#i had to exorcise it before i could continue reading

[benevolenterrancy]

I started reading A Marvellous Light and I'm already deeply invested in this poor bastard just having THE worst first day of his new desk job.

[redvdress]

WHAT´S GOING ON HERE?

A/N please read the title with itadori’s curious voice because he’s exactly the one who could find himself near you as megumi was opening up (well we could say he was trying to at least) in his own awkward but lovely way!

After a brutal mission involving exorcising a cluster of malicious curses, the atmosphere was thick with fatigue and the lingering tension of battle. The air felt heavy with the remnants of cursed energy, and the surrounding forest was still eerily quiet, as though even the insects were too wary to chirp. You and Megumi Fushiguro were seated on a low stone, your breaths slowly evening out after the strenuous fight. The sun was setting behind the trees, casting long shadows and a fading orange hue over the landscape.

Megumi, as usual, sat a few feet away from you, his back slightly hunched, elbows resting on his knees as he stared into the ground. His usual stoic demeanor remained intact, but there was a slight furrow in his brows��exhaustion, or perhaps something else. Despite your own tiredness, you noticed the subtle tension in his shoulders, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite bring himself to.

You knew Megumi well enough by now to recognize the signs. Though introverted yourself, you had gradually learned to read his quiet nature, the way his awkward silences often masked something deeper, unspoken. His tendency to keep everything inside was something you understood all too well.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment longer, the sounds of nature returning around you in soft whispers. Megumi shifted slightly, his eyes darting in your direction for a brief second before flicking away. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“You did… well back there,” he finally muttered, his voice low and rough, as if forcing himself to speak up was a challenge. He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze instead focused on a spot on the ground, but you could tell that he was trying—really trying—to express something he wasn’t used to sharing.

“Thanks,” you replied quietly, offering him a small smile, knowing better than to push him too much.

The silence stretched on for a few moments again, but this time it wasn’t quite as comfortable as before. You could feel the unspoken tension in the air, as though Megumi had something more he wanted to say but didn’t know how to articulate it. His fingers fidgeted slightly, the first real sign of nervousness you had ever seen in him.

“You—” he started again, cutting himself off immediately, his face hardening with frustration. His hand lifted to run through his dark, messy hair, the subtle irritation at his own inability to speak showing through.

“You… um, you’re not bad at handling yourself in fights,” he finally managed to say, still not making eye contact. “I mean, considering you’re not… like Gojo sensei or anything.” He glanced at you sideways, as if trying to gauge your reaction but immediately regretted how he worded it.

You laughed softly, finding his awkwardness strangely endearing. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Megumi’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, but it disappeared just as quickly, replaced by the usual stoic expression. He exhaled deeply, seemingly gathering his thoughts. His body language was stiff, almost as though he was afraid of showing too much emotion, but you could tell that there was something genuine behind his awkward words.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…” He paused, his voice trailing off as if unsure of how to continue. His brow furrowed in concentration, and for the first time since you had known him, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his usually guarded eyes. “It’s good to have someone like you around. I mean… to fight alongside.”

You blinked, a little surprised by his admission. It was rare for Megumi to offer any form of praise or personal sentiment, even if it was wrapped in his usual bluntness. The fact that he was trying to open up like this, in his own awkward way, made your chest feel unexpectedly warm.

“Thanks, Fushiguro” you said softly, letting the sincerity of your words hang in the air between you.

He finally turned his head slightly to look at you, his dark eyes meeting yours for just a second before quickly darting away again. His hand rubbed the back of his neck—a nervous tic you had seen him do before. He seemed almost relieved that he had gotten his words out, even if it had taken considerable effort.

Just as the silence settled into something more comfortable, the moment shattered with a loud, obnoxious voice cutting through the peace.

“FUSHIGURO!! Y/N!!”

You both snapped your heads up to see Itadori, bounding toward you with his usual exuberance, arms waving in the air like an overexcited puppy. His sudden appearance felt like someone had splashed cold water over the quiet, intimