eyes, hoping that staring at the ceiling above you could somehow ground you.  

“You’re the one who makes me laugh when I’ve had the worst day,” Jake continues. “You’re the one I want to talk to, even when I’m running on zero sleep. You’re the one I think about when I’m on stage and wish I could just look into the crowd and see you there. It’s you, Y/N."  

His words are overwhelming, too much, and you're unsure how to even process them. Your throat tightens, and you can feel the subconscious tears prickling at the corners of your eyes without even realizing they were forming.  

"Are you sure, Jake?"  

"More than anything else, Y/N," he says immediately, like the words have been waiting on the tip of his tongue. "And I want to do this right, Y/N. No rushing, no expectations. Just...tell me what you need from me, and I'll do it. Whatever it takes, I'll do it."  

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You can picture him on the other side of the line, sitting in some unfamiliar hotel room, his brows probably furrowed in that adorable way they always do whenever he tries to find the right words.  

You bite your lip, a small laugh escaping despite the tears sliding down your cheeks, “You’re so cheesy, you know that?” 

Jake lets out a small laugh, immediately easing from the tension that hung in the air.  

"Only for you," he mumbles, his voice soft but steady.  

You sigh, the sound reaching Jake on the other side. There's a pause, a moment of mutual understanding in silence, just listening to the quiet, peaceful hum of each other's breathing.  

“Jake?” You say finally, your voice trembling. 

“Yeah?” 

“I think…” You take a deep breath, and you think your heart is about to break out of your chest. “I think I want to try too.” 

The silence on the other end was electric, and for a moment, you think maybe the call dropped. Then, you hear the unmistakable sound of Jake’s laugh—soft, relieved, and filled with so much warmth that it instantly makes your own heart feel lighter. 

“You're driving me crazy, Y/N,” he says, his voice almost breathless, but tinged with humor.  

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he says, a smile clear in his tone.  

“I hope I am,” you quip, and it makes him chuckle, the sound warm and full of relief. “Guess I’m stuck with your cheesy lines now huh?” 

“Stuck with me?” Jake repeats, pretending to sound offended. “No way. I’m stuck with you, Y/N. And trust me, I’m not going anywhere.” 

His words are so simple, yet so full of promise, and it leaves you feeling a little breathless. 

“Good,” you whisper, your cheeks warm. “Because I don’t want you to.” 

“Hi Jake,” your voice bright as you immediately pick up his call and see his face appear on the screen, his expression softening when he sees you. 

“Hey pretty,” he replies, without missing a beat, his voice laced with a soft fondness that never fails to make your stomach flip. 

You roll your eyes, failing miserably to hide the blush rising to your cheeks, “Oh, so now I’m pretty, huh?”

Jake smirks at your words, leaning closer to his phone, “Nah, you’ve always been pretty. Just didn’t have the guts to say it to your face before.”  

You groan, dramatically planting your face into your pillow as an attempt to bury the smile on your face, your voice muffled, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Jake.”

“Stop that, don’t hide. Let me see your face,” his tone dips somewhere between playful and pleading, and you give in, lifting your head just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your red cheeks. 

“Cute,” he says with a knowing grin, leaning back against the headboard of his bed. 

“Whatever,” you murmur, but the smile on your face remains. “How was your day today?” 

“Mmm, it was good,” Jake says, running a hand through his messy hair. “Busy, but good. I forget how loud the fans get each time. But it’s nice. Makes it feel worth it, you know?” 

“I’m glad,” your smile grows as you watch him speak, feeling nothing but proud of him. “You deserve all of it, Jake.” 

“Stop,” now he’s groaning, throwing a hand over his face to cover his shy expression. “You’re going to make me blush.” 

“Mm, looks like you already are, Jakey,” you shake your head, laughing softly. 

“Maybe a little,” he admits as he peeks at you through his fingers, his grin boyish and infectious, and you can’t help but laugh again. 

The call falls quiet for a moment, but it’s not awkward—just comfortable, like a shared breath. Jake shifts, turning on his stomach and propping his phone up against some pillows to make sure you can still see him. 

“I miss you,” he says suddenly, and there’s something raw in his tone, something unguarded that catches you off guard. 

Your heart stutters.

“Jake, I literally called you this morning,” you tease, your tone light and sweet. But still, you can’t resist, “I miss you too.”  

“You don’t sound convincing enough,” his eyes narrow at you, the pout forming on his lips quickly turning into a small smirk. “Say it like you mean it.” 

“Fine,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “I miss you so, so much Sim Jaeyun, that it’s physically painful and I might conbust on the spot if I don’t see you soon. Happy?” 

“Very,” he grins into the camera, making your heart beat faster. Ugh. "But please don't combust for me. Who else am I supposed to call every day?"  

"Oh, please, you'd survive," you shoot back, smirking. "I'm sure anyone else would be more than happy to fill the spot."  

Jake clicks his tongue, shaking his head dramatically. "Nope, no one could keep with you, Y/N. You're a handful."  

"Excuse me?" You scoff, mock offense all over your face. "You're calling me a handful? Jake, who's the one that texts me random song lyrics at 3AM and expects me to interpret their deep meaning like it's poetry?"  

"Okay, first of all, they are deep," he argues, his grin widening into something boyish and utterly unfair. "And second of all, I know you secretly love it."  

You let out a laugh as you roll onto your side, propping your phone against the pillow next to you.  

"Maybe I do," you admit with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant despite the smile on your face. "Or maybe I don't. That's up to you to find out."  

Jake shakes his head, laughing softly, his eyes twinkling as they linger on your face. 

"You really are a handful, Y/N," his voice teases while his eyes remain on you through the screen, as if studying you, and it makes your stomach flip.  

You glance away, suddenly feeling shy again under his unwavering gaze, "Stop looking at me like that."  

"Like what?" His voice is innocent, his eyebrows lifting in feign obliviousness.  

"I don't know—like you're trying to memorize my face or something," you mutter, your cheeks burning.  

"Maybe I am," his voice dips, low and soft. "Honestly wouldn't complain if that's the last thing I ever got to remember."  

His words hit you square in the chest, and despite how ridiculously corny they are, they manage to take your breath away. You don't know if you'll ever get used to this newly discovered side of Jake—the one that speaks so candidly, so sweetly—like you're the only person in his universe.  

But honestly? You love it. You love how he makes you feel, how his words wrap around you perfectly like they were tailor made just for you. But as much as you love it, you fear it too.  

Because the more you fall into this feeling, the more you wonder if there's anything solid beneath it. Despite all the soft words shared and sweet nothings exchanged, at the end of the day, deep down inside you can't help but ask yourself if his words, if he, is even yours to begin with. 

"Jake..."  

"Hmm?" His voice is gentle now, the teasing edge in his voice fading.  

"You really mean it, don't you?" You ask, your voice quieter now, the question laced with your vulnerability. "You're serious about...this? About us?"  

"Of course I am," he answers without hesitation. His soft eyes stay trained on you as he sits up in his spot in bed, as if to show just how serious he is. He lets out an exhale, as if mentally encouraging himself to continue, "I know we're not...whatever this is, officially yet. But I do know that I like what we have."  

He brings his phone closer, a small smile on his face, his expression earnest, "And that I like you. A lot."  

You swallow hard, his words settling in your chest in the best way possible. Because despite everything—the doubts, the undefined boundaries—you can't deny the truth of how you feel.  

"Me too," you admit, your voice steady and honest. "I like what we have too. And I like you."  

You pause, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you feel the remainders of your walls crumbling down, "You make me happy, Jake. Like annoyingly happy."  

"Good. Because you make me happy too," His smile spreads wide, the kind that is contagious and could light up an entire room. "Annoyingly happy, if we're being specific."  

You roll your eyes again, though you're smiling just as much, "We really are insufferable, aren't we?"  

"Oh, completely," Jake nods, his tone playful. He's more relaxed, back to leaning against his headboard as he looks at you with a softened gaze. "We'll figure it out, Y/N. I promise. Whatever this is, or whatever it becomes, I'm not going anywhere. And honestly? I just can't wait to see you. Finally."  

"Me too," you perk up, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you bring your phone closer, "It feels like it's been forever. This tour feels so much longer than the other ones for some reason."  

"It does," Jake hums in agreement, his eyes thoughtful. "But you know what? I think It's because, this time...I actually have something waiting for me. Something—or someone—I want to come home to. And that makes every day feel so much longer."  

You think, at this point, you should check yourself into the emergency department for the sheer amount of times you thought your heart was going to pound out of your body from Jake's words alone.  

“You're ridiculous," you laugh, the sound bubbling out so naturally you couldn't hold it back even if you tried. "It's getting kind of out of hand how cheesy you are, Jake."  

"And yet," he fires back with a smirk, "you love it. Admit it. I've cracked the code."  

"Maybe I do," you tease, repeating your words from earlier as the corners of your mouth tug up into a smile you can't suppress. "But don't let it get to your head."  

"Too late," he grins. "It's already there."  

Jake [2:15AM] : can I call you?   Y/N [2:16AM]: jake isnt it like 2AM for you?   Jake [2:16AM]: well…yea but I was thinking about you so… 

Your feet are kicking before you even realize, and before you can type up a response, your phone lights up with Jake's name and contact picture. 

“Hi,” you answer softly, trying not to let the giddy smile growing on your face take over. 

“Hey pretty,” he greets, voice warm and easy as he brings a hand through his messy hair. The lights in his room are off, and the dim glow of his phone screen casts a soft light over his features, making him look unfairly good for someone who should be fast asleep.  

“You have two seconds to give me a good reason why you’re here talking to me instead of getting a good night’s rest before your concert tomorrow,” your eyes narrow in mock disapproval as you give him a knowing look.  

Jake laughs lightly, “Hey! Okay, hear me out. I couldn’t sleep, so I did something.”  

You raise an eyebrow, “You did something? That sounds ominous, I’m scared.”  

“Yeah. For you,” he states plainly, leaving you even more confused for a second more before he continues. “I made you a playlist.”  

Your brain stalls at how simple he says it—so casual, as if not packed with so much meaning.  

“A playlist? You—wait, why?”  

Jake shrugs, “I don’t know—I guess I just wanted you to hear what I hear when I think about you. Which, by the way, is a lot. So..”  

You blink at the screen, your mouth slightly agape at the boy who's watching you with that lopsided grin that makes it practically impossible to function. You scramble to collect yourself, but the more you try, the worse it gets, and by now, you think he definitely took some secret class on how-to-make-Y/N-completely-flustered.  

And aced it.  

And of course, he notices—because Jake always notices.  

“You okay there?” His voice breaks you out of your overwhelming thoughts, his teasing tone laced with curiosity.  

“Define okay,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your face in an attempt to cool down the warmth spreading like wildfire across your cheeks. “Because if it means not feeling like a complete fool over a guy who’s halfway across the world, then no, I’m absolutely not okay.”  

Jake lets out a low laugh, the sound affectionate as he leans closer to the camera, the light reflecting off his shining eyes, “If it helps, you’re not the only one losing your mind here.”  

“Oh yeah?” you arch an eyebrow, “What’s your excuse, Sim?”  

“My excuse?” He tilts his head with a small, exaggerated frown, pretending to think. “Hmm…let’s see…I’m hopelessly into this girl who somehow makes being teased fun, who makes me smile just by hearing my name come out her mouth, and who—“  

“Okay! Stop, stop, enough,” your voice strangled as you try to talk through the fit of giggles you couldn’t hold down. “You’re gonna kill me, Jake. Like, actually. I’m not strong enough for this.”  

Jake laughs at your flustered reaction, holding up a hand of surrender, “Fine, fine. But seriously, look.”  

You hear the sound of faint typing in the background before your phone buzzes with a text containing a link.  

“It’s called Songs That Remind Me of Y/N. Creative, right?”  

You open the link, and your thoughts are dazed at the sight of the endless playlist of songs. Some new to you, some you recognize—all of them feeling like little pieces of Jake's heart he's handing to you.  

"I think it's perfect," you murmur softly, scrolling through the titles, the warmth and appreciation for him now feeling almost too overwhelming.  

"Yeah?" Jake's eyes shine with a mixture of pride and hope as he watches your reaction.  

"Yeah," you repeat, switching your phone screen back to his face and giving him a genuine smile. "I love it. Thank you, Jake."  

Jake hums in response, the look on his eyes gentle as a beat of comfortable silence falls between you two.  

"Well, I should probably sleep for real now, but...listen to it when you miss me, okay? Because chances are, I'm probably doing the same."  

You pause, letting the weight of his words settle over you—vulnerable, yet undoubtedly honest. "Deal. I'll listen to it right now, then."  

"Good," his smile grows, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Because I am too. I miss you, too."  

You both linger for a moment, neither wanting to end the call just yet, simply enjoying each other's pure, raw presence.  

"Sweet dreams, Jake," you finally say, your voice gentle as you slowly let sleep take over. 

"Only if they’re about you," he quips, grinning.  

You roll your eyes, your chest feeling lighter, "Go to bed, Sim."  

"Yes, ma'am," he winks, and with one last fond look, he ends the call, leaving you smiling at your screen like the absolute fool he's turned you into.  

"I can't believe you're finally coming back tomorrow," you murmur into the phone, your voice soft but buzzing with excitement as you take in the sight of Jake sprawled out on his bed. The dim glow of his phone highlights just enough of his face to remind you how impossibly cute he is—even with the pillow creases on his cheek.  

"I know," Jake sighs dramatically, flopping onto his side. His head sinks into the pillow, and you hear a soft fwump as he shifts to find a comfortable spot. "I just wish I wasn't landing so late. If I could, I'd come see you the second I land. Like, bags in hand, running to your door."  

"You'd probably trip and knock yourself out with your carry-on, Jake," you snort but then smile, the imagine of Jake rushing to get to you playing in your head.  

"First of all, I'm very athletic," Jake raises an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Second, that's exactly what would happen, but at least I'd be unconscious on your doorstep, which is still closer to you than I've been in months."  

Your heart does a little flip at the sound of the sincerity in his voice as you try to keep your tone casual, "It's okay, Jake. I'm not going anywhere. We'll see each other the next day? If you're free, maybe."  

Jake's face softens in that stupidly adorable way he always does when he knows you're just trying to play it cool. "Free or not, I'll find a way. Nothing's stopping me from seeing you, Y/N. Not jet lag, not my schedule, not even my manager if he tries to barricade me in the building."  

A giggle escapes you, partly at his sheer determination and partly to cover up the butterflies constantly causing the havoc in your stomach when it comes to him. And Jake, of course, looks all smug, like he knows exactly what he's doing to you. Typical Jake—sweet, determined, and impossibly endearing.  

But as much as his words make your cheeks warm, there's another reason why you're holding back your smile.  

Because, despite what Jake thinks, you're going to see him much sooner than he expects. All thanks to a message you got earlier from the group's manager:  

Y/N! Hope you’re doing well! We all miss you and can’t wait to see you soon! As you know, the boys are returning tomorrow late at night, but the staff and I want to plan a little surprise party at their apartment, they have no idea. The team’s already prepping everything. We’d love for you to come—it wouldn’t be the same without you. 10 PM! See you! 

You're practically vibrating with excitement, each passing minute on the call with Jake making it harder and harder to not just blurt it out and tell him you'll be seeing him in less than 24 hours. And, somehow, hearing his sleepy voice on the other side of the call, completely oblivious, just makes it even harder to contain yourself.  

Jake's brows furrow as he watches you try (and fail) to suppress your grin, "What's up with you? You're smiling so much, and I'm pretty sure I didn't say anything that funny."  

"Me?" You blink innocently, even though your heart skips a beat. But you shrug casually, masking your smile with a feigned yawn. "Nothing's up, you've just been acting too cute tonight. That's all."  

"You're lucky you're cute," Jake narrows his eyes at you, but even you can see through the dim lighting the red creeping across his face, "And that I'm tired. Or else I'd call you out for how you're gaslighting me right now."  

"Gaslighting?!" You sputter out, breaking out into laughter. "How am I gaslighting you for calling you cute?"  

"Because I know you're hiding something—" Jake replies, his pout audible in the way his voice drags. He yawns mid-sentence, the soft sound and the image of his eyes fluttering closed making your heart melt. "—and you're using my sleep-deprived state against me. It's not fair."  

"I'm not hiding anything!" You protest, your face one second away from cracking into a guilty smile. "Go to sleep—you're barely holding it together over there."  

"Like I'd ever fall asleep on you," he mutters, his voice heavy with drowsiness. "You're way too important for that."  

His words hit you like a train, and you have to physically restrain yourself from squealing, burying your face in your pillow before you let out a strangled, "Okay, enough sap for one night, Romeo. Go to bed."  

"Mmhm, fine, fine," Jake hums before he yawns again. "Goodnight, pretty. Dream sweet dreams, okay?"  

You let out a breath, losing the last remaining bits of your composure at this point—but in the best way possible, of course.  

"Goodnight, Jakey. I'll see you soon."  

The day flies by in a whirlwind of anticipation and sheer chaos, the emotional hurricane brewing up inside you rooting from one source and one source only.  

Because ever since you woke up this morning, every step, every sight, every breath was haunted by one inescapable thought: 

Jake.  

The morning was a blur of pacing around your room like a Sims character who was glitching after being told to "Go Here", overthinking every possible scenario for how tonight—when you finally see Jake in person—could go down.  

Because, really—how exactly do you approach the boy you've been friends with for years, who you've fallen for, in a room filled with people, including yours and his closest friends, all while pretending your heart is trying its hardest to not control, alt, delete itself?  

Not exactly something you can Google.  

Like, do you hug him? Does he hug you? What if he doesn't hug you? (Unacceptable, you decide, before pacing faster.)  

By the time afternoon rolls around, you're about 78% sure you've developed three-and-a-half migraines from the sheer pressure of it all. Not to mention, the borderline illegal amount of caffeine coursing through your veins isn't helping—why did you think drinking four cups of coffee was a good idea? (You didn't. Your brain has officially gone rogue.)  

And now, here you are. The buzzing apartment of the boys is alive with the sounds of laughter, the crinkle of party streamers being hung up, and two staff members arguing about where to put the over-dramatically large "WELCOME HOME" banner. You, along with everyone else, await for the signal, passing time by keeping up small conversation with the friends and staff you've gotten to know over the years—all the while you desperately try to keep your nerves from causing a mental crash out right here and now.  

Eventually, one of the staff gets the alert that the group has landed and is minutes away, the energy immediately shifting, both in the apartment and mentally. You settle in place in the back of the crowd, near the door but not too near the door—because 1) you're 99.99% sure you're not emotionally stable enough to be front and center, and 2) the staff and camera crew are already hogging the entrance as if this was the world's greatest comeback (and spoiler alert—to you, it really is.)  

The lights dim, the chatter fades, and the room hums with anticipation. And meanwhile? Your heart won't. Stop. Pounding.  

Any second now.  

Your nerves bubble up even more than you thought is humanly healthy, and you're not sure if you're about to a) pass out, b) puke, c) or both.

Simultaneously.  

The sound of multiple footsteps echoes faintly in the hallway, followed with muffled voices—one of them the unmistakable sound of Jake's laughter. Your breath catches.  

And then the door swings open.  

"SURPRISE!"  

The boys freeze in the doorway, their suitcases still in hand, the looks of genuine, yet pleasant, confusion plastered on all their faces. Sunghoon's eyes dart to the snacks table, Jay looks like he's deciding whether to laugh or roll his eyes, Sunoo is on the verge of tears, and Jake—Jake looks beautifully, stupidly confused.  

Your eyes immediately find Jake's face, like some natural gravitational pull you can't fight, and suddenly it hits you: he's here. In front of you. No blurry video calls, no glitchy Wi-Fi interruptions—just Jake.  

It feels surreal, like you're living in a sugar-induced dream that you aren't sure of is real yet or not. Last time you saw him in person, he was merely just Jake, one of your best friends, your go-to guy for bad jokes and late-night rants about life. But now? Now he's Jake—the boy who's somehow become the main character of your life (and brain capacity) over the past five months.  

Every memory of your late-night calls, every teasing smile, every time his sweet, groggy voice promised he'd prove himself to you—it all comes rushing back. Like those cheesy montage scenes in a rom-com, except instead of a whimsical romantic song playing in the background, it's the sound of your brain, and heart, screaming WHAT NOW Y/N?! 

But then, finally, his eyes land on you.  

The moment your eyes meet, you think your lungs give up on life. Breathing? Never heard of it. It's like someone hit the pause button on the entire universe, and you're convinced that the only thing to ever exist is Jake looking at you with that soft, unreadable expression.  

But you manage half a second of calm—half a second—before that softness on his face disappears. Just as quickly as it appeared, it's replaced by...something else. Something you can't quite put your finger on. Something you've never thought could exist on his face. A flicker of...conflict? Hesitation? Like he's staring straight at you…but also from miles away at the same time.  

His jaw tightens slightly—so slightly only you would notice with how intently you're looking at him—and for a split second, his hands fidgets at his side before he quickly clasps it over the handle of his suitcase. And right as you process it, right as you're about to convince yourself it's just the million grams of caffeine rushing through your blood that's making you hallucinate and see things— 

He looks away.  

He looks away.  

He looks away. As if you're not even standing there, as if he didn't just short-circuit your entire brain. His attention shifts to the nearest staff member, greeting them with a quick nod, and suddenly he's smiling and laughing at something they're saying like nothing just happened.  

And just like that, the universe hits the play button again, and you're left standing there—staring, blinking, wondering if the last thirty seconds of your life was, indeed, a caffeine-induced hallucination after all. Surely. Right?  

Because Jake definitely didn't avoid you on purpose. Nope. Because that would be insane. Insane, you think to yourself, as the invisible angel on your shoulder continues to whisper into your ear the same sweet words Jake's been telling you the past five months about how much he cares for you, how much he likes you—remember all those times he said it?  

Right. Right. Of course, he does. But still, you stand there frozen, trying to ground yourself, even though your hands start fidgeting at your sides anyway. Great. Fantastic. Cool, cool, cool. This is fine. 

You mentally curse yourself for not being closer to the door after all, and then, you mentally curse every single person in this room for not magically gaining telepathic powers and knowing that you, personally, were trying to have a moment.  

It's fine. You'll find him again. He's just too preoccupied with all the staff members and people to greet. Busy Jake. Social Jake. You're just imagining things. Definitely.  

Trying to distract yourself, you glance around the apartment, everything suddenly feeling suffocating. Maybe a snack. Maybe a drink. Maybe a portal to another dimension. 

Shaking your head out of your spiraling thoughts, you bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself and turn away from the crowd, quickly settling yourself near the beverage table, pouring yourself a cup of...whatever this is—your mind too cloudy to even bother looking at the sign on the table.

You don't know how much time passes, and frankly, you don't even know if you're fully conscious. Your mind is still living in the past, lingering in that moment where you locked eyes with Jake for the first time in five months, and despite all the overthinking you did this morning of all the possible scenarios that could happen—this was not one of them.  

You're about to pour yourself a second drink just to keep your thoughts busy when you feel a tap on your shoulder.  

"Y/N!"  

Before you can fully turn around, you're engulfed in a warm hug, the familiar scent of Jungwon's cologne immediately grounding you, "Oh god, I missed you. Took me forever to find you with all these people."  

"Jungwon!" You exclaim, a genuine smile lighting up your face despite the emotional tug-of-war in your chest, because, of course, leave it to your best friend to immediately ease your inner panic. You squeeze him back, playfully ruffling his hair as you pull away, "I can't believe they made you grow out your hair. Now you actually look older than me for once."  

He stares at you, blinking. "Y/N. I am older than you."  

"Literally by a week. We all know I'm mentally older," you deadpan, crossing your arms.  

"Okay, I take it back. I didn't miss you after all," he scoffs as you laugh, pulling him into another hug for good measure just to annoy him.  

"I'm so glad you guys are back," you say as Jungwon grabs the drink in your hand and takes a sip himself as he listens to you. "I was dying of boredom without you guys."  

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, "Uh-huh. Definitely didn't sound like boredom all those nights you called Jake at 2AM."  

You freeze. Oh. Great. The one topic you were trying to avoid (how you were going to avoid it—given you're at his literal apartment, with his literal group members, and literal staff members that all work for him—you're not sure. Avoidance was a doomed plan from the start, I fear).  

But before you could answer, Jungwon continues, "So...are you guys, like, a thing now? I know you guys were just talking this whole time, but now that we're back, are you guys gonna be in a relationship and all that stuff? Because if so, I need a heads-up. As much I love you both, I don't know if I can stand you two being all couple-y right in front of me—oh, and also—"  

"Jungwon." 

"—if he hurts you in any way, I swear to god I will not hesitate to—"  

"Jungwon!"  

He stops, wide-eyed, before flashing you a sheepish smile. "Sorry. But seriously, what's happening? You haven't given me any updates!"   

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. Because if he had asked you yesterday—or even an hour ago—you would've been able to answer confidently. But now? After Jake's apparent Olympic-level avoidance of you? You're not so sure anymore.  

"I...I don't know," you mumble, the words barely audible. Jungwon tilts his head, leaning closer to catch them.  

"What do you mean, you don't know? You guys haven't talked about it?" His brows furrowing as he studies your face, clearly picking up on your hesitation in true best friend fashion.  

"I, uh, I haven't...seen him yet," you admit, hoping the crack in your voice doesn't reveal the real reason you haven't approached the boy in question. "Everyone's busy, and I didn't want to get in the way."  

Jungwon gives you a look like you just said the earth is flat.  

"Get in the way? Y/N, you're insane. This is the guy who's been counting down the days to see you. If anything, everyone else is in his way."  

You give him a helpless shrug, but Jungwon isn't having it. He grabs your shoulders and spins you around, pointing across the room to one of the other snack tables past the crowds of people.

"Look. He's right there. Alone. Perfectly free to talk to you. Go."  

Your eyes land on Jake, back facing you and Jungwon, casually scooping chips into a bowl. You hesitate, scanning his relaxed posture, and the knot in your stomach tightens. Because that's exactly the problem. He's perfectly free. And if he's so excited to see you, how come he hasn't spoken to you yet?  

But before you can voice your doubts, Jungwon gives you a not-so-gentle nudge forward, "Go talk to him before I carry you over there myself."  

And next thing you know, Jake's right there. In front of you. His back is to you still, his eyes scanning the various snacks lined on the table, completely unaware of the full-on mental breakdown occurring just behind him.  

This is your moment, you tell yourself, despite the endless alarms going off in your brain. Every single nerve in your body is on high alert, screaming at you to abort mission, abort! But before you can give in to your panic, your hand is already reaching out, lightly tapping his shoulder.  

"Jake!"  

Jake turns around, and for a moment—a fleeting, fragile moment—you catch it. The way his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. The way his lips part as if they're about to break into that familiar smile you've missed for months. But just as quickly, similar to earlier, it vanishes, replaced by that flicker of hesitation, and it's enough to make your breath catch.  

"Y/N."  

Your name on his lips used to sound like a warm promise. Now?

Now it feels like an afterthought. 

His voice is calm, steady—too steady, stripped of every ounce of emotion, and not at all like someone who's been counting down the days to see you. He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the crowd behind you before reluctantly meeting yours, "It's been so long."  

Your stomach sinks. That's all he had to say? You were completely wrong. You spent precisely 23 minutes of your morning debating if he was even going to give you a hug—but now? Screw the hug, he won't even give you a full sentence. Something's off, and your mind races to figure out what happened, as if you missed a major chapter of your own life.  

Trying to ignore the sharp pang of something lodging itself in your chest, you offer a small smile, hoping to break the tension.  

"Are you...okay? I thought...I don't know, I thought you'd be more excited to see me," the words spill out before you can stop them, and you want to crawl into a self-dug hole from how raw and vulnerable you feel.  

Jake shifts uncomfortably, glancing at the floor, then at you, "No, yeah, of course I am. I'm just...really tired. The flight, you know. And all this," he pauses to gesture at the environment around you two, "it's a lot."  

You stare at him in disbelief, waiting for him to crack—silently begging for some sign of the Jake you thought you knew. But all you get is a shrug.  

A shrug.  

Suddenly, his words feel like a punch to the gut, let alone the way he can't even fully look you in the eyes. In just those few seconds, the invisible angel on your shoulder—whose voice sounded just like Jake's—whispering those promises into your ears suddenly disappeared with no trace in sight, as if it was never there—as if it was never yours—in the first place. Every late-night call, every whispered promise, every shared laugh. 

As if they never belonged to you.  

You swallow hard, trying to keep the growing lump in your throat from choking you, hoping your emotional turmoil isn't blatantly obvious to the boy in front of you.  

"Right," you murmur, nodding as if his excuse makes perfect sense. But it doesn't. "That's...understandable."  

The silence that follows is suffocating. Not the comfortable kind of warm silence you two used to share, but the awkward, unbearable kind that makes you claw at your own skin and makes you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right then and there.  

Jake shifts again, and for a moment, his eyes meet yours. There's something there—but before you can grasp it, a voice from the crowd calls his name.  

"I—I should go," he mutters quickly, stepping back. His voice is quiet, his tone almost apologetic, but his words feel like he's hammering the nails to your coffin. "I'll...see you later though, yeah?"  

He doesn't wait for an answer. He's gone before you can say anything, before you can process his words, and for the second time that night, he leaves you standing there with your heart in pieces and your thoughts in chaos.  

For a moment, you swear you're paralyzed. You can't move. Can't breathe. Your vision blurs as every doubt you'd buried for months comes rushing back, screaming in your face louder and crueler than ever. You've never felt smaller, more foolish.  

Your heart beats erratically now, fighting against the realization of the truth settling in your chest—a  heaviness so suffocating it threatens to take you under. The Jake who stood in front of you just now—guarded, distant, a stranger—was so unlike the boy who had made you laugh until your sides ached, who'd stayed up with you on countless late nights, sharing secrets no one else knew.  

The Jake who made promises.  

Your mind spirals. Maybe...maybe those promises were never meant to be kept. Maybe they were just words to fill the time.  

Maybe you were just someone to fill the time.  

Your breath starts to pick up and you're frantically scanning the room, desperate for an escape from your thoughts through any familiar face. Your eyes finally land on Ni-ki and Heeseung casually sitting on one of the couches, their carefree laughter a stark contrast to your inner implosion. You beeline to them, forcing a smile on your face as you plop down beside them.  

"Y/N!" Ni-ki grins the moment he spots you, scooting over to make room. "Where've you been hiding? Thought you ditched us for good."  

"I've been here,“ you give the boys a small smile, praying they don't notice the way your hands tremble as you sit down, “just...mingling."  

Heeseung raises an eyebrow at the faint crack in your voice, but doesn't push further, "Well, we all missed you. Pizza pig-out sesh and games tomorrow? You can tell us everything we've been missing out on."  

You laugh, trying to keep the conversation light, but it comes out shaky, your voice tight under the weight of your hidden emotions, "I think it's you guys who need to catch me up."  

Ni-ki tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you, "Are you okay? You look...off. What—did someone spill punch on you? Lemme guess, was it Jake?"  

At his name, the knife in your stomach twists even deeper, and you look away, hoping they don't notice the way your face falls.  

But Heeseung notices. Of course. His gaze sharpens, the playful teasing in his expression replaced with a softened concern, "Y/N...what's going on?"  

"I'm fine," you reply a little too quickly, your voice a little too high. You plaster a smile on your face, turning back towards the two boys, concern written all over their faces. "Just tired. Long day."  

Neither of them look convinced, but before Heeseung can say anything else, Ni-ki nudges him and gestures towards something across the room.  

"Hey...isn't that—"  

You follow Ni-ki's gaze, and you immediately wish you didn't. 

Because just like that, your world crumbles.  

There she is—Jenn.  

You're not even wondering when she got here, how she got here, or even why she's here in the first place. No, not even.  

Because all that's occupying your mind right now is the way she's there, perched comfortably on Jake's lap on one of the couches in the distance, her arm draped casually over his shoulder.  

The way she's laughing freely at something he says, her hand lightly brushing against his as if it's second nature, her fingers briefly pushing a strand of hair away from his face.  

The way Jake doesn't even flinch, the way he doesn't pull away.  

The way he smiles at her.  

That same smile—the one you've spent weeks convincing yourself was yours—now feels like a cruel joke.  

And that does it. For the first time that night, despite all you endured, you shatter.  

You force yourself to look away, but it's too late. Your chest hollows out deeper and deeper with every passing second, until all you're left with is a final realization:  

Maybe you never really had him at all. He was never yours in the first place.  

Ni-ki and Heeseung exchange glances before looking at the expression on your face—all the color drained, as if you were merely just a body, paralyzed. Both of them open their mouths, but nothing comes out, clearly unsure of what to say, but you don't give them the chance. You're already standing, grabbing your bag at your side with trembling hands.  

"Y/N, wait—" Heeseung starts as both him and Ni-ki stand up with you, but you shake your head, his voice distant and muffled as if he's speaking to you underwater.  

"I need some air," you mumble, but you're sure neither of them hear you, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Before they can stop you, you're already weaving through the crowd, your vision blurring as you fight the overwhelming urge to break down. You stop at the door, your eyes quickly scanning the cluttered floor for your shoes. For a moment, you think you've made it—escaped the suffocating air and heartbreak clawing at your throat—but a mistake you didn't mean to make stills you.  

You glance over your shoulder, and there he is.  

Jake's eyes meet yours, and the world comes to a stop. His easy smile slips from his face and is immediately replaced by a flicker of panic, his brows drawing together as if he's just realized something, but you don't stick around to analyze it.  

Not when your heart is already in pieces on the floor.  

You quickly look the opposite way, fighting the sting of burning tears threatening to spill over as your fingers fumble desperately with the zipper of your coat when you hear a concerned voice from behind you.  

"Y/N?" Jungwon's familiar voice cuts through your haze, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "What—where are you going?"  

"Home," you whisper, avoiding his gaze as you finally manage to get your coat on, turning towards the door.  

Suddenly, Jungwon steps in front of you, a firm frown on his face, "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Talk to me—"  

"Jungwon, I need to go," you look up at him as your voice cracks for the nth time that night, feeling Jake's set of eyes on you still, "Please, Won."  

He hesitates, clearly confused but more worried over anything else, "Okay, but I'm driving you."  

You sigh, shaking your head, "No, it's fine—"  

"I'm driving you," Jungwon repeats, leaving no room for argument as he's already grabbing his coat and walking out the door.  

Not bothering to look behind you to see if Jake's still watching, you follow Jungwon out to the hallway, the chill of the air feeling like a fresh wave of emotions crashing over you all at once: embarrassment, anger, heartbreak.  

You're too caught up in your spinning thoughts to even notice the sound of frantic footsteps behind you until a voice cuts through the silence.  

"Y/N."  

His voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the muffled hum of music and laughter seeping from the party you should've escaped from a long time ago.  

But still, you hear it anyway—because of course you do. Because it's him. And no matter how much you wish you didn't, you'd silence the entire world just to hear that voice.  

And you hate it.  

You hate how your entire body freezes mid-step, you hate how every nerve within you comes alive at the sound of his voice, you hate how your heart stumbles, as if trying to root itself in the pain you've been trying so hard to outrun.  

You turn around slowly, against every ounce of logic telling you to keep walking. And when your eyes land on him—on the raw, desperate, almost broken look on his face—you hate yourself even more.  

Because even now, even after everything, your heart still sinks at the sight. And you hate how you give him the power to break you with just one look.  

“Can we talk?” Jake asks, his voice low and unsteady as he takes a small step towards you.  

From beside you, Jungwon hesitates, his gaze flickering between you and Jake. After a beat, he nods, "I'll get the car. Wait here."  

He spares Jake a final look of warning before nudging you for comfort and stepping into the elevator.  

The elevator doors close, leaving you and Jake alone in the hallway, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions.  

You swallow hard, your throat tight, but you steel yourself, "What do you want, Jake?"  

You shift your weight and instinctively cross your arms, a defensive barrier between you and the boy you spent too long letting into your heart. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the vulnerability in them makes your resolve falter. 

He takes a hesitant step towards you before exhaling shakily, running a hand through his hair.  

“I—I messed up tonight. I didn’t mean to...," he trails off, his words fumbling, his eyes searching yours in desperation, his heart breaking at the way your tears are a second away from falling over. 

"...to completely ignore me all night? Make me feel like nothing?" You finish for him, your quiet voice breaking despite your attempt to stay composed.  

"No. God, no. You're not nothing," he says quickly, his voice faltering on the last word. "Y/N, you matter so much to me."  

“Well it definitely didn't feel that way,” your voice is barely audible, but you finally look up at him, the hurt finally bubbling to the surface. “After everything you said—promised, everything we talked about…” 

"I know, I just—" he hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. He takes a tentative step closer, his movements slow and careful, like he's afraid you'll break if he gets too close. "I was nervous." 

"It’s been so long, and I didn’t know what to say, how to act. I wanted to get it right—to make it perfect—but instead, I just—" he stops, dragging another frustrated hand through his hair. His eyebrows knit together in that familiar way that once made your heart flutter, but now only adds to the ache in your chest. 

You let out a hollow laugh, the bitter sound foreign even to your own ears, “Well, congratulations, Jake. You managed to mess it up anyway.” 

“Please,” he looks devastated, his hands trembling at his sides. “Y/N, please don’t think I don’t care about you. I do. More than you know. I just—I don't know how to do this. I panicked and I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear."  

"Then why was...," you look at him, your eyes still stinging from all the unshed tears as you take a shaky breath, “...why was she all over you tonight? Why didn’t you stop her?” 

He falters, his shoulders slumping under the weight of your question, “It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t—I couldn’t—” 

“You couldn’t,” you echo, the words spilling out in a rush now, each one cutting him deeper. “I should've known. Let me guess, she wants to get back together, right?"  

Jake's silence is deafening, and it immediately answers your question. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. The way he looks at you—eyes wide and filled with regret, lips trembling as if searching for the right words—confirms everything you were afraid of. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, a shaky breath escaping your lips—a sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a choked sob. No matter how hard you try, the wall holding back your emotions cracks under the weight of it all. The doubts you’ve tried so hard to bury suddenly resurface, crashing over you like waves, each one carrying the sting of every insecurity, every fear you’ve ever had about this moment. Your chest feels tight, your heart splintering under the realization that everything you were afraid of might be true. 

"Jake, I can't do this," you whisper, shaking your head. "I can't be the person you lean on while you try to figure out what you want."  

"No, no—Y/N, I do know what I want," he pleads, his voice cracking as he tries to step closer. "And it’s you. Always been you, Y/N. Everything I said—I meant it."  

His words hang heavy in the air, the faint echo of the party music filtering through the cracks in the door and into the quiet hallway. You look away, refusing to let him see the way your tears finally spill over.  

"You promised," you let out softly and slowly, through your sniffles. “You promised you wouldn't hurt me. You said you'd prove that I could trust you, that I didn't have to be scared. You knew I was worried, Jake. And you...you hurt me anyways."  

"And I swear I meant every word I said. I still do," Jake says, his voice desperate as he shakes his head. He steps even closer, his hand reaching out and brushing against yours, but you pull back before he can close the distance. "You have to believe me. Please, Y/N. You're the only one."  

You shake your head again, the tears now freely rushing down your cheeks despite your best efforts, "I—I don't know if I can believe that anymore, Jake. I want to, I really, really do. But tonight..."  

Jake’s face falls, the weight of your pain crashing into him all at once. His lips tremble as he struggles to hold himself together, his eyes turning glassy themselves. The sight of you—broken, because of him—cuts deeper than he thought was humanly ever possible. His voice is barely above a whisper, raw and pleading, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I—God, please. Please give me a chance.” 

You look at him—at the boy who became your safe space these past few months—and all you feel is the ache in your heart.  

"I can't do this right now, Jake," you finally let out through your broken voice as you take a step back. "I think I just need space."  

The words hang in the air like a death sentence. His breath hitches as if your words physically hit him in the face, "Y/N..." 

Your phone suddenly buzzes, a text from Jungwon letting you know he's outside. You glance down at it, then back at Jake. For a moment, you hesitate, your heart screaming at you to stay—to give him the chance he's yearning for. But your brain knows better. 

"I have to go," you murmur softly, as you take a final step back, turning away before more tears threaten to spill all over again. You force yourself to keep walking, fighting the overwhelming urge to look back—to let him pull you into his arms, where you wished so desperately you belonged.  

Frozen, Jake watches helplessly as you walk away, his chest tightening with every step you take. Everything feels like it's caving in, regret clawing at him the more he lets you walk further away. He opens his mouth to say something—anything—but the words fail him, silenced by the weight of his own mistakes.  

To Jake, the sounds of the party are now far in the distance, drowned out by the pounding in this ears. Instead, the hallway falls into a haunting silence, broken only by the faint echo of your retreating steps—a cruel reminder of what he's just let slip away.  

The car ride starts in complete silence, the only sound between you and Jungwon the soft hum of his engine and the faint sound of whatever playlist he was playing in the background. You stare out the window, watching the city lights blur together, your coat clutched tightly under your grasp as if it's the only thing keeping you sane.  

Jungwon glances at you out the corner of his eye, his hands steady on the steering wheel. He doesn't say anything at first, but you know him well enough to sense the storm brewing in his head.  

"Okay," he finally says, as if on cue, breaking the silence. "Spill."  

You don't respond, your eyes still fixed on the surrounding city breezing by you, as if the passing view could somehow erase the memory of him. Your fingers dig further into the fabric of your coat, your knuckles going numb.  

Jungwon gives you a few more moments of silence, but when you don't make any sign of responding, he speaks up again. 

"Y/N," his voice softens, but the edge of his concern cuts through. "Don't do that thing where you shut people out. Especially me, you know I hate that."  

"I'm not—" you start, but your voice wavers, and the lie dies on the tip of your tongue.  

“You are," he exhales sharply from beside you, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "Look, you don't have to tell me everything, but don't pretend you're fine when you're clearly not."  

The words sit heavy in the air as you swallow hard, your throat burning as you finally whisper, "It's stupid, Jungwon."  

He doesn't take his eyes off the road, but his tone is firm, "I'm sure if it's got you looking like this, it's not stupid."  

You want to argue, to tell him to just let it go, but the hurt pressing down on your chest is too much. The ache in your body threatens to take over again, and you hate it. You hate how the tears form again, how you can still see Jake looking at you like that, like you were breaking right in front of him and he didn't know how to stop it.  

Jungwon waits. He doesn't push, because he knows you. He knows you're just hurting, struggling to grasp your overwhelming emotions, so he gives you the time you need. But his quiet patience is unbearable, like he's peeling back every layer of your resolve just by being there, and eventually, you give in.  

"It's Jake," you finally choke out, the name tumbling from your lips like a curse.  

Jungwon doesn't respond immediately, but you can feel the shift in his demeanor. His jaw tightens, and his fingers flex against the wheel, "I figured as much honestly, after what I saw in the hallway, but what exactly happened, Y/N?"  

You shake your head, your voice shaky, "It doesn't matter. I—I just feel so stupid, Won. Like, how could I think..." 

You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. Jungwon gives you a softened glance, signaling you to continue whenever you're ready to.  

You take a deep breath before you speak up again, "How could I ever think I was good enough for him, you know?"  

There's a silence that follows after your words and you hear Jungwon take in a deep inhale.  

"This isn't on you, Y/N. This has nothing to do with whether you're enough or not," Jungwon's voice is steady, but there's a firm edge to it now. "Look, I don't want to overstep or anything...and I definitely don't want to vouch for him—especially right now but...are you sure he's not just freaking out?"  

You tilt your head over at the boy next to you, "Freaking out about what?"  

"You," Jungwon says simply like it's the most obvious thing in the world.  

"That doesn't make any sense," you start shaking your head. "Why would he—"  

"Because you're you," Jungwon interrupts, his tone matter-of-fact as he keeps his eyes trained on the road in front of him. "And Jake's a complete idiot, but even idiots get scared when they care about someone as much as he clearly cares about you."  

You blink, Jungwon's words sinking into all the cracks formed within you, "You really think he cares about me that much?"  

“Are you kidding?” Jungwon scoffs, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Y/N, the guy looks at you like you hung his moon and stars. Trust me, I’ve seen it.” 

And you don't know what comes over you, but Jungwon's words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the tears you've been holding back come rushing forward, hot and relentless. You cover your face with your hands, your body shaking as the sobs you've been swallowing all night finally make their way out.  

Jungwon quickly looks over at you and, without hesitation, glances over his shoulder to pull over to the side of the road, the soft clicking of the hazard lights mixing in with your cries. When he finally puts the car in park, he doesn't say anything and just leans back in his seat, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder—close enough to remind you he's there, but not too much to smother you.  

"I'm sorry," you manage to gasp out between sobs, your hands going up to wipe your face as all the overwhelming emotions finally take over you.  

"Don't," Jungwon says firmly, "Don't apologize for feeling like this."  

You take a shaky breath, trying to pull yourself together as your sobs eventually start to slow down, "I just don't understand. If he cares so much, why does this hurt so bad?"  

"I don't think it's about how much he cares," Jungwon sighs, as if carrying your pain alongside you. "Sometimes...sometimes people care so much that they don't know what to do with it. They panic. They overthink. And they mess up in the worst ways because they don't know how to handle what they're feeling."  

You look up at him, your face still wet with tears, "So you're saying it's an excuse."  

"No," Jungwon replies, quickly shaking his head fervently. "Definitely not an excuse. Jake screwed up, Y/N. Big time. And it's 100% on him to fix that, not you. But—"  

He pauses and thinks for a second, his words deliberate, "—it doesn't mean his feelings aren't real. Or that he doesn't care about you."  

You look away, glancing down at your hands in your lap, fiddling with the hem of your coat as you take in Jungwon's words.  

"It's just feels like...like I'm the only one who got hurt here, Won. Like I'm the only one who..," you trail off, unable to form your thoughts into a coherent sentence, but leave it up to Jungwon to always fully understand you.  

"You're not the only one," he says softly. "He's hurting too, Y/N. Maybe not in the same way, and maybe he doesn't deserve any sympathy, but I can see it. I've seen it. Jake...Jake isn't Jake without you. And honestly? That idiot is probably tearing himself apart right now."  

Your lips part, but the words don't find you. Instead, you let the weight of Jungwon's words sink in, unsure what to do with how true they may be.  

"You don't have to forgive him right now," Jungwon adds after a moment. "Hell, you don't even have to forgive him at all. Honestly, that might satisfy me just a bit. But maybe...maybe you owe it to yourself to hear him out. Not for him, but for you."  

You turn to Jungwon, your lips forming into the smallest pout, "But what if it just makes everything worse?"  

He gives you a faint, grounding smile, equal parts reassuring and honest.  

"Then you walk away knowing you did everything you could—for yourself. And if it does come to that," he shrugs lightly, "we'll figure it out together."  

You're quiet for a long moment, the thought of walking away from Jake and everything he means to you terrifying you…but you know Jungwon's right. You owe yourself the chance to try—even if the unknown outcome fails you.  

With a shaky breath, you nod, brushing away the last of your tears, "Thanks, Jungwon."  

"You're welcome," Jungwon hums in acknowledgement before his lips curve into a small grin, the atmosphere lightening slightly, "but, uh, could you at least use the tissues in the glove compartment before my seats turn into a snot rag?"  

You manage to let out a small scoff of disbelief as you roll your watery eyes, "You're the worst."  

"Nah," Jungwon replies with a cheeky grin as he shifts the car back into drive, but not before he reaches over to ruffle your hair playfully. "C'mon. Let's get you home."  

The knocking at Jungwon’s door comes at the worst possible moment. 

He’s halfway through organizing his desk—something he only attempts when he’s too frustrated to sit still—and the last thing he expects to see when he swings the door open is Jake, standing there looking like he hasn’t slept a millisecond all night. 

Jungwon makes no sign of saying anything or making a move, just staring at the older boy in question. Jakes shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his messy hair, not used to seeing Jungwon in this sour, expressionless mood.  

"Hey," Jake finally says, his voice hesitant.  

“What do you want?” Jungwon deadpans, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He knows he sounds harsh, but, frankly, he doesn’t care.  

Jake falters for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground, "I...I need your help."  

Jungwon's eyes narrow, "With what, exactly?"  

He knows what, but he's not letting Jake off that easily. Not after last night.  

"With Y/N," your name hangs in the air between them as Jake's voice cracks, and Jungwon clenches his jaw before he lets out a frustrated sigh.  

"I don't think you're in any position to be asking me for help right now."  

"I know," Jake says quickly, his hands raising in surrender. "I know, okay? I screwed up big time. I—God, I don't even know where to start, Jungwon. I just...I don't want to make things worse."  

Jungwon lets out a bitter, humorless laugh, stepping back and motioning his head to let Jake enter his room, "You've already got a good head start on that, I see."  

Jake steps inside, awkwardly hovering near the door as Jungwon moves to sit on the edge of his own bed. He doesn't offer Jake a seat, and Jake doesn't ask for one.  

"She cried, you know," Jungwon says after a few moments of silence, his voice stone cold. "I had to pull over because she couldn't even hold it together long enough for me to get her home. I've known her my entire life, and I don't think I've ever seen her cry that hard, Jake."  

Jake flinches, the words physically hurting him, "I didn't mean to—"  

"Yeah, I know," the younger boy cuts him off, his voice sharp, his anger rising on behalf of you. "You didn't mean to hurt her. But you did. And now you're asking me to help you fix it like it's that easy."  

"It's not easy," Jake mutters quietly, his hands fumbling with the edge of his hoodie. "Nothing about this...none of it is easy. But I know I messed up, and I—I can't just leave things like this, I can't lose her, Jungwon. I care about her too much."  

Jungwon deadpans at his friend, fighting back the urge to scoff in his face, "If you cared about her, you wouldn't have let her walk out of that party looking like her entire world was falling apart."  

Jake looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with something Jungwon can't quite name...desperation, maybe. Or guilt. Or both.  

"I didn't know what to do," Jake finally admits, his voice still barely above a whisper, as if admitting to himself for the first time, too. "I saw her, and she looked so...broken. And I—I panicked, I didn't know what to do, and by the time I realized, she was gone."  

Jungwon leans back, groaning as he runs a hand over his face. The anger bubbling within him hasn't fully faded, but he knows there's something else now—something softer, something that makes it harder to keep his protective guard for you up.  

Because he knows Jake isn't lying.  

"You don't get to half-ass this, Jake," Jungwon finally says after he thinks to himself. "She's not some random girl you're trying to impress, she isn't Jenn. This is Y/N. If you want to fix things, you have to be ready to own up to everything. No excuses, no backing out. She deserves that much."  

Jake nods quickly, his eyes wide and hopeful at Jungwon's slight change in demeanor, “I will. I swear, I will.” 

"And don't think she's going to forgive you right away," Jungwon adds. "She's hurt. You have to give her time. This isn't about what you want—it's about what she needs."  

Jake swallows hard, nodding again, “I just want to talk to her. To explain. To tell her I’m sorry and—”  

His voice cracks, and he looks down, his hands trembling slightly. Jungwon lets out a sigh, his mixed feelings turning more into something closer to pity. Because as much as he wants to stay mad for your sake, he's known Jake long enough to know that he's a good guy—and that his heart is in the right place.  

But even more than that, he knows you. And he knows how much Jake means to you, even if you won't admit it, especially not now more than ever.  

"You're actually an idiot," Jungwon says after a few beats, his voice carrying a lighter tone now. "But for some godforsaken reason, knowing her, I think she might actually miss you."  

Jake looks up from his hands, his eyes searching Jungwon's face for any flicker of doubt, "You really think so?"  

Jungwon shrugs, standing up and moving towards his door, "I think you've got a lot of work to do if you want to earn her trust back. But...I think you still have a chance."  

Jake doesn't say anything as he follows Jungwon to the door, but the look on his face says enough—there's a new slight look of hope. It's small, but he's clutching onto it like it’s his lifeline.  

“You know," Jungwon says when he reaches the doorway. "Y/N’s not the type to let people in easily. She puts up walls—but with you…she let them down. You’re special to her, Jake, even if she doesn’t say it. Don’t throw that away. For her sake, and yours.” 

“I won’t,” Jake promises, his voice steady now. “Thank you, Jungwon.” 

Jungwon nods at the older boy before giving him a faint smile, "And just so you know, I defended you yesterday. So don't prove me wrong or I'm actually going to deck you."  

Jake lets out a weak laugh as he hangs outside Jungwon's door, "Noted. I promise I won't let her down again."  

Jungwon doesn’t respond, just closes the door with a soft click, and hopes—for all their sakes—that Jake means it.  

Jake [5:12PM]: hi Y/N   Jake [5:12PM]: i know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now. and i don’t blame you at all   Jake [5:13PM]: but i cant just stay silent and let this sit between us, and i value you too much to not respect you needing space and just show up at your door  Jake [5:14PM]: even though it’s killing me to stay away  Jake [5:14PM]: after you left the party last night, i went back inside. i told jenn that whatever we had in the past is exactly that, the past. and i swear to you, Y/N, there’s nothing between us. there hasn’t been for a long time. and it’s my fault for making it seem otherwise.   Jake [5:15PM]: and as for how i acted…i don’t even know where to start. i fucked up extremely. nothing will excuse my actions and i don’t expect you to forgive me. but i need to apologize properly, you deserve that much.   Jake [5:17PM]: please let me see you, Y/N. i don’t deserve it, and i don’t deserve you. but you mean everything to me, and i hate that i hurt you. and i promise, if you let me, i’ll do everything to make it up to you.  

You stare at the phone in your hand, the messages feeling like salt to an open wound. The words on the screen begin to blur together as tears prick your eyes, spilling over before you even realize it. You don't bother wiping them away—the sting in your chest too raw, too heavy. Each word feels like Jake is standing right there in front of you, his voice soft and broken, tangled with regret.  

You tell yourself to stop reading. You've already gone through the same messages at least a hundred times in the past ten minutes, overanalyzing each syllable as if they hold the answers to all of your questions.  

And yet, you can't stop.  

You want to be angry. You are angry. Or, at least, you think. Because beneath the flame of your anger that's already threatening to die out? There's an ache you can't ignore—a small, stubborn part of you that refuses to let go to the sincerity in his words, clinging onto the hope that he's telling you the truth.  

You mean everything to me, and I hate that I hurt you. I promise, if you let me, I'll do everything to make it up to you.  

The ache twists harder, curling into doubt. What if he means it? What if he's telling the truth?  

But of course, the fear rises just as quickly. Because what if he's not? What if you let him back in, and it all falls apart again? What if you let yourself believe in him, giving him the second chance he's asking for, only to have your heart shattered worse than before?  

And then, there's Jungwon's voice, soft but steady, cutting through the chaos brewing in your mind: "Even idiots get scared when they care about someone as much as he clearly cares about you."  

Your breath catches.  

Because that's the worst part. Knowing that maybe—just maybe—Jake really does care. Knowing that maybe he's telling the truth—and you're the one too afraid to take the risk, ready to build up the walls Jake's managed to get through.  

Your phone screen suddenly dims, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into the moment. You blink rapidly, wiping at your face, your mind a mess of emotions you can't untangle or describe.  

Fear. Hope. Doubt. 

And something else—something you're afraid to admit, but you know is unmistakably real.  

And it's stronger than the fear churning in your chest—it's something that's pulling you forward.  

Your heart pounds almost out of your rib cage as you let out a shaky breath, the weight on your shoulders pressing harder and harder with every second you hesitate. The ache doesn't let up, but neither does your hope.  

So you stop thinking altogether, letting your heart take control instead.  

You shut your eyes, as if bracing yourself for a crash, take a deep breath, unlock your phone, and let your fingers fly across the screen, each word feeling like a leap off a cliff.  

You hit send.  

Y/N [5:30PM]: hi jake  Y/N [5:30PM]: you can come over 

The soft knock at your door startles you, even though you know it’s coming.  

“Y/N?” 

His voice. Jake’s voice.  

Your heart clenches painfully, a conflicting mix of longing and hurt washing over you all at once. It hasn't even been a full day since the party, but the weight of his absence has already hollowed you out, leaving a hole you can't ignore. You know he's the one who caused it—that the cracks in your heart are his doing—but at the same time, the stubborn part of you whispers that he's also the only one who can mend them.  

You make your way to the door, your movements hesitant as you crack it open, peek out, and...there he is.  

"Hi," Jake says softly.  

He's a mess. A beautiful, saddened mess—his hair messy, like he's been running his hands through it all day, his eyes rimmed with the kind of exhaustion that isn't just physical. One hand is buried deep in his jacket, and in the other— 

"Flowers?" You ask, raising a brow in surprise.  

Jake's ears turn red. "Yeah. Uh, I didn't know if you had a favorite, so I got—"  

You open the door wider, revealing the full bouquet—daisies, tulips, roses, all wrapped together in crinkled tissue paper.  

"—a little bit of everything," he finishes awkwardly, his voice trailing off, pausing for a second before holding them out to you with a sheepish smile.  

Your lips twitch subconsciously, despite everything.  

"Jake, you're literally allergic."  

His mouth opens, then closes, the redness from his ears now spreading to his cheeks.  

"Well, yeah, but—," Jake mumbles, shifting on his feet. "—not, like, deadly or anything dramatic like that."  

He pauses, his voice dropping into something softer, more vulnerable, "I just wanted you to have them. That's all."  

You feel your insides tighten, the sincerity in his voice getting to you. For a moment, all you can manage to do is stare at him—at the way his eyes are silently pleading, wide and unsure.  

You hesitate for a second, then step back and open the door wider.  

"Thank you," you say quietly, your fingers brushing against his as you take the bouquet, sending a flicker of warmth through you. "Come in."  

Jake hesitates, his eyes searching yours like he's not sure if he's actually allowed to. When you turn away and walk towards your kitchen, he finally steps inside, kicking off his shoes quickly and hovering by the door like he doesn't know what to expect next.  

You set the flowers down on the counter, adjusting them carefully before turning back to him. He's still standing there, stiff and uncertain, the distance between you feeling larger than ever before.  

"So..." You say, crossing your arms tightly across yourself, shifting your weight as a way to ground yourself—though the lump in your throat makes it feel impossible.  

Jake exhales shakily, his hands fidgeting by his sides and gaze darting to the floor before finally landing on you, "I came to apologize. Properly."  

You blink at him, expression unreadable, "You already said sorry."  

Your voice comes out sharper than intended, surprising even yourself, but the words leave before you can stop them. Jake flinches, just slightly, but he nods, knowing he deserved that. 

"Not like I should have," he says, stepping closer, his voice low and careful, like he's afraid you'll run out of your own apartment. "I know I messed up. I hurt you, and I hate that I did. I hate that I made you feel like you weren't enough or that someone else could ever compare to you, Y/N."  

Your arms tighten around yourself as if the words might knock the breath out of you as look away, unsure if you can meet the rawness in his eyes.  

"Last night," Jake continues, his eyes filling with guilt, "I didn't handle last night right. And not just how I handled Jenn, but I let my own insecurities and stupid fears of being perfect for you get in the way. I let it happen and mess everything up. I let you think that you didn't matter to me, and I will never forgive myself, Y/N."  

His words hang in the air, heavy yet sincere, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him as you process his words slowly.  

"And I don't expect you to forgive me either, Y/N," Jake's voice wavers before he continues, "but I need you to know that I'm so, so sorry. No excuses. For all of it—for making you feel like anything less than everything, for making you feel like you weren't my first choice. Because you are. You're my only, Y/N." 

His words hit you with a force that crashes over the walls you tried so desperately to build. They're overwhelming yet tender, like rediscovering a piece of yourself you hadn't even realized you lost. And you want to let them comfort you, you do. But the pain from last night lingers deep down, reminding you of why you built those walls in the first place.  

For a moment, the silence stretches on longer than you intend, the weight of his words settling in the air between you. Jake doesn't look away though—his gaze unwavering, vulnerable, and raw.  

As though he's laid himself bare before you, giving you the power to either accept or shatter him completely.  

When you finally find your voice, it trembles despite your best efforts, "Jake...I don't know if I can just forget what happened."  

"I'm not asking you to forget," he says quickly, taking another step closer until there's only a few feet left between you. "I just want the chance to fix us. I can't lose you like this, Y/N."  

Your breath catches at the proximity, his presence pulling you in like gravity. The pain from last night tries to claw its way back into your heart—sharp and bitter—but his warmth reminds you of something else that refuses to be ignored.  

That flicker of hope that's demanding your attention, screaming at you to just let him in—not just for his sake, but for you. 

You take a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze. "Jake, I don't need you to...to be this perfect person. I don't need you to prove anything to me."  

You pause, pushing past the lump in your throat, "Because since the beginning, I always believed you. And...I think I still do. Even after last night, I still believe you, Jake. No matter how hard I try to."  

Jake lets out a breath he thinks he's been holding in for hours, "Really?"  

"Yeah," you nod slowly, as if reassuring yourself as much as him. "But I don't need any of your promises or proof or any of that. I just...I just need you as you."  

His eyes soften at you as he nods so quickly it's almost desperate.   

"And I need you to be honest with me, Jake," you continue before he can speak. "If we do this, I need to know I can trust you. Because I don't know if I can do this...this waiting game anymore."  

"You can," he says immediately, closing the distance between you two, making your breath hitch. You can see the way his hands are trembling, the slight quiver in his lips. "You can trust me. No more hesitation. I'm all in, Y/N. This is it for me, you're it."   

You search his face for any sign of doubt, any speck of hesitation. But all you find is his sincerity—so hopeful and so real—the kind that makes you want to let him in fully and let your walls crumble all over again.  

So you do.  

"Okay," you say softly, almost as if you're testing the word.  

Jake's eyes widen, the relief and hope flooding his features. Slowly, as if asking for permission, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours tentatively.  

"Okay?" He whispers, his voice barely audible to you as his eyes flicker between your hands and your face.  

You nod, your own hand turning over so your fingers curl around his in an instinctive gesture that feels so natural it makes you want to scream. The warmth of his touch feels like the first real comfort you've felt in forever, and it's enough to make your resolve slip.  

"But," you add softly, your eyes not leaving the way his hand wraps around yours so perfectly, "this doesn't mean everything's fine. We need to talk. We need to figure out where we stand, and where we go from there."  

Jake nods again, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, "We will. Whatever it takes, Y/N, I'll do it. I need you to know how much you mean to me and I'll never stop trying to show you that."  

You let out a shaky breath as you take in his words, finally looking up from your intertwined hands to meet his eyes, your own slowly filling with the tears you've been holding back. 

"You really hurt me, Jake," you say quietly, your voice breaking from the sheer weight of your vulnerability being laid bare.  

Jake's face crumbles instantly, guilt etched into every line of his expression. Without hesitation, his free hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb light brushing away the tears that fall, as if he's afraid you might pull away.  

Your eyes flutter closed at the warmth of his hand, and despite the emotions raging inside you, you let yourself lean into him. It feels both reckless, yet inevitable, like free-falling and trusting—knowing—he'll catch you.  

"I know," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion he can't swallow down. "And I'll spend as long as it takes to deserve you, Y/N. I'll never make you feel like that again."  

You nod weakly, and before you can think too much, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into the safety of his chest, his chin moving to rest on top of your head as his warmth envelops you completely.  

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself break, burying your face into his chest as the tears flow freely, the weight of everything finally breaking free as you let yourself melt into his tight embrace.  

It's not perfect. It's not a fix-all.  

But as Jake holds you close, whispering quiet reassurances into your hair, you know it's a start.  

And a start is all you need.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

epilogue:

“Hi, pretty.”  

“Hi, Jake.”

On the other end of the call, Jake lets out a playful scoff. Even with the slight lag, you can see his lips twitch into that familiar pout—the one that still gives you butterflies, no matter how many times you've see it now, even a year later.

“After all we’ve been through, you still won’t give me a cute pet name?” 

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin, “What do you want me to say? Hi, my handsome, perfect, kindest, funniest, boyfriend in the whole wide world?”  

Jake leans closer to the camera, his expression completely serious as if you should already know his answer, "...Yes." 

Giggles burst out of you, shaking your head at his antics. “You’re too cute to be doing all that, Jake. Pick a struggle.” 

He clutches his chest dramatically, “You know, what? You’re my struggle—I fly across time zones, run on three hours of sleep, and you still won’t give me a crumb of your affection?” 

“You’re exhausting.” 

“And yet…,” Jake trails off with a teasing smirk, his voice dropping into that playful, yet low lilt that still makes your stomach flip to this day. "Here you are, calling me at 1AM in the morning.”  

Your cheeks flush as you glance away from the screen, trying to ignore the way his teasing gaze makes you feel, "Don’t' get confused, it's not like I wanted to or anything. I just figured someone should remind you to go to bed or else you'll look like a zombie tomorrow at the fanmeet."  

Jake laughs softly, the sound grounding you in a certain way only he ever can. "You're so thoughtful, babe. My number-one hater and number-one fan, all at once. I'm so lucky."  

You send him an air kiss, the teasing grin on your face mirrored by the fond one tugging at his lips. He looks at you like he did in that first-ever call way back then—like you're his whole world, and he can't believe you're real.  

"How's the jet lag this time?" You ask, steering the conversation to safer ground.  

"It's not so bad," he shrugs, despite the clear exhaustion in his voice. "At least this trip is only for a few days. Then I can come back to the comfort of our bed."  

You raise an eyebrow, "My bed."  

Jake's eyes narrow, "Our bed. Just admit it—you miss me."  

You pause. "Maybe. Just a little."  

His grin widens, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, the conversation lulling into an easy silence—the kind of warmth that only comes with knowing someone so well.  

Finally, you shift under your blanket, getting comfortable as Jake watches you through this screen, his gaze tender, as though memorizing the curve of your smile, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear.  

"You should sleep," you murmur, holding your phone closer to your face. The glow of your phone reflecting off your soft features sends palpations to Jake's chest so loud he almost doesn't hear your words. 

"Mm, I really should," Jake sighs, though he doesn't move an inch. "I'll talk to you soon, yeah?" 

"Mmhm," you hum, your eyes closing at the softness of his voice.  

“Sleep tight. I love you,” his says, voice soft and deliberate, making sure you feel every word. 

“Goodnight, Jakey,” you tease, letting the smirk creep into your voice, peeking an eye open just to catch his reaction. 

Jake groans dramatically, running a hand down his face, “Y/N…not this again.”  

You giggle, the fondness within you growing tenfold as you take in his face—the slight pout of his lips, his messy hair, his eyes shining with unwavering adoration for you. 

“I said I love youuu,” he whines, dragging out the last word, his lips tugging into the tiniest of smiles, his entire universe reflecting from his eyes.  

Finally, you give in, smiling sweetly.  

“I love you, too, Jake. You already know.”  

And you’ve never meant anything more.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Songs that Remind me of Y/N:

From the first call to forever—you've always been my favorite melody.   Yours, Jake <3

"As I Am" – Justin Bieber (ft. Khalid)  

"Daylight" – Taylor Swift 

"DIE 4 YOU" - Dean 

"Psycho, Pt. 2" – Russ 

"Heaven" – Bazzi 

"Every Kind of Way" – H.E.R. 

"Off My Face" – Justin Bieber 

"Before You" – Benson Boone 

"Sunflower" – Post Malone & Swae Lee 

"Pink + White" – Frank Ocean

"No Doubt" – Enhypen <3 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! if you made it all the way, this is for you:

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡♡♡♡♡♡

p.s. i wanted to leave the ending kinda up to interpretation—hence the time skip to a year later..but lowkey what if i wrote short drabbles/scenes of things jake does to gain Y/N's trust again, from small to big gestures etc etc..lmk if that's something anyone would wanna see !!

<3, addie

m.list here!

tag list (love you all <3):

(i hope it let me tag everyone!)

@thesassy-mia @ikeulove @renaishun @xylatox @puma-riki @blackberryrains @dreamiestay @junislqve @lamin143 @dreamy-carat @etherealhan @vvenusoncasual @belovedsthings @somuchdard @sumzysworld @mirouie @almondtofu006 @fancypeacepersona @vivimura @hollxe1 @missthang600 @sugarikiz @sanasour @enhamonsterghoul @etherealriki

[wet-from-water-water-from-wet]

as true as it is, there's more to the appeal of human domestication guide than "the fantasy for trans girls is to be loved unconditionally," it's that the affini can prove it. I'm certain there are people in my life who do love me unconditionally, but even then on some level it's hard to believe fully. it's impossible to prove a negative, "this person would love me no matter what" isn't something I could ever be comfortable testing anyway. "what if it isn't true?" a big part of being trans is having to justify your very existence even to well meaning people, and what happens when your justification falters?

and I think a big appeal to the affini that seems to be lost on a lot of people is how these stories tend to be from the perspective of "the person who is just about as against this as someone possibly could be." consider HDG proper, Elvira is against capture on a moral level for obvious reasons like "kidnapping is wrong" and "I deserve freedom," but she's also personally racist towards the concept of aliens. all of this forces the affini into a position where they can't just show "enough" kindness, to move from that position to one of love and trust, the affini are forced to show so much love and kindness that they prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they really do care. they understand that behind every vicious word and lack of faith from their floret-to-be is a subtle hope that the world the affini promise is the real one. such a hope deserves nurturing at any cost; they deserve to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is really true. by assuming the worst case scenario, the affini prove the negative.

that's the real trans girl fantasy at play here; to be at your worst and for someone to love you anyway, to not have to feel like you're hiding some layer of your identity deep down that would ruin everything if it came out. your mistress saw the very core of your being and yet here you are, still wrapped in her loving embrace. you bared your teeth and gnashed at every helping hand along the way, and yet she still says she loves you. she still shows you love and affection beyond what you could have ever imagined. why?

and then at some point you just have to accept that it's true.

[cross-d-a]

Jod Na Nawood’s backstory is FASCINATING!! And makes SO much sense!!! Order 66 fucked up SO much in the galaxy, it’s so interesting (and tragic) to see what it’s done to the force sensitive children who were unable to be taken into the Temple. It truly supports how GOOD the Jedi Order is. How good the JEDI are. I can’t even fully comprehend everything the galaxy lost and suffered without them. And- Jod’s master. She didn’t have to take him in. He knew that. He knows she was desperate. But she took him in anyway and taught him what she could. We only get a very tiny glimpse of that backstory but it’s utterly gut-wrenching.

Imagine the survivor of a genocide. A Jedi on the run, desperate and hungry and grieving, running into a little kid just as lost as her and seeing that LIFE in him. Feeling the FORCE in him. What would that have done to her after feeling everyone she knew and loved ripped away from her. But here is this kid and he needs help and maybe she does, too. Maybe they can help each other. And so she folds him under her wing just as any Jedi would have done. She teaches him the ways of her people, knowing that their way of life lives on in her and that she is passing it on to a new generation. And that probably hurt. It probably hurt SO much. Because she can’t give him what she could have if the Order was still alive. And he’ll never understand what it means to be part of something so beautiful and long-lasting. But she does what she can, and they maybe never would have met if Order 66 didn’t happen. And it’s an awful thought, the worst kind of thought, but she can’t help but be relieved they found each other. Because she loves this lost little kid and maybe they’re broken together, but they’re more whole together, too. And maybe without Jod she could have run and hid forever. Maybe she couldn’t have, plenty Jedi were caught and murdered. But she knew the risk and she took it- and the way Jod talks about it (“they made me watch”) makes me think that he feels he’s responsible for her getting caught. And it makes me wonder how she felt when she was caught. Knowing she was one of the last of her kind, and that this kid was going to be alone again. Orphaned in a completely new, terrible way.

And I wonder, too, if looking after the kids reminded Jod of his old Jedi Master. And maybe he thought “I can’t get attached because then they’ll catch me too and I’ll die just like her.” And you know what, Jod? It did happen that way. You got caught because of those kids. But only because you forgot what it means to be a Jedi, which is to say that after your Master died you tore out that softness within you. Abandoned love for fear. Exchanged generosity for greed. And it’s true grief and trauma changes people. That a little kid alone in the galaxy does what they can to survive. But Jod isn’t a little kid anymore and it doesn’t excuse the choices you make. It’s a wretched world, one without a Jedi, and Jod suffered all the more for it.

And I wonder, too, what Jod thought when Wim paused in the elevator. When that little kid called out to him, despite everything Jod had done to him. Did Jod look at Wim and think: “Yeah, that’s what a Jedi would be” and then hate himself all the more for it? Well, who can tell. Jod is a fascinating character and I’m excited to see where the show next takes us.

[screampied]

gojo planned to confess his love to you on valentine’s day.

he had the entire thing set, he was anxious, pondering just what your reaction might be. you were forever on his mind — even now, he was picturing your smile, imagining you returning the words and accepting your gifts. his heart swooned at the thought, the feeling of you finally returning your feelings to him. he’s had a deep love for you as long as he could remember.

“she’s gonna say it back, she’s gonna say it back.”

he repeated those words in his head like a mantra.

just the thought of your name made gojo’s heart race at such a speed. he was in love with you. he figured today would be the perfect time to tell you, smother you with compliments, decorate pretty roses in your hair and maybe snag a polaroid picture with you to keep in the back case of his phone.

although, once he finally meets up with you, he’d never know how foolish he really could have been.

you’d be somewhere outside by yourself, perhaps sitting on the grass and soaking in the humid sun with the most gorgeous relaxed expression. he texted you prior that he wanted to tell you something, very subtlety.

he felt his heart beat pick up at the sheer sight of you—you were so effortlessly pretty. trapped in your own little world. gojo trods his feet up to you, hiding his hands behind his back with a gift he had prepared for you. it was a necklace with a bunch of your favorite candies inside. he also had a cheesy card that read, “do you have a name? or should i just call you mine.”

it made him snort, he found the idea off of google.

as he kept making his way towards you, dragging his feat, he’s repeating his sappy speech a million times in his head. he straightened his tie, reaching for his pocket to grab a rose out of his pocket before he stopped once he saw geto approach you …

with a kiss.

gojo had a slow reaction, he felt like his breath got snatched from his chest. a tough snatch to where he could barely breathe. geto stroked a thumb against your chin before after a few brief seconds, he pulls away. you smiled at him before geto surprised you with a big box of what appeared to be a gift.

“oh..” gojo mutters, feeling trapped, as if his feet was stuck in place. you looked so happy, he started to feel stupid. he’s so ensnared into his own loud screaming thoughts that he doesn’t even realize that you’re standing in front of him now.

“satoru. hey. you wanted to talk to me about something?” you utter, glancing up at him, wondering why his body language was so awkward and stiff.

his jaw tightened before he blinks twice, sighing out a soft. “huh? oh that—oh, it’s uh, nothing,” and then he forces a fake smile on his face. he was too late to win your heart, and it costed his own to be shattered into a million glass pieces.

“are you sure?” you pry.

he gives you a nod, and you literally slip from his fingers the minute you turn your heels to walk away. gojo felt numb, tears started to swell into his eyes as he brought the gift up to his chest.

a single tear runs down his cheek as he watches you walk off into the sunset with geto, cursing to himself mentally that that should have been him. he had a force smile, because in the end — at least you were happy.

“happy valentine’s day,” he sniffles, knowing the true meaning of heartbreak at that particular moment. “i still love you.”

[horizonx101]

How to actually shift

Tldr- persist in the affirmations that you wake up in your dr every morning or thoughts that mean the same thing, no matter what the physical world is showing you and do not waver 🪐

—————🌑—————💫

Shifting, believe it or not, is actually the most simple thing in the universe- you have been shifting for your entire life. What do I mean by that? Shifting isn’t some supernatural power that you have to be chosen by another force and then do 200 different methods or it won’t work. Shifting is the exact same as manifestation- when you manifest, you shift to a reality where you have that thing. When you shift, you manifest a certain reality that you have chosen. You shift whenever you assume something to be true in your reality. For example, you may assume that people dislike you- even if there is no evidence. As a result, you shift to a reality (or manifest a reality) where people dislike you. This is called Law of Assumption and you are doing this all the time whether you’re conscious of it or not. Think about your life, what has been a pattern for you? Have you been consistently unsuccessful in shifting? This is because you have a belief, a dominant assumption that shifting is difficult for you or that failure is normal to you.

—————🌒—————💫

The subconscious

There are two parts of your mind- the conscious mind, the one that you are aware of, and the subconscious mind. The subconscious mind defines your 3D, using your conscious mind (daily thoughts) to know what to project into the physical world. Your subconscious has no senses, it can’t see, hear or feel anything, which is why it relies on your conscious mind to tell it what is true and what is false. Therefore, your subconscious mind cannot deny anything you are telling it- which is why you can manifest anything. If you have negative beliefs that you have persisted in for years, you can change this with repetition of favourable affirmations, for example ‘manifesting has always been easy for me’ or ‘I always shift instantly and it is completely normal for to get what I want’. Your mind doesn’t like change, it likes patterns which is where resistance comes from. Your mind has only ever known struggle in shifting, since that’s what you have been telling it consistently- therefore you will get doubts and opposing thoughts. However, you decide what it true because the physical world IS your dominant thoughts. As soon as you decide you have shifted, you have shifted, doubts cannot do anything unless you give them power and worry about them. Whenever you get opposing thoughts, persist through them. Affirm things like “What are you talking about? I literally woke up in my desired reality” and “No, shifting is easy, it the easiest thing in the world”- exaggerate your affirmations. Eventually, your brain will adapt to the pattern of shifting being simple and easy for you- which is what will then reflect into the 3D. This doesn’t need to take loads of time, just affirm ‘doubts don’t exist’ and repeat that thought to saturate your mind.

—————🌓—————💫

The 3D and 4D

The 3D is your physical world, whereas the 4D is your thoughts and imagination. A key concept of Loa (law of assumption) is that your 4D, aka imagination, is your true reality. How? The 3D originates from your thoughts, it is simply a projection of your 4D. Therefore, the 4D must be your true reality. This is whatever you decide is true HAS to be true. A thought, when persisted in, HAS to reflect into the 3D, as that it the law. This is also why the 3D is completely irrelevant, circumstances do not matter whatsoever, because anything is possible. Anything you imagine is a possibility- what ever you DECIDE is true IS fact. Be stubborn in your affirmations- even if something is unfavourable happens, for example you don’t wake up in your desired reality, simple tell yourself that you woke up in your desired reality because shifting is easy. It has to reflect into your 3D eventually. And when I say eventually, I don’t mean that it has to take months or something- of course not! You control EVERYTHING which means that you either consciously or unconsciously decide how long it takes based on your beliefs. If you dominantly believe that shifting has to take years then it will take years because that is what you’re telling your subconscious. Assume that shifting is instant for you and persist in that affirmation. Things don’t have to take time!

—————🌔—————💫

Doubts

Doubts don’t have to do anything or mean anything- you give everything meaning. Decide that ‘I dont get doubts’ and ‘negative thoughts don’t manifest’ and that’s what will happen. Do not panic and spiral when you get an opposing thought- they are completely normal. You can literally just laughs at the thought, take a second to look at it and just be like “lmao what? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever thought I’m in my dr rn” and the thought will carry so much less weight, it’ll simply pass by just like a random thought. Treat it like how you would treat your mind randomly saying ‘the grass is purple and I was born last year’- you wouldn’t even acknowledge it because it’s just not true. Remember, anything you decide is true IS true, so doubts cannot do anything as long as you don’t give them the power to do anything.

—————🌕—————💫

I recommend Indigo Detry and Sammy Ingram on YouTube! They explain these concepts really well !!

[oh-hopeless-heart]

Over blot Grim and Yui!!

So I don’t really have a solid story so bear with me.

So everyone basically agrees the prologue boss is Grim, imma pretend that’s true.

TW/ mentions of death and dark subjects

I imagine a scenario where Yui finds out Crowley was able to send her home long ago, and actively chose not to. As soon as Yui find this out, she kind of snaps and without thinking tries to leave. She’s caught before she can and Grim feeling betrayed and scared of being abandoned overblots. In the altercation with Grim, Yui is injured. Like struggling between life and death. Through her own sorrow, anger, fear and mostly her determination to live to see her mother again she consumes the surrounding blot and overblots herself. Now NRC has to deal with both Grim and Yui while also trying not to get anyone killed.

Since Grims supposed over blot is sorta like the big thing for Twst I image the situation turns into a “end of the world” more so that Yui tries to force Twisted Wonderland into sorta “merging” with her world. That way “I won’t have to choose.”

Again this is just a for fun thing don’t take it to serious I’m no storyteller or writer.

Btw Yui’s overblot design is based on the dorm uniform I made for Ramshackle

[norikuna]

THAT'S SO TRUE — toji fushiguro

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (e) and let the show begin !

prologue. → you vowed to yourself that you would rock toji fushiguro's world as a new year's resolution. but it's christmas eve already, and the year is almost over. by hook or by crook, you're gonna that gorgeous, buff older man in your bed tonight.

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader (reader uses she/her pronouns)

warnings. reader has never been chill a day in her life, áge gáp, dílf!toji, big díck toji (ofc), voyeurísm (sorta implied), másturbátion (f), jealous sèx, reader watches toji through binoculars, they match each other's freak, creámpíe, reader gets called 'slutty' and 'doll', orál (m and f. receiving)

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. that's so true — gracie abrams

a/n. incredible art by sakimichan 🍃 i had so much fun writing this 😁 reader is an adult!! i imagined toji to be 35-ish, and reader to be 22...? its christmas day for me so i'm a tad late 😩

mp3. bet you're thinking 'she's so cool' kicking back on your couch, making eyes from across the room. wait! i think i've been there too!

if your friends knew what you were up to right now, they'd skip the intervention and go straight to dragging you to the nearest police precinct.

forget a lecture, they would slap a pair of handcuffs on you first, citing charges of being horny to the first degree.

officer! she just can't keep it in her pants!

but did you care? not in the slightest.

you adjust the blinds, nudging them just enough to angle your binoculars a little lower. focus sharpened, lens zoomed in, and there he was. the object of your totally healthy, not-at-all unhinged plan.

the target in question? toji fushiguro.

your next-door neighbour, who also happened to look like he'd walked straight out of a naked biker calendar. leather jacket snug over his broad shoulders, a frame built for sin, and pectorals that were so sculpted, you often dreamed of bouncing walnuts off them. just to see if the nuts would crack.

months ago, you had made a new years resolution to yourself that you wouldn't end this year without bagging the man at least once.

yet here you were on christmas eve, a few days shy of the year's end, still plotting and scheming like a bond villain on how you could charm the socks right off toji fushiguro.

but you feared that tonight was beginning to deliver a cold, harsh slap of reality.

your heart suddenly gives an undignifed lurch as toji swings off his motorcycle in one fluid motion. but your smirk — yes, you had been smirking and you wouldn't deny that, vanished the moment your binoculars caught sight of her.

right behind him, a woman dismounted with all the grace and mature confidence that you wished you could summon on a good day.

you twist the focus knob, an unfamiliar figure sharpening into clarity. tall, polished, probably closer to toji's age rather than yours, and way too pretty for your scheming, heinous comfort.

she's hooking her arm through his like they did this all the time, and her cherry-sweet smile beams up at him like he'd hung the damn christmas lights himself.

and then, then! she leans in to press a kiss to his cheek, casual as a snowflake fluttering onto the concrete below.

your chest tightens oddly, though whether it was from jealousy or sheer mortification, you couldn't tell. and you didn't want to tell.

toji fushiguro, for his part, didn't seem fazed, at least, not outwardly. he turns his shaggy head away, smiling faintly with that gruff and polite expression he sometimes wore when someone cornered him into small talk.

not that it mattered. you couldn't stop the frown that tugged at your lips, watching the pair disappear out of view, the motorcycle keys still dangling from his thick fingers.

you sigh, setting the binoculars down with a little more force than necessary. tonight was supposed to be your night, the grand finale where you capped the year off with a big win in the shape of this six-foot-two man, with green eyes that could strike you dumb.

and you had even planned ahead! you'd been certain that there wouldn't be any pesky interruptions, particularly of the pint-sized variety.

not that you had anything against megumi fushiguro, he was a good kid — if a little unnerving with that brooding energy he carried around like a hefty backpack.

but still, you'd never really spoken to him much. call it morals or basic decency, but dragging a clueless kid into your schemes just felt a little wrong.

so when you had overheard toji casually mentioning that megumi was out for a sleepover with some friend, something about how nice it would be to have a night for himself, you had taken that as a sign from the universe. a green light.

fate herself waving you through the doors to make your move.

except now, traitorous fate had also thrown you a curveball in the form of the older, mystery woman who had been clinging to toji's back on the motorcyle. all expensive burgundy fur, and a darling blowout that was way out of a college student's pay cheque.

still, you're not the kind of woman who folds at the first sign of trouble. no, you think, squaring your shoulders. who would you be if you gave up now? perseverance is the backbone of triumph, or something like that.

the walls of this apartment are criminally thin, and you trust that the muffled thuds coming from next door are none other than toji fushiguro leading his...date up the stairs and down the hallway. the metallic jingle of keys confirms it, a sound that sends a pang of irritation prickling beneath your skin.

your gaze shifts to your desk, to the corkboard cluttered up with polaroids of your friends, random university flyers, and pinned up lecture schedules that you never follow. you press three fingers to your lips, in a respectful and solemn kiss, before tapping your photograph of aaron hotchner, in a promise for the near future.

"i won't give up, hotch," you murmur, the solemn, printed face of thomas gibson crossing his arms — gazing back at you, a beacon of motivational determination.

and with that, you grab a notepad and the first pen you can find, even though it's half-dried and it can barely write. you flip the pages open, and begin dotting down your back-up plan on how to score toji fushiguro tonight.

you're pretty sure it's been an hour since you started furiously scribbling on paper. five dried-out pens and a mountain of crumpled drafts later, each one titled with variations of how to get toji fushiguro in my bed, your notepad is starting to look like a pathetic manifesto.

you sip idly at your grape soda, the fizzy sweetness staining your tongue a violent purple. and listen, to be clear, you're absolutely a feminist. truly. you're not the type to believe in pitting women against each other. that's messy, unsophisticated, and frankly it's far beneath you.

but sadly, here's the other thing. desperate times call for desperate measures. and as much as you hate to admit it, toji fushiguro, your brooding and hulking neighbour with shoulders that eclipse the sun, has your resolve teetering right on the edge. the wanting and lusty human spirit is unbreakable, and the idea of losing is as appealing as licking sandpaper.

the sound of a low thud breaks through your plotting, as you drop the end of the pen out of your mouth. your ears perk up at the faint creak of a door opening. you recognise the gruff voice, muffled through the thin walls.

"damn heater's out again. 'm just gonna go check the switch downstairs."

uh-huh. that's what you thought. this was just act one of the stage play.

see, about forty five minutes ago, inspiration had struck. you'd realised you needed to get toji out of his apartment, and given his bear-like simplicity: eat, sleep, grumble, repeat, it wasn't exactly that easy.

but every man needed his rest, and no man could rest on christmas eve when the snow was sticking to the window pane from the cold.

so, you had snuck downstairs and flipped the heater's breaker to his apartment off, leaving the rest blissfully untouched. setting an ideal trap for the vast man.

you crack your door open, just enough to watch him lumber off towards the left staircase.

it's one of two routes down to the basement, and the fastest, if you hadn't intercepted fate. about twenty minutes into your plan, you had grabbed a handful of out of order signs (printed with comic sans, the true villain of typography) and plastered them halfway down the left flight of stairs.

you dart towards the right staircase, your knee-high socks skimming the concrete steps in a frantic descent. as you reach the halfway point, you hear the telltale grunt of a frustrated toji.

"damn management can't even warn people about closures," he's muttering to himself, heavy footsteps falling in line behind yours.

right on cue. by the time he reaches the basement, there you are, innocently peering at the big, clunky switchboard. like it wasn't you who had just broken into it to render toji's apartment a freezing chill.

your sweater's been strategically tugged off one shoulder, and you're pretending the icy air isn't slicing at your bare legs, left exposed by the shortest pair of shorts you own.

"what brings ya down here?" toji grunts, his voice low and rough like gravel underfoot.

you count it as a small victory when his eyes sweep over you, slow and deliberate, before the older man coughs and shifts his focus back to the switchboard. you sidle closer under the guise of curiosity, so close that the fabric of your sweater brushes his arm. the steel biceps flexing under the tight, black fabric of his tee.

"i don't know," you sigh, feigning innocence with a touch of melancholia, "it jus' got so cold of all a sudden." you cross your arms over your chest, pretending to shiver just enough to catch his attention without looking concerningly ill.

toji glances down at you briefly, his brow furrowing, "mhm. yeah," he mutters, before turning back to the labyrinth of switches, "can't believe how these clowns the place."

you watch as the man leans in, studying the panel like it's some kind of ancient artefact. his expression is set in that serious, furrowed way men always get when faced with the unfamiliar terrain of household maintenance.

cute. almost.

you, of course, had done your homework. a quick google search of the model number earlier had led you to the manual, and you already knew it was the purple switch on the top right. but why rush, eh? if toji fushiguro wanted to play handyman, who were you to deprive him? especially when you needed a little more time to set the mood, to give him some ideas.

every time his fingers hovered closer to the correct switch, you leaned in, cutting him off with casual chatter. enough to have the man's eyes drop over you once more, before flicking away before he could break the bounds of propriety.

"so, are you doing anything tonight?"

"what?" his gruff tone reverberates through the dim basement, bouncing off the concrete walls.

you flutter your lashes at him, meeting his sharp, verdant gaze, "i mean, it's christmas eve. got any fun plans?"

he straightens slightly, his hand falling from the panel as he looks right at you, "nah. just stayin' in." but toji tilts his head and throws the question back at you, "why aren't you?"

"why aren't i, what?" you tilt your head to mirror the man, feigning confusion, "staying inside? i was, but then i got cold. y'know, busted heater and all."

toji exhales through his nose, and you watch mesmerised as the scar twitches over his lip, "no, doll. i mean, doing something fun. you're young. got your whole life ahead of you to be old and boring."

the faintest flicker of a genuine smile tugs at the corner of your glossy lips. if only he knew. you clear your throat, "i guess," and you shrug, the movement subtle, but just enough to let your sweater slip a little further off your shoulder, "it's just not my...taste."

your gaze trails over him, deliberate but not obvious enough to tip the scales out of your hand. you hope that you're not wide-eyed taking in how his broad shoulders ripple, almost tense?

"ah." toji fushiguro, everybody. a man of great wit, and even greater vocabulary.

he's tapping a knuckle against the switchboard, frowning at the rows of colourful levers like they've personally insulted him. you take the moment to edge a little closer, peering up at him with a deliberate and doe-eyed expression.

"need help?" you ask, voice sweet enough to break through teeth.

toji snorts, "you? help me with this?" he glances at you sideways, one thin brow quirking up, "i've got this, doll," but he seems to sober up, remembering that he does not have this, "unless you even know what this thing does?"

"of course i do," you shrug, feigning nonchalance, "i'm pretty good at flicking the right switch."

and what a sweet, untainted victory when toji's movements still. he doesn't tear his gaze away from the switchboard, but his hands pause and you see his lips twitch, "uh-huh."

"you should probably head back upstairs," he says gruffly, his tone almost concerned, "basement's freezin' and you're gonna catch a cold in, uh," and toji's gesturing vaguely at your thin ensemble, clearly trying to be polite.

"i know, but i was just comfortable in this," you run your hands, pretending to tug at the hem of your shorts. ignoring how the goosebumps are practically beating your ass right now, and you're about an inch of a temperature drop away from hypothermia.

toji fushiguro mutters something under his breath, something about attitude and young people these days, but he doesn't move away when you sidle back closer to him again, the faint brush of your arm against his making the great man stiffen up again.

"so, no christmas eve plans at all?" you press again, cocking your head, "not even a little festive cheer? eggnog?"

"festive cheer?" toji scoffs, finally pulling the purple switch as the low hum of the heater continues to chug away. dusting his hands off like he's just solved a national crisis, like you couldn't have solved that ten minutes ago, "i'm not big on christmas."

"that's tragic," you sigh, "and i was gonna ask you to stand with me under the mistletoe." your tone is teasing, light enough to deflect any serious questions but you let your lips form a soft pout. just enough to teeter on the edge of innocence. the faint, almost-whine in your tone is carefully calibrated: harmless on the surface but laced with the kind of undercurrent that can plant ideas in a man's head.

"ya' got jokes tonight," toji's gaze lingers, a little longer than necessary. you don't miss the way his shoulders draw tighter together. how his jaw ticks, but the real prize for you is when his hand slides up to rub the back of his neck, fingers kneading at the thick muscle, like he's trying to shake something loose.

the corner of your mouth twitches again, oh. you've got him now.

"imagine going through life, so lonely on christmas. that's gotta do something to a person." you're so not seeing the pearly gates, but you've come to terms with that.

"yeah? like what?" toji huffs.

you tap a finger against your chin, pretending to think, "well. for starters, it probably makes you very grumpy."

"tch, 'm not grumpy," toji rasps, but his tone says otherwise, as he runs a hand through sleek strands of dark hair, "yer' something else, you know that?"

"i've been told."

tojo shakes his head again, and you don't miss the faint smile tugging at the corner of his thin mouth, "alright, kid. time to head back up before you freeze to death down here."

time's up on this charade. you puff out a breath, your coy bravado dimming just a little bit, "fine, fine. but i'm not a kid, y'know."

toji's green eyes flick to yours, like chips of sea-glass as he holds your gaze, before turning back towards the stairs, "yeah. i know."

you follow him up in silence, the soft patter of your socks suddenly too cold on the pavement. at the top of the steps, toji pauses, glancing back at you with an unreadable expression, "get some rest. and make sure no-one's messin' with the switches."

"why would they do that?" you say, a touch too quickly.

"no reason," toji says, just as abruptly, stepping back as though putting physical distance between you two would help, "but it's all fixed now. go on, back to your apartment."

you blink, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift, "what? no thanks for keeping you company."

"thanks," toji fushiguro says flatly, but his gaze isn't unkind.

"wow. don't get too sentimental on me now."

"goodnight," the man deadpans, swinging your door open for you, just for good measure. before turning on his heel, and heading for his own room.

back to the drawing board.

toji fushiguro is convinced that the universe has it out for him. some karmic retribution is surely circling overhead, just waiting to strike. because really, what other explanation is there for his constant predicaments?

his life had been fine, a little lonely, sure, but manageable. until you moved in next door, perhaps sometime last year. sweet, maddening, entirely too pretty for your own good.

what the hell was toji supposed to do with that?

he's still rubbing the back of his neck, pushing open the door to his apartment. his date, right, was still perched on the old couch, scrolling through her phone. she's looking up at him when he entered, arching a brow.

"hey, you were gone for a while," she lightly comments, tucking her phone away.

"yeah, uh, sorry 'bout that," he mutters, crossing to the kitchen, "this place has a habit of breaking down on me."

shui had set him up with this woman, insisting that toji needed to crawl out of his self-imposed hermit hole and start living a little.

"you're not getting any younger, fushiguro," shui had snarked, as if toji didn't already feel every year weighing on him. so, fine. he'd agreed, figuring one dinner with a woman way out of his tax bracket wouldn't kill him.

and to be fair, the date had been...fine. the woman was attractive, sharp-witted, and she didn't pester him with inane questions. the kind of woman that most people would be thrilled to spend an evening with. but toji just couldn't shake the strange emptiness that had settled in his chest.

still, he had told himself to quit overthinking. maybe he was just out of practice. or maybe shui oddly had a point, and he needed to stop letting life pass him by. so, he'd invited her back to his place, hoping another glass of wine and small talk would lead one things into another.

what he hadn't counted on was running into you in the basement. how your light voice would replay in his head, that teasing lilt burrowing under his thick skin and leaving him restless.

tojo shakes his head, reaching for a couple of glasses and the half-decent bottle of wine that he kept stashed away from megumi's prying hands. kid was at that age where he was too damn curious for his own good about everything. his brain, however, was still stuck in the basement, circling around you.

what the hell had you been doing there anyway? sidling up to him all close, sickeningly sweet perfume or some shit that made his jaw clench. batting long lashes at him, and teasing him about mistletoe kisses.

civility. decency. that was the bare minimum that he could give you, wasn't it?

"you've got quite the collection of, uh, things up there," his date's voice pulls him back, gesturing to the open cabinet with a polite smile. toji glances at colourful boxes of cereal, and the little plastic bowls with cartoon animals splashed all over them. megumi's favourites.

"yeah," he says gruffly, pouring the wine, "got a kid. just the one."

she nods, taking the glass he hands her, "that's sweet. how old?"

"six. he's...not here tonight."

before his date can reply, catch the insinuation that he's thrown out, another sound filters through the paper-thin walls. a giggle, a sweet laugh followed by a voice he knows all too well.

"i know, right! he was like, totally into me!"

toji freezes, the wine bottle hovering mid-pour over his second glass. he sets the bottle down with a little more force than necessary, pretending not to notice the way his date glanced toward the wall, clearly having heard you too. fantastic. as if the universe hadn't done enough to torment him today.

his teeth ground together as your voice floated through again, a singsong lilt that made his chest thump, and irritation flare all at once. what were you even talking about? who the hell was 'totally' into you?

"uh-huh," you had been laughing, your voice carrying through the wall, "and then, he asked me out!"

toji's grip tightens on his glass, wondering who on earth managed to pull you into a date. wait, why did he even care?

his date seems oblivious to the internal war raging inside of him, taking a sip of her wine and smiling, "so, what's your son's name?"

"megumi," he mutters, absently, eyes flicking through the wall like he could see through it if he squinted hard enough. ugh, what an awful thing to think. what was wrong with him? acting like freak, not able to mind his own business.

his date's laugh is soft and polite, "that's cute."

cute, yeah.

you thought it was cute too, didn't you? he remembered the way your eyes lit up when megumi toddled after you once in the hallway, clutching one of his ridiculous animal-print bowls.

"oh, what did i say?" your voice drifts again through the walls, following by a light laugh, "look, he was cute and all, but he just wasn't my type."

toji rubs a hand down his face, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his noise. you're just his neighbour. you're entitled to have your fun, to live your own life. that doesn't mean he has to like hearing about it.

meanwhile, his date sits stiffly on the couch, politely pretending your voice isn't bleeding through the walls like a radio she can't turn off. she's doing a commendable job of feigning disinterest, but toji knows it's killing what little momentum the evening had.

he clears his throat, trying to salvage things, "so, uh, got any plans for tomorrow? something fun for christmas?" great, now he's stealing lines from you.

her smile tightens, polite but clearly wavering, "just lunch with my family. my sister's bringing her kids over."

toji nods, grasping at conversational straws, "that's nice. i've got, uh, a brother. and an annoying little cousin."

"right," and she's glancing up at the clock, her patience thinning faster than her smile.

"oh, come on," your voice pipes up again, clearer this time, "you know my type's never been those kinds of guys. i like the big, rough ones." there's a pause, and then you laugh, the sound both coy and infuriatingly knowing, "yeah, like a bit older. all muscles."

toji freezes, trying to pretend like his insides aren't doing the tango. his date, on the other hand, has clearly reached her limit. her lips purse into a tight smile as she stands, smoothing her dress, "look, you've been nice and all," she says, voice clipped, clearly cutting off the chances of a second date, "but i really should get going."

toji fushiguro doesn't argue. doesn't even try to stop her. just watches as her expensive-ass coat swings off his couch, her heels clicking toward the door and her figure vanishing down the hallway.

he slouches back on the couch, arms sprawled wide, feigning a calm that he doesn't definitely feel. in truth, he's seconds away from keeling over, his chest tight and his pulse betrays him.

"huh?" your voice filters through the paper-thin walls, questioning and laced with mirth. the sound sends a shiver down his spine, and down somewhere else, "oh, my neighbour? toji, yep, that's him!"

his head jerks up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash, eyes boring into the wall like he can will it to dissolve. tch, he's being such a dog. his ears are straining, sharp and unreasonably hopeful.

"yeah, he's so perfectly my type. tsk! yes, of course, i wish he'd just...yeah. anyway. but," you sigh, a dramatic exhale, "but i just don' think he's into me."

toji freezes, as heat floods his face, creeping down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. there's a traitorous clench in his groin as his stomach flips in a way that's both exhilarating and completely unwelcome.

the truth — shameful and complicated as it is — is that he is very much into you. has been for months. and it's getting worse.

every time you lean into him with those wide, sparkling eyes, every time you tease him with some playful jab or brush your fingers against his arm like it’s nothing, it carves a little deeper into his self-control. you're sweet, bright, always full of questions and comments that manage to sound innocent and maddeningly suggestive all at once.

but there's a prickling shame that comes with it, too, a harsh voice in the back of his head that tells him to grow the hell up. he's a grown man, for crying out loud.

a grown man with a kid who needs him, who already has enough on his plate without the complication of a pretty little neighbour who could turn his world upside down without even trying.

what could he offer you, anyway? you, who barrels down the hall in the mornings with an oversized bag bouncing against your hip, always late for something important, always in motion.

your life is big and full and bursting with possibilities. his, by comparison, feels...worn. quiet. comfortable in a way that makes him feel ancient when he looks at you.

still, it doesn't stop toji from looking. or from thinking things he shouldn't, like how your laughter lights up even the dullest days. or sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, pulling his hard cock out to tug on it, imagining your doe-eyes peering up at him.

toji rubs a hand over his face, groaning quietly into the crook of his elbow. what the fuck is he supposed to do with this?

you're starting to lose precious steam. for all your big talk about not giving up and winning toji over, the spark of confidence that got you this far is starting to sputter out. the lines that you'd carefully scribbled in blue ballpoint ink, a full script of fake laughter and coy quips begins to feel...a little tragic.

half an hour of pacing your apartment and pretending to be on the phone has left you feeling deflated, and painfully self-aware. your voice has grown too practiced, too rehearsed and you're starting to wonder if you even sound convincing anymore. and for all you know, toji fushiguro didn't even hear one word of it.

he's probably in there, sprawled on his couch, having a great time with his date. maybe laughing, maybe pouring wine, or maybe he's taken her to bed. fuck, your stomach lurches as your insides flip for no good, kind reason.

you glance at the cooling grape soda on your nightstand, still fizzing lazily in its can, and suddenly feeling quite awful. disgusted with yourself for the plotting, the dramatics, and the fact that it hasn't paid off in the slightest.

with a sigh that's more frustrated and resigned, you flop back onto your bed, ignoring the slight bounce of the mattress as you land. your apartment suddenly feels too hot, the air sticky and stifling.

you kick off the blanket that's bunched around your ankles, and you lie sprawled on top of the quilt. head tilted back against the pillows as you take in the dull hum of the light fixture and the occasional creak of the pipes.

with a despondent sigh, you find yourself half-heartedly parting your legs — maybe to entertain some false fantasy instead. you could have gone out, maybe really lived a little, just as toji had suggested.

you roll down the waistband of your shorts, pulling at the soft, elastic band. just tugging them down enough so you can trail your hands over the flesh of your thighs. yeah, you were that morose right now.

perhaps, you should have accepted the invites to all those christmas parties. you could have dolled up a little, grabbed a sweet drink or two on the house, fallen into the strong arms of a stranger?

you trail your hands over thin, soft skin. nails gently grazing over your mound, as you quickly run your middle finger through your slit, already dewy and moist. you muffle a small whine, because for all your showmanship earlier, you weren't above decency. and these walls were truly that thin.

but it's hard to not buck your hips up into your own touch, working your puffy cunt open with steady fingers. one finger, and then a second, fluttering at a gentle pace. how telling that the mysterious stranger in your fantasies is suddenly far older, with hazy green eyes and charcoal hair falling over his face.

you substitute the slap of your fingers for his, pretending its a rough thumb that pulls at your clit, gently pushing the throbbing hood up to run misshapen circles over the bundle of nerves.

"hah," you try to gnaw at your lower lip, keeping your mouth shut, as you're desparate for the creak of your bed frame to not carry over into the apartment next door, "t-toji, please."

there's a faint thud from next door, like someone has just hit their head. but you can hardly register it in your own mind. shuffling whines leaving your lips, as you use your fingers to stretch out your slick, sodden walls. getting faster, and faster with each piston-like gesture to curl the pads of your fingers up. searching, keening around for that rough spot that makes you squeal.

your eyes are fluttering shut, lashes falling against your cheek as your jaw tightens, heartbeat beginning to race as you heave for air, back arching up as you use your other hand to furiously flick over your clit, building up a steady ache in your wrist that you ignore, "ah, ah, toji, r-right there, fuck, 'm close."

each press of your finger against the walls of your entrance results in a large squelch echoing through your ears, getting closer and closer to that devastating peak, all the while as hallucination-toji snickers down at you and —

"hey!"

and just like that, your long-awaited orgasm, your beautiful climax, well. she disappears with nary a goodbye. your eyes snap open, heart hammering as you blink up at the dull ceiling. your hand is yanked away from your cunt, the cool air suddenly hitting the slick that's coating your fingers. your mind stutters, scrambling for clarity as an all-too-familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

"hey! c'mon, doll. don't have all day."

toji. toji fushiguro. oh, shit.

the panic rises quickly, what are your options? dive out the window and hope that you land on your feet? or fake an illness so convincing that you convince him that's contagious so he leaves? you consider it for a moment, but something else takes over. far more brave, or just reckless and lust-addled. you pull yourself upright, tugging your shorts back up. you shift your sheets, making sure that the dark, translucent patch is covered.

you pad towards the door with the air of a man marked for execution. when you swing it open, you're met with a red-faced toji. is he flushed?

you drop any cute pretense, and instead, lock your petulant gaze on his chest, straight up with the no eye-contact rule. it gives you a real, shameless good look at those heavenly sculpted pecs.

"what do you want?" you ask, voice as flat as you can possibly manage. but you're keenly aware of that mirror-gloss still coating your hands, and you wonder if its too obvious to scrunch your fingers in your sweatshirt. gross, someone get you out of here. the misery of your own making.

toji stands there, entirely dumbounded, and you notice the flush creeping up the peachy tan of his neck, a shade deeper than usual, "what do i want? what do you want?" he says, his voice rock-rasp.

you swallow thickly, ignoring the addled scent of leather, musk and something far more faintly addictive, "i have no idea what you mean."

toji huffs, obviously amused, before mimicking your voice with exaggerated sweetness, "oh, toji, please. right there, toji." he's mocking you, and your skin burns with the recent memory of that exact tone.

you consider for a split second if you can just hand him your lease tomorrow morning and call it quits. but then, toji continues, "y'know these walls are thin, right?"

you cross your arms, trying to steady yourself, ignoring how your poor cunt clenches with the faint memory of her ruined orgasm, "really? i had no idea."

toji mirrors your actions, his arms folding, but the effect only pushes his pecs up, and you try not to get distracted. but it's hard, very hard, "don't get all smart with me now. been hearing you giggle all evenin' and being all slutty."

"thought you had a date," you mutter, the act of playing pretend has long since passed and you're too far gone now to pretend. you scowl up at toji, meeting his gaze head-on, feeling your heart race as his eyes narrow and his pink lips part slightly. you can almost feel the urgent heat of his gaze dragging over your hand, your damp fingertips.

"how'd you know about my date? suddenly real concerned for me?" toji tilts his head, voice laced with infuriating amusement, and you fight the urge to lash out, to throw yourself into him and kiss him fuckin' stupid. instead, you dig in your heels, staying put.

"no, i'm not concerned," you stutter, floundering for a reason, "i'm just, well —"

"who asked you out?" toji cuts through your flickering thoughts, an undercurrent of something sharper in his tone.

"huh?"

"who was it? the one who isn't your type?" toji fushiguro says this all so casually, making your stomach flip. so he had been listening, he heard every word of you flouncing around your room.

you swallow hard, ignoring the sudden fluttering in your chest, "why? you jealous?" the words spill out before you can stop them, you raise an eyebrow, feeling a small victory in the way his priggish expression falters just slightly, "just go back to your date, fushiguro."

"gettin' real bold now," he murmurs, and you realise just how close the two of you are. how you can feel his body heart radiating off him. the tension between you is suffocating to say the last, and you can't decide if you want him to step back or push closer. he doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"thanks to your pretty antics, she sent herself packin', and now i'm all on my lonesome."

"how sad for you," and you suddenly curl your lip, "get a vibrator."

toji's maw drops open for a split second, before he shakes his head, "you first. don't know how you were doing all that without one," and he nods to your hand, "and because i wasn't hearin' much else."

something bold and red-hot comes over you, egged on by the damp sticking to your thighs, "want a visual demonstration?"

you barely have time to form a coherent thought before toji moves, a low growl rumbling in his barrel-like chest as he surges forward. his hands, large and calloused and warm, cup your face with surprising gentleness, though the intensity in his gaze leaves no room for doubt. then, his lips crash against yours, rough and unrelenting. the faint scrape of the scar cutting across his mouth sending a shiver through you.

it's not careful, it's testing and tasting. as if he's waiting for you to push him away. but oh, you're not going anywhere. not when his kiss is setting your nerves alight, and sending your heart into a dizzying free fall. merry christmas to you, indeed.

you respond in kind, just as desperate, your hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders. the solid, hefty weight of toji beneath your fingers grounds you, even as the world tilts on its axis.

"ohh, look at you," toji all but purrs, pawing his hands over your back, your waist, settling over your hips as he pushes you further into your apartment. a strong arm stretching out to slam the door closed, tugging you further in. it seems he's too needy to even reach the bed, and you whine as you're shoved with your back to the wall. his hand coming up to make sure you don't quite slam in with too much force.

toji's lips are practically meshed to your own, and he's already pulling at the waistband of your shorts again. just as you were doing earlier, and you shudder, feeling thick fingers run along your hips.

"s-shit," toji gasps, "if ya' don't want me to —"

you groan, "no, n-no. want you," your voice quivers suddenly as warm fingers press into your soaked cunt. finding home right among your weeping slit. you don't even see where your shorts have been thrown, instead focusing on toji's hazy eyes flickering when they see that you've been wearing nothing underneath. all damn evening.

you don't think you've ever seen the man so dishevelled, heaving for air, as he tries to come to terms with all this, "so when you were in that basement, jus' tryna tease me? is that what you wanted?"

you can't help but laugh, but it's quickly cut off when toji's pressing a hot kiss to the very tip of your clit, it's so feather light and oddly gentle for the gruff man, and it has you keening over.

"that's it, gon' have you all in my mouth. gonna drink ya' up, it's what you wanted, right?" he uses two fingers to press right up against your entrance, parting your oozing folds so he can narrow his eyes at how ready you are for him, "gonna put this all in a cup, and drink it."

"t-toji!" you whine out, feeling your head go all light, and weightless, watching toji play with your core. seeing the older man gape at how you're soaking divots into his fingers, seeing emerald eyes darken with a carnal need to taste you. right now.

"stay still, doll. yeah, just for a sec," toji's hands tighten around your thighs, smacking a fat glob of spit over your trembling core, letting his index finger run the fluid up and down your pussy, a ragged laugh running raw from his smart mouth, "had no idea you were like this, been burying your pretty fingers in your cunt for me before, right?"

you need to get a hit of your own in, before toji fushiguro turns your mind to mush, "you been fisting around your cock for me, then too? bet it super hard when — fuck!"

your words are cut off by the flat pads of his fingertips coming down to deliver a jolt to your throbbing clit, slapping wet arousal around as toji almost glares up at you, but it's softened by lazy fondness.

"watch ya' mouth, doll. 'm wanting to go easy on you tonight."

he's delving straight into your cunt, like a man starved and searching for salvation between your thighs. you feel your mind go blank, that ruined orgasm of the past hour practically gaining a life of her own and cheering once more, coming back to you in embarrassing, full force as it barely takes a few, quick munches of toji's tongue around your sweet pussy.

that's all you need before you're quickly seeing flashing stars, and doing your best to hide the tremble in your thighs. but toji's having none of that.

his laugh is low, mocking and so ruined, "tchh, i really did interrupt ya' didn't i? must have been so close on that bed," but he's not stopping, practically speaking into your stimulated cunt, punctuating his words with buttery kisses, "must have caught ya' on the very edge for her to so ready for me."

"shut u-up."

"your wish? my command," toji snickers, letting your slick, running juices gather over his chin, "and you taste so good. she's a sweet thing, right," and you realise that he's not talking about you, but rather, about your weeping, glossy cunt that's shoved against his sharp nose. you've got the man practically pussydrunk already, and he's hardly gotten a good feel for it.

his hand comes to rest on your bare thigh, tapping it, "now 'm gonna need you to move that, yeah, that's right," you're slotting it over his broad shoulders, and it pulls him closer. and at this point, you don't even care for how you should be embarrassed, should be feeling some shame at having this rugged, older man salivating into your cunt. but there's a shocking glee instead, a quiet victory that's bubbling in your abdomen and already demanding an encore.

his tongue darts out again, this time he's prodding the muscle at your entrance, feeling for that slight resistance made weaker by your fingers earlier, all on your own. the very tip of his tongue in you has you whining again, slapping a hand over your lolling mouth.

"move that hand," toji grunts, punctuating each word with a flick to your clit.

"i c-can't," you gasp, hands finding a home in his clingy, dark strands, "people are gonna hear-ahhh," he's practically mouthing himself onto your pussy, slick strands separating from his lips each time he pulled away for air. the stimulation is making you so much more sensitive, tears springing to the corners of your eyes as the pleasure begins to sting so deliciously.

you pull fingers through ink-black hair, delicate threads that are soft to the touch and feather-light, "h-here, toji," you curl your fingers to angle him perfectly just so, and the burly man is letting you use him, letting you drag his mouth over your slippery folds. just so you can get him to flick his tongue over that spot that makes you cry out so perfectly.

and toji thinks he's never seen a greater sight. he feels a dizzy, heaving tightness in his jeans, that ache building in his groin like he's about to bust his load just from having you fall apart so prettily on his tongue. he ups the pace, making sure to nimbly etch patterns over your heated, swollen clit. he had you right where he wanted you, needed you, and he'd be damned before he'd left you high and dry.

"y'know, 'm thinking about to see this pretty pussy cum again," and toji sounds so proud, taking gratified in the fact that after only one taste, he's already attuned to the signs of your climax. the way your eyes roll back in your head, tears pricking at your eyes in a way that makes his cock ache even harder.

you're unabashed now, rolling your hips into him at a messy pace. letting spikes of white-hot and red-searing pleasure curl up in your abdomen, ready to burst. the entirety of his lower chin is coated in sweet slick, glistening his rough scar, with a clear drop just beading at his lip.

"i-i think 'm gonna, toji, toji - feels s-so —"

toji's mocking you, pitching his raspy voice up again to capture your tone, "oh yeah? 'm gonna, what? what are ya' gonna do? gonna cum, because that's what i'm here for, doll."

he's making a mess now, switching between a cool, short puff of air at your throbbing clit, and letting his tongue push into your gummy walls, unending pleasure until —

"aaand, cum. now, doll."

it bursts within you, swiftly and briskly. so intense that the edges of your visions become clouded with dark spots, a hazy vignette of sheer pleasure from toji's mouth running all over the filthy mess you've created. the gushing climax that must be soaking the scuffed, dark floorboards beneath toji's bent knees.

you don't even realise that you're still babbling his name, entirely lost in the daze of your second orgasm of the night. little cries of toji, like a prayer over and over, mantras that are making toji grin with his gleaming lips underneath you. all as he wraps his arms around your thighs, lifting you with brute strength. all the while not separating himself from your oversensitive cunt, petting soft kisses over your inner thighs, "gorgeous thing, aren'tcha? think ya' give me another one?"

you groggily lift your head as he sets you down on the bed, caging you beneath his considerable frame, "why? don't wanna, uh, stuff my stocking tonight?"

toji's green eyes flicker with mirth, amusement, only punctuated by him rolling them back in faux-disgust, "still runnin' that clever mouth, hah."

you squirm as he pushes his rough hands under your sweatshirt, letting both hands cup your breasts, pinching and twirling fingertips over your nipples, "are you a, mmph, a candy cane, toji?"

he doesn't break his concentration from where he's peeling your top off, "what nasty shit are ya' gonna say now?"

you giggle as he brushes past a particularly ticklish spot, "because i think you're s-sweet, and i wanna suck you."

"fuck."

in the blink of an eye, he's got you perched over on your knees, just as he hovers you. waistband pulled down enough to reveal black boxers, close enough that you could stick your chin out and press a soft kiss to the darkened patch of pre-cum that must be driving toji crazy.

and well, it's big. like it's jingle bells, jingle balls type of big. you drag your eyes from soft, curled black hair at the base of his groin and down an angry, thick red shaft that makes you clench your thighs.

"wan' me to slide over your chimney?"

that gifts you a barked, punched laugh out of the man — toji's got a large hand wrapped around his cock, "c'mon, doll. put that smart mouth to good use then," inching it closer to your lips in silent permission. you part your lips, anticipating the savoury pre that coats your tongue, the translucent fluid dripping from your mouth already.

he's thumbing down on your lower lip, easing the red mushroom tip into your waiting, eager mouth, "hah, think ya' were meant to take me. how's...how's this slutty mouth so perfect?" toji sounds ruined, all rock-salt rasp and his pink lips fall open, and a flush is painted over his tan skin.

you've never been one to give up, ready to angle your head lower, eager to take as much of him as possible into your mouth. but it's a hard stretch, as crystalline tears cling to your lashes, from the tight wrap of the back of your mouth around his throbbing cock.

toji's got his hand wrapped in your hair now, and you can tell that he's trying to be gentle with the strands as he angles your head lower, purring as you take him so well, "f-fuck, a perfect tease, yeah? fuckin' amazing," and you know he's telling the truth, for his cock is practically twitching with a life of its own in your mouth.

you've got this man hazy and drunk, just from sucking you off, and the realisation makes you whine all over again. reaching a hand down in between your thighs to rock up against your clit, all at the same steady pace.

and you know that toji is close, for those sculpted thighs of pure muscle tremble now, the powerful cords quivering as he bucks his hips, fucking your mouth in long, steady strokes. you also realise that you want him to cum, just like this, to have thick white fall from your lips to really seal and sweeten the deal.

but suddenly, you're left popping your lips shut, as toji groans, genuinely groans and shudders, pulling himself out of your mouth with a wet slop!

"don' give me that look, doll," toji chuckles, his chest heaving underneath the sculpted outline of his dark shirt, "can stuff ya' mouth with my cock later, if that's what you want. but 'm really gonna lose it if i'm not in her right now," and he's angling you back to give a loving, gentle pat to your glistening cunt.

rough, calloused hands slide across your bare back with an unexpected gentleness, against the soft curve of your spine as toji presses you into the mattress, so your head is finally resting back against the pillow.

toji's enjoying this, you know that, just from how he's taking your times to pull your thighs apart, sucking in a harsh breath at how your sleek entrance practically winks at him. tugging his hands roughly on his rock-hard cock, all so he can run the fat tip over your clit, making you mewl.

"don't t-tease, toji," you sniffle, feeling the searing tip push up against your clitoral hood, that nerves so stimulated that you're bucking up into him, wanting toji to just put the damn thing in already.

"fuck, doll," toji's taking a small mercy on you, pressing the first inch into your cunt, "i don't 'm the tease here, god knows how long you were jus' jacking off on the other side of the wall. hopin' that i'd come and stuff you like this?"

each inch that's bullying itself into making your head spin, making you wrap arms around his thick neck, just as he presses a soft kiss to the crook of your collarbone, "ya' good, doll? 's not too much for your, hnngh, tight lil' cunt, is it?"

you mewl as he bottoms out, and the stretch is unlike anything you've ever felt before. it's so deliciously big within you, scraping at the inside of your walls, "wan' be on top, toji."

"oh, yeah? lucky that i like ya' this much, givin' me orders and bossin' me around," toji huffs, using thick arms to pull you up instead, flipping you around so he's got you straddling his thighs, split apart so perfectly around his gliding cock.

"mmph, 's much deeper like this, toji," you chase after his lips, running your tongue over the taut, rigid scar that cuts over the right side of his mouth, all while he starts to set a maddening pace, bouncing you like a pretty toy over his cock, swabbing your insides with buttery wads of pre-cum, all sticky and loud in the silence of the night.

"lookin' good, doll," toji's grin can only be described as shark-like, and he's clearly pleased by the echoing squelches from the filthy mess that's dolloped between your groins, the smack of your ass against your thighs, tacky strands sticking to skin.

your chest is pressed against his shirt, and he's so enjoying the view. loves seeing how the swell bounces and hypnotises him, fuck, toji wonders how he's gonna go about the rest of his life away from you and your perfect pussy.

your eyes widen as you glance back, swivelling your head over your shoulder to watch the smacking movement of you against him, at how his thighs hold you up with a steady rhythm, "you're f-fuckin' me really well, toji," and god, he thinks he might just lose it all, then and there. the praise from your dewy lips is rushing straight into his cock, turning his mind to mush as he finds himself on some sort of autopilot.

he needs to cum in you, right now, needs to feel you milk him for all he can give. to stuff your syrupy cunt with mounds of weeping inches, and he's picking up the pace. smacking heavy, laden balls against your skin, so you whine and keen into him.

you're so caught up in the pleasure that you don't even realise toji had said something, words snapping around his teeth as he bounces you over and over, making sure that you ride him good, "w-what?"

"a date, doll," toji groans, smacking your hand away from your clit, just so he can toy with it, faster and faster, "lemme take ya' out properly, what'd ya' say to that, huh?"

"wanna take me o-out?" you all but weep over him, spearheaded on his tip, and raking sharp nails over iron abs, all underneath his tight top, "please, please, t-toji, wanna go out with you! and then," you hiss as he angles himself just right, curved sheath kissing that perfect g-spot deep within you, "and then i wanna do t-this all over again."

it makes toji's hips stutter, "yeah? pretty girl wants me to take her out, parade her around t-town, hah, i can do that. i can do all of that," he's gasping, feeling your tight heat snatch the life out of him. each girthy vein rubbing itself against your tacky cunt, "i can do all of that, and more. jus' lemme show ya', i'll spoil ya' for anyone else. those d-dumb college boys."

and you look at him with such gorgeous, pretty eyes that toji wonders how on earth he's gonna function now, with you so supplanted in his life. on his cock, even. he can taste something faintly sweet and artificial on your tongue, like tangy grape as he sucks on the muscle.

"never wanted a-any of them anyway, jus' you, toji. only you."

toji fushiguro loses his mind, he's cumming and his own orgasm is hitting him so hard that, in the back of his mind, he's concerned at how he's just filling you up. sloppy thrusts slowing down as thick, white translucent spurts paint your insides, right up to where he can see the divot of his tip through your abdomen. where you've taken in him so deep.

"s-shit," toji presses his mouth to yours again, harder, "look what ya' doin' to me, ruining me," and he also feels just a little bad for ruining your sheets, right as your own umpteenth climax for the night hits you, glossy and clear over the black tufts of hair. your pretty mouth pulled open in a wordless cry of his name, but toji doesn't let go. he lets you ride it out, that sticky mess becoming an afterthought for later.

in the hazy glow, toji's eyes wander over the mess of your room. but something else catches his attention, wads of paper flattened by an empty can of soda. he tilts his head, hair falling over his forehead, dampened by sweat. reaching for the paper with his curiosity piqued.

before he can fully read the words, you're suddenly pawing at his arm, practically leaping into him to get in the way, "wait, toji, don't! hey, that's private!" your voice is an odd mix of urgency and embarrassment, nothing like the angelic whimpers from a few minutes ago. you're swatting at his thick hand, trying to grasp at his fingers.

ignoring your protests and squirms, he crumples the paper open and reads the bold, hastily scrawled letters: how to get toji fushiguro in bed.

damn. so you had been responsible for that heater, the staircase, a fake phone call. he always did like them a bit cuckoo-bananas.

toji chuckles darkly, glancing up at you, barely able to suppress a grin. you're flushed, looking like you'd rather disappear into the floor, oddly shy despite the fact that you were so bold, and a minx riding him earlier to hell and back.

"look, i can explain. don't be mad, because i swear —"

toji groans, shifting you slightly in his lap, "mad? doll, 'm hard all over again. how'd you want it this time?"

[msfantasy-anime]

A Visit from Father

Monkey D. Luffy x Wife!Reader

Summary: Y/n’s father Mihawk has visited to check in on his daughter.

A/n: I wasn’t ever going to give Y/n parents in this AU. But someone sent a DM requesting to Mihawk to be the father and on good terms, so here we are hehe. You mother is whoever you want to picture.

Part IX

Where the hell is everyone?! One minute you were all walking down the street. The next minute everyone walked off on their own without saying anything.

Whilst you begin to wonder the back streets yourself, you came across someone you expected the least.

“Dad?!” You shout with pure excitement, jumping into the arms of Dracule Mihawk, who is suddenly standing right before you in a random back alley. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Saw your wanted poster.” Mihawk answers, holding up the newest edition. “Came to check in on you.” He answers, his demeanour remaining void of emotion, but the corner of his lips twitch ever so slightly at his daughter. “I just wanted to check in on you...“

“Huh? What about it?” You grumble, unable to resist making a sour face.

“You know, I never wanted this life for you.” Your heart plunges, unable and uninterested to be lectured by your father. It’s rare to cross paths and you just want to enjoy him being there whilst you can until he rushes off like he always does.

“Ugh, are you serious right now? Let’s not talk about it let’s just go and-”

“Listen.” Mihawk says, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you to listen. Your eyes darting away, unwilling to have a heart to heart with your father who you haven’t seen in a long time, next to some garbage. “After the Marines took your mother from us, simply because she was my lover, made me realise that you could never live a normal life with my name attached.”

“Yeah I know. You made the hard decision to leave me to be raised by others and your sacrifice was all for nothing because I went and became a pirate anyway- well I’m sorry to disappoint you-“

“Stop. You do not disappoint me.” Mihawk said sternly, his fingers digging into your shoulders and gives you a slight shake as if shaking you would bring you back to your senses. “You would never disappoint me. But since you now have a bounty, I see no reason to hide you from the world anymore.”

Your heart begins racing at your father’s words. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I want you to come live with me, I can teach you, spend time with you, take you on adventures.” He offers. “And I want the world to know you are my daughter. There’s no reason to hide you anymore.”

You missed out on being with him in your early years and now is your chance to spend time with him. But…

“It’s a dream come true dad… but…” Mihawk had some suspicions before, but he’s certain now.

“My offer doesn’t expire my girl.” He says, pulling you into a hug. “When you are finished with your adventures, the front door will always be open, ready to welcome you home.” Your eyes welled up but you swallow back your emotions, too embarrassed to cry.

Mihawk holds your face one last time before turning to leave. “Dad, before you go, I just wanted to thank you for leaving me in the east blue all that time ago.” Mihawk pauses, his eyes widening, his back remaining turned to you. “I could not have imagined what life would’ve been like without Sabo, Ace and of course … my husband, Luffy.”

“Your mother would be so proud of the woman you grew up to be.” Mihawk smiles at your bittersweet fair well. “Take care of my girl for me Strawhat.”

“Will do.” Luffy answers making you jolt from your spot.

“Ah! Seriously?! How long have you been standing there?!” You screech making Luffy cackle.

“Still afraidy cat huh?” He teases but quickly shuts up when he sees your serious face.

“I’ve just been thinking.”

“Yeah?”

“My dad won’t hide me from the rest of the world anymore, which means I’ll be known as Dracule Y/n.”

“Yeah and?” Luffy asks, picking his nose.

“I know I shouldn’t care but I do! You’re my damn husband and I want people to stop questioning it! Take me to the courthouse so we can hurry up and make this official already!”

“Huh?! We already talked about this damnit! We don’t need papers! We already had the wedding and everything!” Luffy protests but you stomp off on a mission.

“I don’t care! We are doing it again!”

[solar-wing]

⚣ Dick: The Popular Kid 😉

⚣😉 A/N → @swimmingpainterhandsfreak here you are! This is going to come in 3 parts, this one for Dick, and the next two for Jason and Conner separately. Every time I tried to do them all together, I kept getting stuck. They'll all be included in each other's in some fashion, but they'll still all have their own respective parts. Also, because I couldn't find it in my heart to do a fic where Y/N had to choose. Call me a wimp, IDC! Okay maybe just a little...either way, enjoy! WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI | Omegaverse | Courting Rituals | Highschool AU | Alpha Dick Grayson | Omega Male Reader | No one is a vigilante | Dick and Jason are not brothers | Dick is the stereotypical popular kid | Smut |

⚣😉 Summary → Dick, the most popular Alpha in school and one of the sweetest souls anyone will ever meet has his eyes on someone special. What's his plan?

⚣😉 Words → 7.0k

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 😉

Dick Grayson? Everyone knows who Dick Grayson is.

Everyone where he went, people swooned and fawned over him like some graceful dignitary or even divine being had just crossed their paths. His charisma was magnetic, drawing others into his orbit effortlessly.

With a smile that could disarm the most skeptical and a charm that seemed to flow from him like a natural force, he moved through the corridors as if he owned them, yet always with a friendly word or a helping hand for those around him. He wasn't just admired; he was adored, a living legend among ordinary teenagers.

And yet, you’d never know it from how Dick acted around others.

Dick Grayson remained remarkably humble and grounded. Unlike many in his position, he never let the almost worshiping attention warp his character. His kindness knew no bounds, and his humility was genuine.

Despite being the adoptive son of Gotham's beloved billionaire, Bruce Wayne, and having access to all the privileges that came with it, Dick never flaunted his status or wealth. Instead, he used his influence for good, often volunteering his time to help those less fortunate in Gotham City.

His actions spoke volumes, proving that true greatness lies not in the accolades one receives but in the way one treats others. In a world where fame and fortune often breed arrogance and entitlement, Dick Grayson stood out as a shining example of grace and compassion.

Bruce was the “Billionaire Playboy,” and Dick was subsequently deemed as “Gotham’s Prince Charming.”

And every prince needed someone to share their kingdom with; Dick Grayson was no exception.

Which is why Gotham’s most prestigious high school and its student population were positively abuzz with excitement at the rumors flying around that Dick was planning to court someone. While many had their own ideas (most being hopes that Dick would choose them), mostly everyone had one certain candidate in mind that had beseeched their heart of their school’s Prince Charming.

“Bitch, are you blind? Have you not seen how hot Y/N and Dick look together?” Sasha replied.

“OMG, yeeess! Like seriously, imagine how cute their kids would be. And Dick would probably be like the world’s best dad.” Manny screeched.

“Fuck all that. Y/N needs to give a real Alpha a chance.” Kevin proclaimed, puffing his chest out.

Everyone at the lunch table eyed the athlete while trying to hold back their chuckles, “Dude, no offense. But, you’ve got nothing on Dick. I wonder how Jason and Conner are gonna react.”

“Well, the four of them have been best friends since what, like the 1st grade? I’m sure they’ll be fine with it,” Ethan said bored, scrolling through his social media feed on his phone before coming across an interesting post, “Oh, would you look at that, Dick proposed to Y/N.”

“WHAT?!” Everyone collectively screamed at the table before Ethan’s phone was snatched out of his hand so they could all see.

“Rude,” The beta scoffed.

Dick had known Y/N practically since diapers after Bruce adopted him when his parents were caught in a fatal accident. The Omega’s parents, specifically his dad, had been classmates and friends with the billionaire.

From the early days of their childhood, they went from being adolescents who were thrown in the playpen together while their parents hung out and caught up, to being thick as thieves, joined at the hip, and now serving as constant headaches for the adults. They shared everything from toys and snacks to hopes and dreams, their laughter echoing through the halls of Wayne Manor as they embarked on countless adventures together.

Their parents often liked to joke that the two of them together were like two halves of one brain cell. Which, if you knew the two, it was nothing but the truth. Even worse when their other buddies Conner Kent and Jason Todd were involved, all four growing up with each other and causing massive chaos when together.

But, for Dick and Y/N, their bond had been special since day one.

From the earliest days of their childhood, Dick and Y/N had been inseparable. Under their parents' watchful eye, they had grown up side by side, learning and exploring the world around them with the curiosity and wonderment of youth.

As they navigated the trials and tribulations of adolescence, their friendship had only deepened, strengthened by the trials they faced together. Whether it was navigating the complexities of high school or grappling with the weight of their respective legacies, they had always found solace and support in each other's company.

In Dick, Y/N found not just a friend, but a pillar of strength, someone to lean on when he felt like he couldn’t stand so strong on his own. Dick's unwavering presence provided a sense of security and stability in a world filled with uncertainty. His caring sensibility and compassionate nature offered solace in times of need, a comforting reminder that no matter what challenges they faced, they would never have to weather them alone.

When they both reached the age of puberty where their second biological statuses would present themselves, their friendship remained steadfast and strong. As Y/N's presentation as an Omega became apparent, the dynamics of their friendship did shift subtly yet significantly added more depth to their relationship.

When there were sudden whispers and sideways glances, a subtle unease had settled in the newly presented Omega, shaking his confidence that had been strong up until then. For Y/N, the change was both bewildering and overwhelming, as he grappled with the newfound scrutiny and expectations that came with his new biological status.

But amidst the uncertainty and the whispers, there was one constant: Dick Grayson. From the moment Y/N's presentation became known, Dick was there, unwavering in his support and resolute in his loyalty. He stood by Y/N's side, a steadfast presence in the face of adversity, offering a shoulder to lean on and a voice of reason in moments of doubt.

When the bullies came, as they inevitably did, it was Dick who stood between them and Y/N, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. With his new Alpha status and ever-growing popularity standing because of it, the bullying attempts were short-lived since none of their classmates wanted to commit what they considered social suicide by getting on the son of Gotham’s most beloved billionaire’s bad side.

Which, Y/N definitely considered them smart for it. Because, while Dick was always kind and pleasant to everyone, he was never a pushover and would always defend those he cared for with striking resilience.

Emphasis on the ‘striking’ part. Bruce had Dick put in self-defense lessons from the moment he could walk. An unspoken necessity considering the lives they lived.

But perhaps more than his physical prowess, it was Dick's words that offered the greatest solace to Y/N. In moments of doubt and insecurity, when the weight of expectations threatened to overwhelm him, Dick was there, reminding him that there was more to him than any title, rule, or expectation someone placed on him because of his status.

He‘d always repeat how he was strong and capable and that he didn't need the validation of others to prove his worth. And that he’d never know just how much he’d mean to others, especially the Alpha himself.

In Y/N, Dick found not just a friend, but a soulmate—a partner whose presence brought a sense of completeness to his life. As they navigated the complexities of adolescence and the challenges of growing up, Y/N became more than just a confidant; he became a source of emotional support and unwavering understanding.

When Dick grappled with the weight of his past, mourning the loss of his parents and struggling to find his place in the world, it was Y/N who offered a shoulder to lean on and a sympathetic ear to listen. With quiet strength and boundless compassion, Y/N stood by Dick's side through every tear shed and every heartache endured, providing a sense of solace and comfort that no one else could.

But Y/N offered more than just emotional support; he offered clarity and perspective in moments of confusion and doubt. With an intuitive understanding of Dick's innermost thoughts and feelings, Y/N helped him navigate the murky waters of identity and self-discovery, guiding him toward a greater sense of who he truly was.

And while Dick may have been the Alpha in their friendship, it was Y/N who kept him on his toes, challenging him to be better, to do better, in every aspect of his life. Whether it was pushing him to excel academically, encouraging him to pursue his passions, or gently nudging him towards self-improvement, Y/N was always there, helping Dick fill in wherever he was slacking and encouraging him to reach new heights.

But amidst the laughter and the shared moments of joy, there lingered an undeniable tension—a spark of something deeper and more profound. It was a connection that transcended friendship, a bond that spoke of unspoken desires and unfulfilled yearnings. In Y/N, Dick found a kindred spirit, a partner in crime, and perhaps, if fate allowed, something more.

Their relationship was a dance of longing and restraint, a delicate balance of affection and restraint that left them both yearning for more. And as they stood on the precipice of adulthood, their futures intertwined in ways they could never have imagined, Dick couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, Y/N was more than just a friend—he was the missing piece of the puzzle, the one who completed him in ways he never thought possible.

While he may have been too young to really understand everything he was feeling, he knew he didn’t want the chance of him never getting to learn more about it ever become a reality.

So, Dick went to his dad, to ask him how he could properly court his friend. Of course, Bruce, being the observant one who always liked to play detective as his friends and colleagues would point out, was not surprised at his son's request.

Truthfully, he was waiting for the day when Dick and Y/N got together and even had a little wager going on with the Omega's parents. Speaking of which,  he'd won, making sure to have Alfred remind him to collect his winnings from the L/N's when all this was said and done.

Actually, he figured why not collect his winnings as soon as possible. Being a bit of a traditionalist, something he got from his own father, Bruce advised his son the best first thing for him to do was to get Y/N's parents' blessing before he committed to anything else.

So, while Y/N was busy hanging out with some friends for an after-school club, Dick and Bruce made their way over to the L/N residence, where the billionaire smugly watched his son ask the two males if he could court their son. Of course, they gave their blessings with joy, but they didn't miss the subtle smirk on their friend's face as Y/N's dad went to grab his wallet.

Bruce took Dick to the stores to find Y/N a special gift, something that would symbolize his commitment and devotion to his feelings towards the Omega, but would also be an accurate representation of them. The younger male was torn between the many options, unsure of what would be the best choice.

When his eyes landed on a shining, silver chain with a sapphire pendant cut into the shape of a bird, Dick knew this was the one. He made sure to wear it for about a week, using his favorite colognes frequently so it was covered in his scent.

Then, right before lunch, he'd presented the gift to the Omega in the hallway of their school with many of their classmates as witnesses.

"What's this?" Y/N asked, looking down at the velvet box Dick had handed him.

"Remember that history project we had for Mr. Kari's class, and you chose to do one on the ancient Kryptonian society and all its mythological lessons," Dick explained, smiling softly as the memories flooded back.

"I remember."

"Well, I happened to be out shopping the other day–"

"Uh huh, I'll choose to believe that,'" Y/N eyed him suspiciously, making the Alpha chuckle.

"And, I saw this necklace," Dick continued, taking the box from the Omega's hand and opening it.

When the male caught sight of the jewel inside, his breath hitched, unable to take his eyes off the shimmering blue gem.

"It reminded me of your research on the mythological lore of the two birds," Dick explained, pulling the necklace from its cushion, "Flamebird and–"

"Nightwing," Y/N finished his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Dick smiled, "I guess the jeweler was a fan of the story. But, I remember you talking about their relationship, how they fell in love and were mates, destined to always be reborn and find each other, and it made me think of us, and how I don't ever want to think of life without you."

Take notes folks. Dude's got game.

"Y/N, will you accept this token and allow me the honor to court you, with the hope of becoming your Nightwing?"

Dick knew the Omega was going to later berate him and possibly hit him over the head with a pillow or something for making him cry at school. He liked to refer to himself as an emotional thug, something Jason accurately always called bullshit on.

"You're lucky you're cute you jerk," Y/N sniffled, hugging the Alpha tightly, "Of course, I will."

"Thank you, beautiful," Dick whispered, hugging the male back, ignoring the whistles and cheers of their classmates.

Y/N turned so his back was facing the Alpha, allowing him to clasp the necklace around his neck, the jewel resting near his heart. Dick smiled, wrapping his arms around the male and nuzzling his nose against the other's neck.

"Ugh, I'm calling it. They're so gonna get married and have a bunch of model babies." Manny gushed.

"I can't believe Y/N didn't realize sooner Dick was into him. How oblivious can you be?" Sasha asked.

"He's an Omega. It's a blessing and a curse. Blessing because they're usually the most beautiful and have the best genes. Curse because they're the most clueless and naive. If an Alpha wants to fuck, they're the easiest to seduce." Kevin replied.

"You're a pig. You're lucky no one has tried to castrate you yet." Ethan deadpanned.

"I'm not wrong."

"Still a pig, and you definitely are," Kara replied.

"Whatever. I still think Dick is a weak choice of an Alpha—"

"You're just mad because Y/N didn't go with you to homecoming."

"I'm not—shut up, Ethan! All I'm saying is that Dick is not the ideal choice for someone like Y/N. He needs an Alpha who's strong, can put him in his place when needed, and doesn't put up with his shit. Not a rich pretty boy who's spineless and soft. I'd even say Conner would be a better choice for him, not before myself though," Kevin stated, puffing his chest out a bit.

"Yeah, uh huh. Whatever helps you sleep at night, babes," Manny said, rolling his eyes.

"Just wait and see. When this ends in disaster, and Y/N realizes Dick can't protect or provide for him like a true Alpha can, he'll come running straight into my arms," Kevin said confidently, smirking.

"Maybe this is why you never get invited to Dick's parties anymore and always have to count on getting in with the rest of the football team," Kara mocked.

Kevin rolled his eyes, "Whatever I'm telling you, it's only a matter of time. Yeah, Dick's cool and nice and all that, but that's only going to get him so far. Plus, all the expensive gifts in the world don't compare to the value of a real Alpha," Kevin said while flexing his arms under his varsity jacket.

"Yeah, a real Alpha like you?" Sasha snickered.

"Exactly," Kevin smirked.

"Uh huh, sure. Keep dreaming, sweetie," Manny laughed.

He along with many others would indeed have to keep dreaming. Dick Grayson was not one to do things halfway.

The teen Alpha spared no expense when courting Y/N, taking him on extravagant dates, and spoiling him with lavish gifts. Of course, much of this was being spent on Bruce's coin, but the billionaire didn't mind if it meant he got to see his son happy.

Y/N also knew how Dick was the perfect gentleman (having an English butler who knew everything about being prim and proper helped a lot), but what he was seeing from the Alpha now was a completely different level of chivalry.

He was pulling out the chair for him if he wasn't opening the door for him or offering his coat. If he wasn't paying for the food or dessert, he was giving him his own. If he wasn't helping him into the car, he was holding his hand and making sure his seat belt was fastened.

Y/N was practically never allowed to pay for anything while in Dick's presence, or even in moments when he wasn't. When Y/N accidentally shattered his phone, his parents didn't even need to call the store to order a replacement cause Dick had gone ahead and ordered Y/N the latest new phone.

Dick wasn't just spending Bruce's money willy-nilly. Since Y/N accepted his courting date, Dick got a job just so he could use that extra money to spend on Y/N. Bruce just tended to fund the really expensive dates and gestures.

It gets to a point where Y/N has to think about his words carefully around the Alpha because, within a span of twenty to thirty minutes, it would be presented to him with a bright, adorable smile that made it impossible to be mad at him. The Omega was craving Wendys for lunch and without thinking about it said it out loud. On his way to lunch with a couple of friends, he was confused because Dick wasn't with him since they always walked together from lunch.

But, his sudden disappearance was immediately explained when after arriving at the cafeteria, he turned to see Dick walking in with bags from Wendys.

"Really?" Y/N eyed him with an amused raised brow as the Alpha set the food and drinks on the table.

"What?" Dick responded, an innocent look on his face.

That became more of their routine, even in situations where money was not involved. If Y/N wanted something, he wouldn't need to say a word, and Dick would do it.

One of Y/N's favorite things in the world was Alfred's baking, especially his cookies. On days when the Omega was feeling up to it or was just down in the dumps about something, Dick would surprise him with the cookies. Of course, he was paying for the ingredients and materials and just having Alfred do the baking, but Y/N didn't need to know that.

Sometimes, Y/N would get into a depressive funk about something and would start forgetting to take care of himself. His parents knew how to handle it, but nowadays, they just called Dick, and in under an hour, the Alpha was at their house helping Y/N get back on his feet. Helping him clean his room, organize things around him, and get himself back on track.

If you thought they were inseparable before, well, that was nothing compared to now.

Dick and Y/N were practically joined at the hip, always together, and always touching. Holding hands, shoulders, thighs, waist, etc.

And just as much as there was a slight change in Dick's behavior (in a positive manner of speaking), in how he treated the Omega, there was also a slight shift in his attitude towards others when it came to him as well. It wasn't obvious at first, but to those who paid attention or knew more about them, many could also see how much more protective Dick had grown of Y/N.

Don't be misled, Dick never lost his friendly and kind attitude with others. But, it was easy to see the Alpha tended to become a bit more on guard when with the Omega and they weren't solely around family like their parents or Conner and Jason.

Dick was always at Y/N's side or close by, ready to jump in at a moment's notice if he noticed even the slightest hesitation or uncomfortableness from his Omega. Which, no one would actively fault the Alpha for it, knowing it was typical for Alphas to become a bit more territorial and protective in any matter regarding the Omega they were courting.

And it didn't help that their school was full of prideful, jealous, and horny Alphas along with envious Betas and bitter Omegas. Even more considering they were all hormonal teenagers as well.

When it comes to a courting ritual, there is no greater challenge than competing with other potential suitors.

Since Dick currently held the title of one the most popular Alphas in school, if not the most popular one, mostly every Omega and a significant number of Betas wanted him as their boyfriend. But, since his eyes were on Y/N, that made the Omega in question the recipient of many fake, cheery smiles tinged with jealousy and obvious, hateful glares.

Which, to be honest, he didn't know which one unsettled him more.

On the other end, there were no shortages of Alphas and would-be suitors who saw and wanted Y/N as their mate. And with Dick suddenly courting the Omega, he'd pretty much made himself an open target, even if the majority of them were smart enough to know the consequences.

Dick didn't blame them, of course. Even though he always thought of his Omega as attractive, handsome, beautiful, and every other adjective in a thesaurus, he could clearly see how much Y/N had grown into himself since their early years as teenagers.

Y/N went from being one of the many everyone picked on and pushed around, to being one of the few most sought-after Omegas in the entire school. While puberty could be the literal curse of inconvenience and interruption, there was no arguing that it had its benefits as well.

And many would attest to those benefits personally. Not too much though since they knew Dick was a black belt in martial arts. But, there were always those who thought of themselves as untouchable and would try to test the waters, not realizing the depth of the ocean they were about to dive into.

"Oh, hey, Y/N. You're looking pretty hot today. Maybe we should hang out later. Grab some food or something," An Alpha said, leaning against his locker, his arm blocking his exit.

"Uh, thanks, but no thanks, Mike," Y/N politely declined, trying to pass the guy's arm, but the Alpha wouldn't budge.

"Aw, c'mon, baby. Don't be like that. You know, I could show you a good time. Better than what you've ever experienced. I could treat you right," The male purred, leaning in closer.

"I'm sure you could, but I'm not interested, sorry. Now, if you would excuse me, I have class," Y/N said, trying once again to push the other away.

"Why are you playing hard to get, huh? We both know that's not who you are, baby," Mike replied, grabbing the Omega's wrist and pushing him against the lockers.

"I said, 'no,'" Y/N glared, pushing the guy off him, "So, leave me alone."

"Aww, don't be like that. Come on, let's go have some fun, baby," Mike smirked, pulling the Omega into him.

"Mike, stop," Y/N said, struggling in his grip.

"Excuse me."

Both turned to see Dick, the Alpha's gaze sharp, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"Dick! Hey, man. What's up?" Mike greeted, letting go of the Omega.

"Not much, just getting my books for next period out of my boyfriend's locker," Dick answered, moving to stand beside Y/N, putting a protective arm around his shoulder, "How about you?"

"Oh, uh, nothing much. Just hanging out. I was actually going to head to the library, so I'll see you later," The male tried to quickly excuse himself, only to turn and bump into Conner and Jason who were both standing there with their arms crossed, glaring at him.

"Going somewhere, Mike?" Conner asked, stepping forward.

"Yeah, man. Why the rush? You didn't seem like you were in a hurry a few minutes ago," Jason added, taking his place beside the other.

"No, no. I was just heading to the library. Need to catch up on some studying but uh, I'll catch you guys later," Mike said, but was once again stopped by the two Alphas.

"Why don't we walk with you? Make sure you make it there safely. It's the least we can do, right?" Jason said, a nervous look painted on the other's face.

"You wouldn't mind, would you?" Conner asked, an almost sinister smile on his lips.

"No, no. Of course not," Mike sighed, defeated.

"Well, then. Lead the way," Jason said, motioning for the guy to continue, watching him as he walked away.

"You're coming with us, right, Dickie?" Jason asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"Yeah, I can't let you two have all the fun," Dick smirked, before turning to Y/N, "Mind taking both our books to class, babe? I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Of course not," Y/N nodded, giving the three a small wave as they turned the corner.

The Omega sighed, shaking his head, "Bunch of idiots," He said fondly, walking to his next class.

No one was surprised when Mike turned up at school the next day sporting a black eye and plenty of bruises to match. The three Alphas would deny anything, but everyone could guess what happened.

"Still think Dick can't protect or provide like a real Alpha," Manny asked Kevin with a mocking attitude after they heard about the incident with Mike.

"Shut up, dude," Kevin glared, grumbling.

Dick would continue his courting, making sure to put the fear of God into any other Alpha who dared to lay a hand on his Omega. He was determined to prove his worth, not just to the Omega, but also to anyone else who doubted him.

After everything the Alpha had done, Y/N couldn't imagine anyone else better for him. Sure, Dick wasn't a traditional, stereotypical, and cliche Alpha. He was more on the reserved and kinder side of the spectrum.

But, that's what made him special. He was someone who could make you laugh, even on your worst days, and could comfort you without needing to say a word. When he wasn't the class clown, he was the one everyone could count on and rely on.

His patience was endless, his kindness boundless, and his loyalty unwavering. And, not to forget, the dude was super fucking hot.

Just as much as Y/N was emotionally and mentally attracted to Dick, not that he was looking at the Alpha in a different line since the beginning of this courting ritual, the physical attraction he felt was almost overwhelming.

Dick may not have been on any sports teams, but he might as well have been, cause the dude was fucking ripped. He had abs for days and a backside and thighs to die for. Not to mention, the muscles in his arms.

Y/N could feel himself salivate whenever he had the pleasure of seeing the Alpha undressed and was very lucky no one had ever seen him drooling over his best friend. And the same went for Dick, who'd always been attracted to Y/N but only had just recently started acting on those feelings.

And what did you get when you had two hormonal, in-love teenagers?

Two horny fuckers who couldn't keep their hands to themselves.

"We're going to be late," Y/N said, panting against the door of the janitor's closet they were in, his shirt discarded and pants unbuckled with Dick kneeling on the floor in front of him enjoying himself immensely on the Omega's arousal.

"Don't care," Dick murmured, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure through the younger's body.

"Someone's gonna find us," Y/N moaned, gripping the Alpha's hair tightly.

"They won't," Dick hummed, his tongue swirling around as he continued his erotic ministrations.

"Fuck," Y/N whimpered, his hips bucking forward.

"Any louder and you'll be the ones who get us caught," Dick teased, pressing a finger toward the Omega's slicked hole which pushed them over the edge.

"I hate you," Y/N panted, leaning his head against the door, his eyes closed as he tried to calm his racing heart.

"No, you don't. You love me," Dick smiled, the area around his mouth shiny with Y/N's arousal and cum as he stood up and pressed a kiss against the Omega's cheek.

"Ew! Dick, gross," Y/N whined, wiping and cheek and pushing the Alpha back.

"What? It came from your body! That's basically kissing you," Dick chuckled, fixing his clothes.

"That's not how it works and you know it. You're disgusting. I'm not doing this with you anymore," Y/N stated, cleaning himself up.

That was a lie.

Y/N found himself in a role-reversal situation as he was on his knees, forcing the Alpha against the wall while bobbing his head up and down on the Alpha's cock with unforgiving energy.

"Fuck, baby. She was only giving me her notes for the physics exam," Dick groaned, his hand fisting the Omega's hair.

"I'm sure," Y/N growled, his teeth lightly scraping along the length, his mouth still working, "That's probably why she was trying to scent mark you too, right?"

"She wasn't–shit, babe. Fucking hell, that's it. Right there," Dick moaned, his hips thrusting forward.

"Wasn't what? Going to try and get you to knot her in the bathroom stall after the test? Cause, I'm pretty sure that's what her plan was, right?" Y/N seethed, his hand pumping the Alpha's shaft, his tongue flicking the slit.

"Geez, who knew you could get so jealous," Dick chuckled, his breathing ragged.

"Shut the fuck up. Don't think I won't bite this thing off," Y/N threatened, his teeth lightly scraping the flesh.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. But, you don't have to worry, alright? There's no one else but you, Y/N. No matter how many Omegas try and throw themselves at me, my eyes will always be on you. Only you," Dick promised, caressing the other's cheek.

Y/N only gave him a look before his mouth was engulfing the Alpha's cock, sucking and licking the throbbing appendage while squeezing at the base to prevent him from cumming.

"Fucking hell, baby. I'm sorry, okay. I won't talk to her again. Promise," Dick whimpered, his orgasm feeling like he was going to collapse if he didn't cum down the Omega's throat soon.

"Damn right, you won't. This here belongs to me. Understand?" Y/N stated his tone firm and commanding while gripping the hard cock in his hand harder for emphasis.

"Yes. Shit, yes. Please, Y/N," Dick begged, his legs starting to shake.

"Who's is it, Dickie?"

"Yours,"

"Who's the only one who gets to taste, touch, or smell this?"

"Only you,"

"Good," Y/N purred, his tongue running to the shaft and its leaking head.

"Oh my god," Dick moaned, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

"You're all mine, Dick Grayson," Y/N declared, his lips wrapping around the swollen head, sucking and licking the precum.

"Yours. All yours, beautiful. Only you," Dick whimpered, his hips rocking gently, his eyes rolling back as he came into the Omega's mouth.

Y/N greedily swallowed, his hands moving to squeeze and massage the Alpha's balls, milking him dry. Dick stared down at the sight of the Omega with his cock still inside his mouth, the male's cheeks hollowed out as he sucked.

"Tastes so good," Y/N hummed, his tongue lapping up the remaining liquid.

"Jesus, babe," Dick groaned, pulling the Omega off the ground and onto his feet.

"What?" Y/N asked innocently, smiling at the Alpha.

"Nothing," Dick smiled, kissing him, "You're just amazing, that's all."

They couldn't get enough of each other, continuing their sneaking off to empty classrooms and bathrooms, sometimes even the gym showers and the locker rooms. They would usually do their "business" in the middle of the day, right after lunch or in the morning.

They would try to do it at each other's house, but would constantly get interrupted by their parents, who more often than not knew what their kids were getting up to. They were teenagers themselves once and didn't want to risk the young Alpha and Omega making a mistake.

It's why neither was allowed to hang out in the other's room without the door open. They used to sleep in the same bed when they were younger, but after they presented and especially started becoming a couple, both Y/N's parents and Dick's dad had to lay down some strict rules.

Didn't mean they would listen though.

"Dick, stop," Y/N whimpered, his hands gripping Dick's forearms as he laid with his back against the Alpha's shirtless chest, his hips rocking into the Alpha's fingers.

"Fuck, baby. So fucking wet," Dick groaned, his fingers thrusting into the Omega's slick, heated hole.

"Dick, your dad or Alfred could hear us and walk in at any moment," Y/N panted, his legs quivering.

"You should've thought about that before you teased me in the car," Dick whispered, his fingers curling and pressing against the spot that had the Omega crying out.

"Fuck!" Y/N whimpered, his fist flying up to his mouth and biting down.

"Yeah, that's it, babe. Stay quiet as you can," Dick husked, his pace increasing, his fingers stretching the Omega's hot walls.

"Mmph," Y/N moaned, his head falling back against the Alpha's shoulder, his hips rocking against the other's hand.

"That's it, baby. Just like that. Feel so good, babe. Gonna ruin this tight little hole of yours," Dick purred, his free hand tweaking and tugging at the Omega's sensitive nipples.

"Dick, please. Wanna cum," Y/N cried, his hand reaching behind and gripping the Alpha's neck.

"Then, cum. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers, baby," Dick grunted, his fingers twisting and curling.

"Shit, shit, shit," Y/N chanted, his voice muffled as he bit down on his fist, his orgasm ripping through him, his cum coating his stomach.

"Hey dudes– OH MY FUCKING GOD!"

Both males froze, their heads snapping towards the door, their eyes widening as they saw Jason and Conner standing there, their mouths hanging open.

"Guys! What the fuck!" Dick immediately grabbed his comforter to cover Y/N.

"Dude! We didn't need to see that! What the fuck!" Jason shouted, his hands covering his face.

"This is the worst day ever," Conner mumbled, his eyes closed and shaking his head.

"Get the fuck out!" Dick growled, throwing a pillow at the two.

"Don't have to tell us twice!"

Both boys immediately turned around and ran out of the room, closing the door shut.

"Those two idiots. I'm gonna kill them," Dick grumbled, his arms wrapping protectively around the Omega.

"Well, we should've been more careful," Y/N said, sighing as he still was coming down from his orgasm and the shock of their friends walking in on them.

"Yeah, well. You were the one who decided to tease me the entire car ride," Dick defended.

"Whatever, I'm taking a shower. I feel sticky and gross," Y/N huffed, removing himself from the Alpha's grasp and heading to the bathroom.

"I'm joining you," Dick stated, getting up and following him.

"You're insatiable," Y/N shook his head, a smile on his lips.

"Only for you, baby," Dick winked, shutting the door behind him.

He was indeed insatiable, and it only got worse when they finally did the entire deed, Dick craving every touch and drop of the Omega he could get. It'd get even worse when his instincts and his jealous and territorial side would show when another Alpha would stupidly try to make a move on his Omega.

Now, that Dick had gotten a full taste of the Omega, outside and in, no one could compare. And the thought of someone else touching his Omega, made his blood boil.

Y/N's thighs had trembled as he lay back against the leather back seats of Dick's sports car, the Alpha's large firm, and sweaty body hovering over him as he snapped his hips forwards, inserting his full length inside the Omega. The car rocked back and forth with the force of his thrusts, making the tinted windows fog and preventing anyone from seeing the two teens inside.

"Mine. All mine," Dick growled, his nails digging into the Omega's plush hips, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing.

"Fuck, Dick," Y/N whined, his legs spreading wider, allowing the Alpha to reach deeper, his thrusts unforgiving.

Dick kissed the inside of the Omega's neck, bringing his sweaty body closer when he could feel it sliding up and retreating from his harsh movements. He pressed Y/N harder into the seats as he increased his pace, causing the Omega's moans and noises to reach a higher volume.

"Don't run from me," Dick grunted, his lips capturing the other's in a searing kiss as fucked into him at an even rougher pace.

He nudged Y/N's thighs apart with his hips that attempted to close from reflex, the Omega's body jolting with every deep, forceful thrust. Y/N let out a strained moan, his nails scratching down the Alpha's broad and muscular back as he was fucked like a slut, praying in the back of his mind none of their classmates would notice it steamy and rocking vehicle.

"No one else gets to have you. No one but me. You're mine, Y/N. Always have and always will be. Understand?" Dick's teeth scraped along the male's scent gland as he felt himself getting closer to his finish, "Say it. Say you're mine," He growled, his hands gripping the Omega's ass, pushing his legs further apart, and holding him in place, his cock drilling into the younger's abused and leaking hole.

"Yours," Y/N sobbed, his tears running down his cheeks, his face flushed red, his heart pounding as he was overwhelmed with pleasure, his body on fire, "All yours, Dick. Forever and always."

Dick smiled at the proclamation, eyeing the blew pendant necklace laying against the Omega's sweaty skin right over his heart, his chest puffing out, pride swelling within him, "My Omega," He purred, before delivering a few more thrusts, slamming into the Omega with a loud groan as he shot his load into the condom.

The pair lay there, panting, trying to regain their breath. Dick had his head tucked against the Omega's neck, his arms wrapped around him tightly, his knot keeping him connected.

"Are you satisfied now?" Y/N breathed, his eyes closed, his hands resting on the Alpha's broad and sweaty back.

"For now," Dick answered, smiling, pressing a kiss against the male's skin.

"I swear if anyone saw us and spread this around the school because you got a little jealous–"

"A 'little' jealous? I was not a little jealous. That guy was all over you and wouldn't take no for an answer. I had to step in," Dick defended.

"We were talking, Dick. He was asking me for notes about the history final. Not every Alpha or Beta that talks to me is going to be another Mike," Y/N explained.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shut up and cuddle me. I need affection," Dick pouted, snuggling the Omega.

Y/N chuckled, rolling his eyes, but did as asked, wrapping his arms and legs around the Alpha.

"There, better?"

"Much," Dick smiled with another soft kiss to the Omega's chest, right by his necklace.

"Good. Now, when are we getting you the necklace to match mine?" Y/N asked, his fingers tracing the lines of the muscles on the Alpha's back.

"Patience, baby," Dick chuckled, his hand rubbing up and down the smooth and soft body under him.

"Don't tell me to be patient," Y/N grumbled, pouting, "If you're Nightwing then I have to be Flamebird, which means you need a necklace that looks like a Flamebird. We're a mated pair, remember?"

"Oh I remember," Dick smirked, flexing his dick inside the Omega's warm walls.

"Fuck. Don't do that," Y/N whined, his legs tightening around the Alpha's waist, his back arching off the bed.

"Sorry, baby," Dick apologized, not sounding sorry at all.

"You're not," Y/N rolled his eyes.

"Nope," Dick grinned, his tongue licking up the Omega's neck.

Dick continued courting Y/N throughout the rest of the school year. As expected, they were each other's date to the prom where they proceeded to have hot, crazy sex at their hotel, and then came graduation.

To no one's surprise, other than maybe Y/N's, Dick proposed at their commencement ceremony, in front of everyone, the whole school watching. The Omega said yes, of course, and they were congratulated and cheered by their classmates and faculty.

Their parents were surprised, not expecting the couple to take the next step so quickly. They were happy for their sons, of course, but wanted them to be sure. Dick and Y/N agreed to both wait till after college to actually get married, fine with just being fiances' for now.

Someone had caught a picture of them kissing after Dick proposed and replaced the photo they had initially of them in the school's cutest couple section of their class yearbooks. The bunch of saps.

It was a love story straight out of the books—wait a second...

...

Nah.

☀️ | Dick Grayson/Nightwing | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

🏍️ | Jason: The Rebel | 🏍️ • 🏈 | Conner: The Jock | 🏈

[mononijikayu]

make me your god, i can give you everything — ryomen sukuna.

"I want revenge, my god." you said, your gaze unwavering. "But not on you. Not right now. So let me make my wish clear. You’ve taken enough from me. You can’t give me love, you can’t give me peace. You can’t give me goodness. But revenge—that, you can give me." He raised an eyebrow at you, the amusement in his gaze deepening, though his smirk never faltered. Slowly, he reached down, drawing his blade from his side with a fluid motion. He handed it to you, the gleam of steel catching the light as he placed it into your hands. "You want revenge?" he asked, his voice carrying the promise of something darker, more dangerous. "Then take it, little one. I can give you that. And nothing more."

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, smut, r-18, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/ comfort, marriage, parenthood, hurt, betrayal, physical touch, character death, massacre, murder, failed human sacrifice, sexual acts, mourning, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, hallucinations, nightmares, grief, toxic relationship, remembering memories, coercion, depiction of massacre, depiction of murder, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of parenthood, depiction of loneliness, mention of drugging, mention of mention of grief, mention of murder, mention of loneliness, mention of sexual acts, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 29k words

NOTE: i had delays writing this because i told myself i can pull it off much earlier but i kept changing stuff during the planning even during writing and so i delayed more and more and more and so i couldn't have beta-read by my beta reader. but here we are, 27th of december. i hope all of you are well over the holidays!!! please dress warmly and always stay healthy!!! i will be back on the 30th, where a commissioned piece is going to be published. the person who commissioned it approved publication - so i hope you enjoy that. until then!!! i love you all <3

TAGLIST: @after-laughter-come-tears, @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @sukioyakio;

main masterlist

the other woman masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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NEARLY THIRTY OR SO YEARS AND YOU STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TO YOUR HUSBAND OR EVEN TO YOURSELF. Everything about being Ryomen Sukuna’s concubine in this life was… an existence of full of constant paradox.

The world around you was both magnificent and oppressive, full of grandeur that suffocated rather than uplifted. Nothing was concrete, nothing was easily explained. Each day folded into the next, all wrapped in the same cycle of luxurious monotony and unspoken tension. 

You had everything and nothing all at once. You were at his side, but you would never stand beside him in the way a true equal would. You were given power, yes, but it was the power of proximity, of favor, of submission. It was not a power you had earned; it was one granted to you, as disposable as it was intoxicating.

You had once dreamed of a life beyond the towering walls of his palace, a life that might have allowed you to breathe freely. But those dreams had been dashed the moment you were forced into the role of his concubine.

There was no escape from him. You knew there wasn’t. There had never been an escape. The day he had chosen to claim you, everything you were meant to be. Everything you wanted to be, everything you had thought you would become had disappeared into the depths of his enormous shadow. 

Your identity, your autonomy, was swallowed whole by the magnitude of his presence, by the demands of your new life. And that life, that existence, was all you had now. There was no way out, no alternative future you could imagine for yourself. What other path could there be, when the path you walked had been forged by him alone?

From the moment you were wed to him, the life you had known before was gone. If you could even call it a life, all of that still had faded into a distant memory. The world outside the gates of Ryomen Sukuna’s own cage of a temple no longer existed in any meaningful way to you. He would not let you call anything else a life. This was it for you, you like to remind yourself. 

The life you led now was one of excess and emptiness, a strange and quiet paralysis that seemed to have no end. And these days drifted by with little difference between them, like a fog that refused to lift. At times you find yourself in this loop, this pattern and sometimes that terrified and unnerves you. 

Each morning was marked by his presence, each night by the silence that followed him as he left you to your thoughts. Each morning a wife, a mother, a companion, a devotee, an appendage living to attend him. You had become nothing more than a part of his world, a fixture, a thing of consequence only as long as it pleased him.

And yet, despite the isolation, despite the weight of it all, there was a strange solace in the company of the children, your beloved Chiharu and Chizuru. They were your only companions in a place where companionship seemed like a forgotten concept. They were not like the other servants, who whispered in fear of Ryomen Sukuna's wrath.

No, Chiharu and Chizuru had become your refuge, your small rebellion against the suffocating presence of your fate. Their laughter, their quiet moments of shared solitude, their warmth against your own.

If you were being honest, these were the few things that reminded you that you were still a person, still capable of feeling something beyond the cold indifference of your existence.

But even their companionship felt bittersweet. You were still bound as a mother, a role you didn’t know you could ever play. And least of all to a man who has caged you, who has trapped you to live for these small joys. And most days, you do not know why you were happy to be caged in the way he has done so.

At times, you could not forget the life you had lost in the same breath as you enjoyed their company. You could not forget that every smile they shared with you was a fleeting thing.

It was a momentary escape before the relentless gravity of your life as Sukuna’s concubine pulled you back into its orbit. You were once a girl, a young girl who thought there was freedom in being who you were. And now there was none.

The stagnation was crushing. Most days, it would have crippled you to the futon had the chain not dragged you before your godly husband. In the beginning, you had tried to find meaning in the smallest things, you had no other choice.

You tried to enjoy the gifts he gave you, the rare moments when he’d look at you with something other than indifference, the fleeting sense of purpose you derived from serving him. Even the garden that you had so loved, the garden you spend most days on. 

But all of that faded over time. It became a game you knew the rules too well, a routine you could not break. A cycle of karma that not even any of the most enlightened would escape. And as the years wore on, you realized that there was no way to move forward, no way to escape the confines of the life that had been thrust upon you.

Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps there was nothing else for you, besides this existence, this eternal, unchanging existence. The notion that there could be something more. That there was something outside the sphere of Sukuna’s control. But that seemed like a distant fantasy. It always has been. 

You, a woman of such this age, have nothing. You had no future, only the present, and even that was as mutable as the wind. So much of your life, so much of your time, had been spent in quiet resignation to what you could not change. 

And yet, despite it all, the nagging question still lingered in the back of your mind: was there anything beyond this? Could there be a life that was truly your own again? But those thoughts, too, were dangerous.

To even entertain them was to invite the inevitable conclusion that perhaps your life could never be different, that the cage you had stepped into was the only life that would ever be yours.

The life you led now was a strange mixture of privilege and confinement. You lived in a gilded cage, surrounded by every luxury, every indulgence, but bound by the unyielding weight of your position.

You were bound to Ryomen Sukuna, bound to a life that was neither fulfilling nor free. You were forced to adapt, to find meaning in the moments you could, to seek whatever small joy you could find in the fleeting company of those you cared about. But it was never enough.

And perhaps, in the end, it would never be. Perhaps there would be nothing else but this. In this life, this existence, stagnant and unchanging. Nothing was belonging to you. But you belonged to him. And that will have no end, you had known this by now. The only question that remained was how long you could endure it before the weight of it crushed everything else out of you

Your life has been spent being the wife of a god, a title very few could ever claim to have. And yet it was an intriguing life, you were forced to lay a claim to. You were both exalted and insignificant, revered by the masses but ever aware that their reverence was borrowed from him. 

He was a god, an entity whose very presence reshaped the air you breathed, and you—just a mortal bound by time and flesh—stood at his side. Not as an equal, never that, but as someone he had chosen. For all its complications, it was a position of power few could ever dream of.

Yet, the days blurred together in a rhythm that felt both comfortable and stifling. Your life was one of contentment, a steady hum of satisfaction born from privilege only he can bestow, the security only he could ensure, and the untouchable place he carved out for you in his world. But lately, you’d begun to wonder was contentment all there would ever be? Could it be something more?

That evening, as the torches burned low and cast dancing shadows across the cavernous hall, you sat opposite your husband Sukuna. He lounged on his position with a casual grace that belied his overwhelming power, his crimson eyes fixed on you with their usual intensity. He had come and visited you for the night, and had supper with you. 

It was rare that you were the one visited by your husband. But since you were still recovering from your previous illness, your healer had told you to stay put. Your husband relented in a rare moment to come and bring himself to you. It wasn’t a far walk, anyway. He had moved closer to your hall, after all. Habits had become as important to him too, you supposed.

“You’ve been quiet, little one.” he said, his voice cutting through the stillness. It wasn’t an accusation, but it wasn’t entirely idle, either. “Why?”

You hesitated, gathering your thoughts. “I’ve been… thinking, my lord.” you said at last. “About us.”

His lips twitched in a faint smirk. “Us? Little one, you think of such a concept of us too often.” he echoed, his tone teasing. “It makes me think about how mortals are always fascinated by the idea. But go on.”

You stepped closer, emboldened by his permission. “I feel content, my lord.” you began, meeting his gaze directly. “You have given me everything I could ever desire—luxury, protection, status. I lack nothing. And yet…”

“And yet?” he prompted, his eyes narrowing slightly, his curiosity piqued.

You took a steadying breath. “And yet I wonder where it leads. Is contentment all there is, or is it just the beginning? Does it grow into something more, something greater? What could we become if we let it?”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, heavy and expectant. Sukuna rose from his cushion, his movements deliberate and precise, the weight of his power radiating from him with each step closer. His crimson gaze was sharp, piercing, as though he could see the very threads of your thoughts.

“You speak boldly for someone in your position, little one.” he said, his voice low but not unkind. “Most mortals would be grateful for what they have and dare not ask for more.”

“I am grateful, my lord. I hope to reassure you of this.” you replied, your voice firm despite the nervous energy thrumming in your veins. “But gratitude doesn’t erase curiosity, my lord. Doesn’t it intrigue you? What might this contentment lead to? What might we become?”

He let the sake cup rest between his fingers, tapping it lightly as if pondering his next words. Ryomen Sukuna let his scarlet gaze remain fixed on you, piercing and unreadable. Your husband’s smirk softens into something closer to contemplation.

“You mortals.” Sukuna murmured, the faintest note of amusement still in his tone. “So fragile, so fleeting, and yet… endlessly curious. Perhaps that is your one redeeming trait. That, and your audacity.”

You tilted your head, emboldened by his words, though his presence still felt like a weight pressing down on your chest. “And yet, my lord, it’s that curiosity that you find entertaining, isn’t it? Without it, would I have lasted this long at your side?”

His smirk widened, his sharp teeth glinting again as the firelight danced across his face. “Bold and clever as always, little one.” he remarked, swirling the sake in his cup before setting it aside.

“You’re right, of course. I could have discarded you long ago, and yet… here you stand. Thirty years is a long time for a mortal to hold my attention.”

“You give me too much credit, my lord.” you said, giving him a soft smile as you took your own cup of sake and drank it slowly. “I’m here because of your will, not because of anything I’ve done.”

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes narrowed slightly, his smirk fading. He stepped closer, his towering form casting a shadow over you. “Do not diminish yourself so quickly, little one.” he said, his voice low but firm. “There is a reason you remain, though I may not deign to explain it to you. There isn’t any need to do so. Some truths are better left unsaid.”

You nodded, the intensity of his words striking a chord deep within you. “Then perhaps, my lord, we let the path reveal itself in time. Whatever lies ahead, I’ll stand beside you as long as you allow it.” 

As long as time forces me to stay by your side, you want to say. But you did not say. You do not think your husband could take such a truth. You only continue to drink the remainder of the sake on your sake cup. You hum as the burn of the alcohol inflames your throat.

He hummed again, his gaze softening for a fleeting moment before the sharpness returned. “Do not mistake my curiosity for sentiment, little one. You are mine, and that alone grants you the privilege of standing where you do. But I will say this. There have been few that have intrigued me as you do. Let us see how far that intrigue will take you.”

There was a heaviness in the air, a weight to his words that you couldn’t quite place. Yet beneath it all, there was a flicker of something else, something unspoken. It wasn’t love; You had known that as much. Ryomen Sukuna was not a god who entertained such mortal emotions. But it wasn’t indifference, either. It was too tender to be anything like indifference. 

A small smile touched your lips again, this one softer and more genuine. Even if you knew that you shouldn’t. You can’t help it when it comes to him. “As long as you see such intrigue in me, my lord, I will remain.”

He chuckled, low and resonant, as he turned back to his throne. “We’ll see, little one. We’ll see.”

Silence engulfed the room once more, thick and almost suffocating. You busied yourself with the sake, tilting the bottle with practiced care to refill his cup. He watched you as you did so, his gaze heavy and intent, though his expression betrayed nothing. 

You had insisted on performing this task yourself. It wasn’t much too heavy, as the other tasks. If anything, it was a small ritual, perhaps, but one that held meaning for you. He was your guest, even here in your own chambers. You always did this to guests you were fond of, even if there were few. A servant could have done it, but somehow, that felt… wrong. 

When the cup was filled, you stepped back, placing the bottle carefully on the tray. You hesitated then, your hands briefly clenching at your sides as you gathered the courage to speak. The enormity of the question weighed heavily on your tongue, but at last, you stepped forward, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“My lord, I have a question for you.” you began, your voice steady despite the tension you felt. “Have you ever thought about what you would do when I’m gone?”

His scarlet eyes snapped to yours, sharp and unyielding. The words hung in the air between you, their weight almost tangible. You looked at him as you put the sake vessel on the side. He looked at you, as though you had just grown another head on you.

“When you’re gone?” he echoed, his tone as unreadable as his expression. It wasn’t incredulous, nor dismissive—it simply sounded as though the concept were foreign to him.

“Yes. Or if I disappear. Of course, I have no plan on leaving, my lord. But I….I am curious.” you said softly, meeting his gaze even as your heart pounded in your chest. “When I’ve passed from this world. I am mortal, after all. My time is finite.”

You paused, searching his face for any flicker of emotion, any sign that your words had struck a chord. You take a pause before you continue. “Do you think there will ever be anyone who could take my place by your side, my lord?”

The silence that followed felt like an eternity. Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze turned distant, his crimson eyes narrowing as though he were looking at something far away, or deep within himself. His sharp features remained impassive, unreadable, and the weight of his presence pressed against you like an invisible force.

“No, little one.” he said at last, his voice low and steady, yet carrying an edge of finality. “I have not thought of it.”

The admission, simple as it was, sent a shiver through you. You looked at him, as he shifted. He frees one of his inner arms off his haori, the one you had recently made. Your husband seemed tense at the thought. You had never brought up this question before. It was never a topic of conversation. How could it be, to a god like him, who can never be confronted by such things?

“In thirty years, little one.” he continued, his tone thoughtful, “I have not entertained the thought of your absence. Mortals are fleeting—here one moment, gone the next. But you…” He trailed off, his gaze sharpening as it returned to yours. “You are different.”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “Different… how?”

“You have lasted, that much is evident.” he said, his voice carrying a faint note of something you couldn’t quite place. “Longer than most. Perhaps it is your curiosity. Perhaps it is your audacity. Or perhaps it is the way you serve without groveling, question without defiance. That… is rare.”

You lowered your gaze, his words settling heavily in your chest. “And when I’m no longer here to intrigue you, my lord?” you asked gently, your voice barely above a whisper. “What then?”

He was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable once more. Then, with deliberate slowness, he lifted his sake cup, drinking deeply before setting it down with a soft clink. He purses his lips into a flat line before he takes to speaking once more.

“I do not waste thought on things that have not yet come to pass, little one.” he said finally, his tone clipped, though it carried an undertone of something else—something unspoken. “But the thought of someone else standing where you do… does not sit well with me.”

Your breath caught at the admission, small as it was. “Then perhaps, my lord…it is a sign..” you ventured cautiously. “It is a sign that I have left some mark, however small.”

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “Do not mistake my words too much, little one.” he said, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. “You are here because I will do it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And yet, my lord…..” you replied softly. “You have willed it for thirty years, for which I comly.”

His crimson gaze narrowed, but he said nothing, the silence once again stretching between you. For all his power, for all his dominance, Ryomen Sukuna seemed, in that moment, almost human, just as he was long long ago. For a moment, a god like him was caught between the eternal and the fleeting, the invincible and the inevitable.

The tension in the room was palpable, the kind of silence that held more weight than any words ever could. Sukuna didn’t speak, but his gaze lingered on you, searching for something even he couldn’t seem to name. You couldn’t name it for him either. You did not know enough of his feelings to give it such a concept.

You stepped back, lowering yourself onto the cushion across from him, your hands resting lightly in your lap. “It is not the sentiment I seek, my lord.” you said gently, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I wonder—what does my presence truly mean to you? After thirty years and such a life lived, a home and a family… I find myself curious.”

He leaned back slightly, the movement languid yet deliberate, his crimson eyes narrowing as if calculating how much to reveal. “You are bold to ask such things, little one.” he said, his tone carrying a faint edge of amusement. “Few have dared to question their worth to me and lived to tell of it.”

“I have nothing to lose by asking, my lord. Lest of all as your concubine.” you replied, lifting your gaze to meet his once more. “And perhaps you have nothing to gain by answering. But I still wish to know.”

For a moment, his expression remained unreadable, a mask of stoic indifference. But then his lips curled into a faint smirk, his sharp teeth glinting in the flickering firelight. The expression of his face echoing against the clear surface of the sake on his cup.

“What does your presence mean to me?” he echoed, as though testing the words. “A mortal might hope for love, for devotion. But you know better than to expect such things from a god.”

��I do, my lord.” you admitted. “I’ve never asked for those things.”

“Then you know me well enough, little one.” he said, his voice low and almost growling. “Because what you have is far more rare: my attention. My boredom is a rare thing to keep at bay.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the admission, simple as it was. “Is that so?”

“You intrigue me.” Sukuna continued, his tone almost casual. “You question, yet you do not defy. You serve, but not as a simpering fool. You know your place, and yet you do not grovel. It is… refreshing.”

You allowed a small, tentative smile to cross your lips. “Then I suppose I will take that as a compliment, my lord.”

“Take it however you wish, little one.” he said, his smirk widening. “It is the truth. And that is why you remain.”

Silence befell the two of you again, but this time it felt lighter, less oppressive. Sukuna reached for his sake cup once more, lifting it to his lips as though signaling the end of the conversation. But you weren’t finished. Not yet. 

You were a vixen for that, you admit. You had pressed his buttons enough. Perhaps it was the sake, or perhaps it was your own old age talking to you. Yet you couldn’t help it. You just kept talking.

“And when I am gone, my lord?” you pressed gently, your voice soft but insistent. “Will there ever be another to hold your attention as I have? There is a harem of yours, my lord. I wonder if they will enjoy your own favor too when I am gone.”

He froze mid-sip, the question catching him off guard. Slowly, he lowered the cup, his gaze darkening as he studied you. Ryomen Sukuna had looked more serious about that than your previous inquiry. As though he had such spite and surprise over such a question all at the same time.

“I do not waste thought on what has not yet come to pass, little one.” he said again, though this time his tone lacked the sharpness it had held before. It was softer, almost reflective, though it still carried the weight of his authority. “You ought to stop it.”

“But my lord—” you began, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

“There is no one like you.” he interrupted, his voice cutting through your protest like a blade. The statement was simple, but the finality in his tone made it feel as if it were etched into stone. “Is that what you want to hear, little one?”

You froze, his words wrapping around you like a vice. They weren’t meant to comfort, yet they struck somewhere deep within you. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his, searching his crimson eyes for something more, something unsaid.

“If it is, my lord?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though it lacked its usual cruelty. “Then are you satisfied with such a reply?”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning, their weight pressing against your chest. You considered them carefully, turning them over in your mind as you tried to decipher the emotions that stirred within you. Was this enough? Was this the answer you sought?

“I think….” you began cautiously, your voice barely above a whisper. “I am not dissatisfied, my lord. But I do not know if I am satisfied, either.”

His smirk widened, sharp teeth glinting in the firelight. “Typical of you, little one.” he said, his tone carrying a faint edge of amusement. “Always seeking something more, even when given an answer.”

“Perhaps, my lord.” you replied, a small, wry smile tugging at your lips. “Or perhaps I simply wonder what lies beneath your words, to avoid a puzzle. After all, you have always been a man of many mysteries which mere mortals cannot unravel.”

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “And you, little one, have always been bold enough to peel them away. But heed this from me. Some truths are better left undiscovered.”

You held his gaze, the firelight flickering between you like a silent witness. “And yet, my lord.” you said softly. “You tolerate my curiosity.”

“For now.” he replied, his tone a mix of warning and amusement.

“Thirty years and my lord will keep saying such a thing.”

“I shan’t stop now, little one.”

Silence fell again, but this time it felt different. It was charged, yet not oppressive. There was an understanding between you, unspoken but undeniably present. You had asked your question, and he had answered in his own way, cryptic yet revealing.

Perhaps there was no satisfying answer to be found in such matters, no concrete resolution. But in that moment, the weight of his gaze and the faint, fleeting softness in his tone were enough.

It was a reminder that, in his world of chaos and power, you were still something unique  to him, Something he acknowledged, even if only in his own, inscrutable way.

“Then perhaps, my lord.” you said softly, looking up to him. “What we share is enough. Perhaps it is better not to dwell on what will come after.”

He hummed, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. “You are wise for a mortal, little one.” he said, though there was a hint of begrudging respect in his tone. “Perhaps that is why I tolerate your questions.”

“Perhaps.” you replied, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “But it is also rather likely that you tolerate them because they remind you of something you’ve long forgotten, my lord.”

He tilted his head, his smirk returning. “Careful, little one. You tread dangerous ground.”

“I always do, my lord.” you said simply.

His rare laughter rumbled low and deep, resonating through the room. “Indeed, you do. And perhaps that is why you remain.”

══════════════════

THINGS HAD STARTED TO GET BACK TO NORMAL WITH TIME. The healers were happy to deliver the news that your body was getting back to normal. A news welcomed by your husband, with his own approval. The gods had indeed given you the return of your health. And it shows. 

You were able to stand up without any need for a servant’s aid. The color slowly returns to color the echoes of your cheeks, and the heaviness in your chest easing day by day. And with each passing moment, you felt your strength returning.

It was as though the very act of regaining your health was reclaiming a part of your soul, one that had long been overshadowed by weakness. As your body healed, you were falling to the reality of coming back to your even more mundane life. And along with it knocked your duties as the highest ranking concubine to Ryomen Sukuna. 

It was not a task to carry without such heavy weight on your shoulder. He expected you to be the best. And in the past thirty or so years, you have done your best to be impeccable. You had to do your best, to look worthy of being beside a god–husband.

Though you were often confined within the vast walls of the palace, sheltered from the world outside, there were times when Sukuna deemed it necessary for you to accompany him wherever he demanded you to be. Of course, it wasn’t just for companionship. It was too much of an effort to expose his dominion over mortality. 

Your presence by his side was not just a reflection of your role as his concubine, but a reminder to the people that even the gods had ties to the mortal realm. That he was a divinity holding the hand of humanity with a tight grip.

You had become an extension of him in some ways, a constant reminder that he controlled not just the heavens, but the very fate of those who lived beneath them.

The petitions of the small folk were always the same—prayers for blessings, requests for mercy, or cries for clemency. The villagers would kneel before him, faces pressed to the ground, their voices trembling with the weight of their fear. 

They would beg for protection from the dangers of the world outside the palace walls or for the mercy of a god whose whims were as unpredictable as the weather. You have seen it many times before. The tension in the air was palpable, the villagers’ desperation hanging thick as they made their pleas.

Ryomen Sukuna was ever the imposing figure, even when he had been a human being. His presence alone is enough to make the air seem heavier, more charged. His crimson eyes would sweep across the room, scanning the petitioners as though he were not a god to be appeased, but a predator sizing up prey. 

His answers were rarely kind to anyone, and his mercy even rarer. For those who were lucky, he might grant their requests, if he feels as though the request was sound enough by his standards. For those who displeased him—well, the consequences were often swift and final. 

You have seen your husband tear apart people in front of you and at times, he becomes lenient and lets people off. It was of course a rare mood of mercy, to feel such leniency. On most days his thirst for blood was ever so present, you try to hold yourself together. You don’t know what your husband does.

But of course there will be corpses sometimes. An act, a will that he imposes on people as a god. You don’t ask about where the bodies were. You never do. Not even to Uraume. It was none of your business, it was not your place. But you could still smell it sometimes. Of course, you hold your tongue upon the matter.

Today, you had assumed, would be no different. You stood beside him, composed as always, your hands folded neatly in front of you as you observed the eastern villagers bowing before him with such reverence. Sukuna’s scarlet eyes flickered briefly toward you.

There was a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you maintain your calm, knowing all too well that you were used to these proceedings. He might have expected the same of you today, for his observant, silent companion. But then something happened that shook the predictability of the day.

Your husband Sukuna sat on his ornate throne, a picture of unyielding authority, his crimson eyes scanning the room with a gaze that could pierce through souls. You sat just below him, silent and composed, as a steady stream of petitioners knelt before you and him, presenting their offerings and requests.

And then you saw her.

A woman, frail and desperate, stepped forward, trembling as she approached the dais. Her face was half-hidden by the shadow of her hood, but there was something achingly familiar about her posture, the way her hands clutched at the hem of her tattered kimono.

She knelt before Sukuna, bowing so low her forehead touched the floor. Her voice cracked as she began to speak, begging for mercy for food, for shelter, for protection from the harshness of the world outside these walls. You stared, your breath caught in your throat, as the woman lifted her face to plead.

It was her.

You’re sure.

It’s your sister.

Your eyes widened in shock, the air around you suddenly feeling thick and suffocating. The veil of composure that you had so carefully built over the years, the one that allowed you to stand beside Ryomen Sukuna with unshaken resolve, every bit of it had quickly crumbled. 

For the first time in as long as you could remember, you felt something raw, something vulnerable, clawing at your chest. It was like the world around you shifted and everything that had once seemed distant, cold, and manageable, now felt impossibly close and unbearably personal.

Memories of your childhood came rushing back in a torrent, vivid and painful in their clarity. The sound of her laughter echoed in your mind, carefree and full of life. You remembered how her voice would ring out through the house, her joy contagious as the two of you played together, running through the gardens, lost in your own world. 

The boys were always together, helping your father at the farm, but you and your sister always helped your mother with the home. You were each other’s best friend, you were certain of that, you remembered it all too well. It was a time when life seemed endless, when you hadn’t yet known the cruelty of fate, the demands of your duties, or the ever-present shadow of Sukuna’s power looming over your every move.

And then there were the tears. The hot piping tears you had wiped away when she was frightened, when she was hurt, when she needed comfort. You had been her beloved elder sister. Her protector then, just as you had hoped to be now.

Her small hand in yours, clutching at you with all the trust and love a child could offer, a bond so unbreakable, so innocent. Those hands, which once grasped at the security of your presence, now seemed so frail, trembling as she knelt before the god you were bound to.

The years that had separated you seemed to vanish in an instant, the time that had once seemed like a natural progression suddenly irrelevant. The elegant robes you now wore, the weight of your position beside Sukuna, the cold indifference you had learned to embrace.

All of it faded away as you saw your sister’s fragile form before you. She was no longer the carefree girl you once knew, but a shadow of her former self—worn thin by hardship, the lines of exhaustion marking her once-soft features. 

Her hair, once vibrant, now hung limp, her face gaunt with the strain of survival. It was as though the years had aged her in a way that was almost unrecognizable.  And yet, the essence of her remained embedded in that worn up body.

It was still there in the way she hesitated before Sukuna, still there in the flicker of recognition when her weary eyes met yours. The bond that had once been so strong, so certain, seemed to rise up again between you. 

Though it was now tinged with the bitter realization of what had passed, of what had been lost in the years that separated you. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of that loss, the deep ache in your chest as you remembered the sister you once had.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight of her, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew that she had come here, seeking mercy from the very hands that had shaped your life in ways you could never have imagined. 

She, too, had become a pawn in the web of fate, a victim of forces she had no control over. You had become the living embodiment of Ryomen Sukuna’s will, a silent witness to his power, his cruelty, and yet here was your sister. So fragile, so human, pleading for a chance at life in front of the god who held her fate in his hands.

You wanted to scream, to reach out and take her away from this place, to protect her as you once had. But as you stood frozen before her, you realized that there was nothing you could do. The ties that had once bound you were now entangled with the very power that had claimed your soul. 

The woman before you was no longer the same little girl, that little  sister you had once known. And you, in turn, were no longer the same person who had laughed and cried with her, who had held her close in the warmth of childhood innocence.

The room seemed to close in around you, and for a brief moment, you were no longer the concubine of Ryomen Sukuna, no longer the silent, unfeeling woman who had learned to wear a mask of indifference. In this moment, you were just a sister, desperate and aching for the woman who had once been your whole world. 

The stark reality of her fragile form before you shattered the fragile facade you had built for so long, leaving you raw and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t been in years. And in that moment, it became impossible to ignore the truth. You could never escape the bond that tied you to her, no matter how far apart fate had pulled you.

“Please, my lord.” she begged, her voice shaking, her hands trembling as they gripped the edge of her sleeve. “I ask for nothing more than a chance to live. My lord, I beg for your kindness.”

Your hand instinctively reached out, gripping the fabric of your own kimono as you tried to steady yourself. The room felt as though it were spinning, your heart pounding in your ears. You wanted to speak, to call out to her, to bridge the chasm that had grown between you. But you couldn’t. Not yet.

Ryomen Sukuna’s crimson gaze shifted to you, sharp and knowing. He had noticed your reaction, the flicker of recognition in your eyes. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. You purse your lips at him, almost unnerved by his smirk.

“Well.” he drawled, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “It seems this one has caught your attention, little one. Shall I grant her request, or would you prefer to speak first?”

His words were like a challenge, a test. Your throat tightened as you met his gaze, searching for any hint of mercy behind his sharp features. You swallowed hard, your voice trembling as you spoke. “She… she is my sister, my lord.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air. Sukuna’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with interest. “Your sister, you say? How… intriguing. For you to remember such a thing after all this time, little one.”

Your sister’s eyes snapped to yours, her expression shifting from desperation to shock as she recognized you. “Sister?” she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief.

Tears welled in your eyes as you stepped forward, your hands trembling. “It’s me, sister.” you said softly, your voice cracking. “It’s been so long.”

Ryomen Sukuna leaned back on his throne, watching the scene unfold with an air of amusement and detachment. He hadn’t remembered any of your family, they weren’t that important even then. He doubts they were note even now. Even after your marriage to him, they had not risen in prominence to the level they would have had they married you to some warlord in the far countryside. 

Sukuna had taken you to wife when you were nineteen summers. A long time has gone on and passed. He would have doubted that you remembered such things from your youth. And yet, you did. You hadn’t seen your sister in so long, and yet you recognized her. Even after all that happened. Even if she had aged. 

But perhaps, you held onto the memories of things. You held on to so much of the past before him, he knew that much. Back then, he had not tied you into his gilded cage. You were free. Perhaps, you held so dearly that life because he wasn’t yet your tyrant. 

You turned to him, your brows furrowed. You shouldn’t even be looking at him about this matter. He had given you leave to do what you wished. It’s why he hadn’t moved. Whatever decision lay ahead, it was clear he intended to let you take the lead. But of course, it wasn’t as if he would let you decide. He was still the power in your relationship.

The tension in the room was palpable, every pair of eyes fixed on you and the woman who knelt before the dais. Your heart ached as you looked at her—your little sister, worn thin by the worst of life’s hardship, her once-vivid features now shadowed by exhaustion.

You stepped closer, your movements measured and deliberate, though your hands trembled at your sides. You couldn’t afford to falter now, not under Ryomen Sukuna’s piercing gaze, not in front of the villagers who watched with bated breath.

“What is your name?” Sukuna asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the air itself.

She flinched, her head bowing lower. “Kiyoko, my lord.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Kiyoko, huh." Sukuna’s voice repeated, his voice dark and smooth.

It was as though the name were a foreign delicacy he was savoring. He stretched out the syllables with an almost unnerving precision, rolling them on his tongue as if the word itself held some sort of power he was trying to understand.

His gaze flicked back to you, a gleam of amusement sparking in his crimson eyes as his lips curled into a smirk, one that didn't quite reach the cold depths of his eyes.

"And what would you have me do with her, little one?" he drawled, letting the words hang in the air with a sense of deliberate weight. "Shall I grant her mercy for your sake? Or does her bloodline mean nothing to you now? They had forcefully married you to me, after all. For their rise on the ladder, of course."

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable, like a testing blade, and you could almost feel the sinister pleasure he derived from your discomfort. His words wrapped around you like a chain, each syllable tightening the hold he had over you. 

He had a way of making even the simplest question feel like a demand, a test of loyalty, of worth. His amusement at your predicament was palpable, though he masked it behind the veneer of his usual indifference.

Your throat went dry, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. His words stirred something deep within you, something that you had buried for so long. Memories of your sister, of the love you had once shared, now felt like fragile remnants of a life that was slipping away, just as your control over this moment seemed to be.

To plead for Kiyoko outright would be a grave mistake. You knew that much. That would be something Sukuna would see as weakness, a crack in the facade you had so carefully maintained. He had no tolerance for such displays. 

Yet, to remain silent, to withhold your plea, would betray the very bond that had once made your sister your world. Your mind raced, torn between the two forces pulling at you—loyalty to your husband Ryomen Sukuna, to the man who held you captive, and the love for the sister you had lost in the process.

"My lord." you began, forcing yourself to remain steady. Your voice trembled only slightly as you spoke, but you kept your posture firm. "She is my sister, and I cannot deny the ties that bind us." 

You paused, searching his eyes with a quiet intensity, the weight of your request pressing on you like a thousand unseen hands. "But I know well that mercy is yours alone to bestow."

“That you are very aware. Good on you, little one.”

You lifted your gaze, meeting his, refusing to look away, even as the storm of emotions churned inside you. "I ask not as your concubine, but as your humble servant. Please, grant her the chance to rebuild what has been lost."

The words hung in the air, fragile yet resolute. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you remained unwavering, despite the torrent of fear and vulnerability that threatened to overwhelm you.

You had to stay strong—for her, for Kiyoko, and for the woman you once were.

For a long moment, Sukuna didn’t speak, his gaze never leaving yours. His lips twitched upward slightly, and the amusement didn’t fade from his eyes, but something else flickered beneath the surface, something unreadable.

“So you would deny what has been done?” he said, his voice almost a purr now, sliding through the room with a calculated sweetness. "You would ask for mercy when you know better than anyone how little of it I am willing to give?"

His eyes glinted with something like curiosity now, and the smirk faded into something more thoughtful, though still dangerous. "Tell me, hm…." he continued, his tone shifting into something darker.  "Do you truly think that mercy will rebuild what’s been lost? Can you even rebuild what fate has already decided for you, little one?"

You stood your ground, even as his words pressed against you like a weight you could hardly bear. "I know the world is shaped by fate, my lord." you said quietly. "But surely, even fate leaves room for change. For hope."

Sukuna’s eyes darkened then, his smile sharpening into something more predatory. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and deliberate. "Hope, huh?" he murmured, the word dripping with contempt. "Is that what you believe in? Hope?"

There was a long silence. You cannot speak. Not if you wish to jeopardize the case you mean to fight for. And for the first time, you saw something flicker behind his scarlet eyes—an emotion you couldn't name, an expression that seemed to shift with a subtle shift in his demeanor.

“You are brave, little one. Too brave for your own good.” he said finally, almost as if testing the words on his tongue. “Perhaps too brave. But courage doesn’t change much in this world. Not when it comes to me.”

You swallowed, the finality in his voice making it clear that the decision would not be easy. But you had done what you could. The rest was out of your hands. You didn’t know what would come next, but the small spark of hope you had ignited seemed to linger in the heavy air, and that, at least, was something to hold onto.

“Stand.” he commanded, his voice sharp and unrelenting.

Kiyoko hesitated, glancing at you before obeying. She rose to her feet unsteadily, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Your husband looks at you for a moment, but you lower your head at the sight of his sharp eyes cutting through the soul.

“Look at me, girl.” Sukuna demanded. She lifted her gaze, her eyes wide and filled with fear. “Much better.”

“Your sister, my own concubine, has spoken for you,” he said, his tone cold and impassive. “She has pleaded your case, though she knows the risk of doing so. Tell me, Kiyoko—what would you do with the mercy she begs for?”

Kiyoko’s lips parted, but no words came. She glanced at you again, as though seeking strength in your presence. Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling but resolute. “I would live, my lord. I would work, I would serve, I would do anything to repay the kindness shown to me.”

Sukuna’s laughter broke the heavy silence, low and rumbling. “Anything, you say?” He leaned forward slightly, his crimson eyes glinting. “Then perhaps I will grant you this mercy. Not for your sake, but for hers.” 

He gestured toward you with a lazy wave of his hand. “Your sister’s boldness amuses me, little one. But it’s stale. Too stale to keep me intrigued. But it is interesting to see what will become of you here, little one.”

Relief flooded through you, your knees nearly buckling under the weight of it. Kiyoko’s weary eyes filled with tears, and she dropped to her knees once more, bowing low. “Thank you, my lord.” she choked out.

“Do not thank me.” Sukuna said, his tone dismissive. “Thank your sister. It is her value to me that has spared your life and given you a chance.”

You bowed deeply, your voice trembling as you said. “Thank you, my lord. Your generosity knows no bounds.”

As Sukuna leaned back on his throne, his expression was unreadable, though his scarlet gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. He snickers, waving his hand to signal you to stand from your position.

“Take her to the servants’ quarters.” he ordered the guards, his tone sharp and final. “Let her prove her worth there. If she fails…” His smirk returned, sharp and menacing. “Well, you know the consequences.”

“Of course, my lord.”

The guards moved to escort Kiyoko from the room, but before she was led away, she turned to you, her tear-streaked face filled with gratitude and longing. “Sister, my dear sister.” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Thank you.”

You nodded, your throat too tight with emotion to speak. As the doors closed behind her, Sukuna’s voice cut through the silence. You tried to compose yourself again, but you felt yourself too emotional. You make your way towards your throne. But before you take your chance to sit, your husband looks at you and speaks.

“Do not think your sentimentality will sway me again, little one. I allowed this because it pleased me to do so. Remember that.”

You turned to him, bowing deeply. “Of course, my lord.”

But as you straightened and met his gaze once more, you couldn’t help but wonder if, despite his words, something more had stirred within him that day. You bowed your head once more and turned your position once again and sat down to continue the long day, all the while your thoughts echoed all over the place. Your sister was here. You weren’t alone anymore.

══════════════════

YOU WANTED TO SEE YOUR SISTER AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. But the day had not permitted it. So you had no choice but to wait until the sun met its lover and said goodbye. The dominant echo of the moon yawned against the still koi ponds. It was so quiet tonight, it could be the most peace that could be had in the past thirty years you’d spent here.

The brightly lit temple gardens were a sanctuary, a rare refuge from the opulence and tension that prevailed in Ryomen Sukuna’s earthly domain. The moon cast a gentle glow over the stone pathways, and lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, their golden light illuminating the blooms of jasmine and lotus scattered throughout. 

You found your sister Kiyoko seated on a weathered stone bench, her figure barely outlined against the lush greenery. They had finally let her have some air, you supposed. It’s hard to find that perhaps she could be someone who could be trusted.

But perhaps the way your husband looked at you all day, with your own concerns for your sister, had been a catalyst. A fresh breath of air is better than the draft of the servant’s quarters in this time of night.

She looked up as you approached, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Her face, worn thin by the years, was still achingly familiar—the curve of her cheek, the shape of her eyes, even the way she held herself with quiet determination. The years had shaped you both differently, yet the bond you shared remained, unspoken but profound.

You sat beside her, the stone cool beneath you. “Kiyoko.” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it?”

Her lips quivered into a faint smile, through her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I thought I’d never see you again, nee–san.” she admitted, her voice raw with honesty. “When they took you, it felt like we’d lost you forever.”

The weight of her words pressed against your chest. You had never forgotten the pain of being torn from your family, not one day. Every single time you had thought about it, it was certainly  the bitterness of knowing you were a pawn in a game far beyond your control that always made you burn in furiosity. 

But it was also the fact that you will end up losing who you were and all you had known, to suffer constant misery in this gilded cage — to never see your family again, that perhaps makes you even more angry than ever before. 

More than anything, it was the thought that there was someone that truly loved you that you longed for. From what you remembered, you were loved once, by your family. And it made you angry and more grievous, to only think of it as memory.

“I thought about all of you every day, you know?” you said, your hands gripping the edge of the bench. “I wondered if you were safe, if you had enough to eat, if you were… happy.”

Kiyoko let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “Happy? No, not after you left. Things were hard, nee–san. The village changed. We all changed.” She hesitated, her gaze falling to her hands. “Takashi… he passed. Sickness took him, and it nearly broke our father.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Takashi?” you whispered, the name like a sharp blade against your heart. Memories of your mischievous, spirited brother flooded your mind. “How… How did it happen?”

Her voice wavered as she recounted the story. “It was during a bitter winter, not long after you left. Food was scarce, and sickness spread through the village like wildfire. We did everything we could, but Takashi… he was always so stubborn, so reckless. He hid how sick he was until it was too late.” 

“Don’t…..” You took a moment to breathe and looked her in the eye. You wanted to know, you wanted to see. To feel that same grief as though you were there. “Did he pass well?”

“Like a breath of wind.” She looked at you, her expression both anguished and apologetic. “He always said you’d come back one day. He never gave up on you.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of guilt nearly unbearable. “I should have been there, Kiyoko.” you murmured, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I should have been there to help.”

Kiyoko reached out, taking your hand in hers. Her touch was warm, grounding. “You couldn’t have changed what happened, nee–san.” she said firmly. “You were taken from us. None of this is your fault.”

Her words were a balm, though they did little to ease the ache inside you. “And Mother? Father? Are they…?”

“They’ve passed on, nee–san.” Kiyoko said, her tone heavy. “But allt these years, Mother lit a lantern for you every night. She prayed for your safety. Father… he was quiet a lot, but he worked the fields as best he can."

".....I see." You say, almost grievous at the thought of this unfamiliarity to this loss.

You haven't had parents in years, decades. And yet, you mourn that loss anyway, no matter how foreign it seems to you. You purse your lips in a flat line.

"And you have nieces and nephews, nee-san. They’re well. And growing too, despite the hard times.” your sister added, her voice brightening slightly. “They’re the light of the family.”

You couldn’t help but smile through your tears. “Nieces and nephews…..” you repeated, the words foreign yet wonderful. “I can’t believe it.”

“They’re wonderful, nee–san.” Kiyoko said, her smile growing. “Kenji’s clever, like Takashi, always tinkering with things. And little Hana—oh, she’s wild and free, just like you were.”

Her words filled you with a bittersweet joy, a flicker of hope amidst the sorrow. “I wish I could meet them.” you said quietly. “I wish they could know me.”

Kiyoko squeezed your hand. “One day, they will. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I should hope so.” You say, almost as though you were going to cry. “I have to live long and see them again.”

“You look so different, though, nee–san.” she said, her voice soft, almost tentative. “Healthier… stronger. I barely recognized you at first.”

The bittersweet smile remained on your lips as you tried to find the words. “And you… You’ve been through so much,” you murmured, your voice heavy with both admiration and sorrow.

Kiyoko’s gaze didn’t falter. “Perhaps, you also, nee-san,” she replied gently but firmly. “You have lived a life we can never know. As Sukuna–sama’s wife.”

Her words hung in the air like a blade, sharp and unyielding. You hesitated, the weight of her statement pressing against your chest. How could you even begin to explain? To confess your own misery felt selfish.

It was a betrayal of the unimaginable hardships she and your family had endured. What right did you have to complain about being unloved or neglected when you had never faced starvation, never braved winters without warmth or droughts without water?

Your fingers fidgeted in your lap as you searched for the right response. “Kiyoko, my little sister.” you began slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “There’s so much they don’t know. About how I’ve lived, what I’ve become here. They might not understand…”

Kiyoko tilted her head, studying you with that same quiet strength she’d always possessed, even as a child. Her eyes softened, her hand reaching to rest lightly on yours. “Then tell me, nee-san” she said gently. “Help me understand.”

You swallowed hard, the vulnerability in her voice chipping away at the walls you've built around your heart. Taking a shaky breath, you looked out at the lantern-lit gardens, as if the beauty around you could somehow lend you the courage to speak. 

“When they married me to Sukuna, I thought… I thought I would become something more than just a girl from the village. I thought it would mean safety, maybe even respect. But it wasn’t like that. Not at all.”

Kiyoko’s brow furrowed, her hand tightening around yours. “What do you mean?”

You bit your lip, willing yourself not to cry. “I am here, yes. But I am little more than a possession to him. Perhaps a tool for his amusement, a symbol of his power over those who gave me away.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but they poured out nonetheless. “He does not love me, Kiyoko. He barely sees me. My life here is gilded, but it is a cage all the same.”

Kiyoko’s breath hitched, her grip steadying you as your voice trembled. “I don’t suffer as you have, little sister. If anything, I live in luxury.”

You continued, your gaze dropping to your intertwined hands. “I have food, warmth, fine clothes… but those things don’t make a life. I don’t have freedom. I don’t have love. And yet, hearing what you and the family have endured… I feel ashamed even saying this.”

Her fingers brushed against yours, grounding you in the moment. “Nee-san.” she said softly, her voice carrying both sorrow and conviction. “You’ve suffered too. Just because your pain isn’t the same as mine doesn’t make it any less real.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you shook your head. “I don’t want to burden you with this, Kiyoko. You’ve already endured so much. I just want you to know… I never stopped thinking about all of you. About the life I lost.”

Kiyoko’s hand moved to cup your cheek, her warmth anchoring you. “And we never stopped thinking about you.”

She continued, almost solemn. “Not a single day passed when we didn’t pray for your safety, wonder if you were happy, hope that you were alive. And now, seeing you here… even in this gilded cage, you are still my sister. That’s what matters.”

Her words broke the dam within you, and the tears spilled over, trailing down your cheeks. “I missed you so much, little sister.” you choked out, your voice raw with emotion.

Kiyoko pulled you into an embrace, her arms strong despite her frail appearance. “I missed you too, nee-san.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “But we’ve found each other again. That’s what matters now.”

Before you could respond to her, the sound of footsteps interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see hand and hand, Chiharu and Chizuru, were approaching. Chiharu held the lantern for her younger brother. It was interesting, how their faces looked. Both of their expressions are curious but warm. 

You had never thought you could ever find the time to introduce your children to your family. You’d never thought you could. Not in any lifetime. But to see this become a reality now, for your sister to see the light of your life in front of them too, it was more than enough to bring you to tears of joy.

“Kiyoko, I’d like to introduce you to my children.” you said, gesturing toward them with a small smile. “These are Chiharu and Chizuru. They’ve been the light of my life.”

She looks at you for a moment and then to the children. Her eyes widened and stills at Chizuru, who was blinking at her. “These are your….”

“Chiharu is my husband’s eldest child, but I have raised her as my own.” You say tenderly eyeing the children with a smile. “But Chizuru, he is my own son. He is three years of age. A smart young boy already.” You stopped and smiled. “Go on, children. Bow to your aunt with reverence.”

You took the lantern from Chiharu and set it aside. The young girl helped her little brother to get into the position and made sure he was comfortable before going down and bowing with careful grace in front of you and Kyoko.

You couldn’t help but be filled with pride as you looked at them both. It was as if you felt that you had achieved the impossible. Your family knows of your children.

Chiharu raised her head. “It’s an honor to meet you, Kiyoko–sama. Your sister, my step-mother, has spoken of her family often.”

Chizuru smiled as he too raised his head. “Are you my auntie?”

“Chizuru—”

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” Kiyoko looked at them, her expression softening as she returned their bows. “Thank you to the two of you.” she said quietly. “For being born and filling her life with joy.”

“No, Kiyoko–sama.” Chiharu smiles at her kindly, shaking her head. “I should say we are more thankful. I would not have an easier and more comfortable life without her. And without your sister, I would not have my brother. We are more than grateful to you too, for loving my step-mother well.”

Your sister looks as though she was going to tear up too. “Then we can be thankful for each other, for the blessings that come because of nee–san being in both our lives.”

“I should think so.” Chiharu smiles once again at her. Chiharu looks at you. “We are sorry for suddenly visiting and disturbing your conversation, mother. We have come to bid you good night. Forgive us for not sending a messenger ahead.”

You shook your head at her. “That is no problem, Chiharu. It was not a bother at all. Good night. Have a good rest, hm? I shall see you in the morning.”

You embraced Chiharu who hugged you back in return, and smiled as you kissed her cheek. When it was Chizuru’s turn, he jumped into your arms and giggled as you embraced him back. You peppered him with kisses, making him laugh even more. You laughed as you let him go. You placed a kiss on his head.

“Go and make sure he doesn’t end up rolling off his futon again, hm?” You say as Chiharu took the lantern again and nodded. 

As the two left along with the entourage that was just a few meters away, you and your sister were left alone. As the silence between you echoed still as the starry night, the evening deepened with each passing hour and with that, the two of you seemed more content enjoying this moment together, even without saying anything to the other. 

Kiyoko touched your hand gently. “You’ve thrived here, nee–san.” she said, her voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. “But I see how much you’ve endured, too.”

You nodded, tears brimming once more. “I only wish I could have been there for all of you.”

Her smile was small but genuine. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

And in that moment, as you sat together under the twilight sky, you felt a fragile yet undeniable hope take root in your heart—a hope that, somehow, the bonds of family could endure even the deepest of scars.

══════════════════

YOU FOUND YOURSELF UNABLE TO SLEEP AT NIGHT. But what could you do, knowing that your nightmares were ever so present every single night? Ever since your since that day, you were a victim of such dreams which had no place to go.

You couldn’t find yourself and what was reality, when it comes to these dreams. You just couldn’t. And that terrified you. These nightmares grew more frequent with each passing night, clawing into your mind and leaving you restless and uneasy.

Your sister had tried to ease your pains with tea that your mother would make. But as time went on, the nightmares grew worse. It was always the same. It was a hauntingly vivid sequence that left you breathless and trembling. And you hated it. You hated every minute of it.

Each time, the child’s face seemed clearer, his dark eyes more piercing, his expression more sinister. The terror felt more real. The pain, the helplessness, and the oppressive presence of Sukuna—looming like a god indifferent to your suffering were etched into your consciousness with cruel precision. And tonight was no different.

In the dream, you stood in a barren landscape under a sky smeared with crimson clouds. The child appeared suddenly, his small figure emerging from the shadows. He didn’t look menacing at first. At first, his face was round, soft, innocent. He was truly a little baby, a beautiful one at that. 

Looking at you, with the tenderness and softness of a child to a mother, when he is first born. But as his gaze locked onto yours, something in his expression shifted. His eyes seemed bottomless, pulling you into an abyss of despair.

You wanted to move, to flee, but your body refused to obey. He stepped closer, his small hands reaching out. Before you could react, pain erupted in your stomach. It wasn’t a mere stab or cut. it was as if something alive and feral clawed its way through your body, tearing apart everything inside you.

You screamed, your voice raw and ragged, but no sound seemed loud enough to drown the horror. Blood poured out in torrents, staining the earth beneath you. The child’s grin widened, his teeth sharp and gleaming. You tried to fight, to push him away, but your strength ebbed with every passing second.

And then, as always, you saw him. Ryomen Sukuna. He stood at the edge of the chaos, a pillar of calm amidst your agony. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, his expression cold and detached.

“My lord…..my lord, Sukuna, please.” you choked out, desperation thick in your voice. “Please… help me…”

But he didn’t move. His smirk deepened, a cruel twist of amusement playing on his lips. “You’re weak, little one.” he said, his voice echoing in your mind. “What use are you if you cannot endure?”

The words struck harder than the physical pain, piercing your soul. You reached out toward him, but before your fingers could brush his robe, the child gave one final wrench, and everything went black.

You woke with a start, your breath shallow and rapid. The oppressive weight of the nightmare lingered, pressing down on your chest. Your hands flew instinctively to your stomach, as if to check for wounds. But there was nothing. No blood, no pain. Only the ghost of the dream remained.

The room was dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the windows, casting long, eerie shadows across the walls. The silk sheets beneath you were damp with sweat, clinging to your trembling body.

A knock at the door jolted you, and before you could respond, your servant slipped inside. Her gentle face was lined with worry as she approached. “My lady, my lady.” she said softly, kneeling beside the bed. “I heard you cry out. Are you alright?”

You pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing. “I’m fine.” you replied quickly, though your voice wavered. “It was just a bad dream. Nothing more.”

Her own weary eyes searched for yours, doubt evident in her expression. “Shall I prepare tea? Or perhaps a soothing ointment? You seem… troubled.”

“No, that won’t be necessary, do not worry.” you said firmly, though you forced a small smile to soften the dismissal. “Go back to bed. I’m fine.”

She hesitated for a moment, her concern palpable. But after a brief nod, she rose, bowing respectfully. “As you wish, my lady. If you need anything, please call me.”

You halted and then stopped her from leaving. She turns to you. "Please wake lady Kiyoko. Have her brew that tea for me, please."

"As you wish, my lady."

When she left, the silence of the room enveloped you once more. You leaned back against the pillows, your mind churning. The nightmare had felt so real. Too real. The child’s face lingered in your thoughts, his dark eyes burning into your soul. 

And Sukuna—why had he stood there, unmoving, uncaring? Was the dream a reflection of your deepest fears? A twisted manifestation of your doubts and insecurities?

You touched your stomach again, your hands trembling. Whatever the dream meant, it left a shadow you couldn’t shake. A foreboding that made your heart heavy and your mind restless.

As the moonlight dimmed, you stared into the darkness, hoping but not truly believing that a good long rest, a good sleep would bring peace. The following nights offered no reprieve. The nightmares persisted, each one more vivid and harrowing than the last. 

The child’s face, once haunting, became almost familiar, as though etched permanently into your psyche. His laughter, echoing with malice, stayed with you long after you woke, leaving your chest tight and your body trembling.

By the third night, your exhaustion became noticeable. The children were clever, they always have been, young as they were. Chiharu and Chizuru exchanged worried glances as they helped you dress for the day. The mirror reflected your pale face, the faint shadows under your eyes betraying your lack of sleep.

“Mother, are you alright?” Chizuru ventured carefully, looking at your cold tea and then to you. “Are you….are you sleepy?”

You hesitated, your lips parting as though to confide in him. But the words caught in your throat. He is a child. He does not need to know the sufferings of his mother. Why should he suffer the need to know the grievous nights of yours? That is too much of a burden, to a child.

And even then, what could you say? That your dreams were haunted by a child who tore you apart? That Ryomen Sukuna’s apathy in those dreams mirrored a deeper fear you dared not admit even to yourself?

“I’m fine, my little son.” you said softly, your voice steady despite the lie. “The temple can be… busy at times. Mayhaps, our aging mother is exhausted, you are right. Or perhaps I simply need fresh air. I should ask my lord to let me rest and enjoy the gardens.”

Chiharu put her own utensils down, looking at you with the same concern. “Would you like us to prepare the gardens for your morning tea, mother? A walk among the blossoms might ease your mind.”

“That would be lovely, Chiharu.” you replied, grateful for the suggestion. Anything to escape the confines of your room and the lingering shadows of your dreams. “Mayhaps that would be good. But for now, let’s break our fast.” 

She nodded her head. “Yes, mother. Of course.”

In the wide expanse of the gardens, the gentle breeze and the sweet scent of flowers offered some solace. The koi pond glimmered in the sunlight, the soft ripples breaking the surface as the fish swam lazily beneath. 

It was a day where the summer rain had come and ceased, you think. And so, it was a lucky day to have sunshine. Even more so for your children, who were now playing together and chasing each other, their laughter dancing in the beaconing wind.

You found a quiet corner beneath a blooming cherry tree, the shade offering respite from the midday sun. But even here, your mind couldn’t rest. Not even one moment. You wished you could but the images still flashed fresh on your mind. The child’s face loomed in your thoughts, and your husband’s own cruel indifference in the dream replayed like a broken melody.

Yet, soon enough, a shadow fell across the garden path, pulling you from your thoughts. You could feel the wind change as you slowly opened your eyes. Looking up, you saw Ryomen Sukuna approaching, his regal form cutting an imposing figure against the backdrop of the palace. His crimson eyes glinted with curiosity or perhaps amusement as he stopped a few paces from you.

“My lord.” Your lips echoed as he stopped at the edge of the shade. Uraume was behind him, a few distances away, with arms on their back as they silently followed their master. “You are here?”

“You seemed surprised to see me, little one.” He snickers at you, before taking a moment to look at the children. “Am I not allowed to visit your haven?”

“No….no, it’s not that, my lord.” You say to him, lowering your gaze. “It is just…..I never expected to see you today.”

“Oh? And why do you say that, little one? Is this not my domain, my temple?”

“My lord, you know what I…..” You stopped yourself from being exasperated, earning a laugh from him. “My misery is not a jest to laugh about, my lord.”

“I have lived nearer to your hall in these past three years, little one.” Sukuna retorts back to you, a sly smile on his face as he slowly sits in front of you. “I think it should be a given that this path would be on my way, should I go to the audience hall.”

You purse your lips into a flat line, feeling your eyes stare daggers at him. “That much is true, my lord. But it is not always within your desires to see what I or the children are doing.”

“You are my concubine and the children you speak of mine own loins.” He once more says, almost mockingly. “Should I not be allowed to enjoy both?”

“If my lord wishes to enjoy such a thing, I know he has many ways to do so.” You say to him, fumbling with your hands, as though to tell yourself that you were alright. “But for my lord to have come here, it is a different matter altogether, is it not?”

Silence triumphs between the two of you as the wind breaks against the wide expanse of the trees shading you. His eyes do not leave you for a moment as you try and sit up right, trying to slouch less. You were certain that it was unbecoming to do such a thing in front of your lord husband, even in such a setting. 

“Little one, you are clever. But I should hope you do not continue to do so, at the expense of the joy of it.” he said, his deep voice breaking the silence. “You are right, certainly. But I should hope that you do not let such cleverness diminish my reason.”

“Oh? And what reason does my lord come to my presence?”

“You’ve been… quiet lately.” He says to you. “At least that is what I heard from your servants. Well, not certainly only quiet. Perhaps troubled, even.”

“My lord, I told you that such servants spying on me for you are unwelcomed and unbecoming—”

“You shouldn’t tell me how I run my household, little one. Even your own is my own. It is I who shall decide how they should be run.” He scolds you loud enough for you to lower your head. “I come here out of concern and I shan’t renege my duty just because you feel admonished. Am I understood?”

You didn’t talk for a moment. 

His scarlet eyes narrow more.

There was something in them.

Things you couldn’t read properly.

You took one deep breath at him.

“Do I make myself clear, little one?”

“......Yes, my lord.”

“Now tell me, what occupies that restless mind of yours?” He asks you, crossing his arms on his chest. “Confirm what your servants say.”

Your heart skipped a beat. In three decades of marriage to this man, it was a rarity that he would ask you of your own feelings in this blunt manner. Much so in a way where concern was truly honest and genuine.

Certainly, your husband demanded honesty and truth. But it was a rare moment for him to decide to do it this way. To confront you when you were caught off guard, to corner you. 

But you wondered if you could do it well. If you could be honest with him about this. It was hard enough to wrap your head around being in the constant rush of horror with these nightmares. Yet it was certainly another to see if people would understand, much less the King of Curses.

It was terrifying to live through it alone, but the very idea of sharing your nightmares with him was both tempting and terrifying. He could perceive it in all the ways he could. Could he offer insight? Or would he mock you, dismissing your fears as childish? 

You rose to your feet, bowing low before him. “My lord…..” you began carefully. “It is nothing of importance. I am certain that my servants meant well, but it is nothing but weariness. I’ve merely been restless as of late.”

He studied you, his gaze piercing as if he could see through your facade. “Restless?” His smirk returned, sharp and knowing. “Do you think I'm a fool, little one? You wear your fear like a shroud. Now, tell me. What haunts you?”

“Should it not be real? I had just found my sister and found out what my family had gone through in such a time.” You argued back at him, almost like a petulant child. “Should this not leave me restless or weary, my lord?”

“Oh, little one. I hope your eyes do not give you away.” He retorts back at you, almost like he was going to laugh. “You would be so good at lying, little one — had your eyes not deceived me.”

You bit your lower lip, looking away at him. Of course, he can. Of course, he would read you. He has always been good at doing so. And you were not even certain how deep into your soul he could see. You looked at the children for a moment and then back to him. Should you really be honest with him about this? Should you tell him? 

More and more time would be passing and you knew he would not give in. He will not leave until he gets to the bottom of the truth you were hiding. You kept biting your lip, hoping that it would just bleed. But nothing, nothing came out as you brutalized your lip. 

Defeated, you lowered your head once more.The words were there, on the tip of your tongue. But fear held you back. If you spoke of the child, of the nightmares, would he understand? Or would his cruelty twist your confession into another game?

Sukuna moved closer, his presence overwhelming. “Speak, little one. I command it.” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance. “Do not make me ask again.”

Swallowing hard, you lowered your gaze. “I’ve been dreaming, my lord. Nightmares… of a child.”

His expression shifted when you said those words, the smirk faltering for a fraction of a second. “A child?” he repeated, his voice laced with curiosity. “What child?”

You hesitated, your hands trembling as you clasped them together. “In my dreams, he tears me apart. From the inside. And you… you’re there. Watching. Unmoved. And I….I would watch, I would watch myself torn apart.”

The silence that followed was deafening, stretching out like a chasm between you and Ryomen Sukuna. His scarlet eyes darkened, the glimmer of curiosity or amusement vanishing like a candle snuffed out.

The smirk he so often wore was gone, replaced by an inscrutable expression that made your stomach churn. He regarded you for a long moment, his gaze heavy and unreadable, as if he were turning over some thought in his mind.

For a fleeting second, hope sparked within you. Could he say something to ease your fears? To make sense of the nightmares that clawed at the edges of your sanity? The thought was a desperate one.

Certainly, it was born of a yearning for answers, for meaning in the chaos that plagued your mind. But he said nothing. He didn’t move, didn’t speak—he simply stood there, his silence as cutting as any words might have been.

“My lord—” you began, your voice trembling with the weight of your plea.

“They are nothing but nightmares.” Sukuna interrupted, his tone sharp and final, as though sealing the matter with those words alone. “They are nothing of consequence.”

The tone of his dismissal stung deep and harsh, perhaps even sharper than you’d anticipated. It wasn’t that you expected tenderness. Ryomen Sukuna was never tender, he could not. But his abruptness carried an air of indifference that left you feeling hollow. 

You wished his words didn’t affect you so much, you wished it didn’t hurt you so dearly. But it does. Thirty years is a long time and yet, he still has hands that are cold. Hands that make you feel like it was stone.

Your hands tightened into fists at your sides, the frustration of being so easily cast aside mingling with the lingering fear the dreams had planted in your heart.

“Nothing of consequence…” you echoed softly, almost to yourself. The words felt like ash on your tongue, bitter and unsatisfying.

Sukuna’s eyes flicked over you once more, his expression hardening as if warning you not to pursue the matter further. “Do not let such trivialities cloud your thoughts, little one. You have other concerns, ones that matter.”

“Other ones that matter?” You asked towards him, looking him in the eye. “And what could they be?”

He does not speak for a moment. He stands up slowly, looking at the children and away from you once again. “I shall send for someone to make a tonic, to help with your nightmares. You should drink it, without question. Understood?”

“My lord, I—”

“Understood?”

You swallowed your pride and nodded. “Understood, my lord.”

He nodded at you and then walked away, the flowing fabric of his robes trailing behind him as he walked away, Uraume following suit just a little bit behind him. You stood rooted in place, the weight of his dismissal pressing down on you like a stone. 

The child’s face from your dreams still lingered in your mind’s eye, his haunting gaze refusing to fade, and Ryomen Sukuna’s indifference, that had only been a dream at one point, was now reality. And it had perhaps only made the spectacle of this misery more vivid.

As the garden fell silent again, you sank onto the bench beneath the cherry tree, your thoughts spinning. Sukuna’s words had done nothing to quell your fears, and the questions that haunted you remained unanswered. The dream felt too real, too visceral, to be dismissed so easily.

And though Sukuna had turned his back on your concerns, the image of his unyielding gaze lingered, a reminder that there was no solace to be found in him. You were left to face the shadows on your own, with only the faint rustling of the cherry blossoms as your solace.

══════════════════

YOU WERE SURE IT TAKES A LOT OF LEARNING EACH OTHER’S LANGUAGE, TO GET CLOSER. You had expected that, the moment you saw your sister Kiyoko. Thirty years. A whole lifetime beyond the years you had known her. You barely remembered the child Kiyoko had been. Those little snippets, fleeting images: a flash of dark hair, a high-pitched giggle, the small hand that once clung to yours. 

But the woman who now stood before you now was a stranger, built from experiences you hadn’t shared, shaped by years you hadn’t witnessed. Getting to know her was like deciphering a language you’d long forgotten, each conversation a painstaking translation of gestures, expressions, and shared silences. 

Yet, slowly, almost imperceptibly, you were sure that your sister Kiyoko had begun to weave her way back into your heart little by little as she served you in your home. Of course, you don’t treat her like all the other servants. You couldn’t. She was your sister first more than she was anything else. 

But she also had to find her way in the world. Your husband has spies in your midst. And so, she does her best to keep with her duties, all the while trying to have moments with you that few can be privy to under the candle light, laughing together as you both experienced the girlhood you never got to enjoy together.

Brushing each other’s hair, reading and writing poetry together, weaving silks and fabrics into clothing together, walking under the brisk sunlight on the best days and most of all, eating together and telling stories, as you would while you sat with each other during supper as children. 

You were sure that it wasn't the rekindling of a childhood bond, you knew you couldn’t. But this was close. This was certainly something that could come close to that. Just as much, there was that desire to enjoy this moment where you both were forging new relationships together, ont that could be stronger and more resilient than the fragile memories of the past.

And with this burgeoning connection came trust. Deep, unwavering trust. Among the sea of loyal servants who populated your own household, your Kiyoko was the only one that you could truly trust and call your own, from the blood of your blood who would never betray you. 

She had quickly become your anchor, the one person you could confide in without reservation. Secrets you’d guarded for years tumbled out in her presence, anxieties that had gnawed at you found solace in her understanding gaze.

Your lord husband Ryomen Sukuna, ever observant, had noticed this shift. He’d seen the way you sought Kiyoko’s company, the quiet comfort that radiated from you when she was near, even when she stood away from the crowd in the audience hall. 

He’d especially noted your reliance on her when it came to Chiharu and Chizuru, your precious children. He could see how much you would find yourself willing to put their safety at her hands during the nights when you needed reprieve.

Or those days when they would wander off endlessly through the temple grounds by themselves. You entrusted Kiyoko with their care without a second thought, a level of faith you hadn’t extended to anyone else.

The nearby hall was bathed in the warm glow of lanterns, their light dancing across the lacquered walls and the golden accents of the intricate carvings that adorned the space.

The rich aroma of the evening meal mingled with the faint scent of sandalwood from the incense burning in the corners. Despite the opulence, there was an undercurrent of tension—something unspoken that lingered between you and Sukuna.

He sat at the head of the table, his imposing figure relaxed but commanding. Every movement he made seemed deliberate, calculated. As you reached for your cup, his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“You and your sister, little one.” he began, his tone deceptively casual. “ I have noticed that you both have become close.”

His words carried a weight that made you pause, your weary fingers tightening slightly around the porcelain cup. You looked up, meeting his piercing scarlet gaze. You nodded at him briefly before you drank.

“She is my sister, my lord.” you replied carefully. “It is only natural that we would grow close again after being apart for so many years.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, his sharp crimson eyes studying you with an unsettling intensity. He hums to himself. “Natural, perhaps. But closeness often breeds complacency. And complacency invites betrayal, little one.”

The insinuation struck like a slap, though you kept your expression composed. Setting your cup down, you responded, your tone firm but measured. “Kiyoko has endured hardships I can scarcely imagine. She has remained steadfast despite everything. I trust her implicitly, my lord.”

His lips curved into a faint smirk, though his eyes betrayed no mirth. “Trust, little one. You shouldn’t be secure about it.” he said, the word rolling off his tongue like a curse. “Trust is a fragile little thing. It is easy to give but far harder to keep. You may trust her now, but people change, little one. Desperation, jealousy, opportunity—these are the harbingers of betrayal.”

Your pulse quickened, the flicker of indignation sparking into something stronger. “Kiyoko is not like that, my lord. I assure you.” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “She has never sought to harm me. I would stake my life on her loyalty.”

He chuckled, the sound low and chilling. “Stake your life, would you? How noble of a thought that is. And how foolish. You’ve learned much in my presence, yet you cling to naïveté. Trust no one. Not even those you love. Especially not them.”

His words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. You let a moment pass before you inhaled deeply, grappling with the mix of anger and hurt they stirred within you. Finally, a thought struck, and before you could second-guess yourself, you spoke to him once again.

“And do you trust me, my lord?”

The question was bold, and the silence that followed was deafening. Ryomen Sukuna’s smirk faltered, his crimson eyes narrowing as they fixed on yours. He did not answer immediately, his gaze intense and unrelenting, as though weighing the implications of your inquiry.

After what felt like an eternity, he said simply, “I trust you.”

His voice was quieter than before, yet the words carried an unexpected weight. They were not meant to soothe or reassure—they were simply the truth. The honesty of his admission startled you, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“More than anyone? More than Uraume?”

“Did you hear me falter in those words?”

A small sad smile touched your lips, bittersweet in its sincerity. “Then you have nothing to fear from me, my lord.” you said softly. “You do not love me, so you should not expect betrayal from me.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Sukuna’s expression gave away nothing, his inscrutable gaze locked onto your own. The moment stretched, the tension in the air palpable, but he remained silent, offering neither agreement nor denial.

Eventually, he turned his attention back to the meal, his movements deliberate and calm, as though the conversation had not occurred. You followed suit, though your thoughts swirled with the weight of his words—and your own. Though he had spoken of trust, his silence on the matter of love resonated louder than any answer he might have given.

The remainder of the meal passed in relative quiet, the weight of your conversation settling like a stone in the room. You ate almost mechanically, your thoughts too preoccupied to truly taste the food before you. 

Sukuna, as always, seemed unbothered, his demeanor exuding an air of control that you had long since come to expect. Yet, his silence lingered, a stark contrast to his usual sharp commentary. When the final course was cleared away, he rose from his seat with a grace that belied his imposing frame.

“Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment, little one.” he said, his voice low and even as he began to leave the hall. “Closeness is a luxury that often demands a price. Be sure you’re willing to pay for it.”

You watched him go, his words echoing in your mind. Closeness, it was a luxury. Trust, it was a risk. Love, it was unspoken. These concepts swirled together, leaving you more conflicted than ever. And more anything, a burden in your heart.

When the hall was empty save for you, you let out a slow breath, the tension in your shoulders finally easing. Sukuna’s warning lingered, but your heart rebelled against his cold pragmatism. Kiyoko was your sister, the last tether to the life you had known before. How could you not trust her? How could you let suspicion take root where love should flourish?

You could not sleep once you took time away from your husband’s presence after that. You felt restless, more than you should. He has stricken doubt in your heart, a place where it shouldn’t be. He who you had more reason to doubt has caused you worry in your heart over someone you can trust wholeheartedly. 

In the early morning sunrise, you found yourself in the garden, drawn to the calming presence of the blooming cherry trees. The sun slowly hung gracefully in the sky, casting a pale blossom of light over the temple grounds. 

You sat beneath one of the trees, your thoughts chasing themselves in circles. A soft rustling of leaves announced a presence, and you looked up to see Kiyoko approaching. She wore a faint smile, her eyes filled with warmth as she joined you on the grass.

“You seem troubled, nee-san.” she said gently, sitting close enough that your shoulders nearly touched. “Is something wrong?”

For a moment, you hesitated. Sukuna’s warning was fresh in your mind, his distrust of others so deeply ingrained that it felt contagious. But as you looked at your sister, her face illuminated by the moonlight, you felt the weight of your bond. She had been with you through the worst, her presence a balm for wounds you hadn’t realized were still open.

“No, sister.” you said softly, your voice carrying the faintest tremor of uncertainty. “I’m just… tired.”

Kiyoko reached for your hand, her touch grounding you in a way that words couldn’t. “You don’t have to carry everything alone,” she said. “Not anymore. I’m here for you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you leaned into her embrace, letting her words soothe the turmoil in your heart. For now, you chose to trust her, to trust in the bond you shared. Whatever the cost, you couldn’t let Sukuna’s cynicism poison the one piece of your past that still felt pure. 

“I can trust you, can I, Kyoko?”

You couldn’t see your sister’s eyes.

But you didn’t want to look at them either.

You feared what you may find in her eyes.

“You can trust me, nee-san. With everything.”

You didn’t want to question her on that anymore.

══════════════════

YOU THINK THAT VERMILLION HALL IS BUILT WITH LAUGHTER. And without it, it was just nothing to be enthralled about. The Vermillion Hall was a hollow shell without Ryomen Chiharu’s laughter to fill its corners or her small hands tugging at your sleeves. Her absence was a weight you carried in silence, each hour marked by the echo of her absence. 

You had grown used to the stillness, to the ache of longing buried beneath years of concessions. But this, this part of it always felt different. You were sharing him with a ghost, after all. And you will always have to, so long as you live.

Yet, it was as if a piece of your heart had left with them, and now you were left trying to mend a void that could not be filled. And you have to admit that to yourself, as much as you should find peace with being the other woman for the rest of your life. 

Your husband Ryomen Sukuna had left for his pilgrimage to honor Ryomen Hiromi, his first wife, and you had watched him go without protest. He had loved Hiromi first and perhaps even last in this earthly world. 

And though that love was a thorn in your side, you understood it. Love, after all, was not something you expected from Sukuna, not for yourself, at least. Yet, the sting of his devotion to another, even one long gone, still felt fresh even after nearly thirty years of marriage.

You told yourself it was better this way. To not feel hurt, to survive in this life, meant to give way. To concede. To let him have this part of himself without interference. It was what you’d learned in thirty years of being his wife. Love was a battlefield, but it wasn’t yours to fight on. And yet, it still hurts.

Evening had fallen, and the gardens were bathed in the pale glow of the rising moon. Your precious son Chizuru sat beside you beneath a cherry tree, his small form nestled against yours as if to shield you from solitude.

He always noticed when you feel this way, even if he was just this small. Your little son had sensed your melancholy, his perceptiveness what most could even as grown adults.

“Do you think they’re thinking about us?” Chizuru’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

You smiled faintly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m sure they are, my little love. Your father… he cares deeply for Chiharu. This is a moment for her to remember someone special. Someone who is special to your father also. This pilgrimage is important for them both.”

Chizuru tilted his head up to look at you, his young eyes searching your face. “And for you, Mother? Is it important for you?”

You paused, the weight of her question catching you off guard. “It is important to me too, my love.” you answered finally, though your voice trembled slightly. “Because Chiharu will learn about her special person, and your father will have time to reflect on someone he loved very much.”

“But you miss them already.” He pressed on whining, his tone matter-of-fact. “I wish they could just come home. They can visit that special person some other time. We need them more than they do.”

“I do too, my love.” you admitted, your throat tightening. “I miss them terribly. But sometimes, to love someone means to let them have what they need, even if it hurts you.”

Chizuru frowned, his little brow furrowing. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

You laughed softly, though it was tinged with sadness. “Life isn’t always fair, my sweet love. But we do what we must. And we must live with it. Only then can we live life well.”

Chizuru nestled closer to you, his small arms wrapping around your waist. “I don’t want you to be sad, mother.” he whispered tenderly. “I don’t want us to be sad. Ever.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, forcing a smile for his sake. “I have you here, don’t I? That’s enough to make me happy, my little love. You will always be more than enough for me to be happy.”

The wind carried the scent of cherry blossoms, their petals falling like whispers around you. The night was calm, yet your heart ached with the weight of unspoken words. You thought of Sukuna, of the way he had taken Chiharu without hesitation, his devotion to Hiromi eclipsing everything else. 

You wondered if he thought of you, even for a moment. Did he consider how his choices left you hollow, or was your pain too insignificant for a man like him? Even after all this time, had he ever thought about your grief of being his other woman?

“Do you think Father loves you?” Chizuru asked suddenly, his voice small but piercing.

The question cut deeper than any blade could. You knew that your little son didn’t mean to say such a thing, he didn't know. You have only shown and taught him what he should know. You hesitated, your hand stilling in his hair. What could you say to a child too young to understand the complexities of love, or the lack thereof?

“Your father…” You paused, searching for the right words. “Your father values loyalty, strength, and duty. Those things are important to him.”

Chizuru frowned, his childlike honesty unyielding. “That’s not the same as love, mother.”

You exhaled, your heart heavy with the weight of his innocence. “No, it’s not.” you whispered. “But it’s what I have. Perhaps, it could be something like love, no one can know. But your mother has learned to make peace with it.”

“Then….then I shall love you most, mother!” Chizuru whispers to you, almost excitedly. “Until father can love you well, I shall love you most to make up for that in your heart.”

Your heart swells at your son’s words, as much as it does stun you. He was a boy of three and yet, he takes such responsibility for your grief and pain after all this time. You could feel the tears prick at the edges of your eyes. You smiled at him.

“My precious little love, you are truly the apple of your mother’s eye.”

He giggles. “Hm! And I will always have you as my own too, mother.”

You smile as you push your face on his tummy and tickle him. You didn’t want him to see your tears. He giggles and you stop. Soon enough, a good tender silence stretched between you, the truth too raw to continue. Chizuru’s arms tightened around you as if he understood the pain you couldn’t fully explain.

As the moon climbed higher into the sky, you closed your eyes, the ache in your chest mingling with the soft rhythm of his breathing. You would endure this, as you always had. But tonight, the weight of Sukuna’s absence, and the truth of your place in his heart felt like too much to bear.

Just in the flip of your head against the futon, you found yourself feeling the light against your eyes. The morning light filtered through the thin rice paper walls of your chamber, casting a soft glow over the room. 

You had woken before Chizuru, his small form still nestled in the warmth of his futon. He would not rouse for a while, you think. But you didn’t move as you continued to look at your precious son.

For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to linger, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, before quietly slipping out of the room.

The air outside was crisp and cool, carrying with it the faint aroma of dew and blossoming wildflowers. You decided to take a morning walk, hoping the tranquility of the garden paths would ease your restless mind. As you wandered farther than usual, passing the bustling early risers in the village, snippets of conversation reached your ears.

“Did you hear? Another stone has been placed in the forest—on Sukuna-sama’s orders.”

“They say it’s beyond the outer banks, deeper in the woods.”

“What could it mean this time? Another shrine? A monument?”

Your curiosity piqued, and without much thought, you found yourself following the murmured directions. The forest loomed ahead, dense and shadowed, but you pressed forward, the intrigue too compelling to ignore. Sukuna’s orders were rarely questioned, and his intentions were often shrouded in secrecy. What could warrant such a gesture?

The trees gave way to a clearing, and there it stood, a massive stone carved with intricate designs and inscriptions you couldn’t fully decipher. Yet, what struck you wasn’t the stone itself but the small figure made of fine wood resting atop the stone.

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes began to widen at the sight. You felt the air in your lungs disappear almost instantaneously. 

It was a babe. 

A boy at that. 

He couldn’t have been older than a few months old, his dark hair wild and untamed, his small frame dressed in fine robes bearing Ryomen family crest etched upon it. Your legs moved before your mind could catch up, and you knelt before the small stone and looked upon the small wooden figure. 

Then you turned.

It was that boy.

From your nightmares.

His wide, crimson eyes stared back at you with a piercing familiarity that made your heart lurch. It was like looking into Sukuna’s gaze, even briefly. And yet only softer, innocent. Your hand trembled as you reached for him, and he didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head, his tiny hand reaching out to touch your face. 

“Mama?” he asked, his voice small and uncertain.

The word sent a shock through your system. 

“No…” you whispered, pulling back as bile rose in your throat. 

Memories surged forward like a flood, crashing against the dam of your consciousness. Nights in Sukuna’s chambers, his hands on your skin, his whispers that lulled you into a haze and afterward, the strange emptiness, as if you had forgotten something vital.

You stumbled back, your stomach twisting violently. The nightmares, they weren’t nightmares at all. They were memories, fragments of a truth Ryomen Sukuna had stolen from you. He had used your vulnerability, your weakness for him, and made you forget. Again and again, until this moment, when the truth stared you in the face. 

You were pregnant before.

And you hadn’t even known.

The nausea overtook you, and you turned away, retching into the grass. The boy, the babe who could have been your son, watched with wide, confused eyes, his small hands clutching at your sleeves as if to anchor you to reality.

Tears blurred your vision as the realization solidified. Sukuna had lied to you. He had taken something sacred, something intimate, and twisted it for his own purposes. And now, here was the result—a child you hadn’t been allowed to remember, much less cherish.

“What have you done, Ryomen Sukuna?” you whispered hoarsely, your voice breaking. The boy looked at you again, his innocent gaze cutting deeper than any blade. “What have you done to me?”

The boy reached out again, his tiny fingers brushing against your sleeve, but before you could say or do anything else, a shadow fell over the clearing. You turned sharply, your heart racing, expecting Sukuna or worse, one of his servants, sent to pull you away from this fragile, terrifying truth. 

But there was no one. Only a strange stillness, a heavy silence that wrapped itself around the clearing like a suffocating shroud. When you turned back, the boy was gone. Your eyes began to shake, your body became frantic as you screamed.

“No!” The word tore from your throat, ragged and raw. You stumbled to your feet, spinning in frantic circles, searching for him. “Where are you? Come back!”

The clearing remained empty, the stone as still and cold as the memories that had begun to claw their way to the surface. Panic surged through you, mingling with the despair already sinking its talons into your chest. You staggered forward, calling for him, pleading into the emptiness.

“Please!” you cried, your voice cracking. “I’m sorry! Don’t leave me again!”

But there was no response. No soft voice calling you “mama” and no tiny hand to hold onto. The small babe, that small boy—your son…he was gone, as if he had never been there at all. And he will never be anything else but that. Gone.

Your legs gave out beneath you, and you collapsed onto the grass, clutching at the earth as if it could anchor you. Tears spilled down your cheeks in torrents, hot and unrelenting, carving paths down your face as sobs wracked your body.

Why? Why would Ryomen Sukuna do this to you? Why would he take this from you, strip you of every chance of joy, even this child? Why has he robbed you of knowing him, of holding him? Of loving him? The questions spiraled in your mind, each one heavier and more suffocating than the last.

The pain was unbearable, a sharp, gnawing ache that seemed to tear you apart from the inside. You cried until your voice gave out, until your body trembled with exhaustion. And still, the grief wouldn’t relent. It consumed you, pulling you into its depths, leaving you gasping for air.

For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to break. To feel the full weight of everything you had endured—the lies, the manipulation, the loneliness. And now, this. A child you never knew you had. A child who had been taken from you before you even had a chance to love him.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting light over the clearing, but it brought you no comfort. You were alone, kneeling in the grass, clutching at the earth as if it could give you back what had been stolen.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there, weeping and trembling in the shadow of the stone. All you knew was that when the tears finally slowed, and the silence settled once more, you were left with one unshakable truth: Ryomen Sukuna had betrayed you once more in the cruelest way imaginable. 

And now, you truly had enough. You cannot stay here. 

You do not want to stay here. You hated him. You truly hated him. 

You wanted to escape this cage and leave him alone.

══════════════════

IT HAD TAKEN YOU A WHILE TO CALM YOURSELF. But when you did, you had decided on it. You wanted to leave him. You wanted to leave him once and for all. You cannot handle being in this gilded cage. You cannot do this, not for much longer. You cannot, you cannot handle being his wife anymore. 

You found your sister in the small courtyard garden, her hands busy weaving a garland of flowers for your Chizuru’s chambers. You took your haori off and then your shoes. When she turned, she found you. She gasped as you approached her, tears swelling down your face. You fell in her arms. 

“What’s wrong?” Kiyoko asked, setting the garland aside. “Nee–san?”

You didn’t answer immediately, your chest heaving as you struggled to keep yourself together. But it was futile—the pain and confusion overwhelmed you, spilling out in a torrent of sobs. You wanted to tell her something. But you couldn’t. She rubs the small of your back, cooing at you as she tries to stabilize your breathing.

“I can’t stay here, sister.” you managed, your voice cracking. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be his wife. I can’t… I can’t live like this.”

Kiyoko whispers tenderly. “Nee-san, calm yourself. What’s happened? Please, tell me.”

Her steady tone was an anchor, but it wasn’t enough to keep you from breaking. The words came tumbling out, fragmented and raw. “I don’t know what to do, Kiyoko. He—he lied to me, again. He’s taken so much from me, from us, and now… now I can’t stay here.”

Kiyoko reached for your hands, her grip firm but gentle. “Slow down, nee-san.” she urged. “What did he do? Tell me everything.”

You shook your head, the tears streaming freely now. “I found out… I found out I had a child. Another child. And I didn’t even know. He made me forget everything, Kiyoko. He took it from me, from my memory. I can’t stay here, knowing what he’s done. But I can’t leave Chizuru with him. I can’t—”

Your voice broke, and you buried your face in your hands. “And Chiharu… I can’t leave her either. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

Kiyoko’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a fierce embrace. “Shh, nee–san.” she whispered, her voice trembling with both anger and sorrow. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out. But you need to think clearly.”

You pulled back, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “I can’t think clearly. All I know is that I can’t stay. Not with him. Not after this.”

Kiyoko’s gaze was steady, her voice firm. “Then don’t. Take Chizuru and come with me. Run away from here.”

Her words stunned you, and for a moment, you could only stare at her. “Run?” you echoed. “But Chiharu—”

“Chiharu is strong, nee-san.” Kiyoko interrupted. “Stronger than you give her credit for. And if she truly means as much to Sukuna as you’ve said, he won’t harm her. Not when she is Ryomen Hiromi’s daughter. But you—you can’t stay here and let him destroy you. Not anymore.”

Her words hit you like a wave, a mixture of comfort and resolve washing over you. “But if I run, he’ll come after me, sister.” you murmured.

“Let him come.” Kiyoko said fiercely. “We’ll find a way. Together.”

The conviction in her voice made you falter, the weight of her loyalty and love grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in years. For the first time, a fragile glimmer of hope began to take root in your heart. You could be free from this gilded cage. You wanted to. You wanted to be free.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough, sister.” you whispered. “I want to but I am scared.”

Kiyoko squeezed your hands, her eyes blazing with determination. “You are. You will always be strong, sister. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. But you have to make the choice, nee-san. Do you want to stay and let him control you, or do you want to fight for your freedom—for Chizuru’s future?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything you had endured. You took a shaky breath, your tears still falling, but for the first time, you began to see a path forward. You nodded at your sister softly, but determined.

“I’ll fight.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll fight for my son.”

Kiyoko’s smile was bittersweet, her grip on your hands tightening. “Then let’s make a plan, nee–san. Together.”

Kiyoko’s determination was a quiet fire, burning with purpose as she worked tirelessly to help you escape. Every moment, every action, was calculated with the precision of someone who had lived through too many trials and learned from them all.

You had no doubt she would help you escape, but seeing her so focused, so resolute, made the possibility of freedom feel real, not just a distant dream.

The plan was simple, but dangerous. You would leave under the cover of darkness, unnoticed by those who still served Sukuna. Kiyoko knew the right paths, the hidden routes you had never seen before, the ones that would take you far from the temple. She had arranged for a discreet exit, packed essentials, and made sure that Chizuru was ready.

The hardest part was the moment you had to say goodbye to the life you had known. But even that wasn’t truly a goodbye, no. It was a release. It was the freedom you sought and needed.

The relief you had so long prayed to the gods for. The chains that had bound you for years felt lighter now, the weight lessening with every passing hour.

On the night you were to leave, your sister Kiyoko gently woke you, her own eyes bright with excitement and resolve. You didn’t question her. You didn’t have to. You trusted her. There was no turning back. You took a breath and nodded.

Together, the three of you—Kiyoko, Chizuru, and yourself had all left the temple that had once been your prison for years. Your son continued to be sound asleep in your touch, wrapped in a loin cloth on your chest. You kept staring at him as you made your way through the steep steps with your sister. 

The night air felt colder than you remembered, the stars brighter than you could have imagined. As you slipped through the back gates of the estate, the quiet village beyond felt like a world away. And yet, in the deepest part of your soul, you knew that it was only a step toward reclaiming your life.

The journey to your old village in the East was long, but with every mile, a sense of peace began to settle over you. You were no longer looking over your shoulder, no longer afraid of Sukuna’s watchful eyes. Your thoughts were consumed with the possibility of a new life, of freedom, of a future you could build with your son.

Life was good. The mornings were filled with the laughter of children, the evenings with the warmth of a family you had missed so deeply. The simple things, like the smell of fresh bread or the sound of birds in the trees, became treasures you had long forgotten. And, for the first time in a long time, you felt at peace.

You were no longer in the gilded cage of Sukuna’s palace. You were home. And in this freedom, surrounded by the people who loved you, you realized that you had finally found what you had been searching for all along. A life where you could be yourself, without fear, without pain, and most importantly, without the chains that had once bound you.

It was good. And, for the first time, you could truly say that life was good.

══════════════════

IT HAD TAKEN DAYS AND EVEN WEEKS ON END IN TRAVEL. But you like to believe that it was worth it, you like to think so. Hard as it had been, this was the first time in thirty years that you had felt yourself able to breathe the good familiar air of your youth again. And to do so free from all the heartache of the world.

Your old village was a haven of peace, nestled in the rolling hills of the East, far from the oppressive shadows of your godly husband’s temple. As Kiyoko, Chizuru, and you made your way through the winding paths, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief.

The air was thick with the scent of earth and the soft hum of the village waking up to another day. You were going to enjoy it with them soon. You were going to live life in the sun, knowing what warmth looks like. There was no tension in the air here, no fear. You were free.

Kiyoko turned to you with a soft smile, her face lit by the soft light of dawn. “We’re almost there, nee–san.” she said, her voice steady, but you could hear the excitement beneath it. “Just a little further.”

Your heart swelled as you looked at her, the sister who had helped you escape, who had never once faltered in her determination to see you free. “I can’t believe we’re finally here at all.” you said softly, feeling the weight of everything you had left behind beginning to melt away. “To be finally home.”

Chizuru, who had been quiet beside you, suddenly tugged at your sleeve. “Mother, what’s that?” he had asked, pointing toward the distant fields.

The sight of your little son, so innocent, so full of wonder, made you smile through the bittersweet emotions in your heart. “That, my love, is where we will make our new life. A place where we can be free.”

“But what about father?”

You take a moment to answer him. You could feel your heart pound at his words. But you shake it off and smile at your son. “We shall be happy there, my little love. We shall be very content there.”

When you reached the heart of the village, the familiar sight of the small cottages, the fields stretching out beyond, and the towering trees that lined the edges of the village brought a sense of calm you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. 

The air was thick with the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers, and the sounds of daily life. It was the chatter of children, the hum of people going about their tasks, all of it almost felt like a melody that soothed the raw edges of your heart.

And then, the villagers came.

As if they had been waiting for your return all along, they gathered around, faces lighting up with smiles that felt like the warmest embrace. You hadn’t seen these people in so long, but it was as if time had not passed.

They were the people who had known you before you were swallowed by the horrors of Sukuna’s world, before you had become a name and not a person.

There was the elder Aiko, the woman who had been like a second mother to you when your own had been absent. Her weathered hands reached out to you, her eyes bright with a mixture of disbelief and joy.

“Child, is it really you?” Aiko asked, her voice trembling.

She pulled you into her arms before you could answer, and for a moment, all you could do was close your eyes and let the tears flow. These were not tears of sorrow, but of release. For the first time in so long, you felt safe.

“It’s me.” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m finally home.”

“Home.” Aiko repeated, pulling back to look at you with a soft, knowing smile. “You’ve been gone so long, child. We thought… we thought we’d lost you forever.”

Behind elder Aiko, more faces emerged. Old friends, neighbors, people you’d grown up with. They all looked at you, as if in awe that you were standing before them again. The sight of them, their kindness, their welcoming faces, made you want to crumble, to fall into their arms and stay there forever.

One of the men, Taro, who had been a friend of your father, gave a hearty laugh. “Well, well, look at this! Our most famous girl finally came home! Your parents and your brother Takashi would have been so happy to witness this, you know?”

You smiled through the tears that still blurred your vision. “I wish they could be here to see this.” you said softly, more to yourself than to anyone else.

The weight of the years spent in exile under Sukuna’s thumb felt suddenly lighter in the warmth of their presence.

Kiyoko, who had been standing quietly beside you, smiled too. “It’s like nothing has changed, no?” she said softly, her voice tinged with wonder. She looked at you, her eyes filled with understanding. “This place is where we belong, nee–san. Where you belong.”

Chizuru, who had been shyly hiding behind your leg, stepped forward at the urging of a kind woman who knelt down to her level. The woman, a mother herself, smiled warmly. “You’re our precious girl’s little one, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes. Such a bright child.”

Chizuru’s small face lit up with the compliment. “Yes, I’m Chizuru! My mother says we’re going to stay here now.”

The villagers laughed, their joy infectious. “Of course, dear.” the woman said gently, giving Chizuru’s hand a soft squeeze. “Welcome to our village.”

A little further away, a group of children were peering at Chizuru, their curiosity piqued. One of the boys came forward shyly, holding a small bouquet of wildflowers. “Would you like to play with us?” he asked, offering him the flowers.

Chizuru’s eyes widened, and he nodded eagerly. “Yes, I want to play!”

As your precious son ran off with the other children, you couldn’t help but watch your little one with a heart full of gratitude. He was free, too—free to be a child again, free from the oppressive atmosphere that had haunted him before.

Kiyoko, who had been watching you closely, finally spoke up. Your sister’s voice filled with quiet resolve. “This is where we’re meant to be, nee–san. It’s been so long. But you’re finally free. And you’ll never have to go back.”

You looked at her, your sister who had risked everything to help you escape, who had stood by you in ways no one else ever had. She was right. This was where you belonged.

You were no longer someone’s wife, no longer just a piece in Ryomen Sukuna’s game or played to the tune of his whims. Here, you were simply you. No titles, no expectations, no chains.

For the first time in decades, you could breathe without fear. The weight of the past didn’t disappear, but it felt lighter, more distant, as if it could no longer reach you here.

“We’re free, sister.” you said softly, the words tasting sweeter than you could have imagined.

Kiyoko smiled, her hand brushing against your arm. “Yes. Free. And you’ll never have to be anyone’s possession again.”

══════════════════

THE NEWS SPREAD FAR AND WIDE THAT RYOMEN SUKUNA’S CONCUBINE AND SON WERE MISSING. That was the whisper of the neighboring village, at least that’s what you heard. But perhaps, it was most certainly the truth.

You would not put it past your husband to go and be searching for you. Not when you had taken control off his hands and most of all, his own flesh and blood away from him.

Ryomen Sukuna was looking for you, and all of his associates were trying to locate you and Chizuru without fail. But so far, none have been able to find you. You had tried to make sure that there would be no trace of you, no sign that you had ever been here. 

You used every tactic you could think of to erase your presence from the records of your past life. Both of you had changed your names to mingle with people you knew. You had reverted to using old names that you knew your husband would not know of. You continued to do everything in your power to cover your tracks.

But you also knew that you would mostly be relying on the goodwill of the villagers who had opened their arms to you. They had to continue to keep their mouths shut and continue to pretend like nothing had changed or that anything else had happened.

So far, it has worked.

The peaceful rhythm of life in the village was everything you’d ever dreamed of, and you clung to it like the last thread of hope. The sounds of the village, children laughing, the chatter of neighbors, the rustle of wind in the trees had become a familiar comfort. 

You had never known what it was like to live without fear, without the oppressive weight of Ryomen Sukuna’s presence looming over you. Now, you know. Life had been… simple. And in its simplicity, it was more beautiful than anything you had ever known.

There had been adjustments, of course. The transition from luxury to the more humble life in the village was not easy. The comforts of Ryomen Sukuna’s massive complex of a temple were far removed from the reality of a small home in a tight-knit community. 

Cooking over a wood fire, washing clothes by hand, and dealing with the constant ebb and flow of village work had been a steep learning curve. At first, you had struggled with the roughness of it all and of course, your hands were not accustomed to the calluses of labor, and your body had complained at the physical demands placed upon it.

But as each day passed, you grew accustomed to it. You grew strong in a way you hadn’t known was possible. And with each small victory, like the first time you successfully cooked a meal from scratch or helped mend a fence, you felt more and more like yourself.

The biggest joy, however, was seeing your son Chizuru. The boy who had once been confined to the rigid structure of Sukuna’s training now ran freely with other children. They had welcomed him with open arms, and the sound of his laughter, so carefree and full of joy, filled your heart in a way nothing ever had before. 

He was no longer being trained for some cruel purpose, no longer being shaped into a weapon. He was just a child, playing with other children, learning the simplest of joys. He has tried to find himself climbing at the bases of trees or playing in the dirty puddles.

One afternoon, as you watched him from the porch, you caught sight of him laughing with a group of local kids. He had a huge grin on his face as he chased after them, his feet kicking up dirt in the warm, golden light of the setting sun. 

It was a sight you never thought you’d see, not after the years of grueling discipline and the cold indifference of Sukuna. This was freedom, and you could see it in your precious Chizuru’s eyes. He was happy here. He had found life here, as you had when you were a child.

“He’s happy, sister.” you said to Kiyoko, who had been standing beside you, watching him too.

Kiyoko smiled softly. “He is. And you’re happy too, aren’t you?”

You nodded, a slow, steady smile tugging at your lips. “I never thought I would be. But here… here I’m free. We’re free.”

Kiyoko looked at you, her gaze soft but steady. “I’m glad, nee–san. You deserve this. You deserve to feel whole again.”

For the first time in years, you felt whole. The pieces of you that had been scattered, lost, torn apart by the weight of your past were coming back together. You were no longer just the wife of Sukuna, a tool in his hands, or a prisoner in his games. You were you.

As the days went by, it was easier to forget the shadows of the past. The fear that had once ruled you, the constant vigilance, the anxiety over what might happen if Sukuna found you. All that had began to fade into the background. 

The villagers were kind, and they welcomed you without question, offering help when it was needed, but also allowing you the space to settle into the rhythm of life. You found yourself growing attached to the people around you, to the quiet comforts of this simple existence.

But even in the quiet moments, when the wind blew gently through the trees, you couldn’t completely silence the nagging fear that lived just beneath the surface. Sukuna was searching for you. He had to be. You knew him better than anyone, and you knew that he would not let you slip away so easily.

But for now, you could breathe. You could live. And the thought of that of just living was enough to silence the worry, if only for a while.

At the turning echoes of the night, you waited for your son to return. As you sat by the hearth, the soft crackling of the fire filling the silence, Ryomen Chizuru approached you. His small face was flushed from playing outside, his hair wild and tousled.

“Mother! I’ve returned!” he said shyly, holding out a small bouquet of wildflowers. “I picked these for you.”

You smiled and took the flowers from his hand, feeling a warmth fill your chest. “Thank you, my dearest love. They’re beautiful.”

He beamed up at you, his eyes sparkling. “I’m happy here, Mother. I like playing with the other kids.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t allow them to fall. Instead, you hugged him tightly, pulling him close. “I’m happy too, Chizuru. We’re safe here. We’re home.”

And for the first time in so long, you felt the weight of your past truly begin to slip away. Here, in this quiet village, surrounded by the warmth of family and the laughter of children, you were no longer a prisoner.

You were free. And as the days stretched on, you held on to that freedom with everything you had, never looking back, never forgetting how far you had come.

══════════════════

EVERYTHING HAD BEEN WELL THIS DAY. The morning had started like any other. Chizuru was playing outside, his laughter echoing through the village as he ran with the other children onto the wide expanse of the rice fields.

You had gone about your daily routine, preparing food and cleaning, the familiar rhythm of life settling over you like a warm blanket. But as the sun began to dip toward the horizon, a sinking feeling settled in your chest.

Ryomen Chizuru was nowhere to be found.

At first, you thought he was just playing a little longer, perhaps hiding among the trees or in the nearby fields. But as minutes turned to hours, panic began to rise. You asked the villagers if they had seen him, but no one had.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of the last time you had lost someone you loved. You could feel your body shaking as the light of day began to fade. You rushed to the edge of the village, searching through the forest, calling his name into the silence.

“Chizuru! Chizuru, where are you?”

Your voice was frantic, trembling with fear and desperation. The sun’s last rays barely touched the tops of the trees, the shadows growing long and heavy as the day turned into night.

Your breath was ragged, but you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t bear the thought of him being lost out here. You pushed forward, your mind racing with every horrible possibility, when suddenly, you felt a sharp pain at the back of your head. The world spun wildly, and before you could even comprehend what had happened, everything went dark.

You woke up with a sharp gasp, the cold of the forest floor pressing against your skin. You tried to sit up, but the dizziness overwhelmed you. Blinking against the night, you saw the flickering light of torches, the orange glow casting eerie shadows across the trees. 

Your heart thudded in your chest as you forced yourself to stand, only to find yourself surrounded by the villagers. Their faces were grim, expressionless. They stood in a tight circle, watching you with an unsettling stillness.

Your throat tightened, panic rising again as you searched for Chizuru. But he was nowhere in sight.

“Where is my son?!” you cried, your voice hoarse and filled with dread. But your question was met with silence.

And then, through the sea of villagers, a figure emerged. Elder Aiko.

Her gaze was cold, her ancient face marked with a solemn expression. She walked toward you, her steps measured, as though she were leading a ritual. She held her hands before her, as if in prayer, her voice rising in a chant that made your skin crawl.

“This is necessary, child.” she began, her voice like the sound of dry leaves rustling in the wind. “A prophecy must be fulfilled. It is your blood that holds the power to destroy Sukuna.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You could feel your knees trembling, as the weight of her words sank in.

“A prophecy?” you asked weakly, barely able to understand what was happening.

Elder Aiko nodded, her eyes glinting with an unsettling conviction. “Yes. It is said that the child born of your blood, the child you love so dearly, will be the one to kill Ryomen Sukuna. And to prevent this, we must end his life. Only then can the gods bless us with immortality. And Sukuna is one of them. We must offer him as a sacrifice, for he is the key.”

A choked sob escaped you as you tried to move toward her, but strong hands gripped your arms, holding you back. “No! No, you can’t!” You struggled against them, panic clawing at your chest. “Chizuru is just a child! You can’t take him from me!”

But the villagers were unmoved. Elder Aiko continued her chant, her voice growing louder. “The gods demand it. They will bless us. If Chizuru is sacrificed, the gods will ensure that Sukuna will never harm this village again, he will bless it. And if Sukuna blesses us, we will be given a life eternal. The blood of a god runs through him.”

Tears blurred your vision as you looked around, but no one spoke. No one moved. It was as if they had already made up their minds, as if your son’s life meant nothing to them in comparison to the promises of immortality.

“Please, please. Let my son go.” you begged, your voice breaking. “Please, don’t do this. Chizuru has nothing to do with this. He’s just a child. He’s my child! He’s all I have left…”

But your pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Child.” Elder Aiko said, her voice soft now, but cold. “You must understand. This is for the greater good. For the survival of us all.”

The world around you seemed to spin. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound deafening in your ears. You fought against the villagers holding you back, desperate to reach Chizuru, but they were too strong.

And then, a chilling silence fell. Chizuru was dragged forward, his small body limp, his face pale and streaked with tears. His eyes met yours, full of fear, confusion, and hurt.

“Mother…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You cried out for him, trying to break free, but the villagers tightened their grip. Elder Aiko’s hands rose to the air, signaling the beginning of the sacrificial ritual. She held a dagger high, gleaming in the torchlight, her face twisted in reverence.

“No!” you screamed. “No, you can’t! He’s my son, my child! Please!”

The air was thick with tension, and the flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the clearing, making the scene feel like a twisted nightmare. You tried desperately to break free from the villagers’ grip, thrashing in their hold, but they were unrelenting. The ropes were tight, and their hands were stronger than you could fight against.

"Let me go! Let me go!" you screamed, thrashing violently, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum of terror.

"That's my son!" you cried, your voice shaking with disbelief. "He’s just a child! He’s not a threat to anyone! He’s my son! You can’t—"

But no one would listen. Their faces were cold, unmoved, as if they had already made their decision. You felt your entire world slipping away, your vision blurring with tears. Despair clawed at your insides, but then, something more horrifying than anything else crept into the depths of your mind.

At the back of the crowd, you saw her.

Your once beloved younger sister.

The one person you had trusted more than anyone in the world. The one person you thought would never betray you. But there she was, standing with them, her face cold and distant, watching as your son was dragged forward.

Your breath caught in your throat. “No… no, this can't be happening. You… You’re not... you’re not with them.”

But she didn't say anything. She simply stood there, silent, her eyes meeting yours. And that was enough. The truth hit you like a physical blow.

"You…." you gasped, your voice breaking. "You… you betrayed me!"

A sickening wave of rage surged through you. Your knees went weak, but you couldn’t stop the flood of fury pouring out of you. Tears poured out of your eyes, over and over as you screamed at her, trying to free yourself.

"How could you?!" you screamed, your body jerking in the villagers’ hold as the ropes cut into your skin. "How could you do this? This is your own blood, your own flesh, and you—"

Your sister's expression remained unchanged, as though she were some cold stranger and not the person you had shared everything with. “This isn’t betrayal, nee–san.” she said, her voice cold, unfeeling. “This is for the good of all. Don’t you see? Your son’s death will lead to the prosperity of all. His death means a thousand years of Ryomen Sukuna.”

“Clouded my mind?” you snarled. “You think this is about him? This is about my son, Chizuru! My son! Your own fucking blood, sister! And you intend to kill him? For some nonsense of a prophecy?” 

You struggled even harder, pulling against the ropes as they dug into your wrists. The sight of Ryomen Chizuru being dragged to the altar, his face full of fear, made your vision swim. You continued to scream at her. “You foul bitch, I will kill you, I will end your life!”

“Say all the threats you want, sister. But you will thank me.” She smiles at you, guiltlessly and gleefully as possible. “Your sacrifice will bring about a new age.”

Your sister’s words twisted in your mind, forming a sick knot of betrayal. Your sister, the person who was supposed to be your closest ally, had manipulated you from the start. She’d drugged you.

She’d poisoned your mind with nightmares, with false memories, all in an attempt to separate you from safety, from where you could be protected. From Ryomen Sukuna. To drive you to this moment.

"You drugged me, didn’t you?" you spat, your words dripping with venom. "You… you twisted my mind, made me think I was losing my sanity! You made me remember all those horrible things, things I didn’t want to remember. Things I didn’t need to remember. And all for this? To turn me against my own flesh and blood?"

Her face was unreadable, but there was a coldness in her eyes, an indifference that cut deeper than any blade. “I did what was necessary.” she said, her tone detached, as if she were discussing something trivial. “You haven't seen it yet, nee–san, but this is the right path.”

“He?” You roared, the pain of the situation consuming you. “He’s my husband!” The words were out before you could stop them, the weight of your desperation making your voice shake. "And Chizuru is my son! What makes you think that my husband would forgive you—"

But she interrupted you, her eyes dark and resolute. “He will only bring destruction. Lord Sukuna will understand that. Your ignorance and your child are the key to his downfall. This must be done.”

You felt the ground beneath you shake, the world falling apart as the terror of the situation sank deeper into your bones. Your mind fractured, torn between disbelief and fury. This was your sister—your own flesh and blood—and she was about to be the one to help kill your son.

The blood drained from your face as a wave of helplessness and heartbreak engulfed you. You screamed, a sound that seemed to tear from your very soul, raw and guttural. Your son continued to cry, trying to move away from his constraints.

“NO! You can’t! I’ll never forgive you!” The words were like a curse, a promise that you would never be able to undo. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Only the horror of watching your son be taken away filled your vision.

The villagers, her supporters, held their ground. They were unmoved by your screams, your rage. You were nothing now, a broken woman caught between the betrayal of her sister and the loss of everything she held dear.

And when the dagger rose again, you knew it was too late.

It was all too late.

The air was thick with smoke, the heat suffocating as the flames grew higher, curling like tendrils around the very earth itself. The ring of fire that had once been a symbol of your despair now felt like a suffocating cage, one that was closing in on you. 

The light flickered and danced across your tear-streaked face as you knelt on the ground, unable to move, unable to do anything but watch in helpless horror. And then, through the haze of smoke and fire, you felt it. A presence you so truly know. It was an all familiar, terrifying presence that chilled you to the core.

Sukuna.

Your heart skipped a beat, a mix of relief and dread flooding your chest as his figure emerged from the flames. His crimson eyes gleamed with cold fury, his posture regal and commanding. The power he exuded was unmistakable, and even the fierce heat of the fire seemed to bow to him.

Your bonds, which had been so tightly wound around your wrists, loosened as if the air itself had given way. You slumped forward, unable to keep yourself upright, but the world around you had already fallen into chaos. The villagers, who had once been so sure of their mission, now turned to flee in terror as Ryomen Sukuna’s anger consumed them. His power was like nothing they could have anticipated.

Without hesitation, he moved. He didn't even flinch as his curses tore through the village, each scream and cry a bitter symphony of destruction. You could see it in his scarlet eyes. Your husband didn’t care. These people had chosen to make an enemy of him, and they were paying the price for their arrogance.

It was a carnage.

Screams filled the air, but they were drowned out by the crackling of the fire, the rush of death. The far flung of this eastern village you had once called home was burning, the ground soaked with the blood of the men and women who had tried to sacrifice your son. But your heart was torn between the horror unfolding around you and the instinct to protect what little remained of your family.

He spared your family, it was all enough. You could see it in his movements, his cold precision. He knew exactly who to target, who to leave. The others, the ones who had come for Chizuru, were left broken, bloodied, their bodies already crumpled on the ground in pools of red. But your family? They remained, bruised and beaten, but alive.

Ryomen Sukuna stood before them now, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the wreckage. The fire danced behind him, casting shadows that twisted and writhed like demons of their own making. He didn’t even look at you at first, his gaze locked on the destroyed village before him.

But then, his scarlet eyes shifted. They met yours, and for a brief moment, something flickered in the depths of them, something you couldn’t quite place. It was only for an instant, but in that instant, you realized that he wasn’t just punishing the villagers. 

He was protecting you. 

He was doing this for you.

His voice broke through the chaos, cold and commanding. "Uraume." he called, his voice cutting through the smoke. "Take Chizuru. Get him out of here. And feed him the tonic. He must forget all about this."

Uraume, ever loyal, nodded quickly, moving without hesitation to do as Sukuna had ordered. You watched them, a sickening mix of relief and guilt swirling in your chest as they disappeared into the smoke, your son spared from the violence that surrounded you.

Ryomen Sukuna's gaze turned back to you, unwavering and implacable. His voice softened ever so slightly, but there was still an edge to it. You shivered as you looked upon him, bruised and broken.

"You are safe now, little one." he said. "I won’t let anyone take what’s mine."

But his words fell on deaf ears as your heart pounded in your chest. You couldn’t quite process the flood of emotions, the relief that your beloved son was finally safe, the horror of everything that had just happened, the overwhelming guilt for the destruction he had wrought.

You were free from his misery at that moment, yes, but at what cost? The village lay in ruins. Your sister, betrayed and broken, lay among the fallen. And once more, you were back into the fold of that gilded cage. Everything had been torn apart. Everything had gone to hell. 

And still you would end up in his arms. You would never find yourself anywhere else. You have found your place in the world. Unwilling or not, it was by his side you were bound to by fate. Perhaps now, your only choice in this life too. Your husband Sukuna stood there, his power absolute, his presence all-encompassing.

But somehow, you could say that you were finally safe. 

The blood that stained the ground was not your son’s blood.

That was the only thing that you were glad about. 

And as you slowly stood, still bruised and grievous,  the world around you burned, but you couldn’t help but feel... something. Something twisted, something strange. In this moment, in this world of fire and destruction, you realized you were trapped between two forces. One that you loved and one that had brought you unimaginable pain.

But perhaps this was the only world you would ever know.

This is the only fate you were truly to be ever allowed in life.

The air was thick with the acrid scent of ashes and the smoke and most of all the harshness of blood. The village is a smoldering ruin behind you, one which you could not care for. The cries of the wounded and dying still echoed in your ears, but the worst of it had already passed. 

Ryomen Sukuna stood before you, silent, his crimson eyes flashing with a quiet intensity that matched the storm raging in your chest. He could feel it in you, you think. That unadulterated rage that only a mother could have.

Your family, your own blood, was kneeling before you, their faces contorted with fear. The very people who had once called you their own, now reduced to begging for mercy.

They had betrayed you, used you, and twisted everything you once knew. They had sought to take your child, the innocent life you carried, the child who had done nothing wrong but to be born into a world that saw him as a threat.

And now, they pleaded for their lives.

They begged for forgiveness.

But there was none to give.

Sukuna didn’t say anything. Your husband didn’t need to. His silence spoke louder than any words ever could. He had made sure the threat to your family was erased, that those who had conspired to take your child, your lifeline, were dealt with. But this? This was your reckoning.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of rage and disbelief. For so many years, you had been blind to the truth. Your family, the people you had trusted, had orchestrated the horrors you had endured.

They had used your love for them as a weapon, manipulated you into submission. And now, with your son in your arms, your heart only knew one thing. They had to pay. And they must do so now.

The silence stretched on, suffocating. The only sounds were the choking sobs of your family, the desperate pleas falling from their lips as they crawled before you, their hands trembling with fear.

"Please, forgive us." one of them whimpered, their voice cracking under the weight of their terror. "We didn’t know what we were doing. We never meant for any of this to happen. You were always family... please...!"

Another cried out, "We thought we were doing what was best for you! For all of us!"

Your sister finally cries out. “Nee–san, please…..They forced me to do this, please spare my life!”

But you weren’t listening anymore. 

You had already heard enough.

Your gaze flicked to Sukuna, his eyes unreadable, waiting for your command. You didn’t need to ask him for help; he had already done his part. He had given you the power to protect your family, to protect the child who was the only thing left in this world that mattered to you. The one thing that kept you from falling into the abyss.

"I should have known." you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of grief and fury. "I should have seen it. I should have seen you all for what you truly were."

They were nothing but shadows of their former selves now. They were all broken, pathetic, pleading for a mercy they didn’t deserve. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. They had tried to take everything from you. And you wouldn’t let them.

“You sold me off to Sukuna all those years ago.” You say, watching the fear in their eyes fester and grow. “To save this village. My memory is clear now. After all this time. How could I have forgotten? How could I have been so foolish…..Ah, such dreams of joy that I never was born to have.”

A sob escaped from one of the women, someone you once called sister, as she crawled forward, her face wet with tears. "Please! Please don't do this. We were wrong, I see that now. We never wanted to hurt you. Please!"

Your grip on your son tightened as you turned your gaze from her. "You already have, sister." you said coldly, your words slicing through the air like a blade. "You’ve already hurt me. And now... now you’ve hurt him. My only precious light in this world. My son."

Sukuna’s presence behind you was a solid wall, unwavering, but it was your own anger that filled the space. The rage, the betrayal, the years of suffering. All of it collided within you, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Not for them. Not for the family who had hurt you, who had tried to take away everything you cared about.

And for the first time in your life, you felt free from the chains that had bound you. The shackles of guilt. The chains of love. The weight of all that had been done to you, to your heart, was finally being lifted.

"You tried to take him from me." you said, your voice cold and detached. "But you will never touch him again."

And as the words left your lips, the world seemed to still, your heart pounding in your chest as you realized that the people you once loved, the people who had once been your family, had been nothing but monsters in disguise. They were no longer worthy of your mercy.

And neither were they worthy of the life they begged for. The fire in your eyes mirrored the flames of the village. As Sukuna's shadow loomed behind you, you felt no hesitation, no remorse. This was the moment everything changed.

Your son, your lifeline, would never be harmed again. And that, above all else, was all that mattered.

Your husband’s eyes, those sharp crimson orbs, glinted with something both dangerous and darkly amused as he watched you. He was, as always, unreadable in the depths of his presence, one who had the power to shape lives with a mere word or gesture. And right now, his gaze was on you, waiting.

"Revenge, little one." Sukuna said softly, his voice deep, almost contemplative. "You want it, don't you? I can feel it in your soul, like a moth burning into a flame. You want to take everything they’ve taken from you, to destroy them as they destroyed you."

You didn’t look away. His words rang true, but they didn’t hold the weight they once did. You had already crossed that threshold. The darkness inside you had long been awakened.

And now, you stood there, your heart hardening with every passing second. Your family, your people, had betrayed you, had taken from you in the most unforgivable of ways. But they were not your focus anymore.

You turned to face Sukuna, your expression cold, distant. The anger still pulsed in your veins, and the grief threatened to swallow you whole, but now, it was replaced by something else. A sense of clarity.

"I do want revenge, my lord." you said, your voice steady, resolute. "But it is not just for them. It's for me. For my son. For the life they tried to take from us. And yes, Sukuna… even for you."

His gaze flickered with amusement, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "For me?" he repeated, as if the very thought amused him. "Do you think you can destroy me? Or is it that you think I have wronged you too? After everything I’ve done for you… after the power I’ve given you?"

"You’ve wronged me in ways I cannot even describe, my lord." you replied, your tone cold but sharp as a blade. "And yes, I want revenge on you too. For the things you've made me forget, for the ways you've manipulated me. For the things you have put upon me."

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t flinch. He didn’t even seem fazed by your words. He knew the anger was there, the desire for vengeance, and he respected it. It wasn’t the first time someone had wanted to tear him down, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But there was something different in your eyes.

"And yet, little one…." he continued, his voice low. "You don’t seem afraid of it. Afraid of me, of what I could do. But that can wait. What is it you want from me now, little one? I am your god, after all. I can give you everything."

His dark scarlet eyes held yours, the weight of his words lingering in the air between you. You thought for a moment, but there was no hesitation in your heart. You had already made your choice.

"I want revenge, my god." you said, your gaze unwavering. "But not on you. Not right now. So let me make my wish clear. You’ve taken enough from me. You can’t give me love, you can’t give me peace. You can’t give me goodness. But revenge—that, you can give me."

He raised an eyebrow at you, the amusement in his gaze deepening, though his smirk never faltered. Slowly, he reached down, drawing his blade from his side with a fluid motion. He handed it to you, the gleam of steel catching the light as he placed it into your hands.

"You want revenge?" he asked, his voice carrying the promise of something darker, more dangerous. "Then take it, little one. I can give you that. And nothing more."

You took the blade from him, the cold metal pressing into your palm as your fingers closed around it. There was a weight to it, a weight that felt heavier than just the steel. It felt like the culmination of everything, of all the betrayal, the grief, the bloodshed. 

It felt like the world was giving you the power to right all the wrongs, and you weren’t about to waste it. And so, you find yourself turning back to face your family, the ones who had once been your blood, your people, your foundation, you raised the blade high, your voice trembling but filled with purpose.

"Reap what you sow." you said, your words carrying the weight of everything you had endured, everything you had lost, everything you had become.

The silence that followed was deafening. Your family, those you had once loved, now saw the true extent of your resolve. And in that moment, you realized something. They were no longer your family. They were nothing but enemies now, and they would pay the price for their betrayal.

Sukuna’s smile lingered behind you, a dark approval in his gaze. He had given you the means to exact your revenge. He had given you power. And as the blade gleamed in your hand, you felt a surge of strength that was yours to command.

It was time for them to feel the weight of what they had done.

It was time for them to pay.

The air was thick with bloody tension. The quiet heavy as you stood before your betrayers. Your family, your once beloved family, now looked nothing more than prey, cowering in fear as they realized the power in your hands, the authority you now commanded.

Their faces, once familiar and comforting, had transformed into the faces of the enemies who had plotted against you. Their pleas for mercy rang hollow, like echoes in a void, as they begged for their lives, for a second chance. But it was too late for second chances. You had crossed the point of no return.

Your husband could only stand behind you, his presence like a shadow that loomed large, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. He had given you the power to destroy them, to claim your revenge, and now he waited. 

It was a game to him, but for you, it was something more. It was catharsis. It was justice. It was the moment you had been waiting for. The moment where you finally took control of your fate. Your eyes never left the trembling figures of your family as you raised the blade higher.

You could feeling the weight of every second that had led to this moment. You wanted to make them fear as your son has, you wanted them to wait as your son had done so in tears. You wanted them to suffer. Over and over again. That was now your desire.

You could hear the desperate sobs, the apologies spilling from their lips, but it didn’t matter anymore. They had forfeited their right to forgiveness long ago. You could scarcely care for any kindness. You don’t want it. You don’t have it. You don’t need to give it.

"You made your choices." you said, your voice cold and unwavering. "And now you will live with the consequences."

The words were a declaration, a sentence. They had wronged you in ways that could never be undone, and now you would be the one to decide their fate. You could hear Sukuna’s low chuckle from behind you, a dark satisfaction in his tone.

"Go on, little one." he purred, almost as if urging you, savoring the moment. "Show them the power they never believed you had."

For the first time in years, you felt no hesitation, no fear. The blade felt right in your hand, as if it had always belonged to you. You were no longer the wife of a tyrant, no longer the puppet of a man who had played with your mind. You were your own. And they would answer for what they had done.

You advanced, each step slow and deliberate, your family shrinking back, their faces pale with terror. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore except the reckoning that was long overdue. And then, as you reached the closest of them, you raised the blade high, your gaze locked onto theirs, and with one swift motion, you brought it down.

The sound of the blade cutting through flesh was sickeningly satisfying, the thud of its impact resonating in the air. The first of them fell, their scream cutting short as they crumpled to the ground. 

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t feel guilt. You felt nothing but the sense of justice that had long been denied. The rest of them looked at you, horrified, and begged for mercy. But the words meant nothing now. They had betrayed you, and now they would reap what they had sown.

One by one, you took them down, their bodies littering the ground as their pleas became weaker, more desperate. Sukuna’s eyes followed your every movement, his dark amusement growing with each life you claimed.

Finally, it was over. The last of them fell to the ground, their life snuffed out in an instant. The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound the soft crackling of the flames in the distance. You stood amidst the bodies, the blood staining your hands, your clothing, your soul.

But you didn’t feel regret. You didn’t feel sorrow. You only felt the cold satisfaction of a long-awaited vengeance fulfilled.

You turned to face Sukuna, your eyes meeting his without fear. His smile was wide, almost pleased, and he stepped forward, his gaze lingering on the carnage you had wrought.

"Impressive." he said, his voice a low murmur. "You’ve come far, little one. You’ve become more than just a pawn."

You didn’t respond. There was no need. The act spoke for itself. You had taken control of your own fate, and in doing so, you had reclaimed a part of yourself you thought you had lost forever.

Sukuna watched you for a moment longer, then, with a satisfied nod, he turned and walked away, leaving you to stand amidst the destruction. You had exact your revenge. You had claimed your freedom. And now, for the first time in years, you were truly free.

Your son was safe. And for now, that was all that mattered.

══════════════════

IT WAS DAWN WHEN YOU FOUND YOURSELF AT ANOTHER VILLAGE. You were still full of the blood of traitors when you and Sukuna arrived at the inn. The metallic tang clung to your skin, the crimson stains marking you as a warrior and his wife—Ryomen Sukuna’s wife. 

No one questioned it. No one dared. The air inside the inn buzzed with silence, thick and oppressive, as villagers averted their gazes and shuffled away like shadows in the candlelight. They knew better than to keep quiet, or lose their lives trying.

You had been quiet the entire journey, your rage simmering just beneath your surface. Even now, as the blood dried, you clenched your fists, teeth grinding as the emotions clawed at you.

Anger, grief, hollow triumph. Sukuna’s sharp gaze followed you as you moved, your face a mask of stone. In the privacy of your shared room, he finally spoke, his tone low and laced with command.

“You’ve been silent long enough. Speak.”

But instead, you turned, stepping closer until you could feel the heat radiating off him. His expression hardened in warning, but you ignored it. Slowly, you tilted your head up and pressed your lips to his. It wasn’t gentle. Not at all. It was desperate. The kiss was a collision, sharp edges meeting sharp edges.

Ryomen Sukuna stiffened, stunned by the act. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his robes, anchoring yourself as you pulled back, your voice trembling, not with fear but with a deep ache. You looked at him, almost as though you were possessed.

“Make me feel something, my lord.” you said, barely above a whisper. “Anything but this anger.”

A moment passed. It was that stillness, heavy and charged, that triumph. Then his mouth curved into a wicked grin, all sharp teeth and cruel hunger. Before you could take another breath, Your husband Sukuna had all but hauled you over his shoulder with ease. He had been marred with laughter, deep and rumbling.

“If that’s what you want, little one.” he drawled, his voice dripping with a dark promise, “I’ll make you feel so much more than anger.”

He wasted no time at all, laying claim to you like the fearsome god of yours hewas. Your husband's hands were rough, his movements unapologetic. But they were familiar. They were what you cpuld consider safe in the sea of betrayals.

Ryomen Sukuna soon devoured you in a way that only he could. In a way that could make you forget. In a way that only he knew would comfort you and care for you and make him hated by you and revered by you to tears.

You knew it all too well how he was. Ryomen Sukuna was a god known for being possessive, demanding, yet intoxicatingly thrilling. You knew that well, better than anyone else.

His touch ignited every nerve, leaving no room for restraint or hesitation. You were his, and he intended to remind you in every way possible.

A shaky moan escaped your lips, your body trembling under his relentless pace. Your legs quivered as he shifted seamlessly, the sheer ferocity of his need leaving you breathless.

Sukuna’s grin widened, predatory and smug, as he leaned closer, his demonic breath hot against your ear. You whimper against him, almost like a wounded prey.

“Look at you, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and taunting. “Already trembling, and we’re just getting started.”

When he moved, roughly claiming you anew with his cocks, the sensation sent a sharp jolt through your body. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, desperately against his flesh.

Your mind a blur of heat and sensation. He growled in satisfaction at your reaction, his grip tightening as he continued to take you, utterly unrelenting.

Every motion, every touch, was calculated to unravel you entirely. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you locked in this primal, consuming dance.

And with every moment, Sukuna proved that he alone could make you feel this, too raw, vulnerable, and completely alive. Only he could make you feel good and feel hatred pasionately like this.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying desperately to keep your focus tethered to the present, the here and now. The way Sukuna overwhelmed you, the way his hands gripped you as though he might break you, the way his rough breath mingled with your ragged moans.

You clung to it like a lifeline, not wanting to feel anything else. Not the anger that gnawed at your insides, not the guilt threatening to drag you under. Just this moment.

The pleasure was all-consuming, a storm that battered against the walls you were trying so hard to keep upright. Every thrust, every growl, every bite against your skin shattered another piece of the barrier you built between yourself and the world outside. 

You wanted it to drown out the memories, the blood, the weight of everything you carried. Sukuna noticed, of course. He always did. His fingers dug into your thighs as he pressed you deeper into the mattress, his voice a growl against your ear.

“Don’t you dare run from this, little one.” he said, his tone dripping with command, with understanding. “Feel it. All of it.”

You shook your head, a low whimper escaping your lips. You didn’t want to feel—not the ache of your body, not the pressure building like an unrelenting tide, not the faint echo of shame that lingered just at the edges of your consciousness.

“I don’t want to—” your voice broke, tears threatening to spill as the pleasure and emotion tangled into something unbearable.

Sukuna’s grin softened, only slightly. His pace slowed just enough to torment, his hands roaming over your trembling body with a reverence you hadn’t expected. He leaned in, his mouth brushing your ear, his voice quieter this time.

“Then let me take it from you, little one.” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Give it all to me. Every shred of it.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Instead, you arched into him, your body betraying you, seeking more even as your mind tried to pull away. Sukuna’s laughter was dark, triumphant, as he resumed his relentless pace, his second cock filling you so completely it left no room for anything else. Not thoughts, not regrets, not fears.

You bit your lip, tears slipping free as your nails dug into his back. Dissociation warred with surrender, each wave of pleasure pulling you further into a place where nothing else existed but him. And in that moment, you let it take you. 

Because with your husband Sukuna, there was no escape. Only submission. Only this raw, unrelenting claim that tore down every wall you tried to build. Perhaps, that was what you needed. Perhaps that was what could stop everything else from making you fall apart.

The tears you tried so hard to suppress slipped down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting. Sukuna saw them, of course. His crimson eyes glinted with something between mockery and possession, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk that only stoked the fire inside you.

"Good, good." he growled, voice thick with satisfaction as he drove into you again, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, making you feel every inch, every ounce of his control. "Let it out. Don’t you dare hold back from me."

You couldn’t speak. Your lips parted, but all that came were gasping, shuddering breaths as the heat of him consumed you. Your hands clenched into fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to anchor yourself, but Sukuna was unrelenting. He wanted you unmoored, completely at his mercy.

You squeezed your eyes shut again, willing yourself to disappear into the sensations—the sharp pleasure, the burn of his touch, the bruising grip of his hands on your hips. Anything but the world outside, anything but the blood and the weight of what you’d done.

But Ryomen Sukuna wouldn’t let you. He never did. His hand found your face, rough fingers gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him. You could feel your hot tears poured against the drying blood on your flesh.

"Eyes on me, little one." he ordered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You don’t get to run. Not from this."

Your gaze met his, and the intensity in his eyes struck you like a blow. You hated how he saw through you, how he stripped you bare in every way that mattered. From all that anger and all that bitterness to all that weakness and all that grief.

But there was no hiding from him. Not when you’d willingly placed yourself in his hands, no matter how much it burned. He took you as you are, accepted it all over and over again. As you have done the same with him.

He slowed again, rolling his hips with agonizing precision, making you feel every inch, every movement. You whimpered, your body betraying you as it responded to him, trembling, tightening. His smirk widened, cruel and knowing.

"There you are, little one." he murmured, almost tenderly, his thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth. "Feel it. Let it break you."

And it did. The pleasure crashed over you, dragging you under like a riptide, and you clung to him as though he were the only solid thing in a world gone to chaos. The walls you’d built shattered, leaving you raw and exposed, every emotion spilling over like a dam bursting.

You hated him for it. 

You needed him for it.

As your cries softened into broken gasps, Sukuna didn’t relent. He carried you through it and then began again, his hunger insatiable, his hold on you unyielding. His lips found your neck, his voice low and mocking against your ear.

"Don’t think for a second I’m done with you, little one." he said, his laugh rumbling against your skin. "I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of that anger. Nothing but me."

And he did. Over and over, until the only thing left was his name on your lips, his mark on your body, and the steady, consuming presence of the man who would never let you escape. Until you forgot everything all over again.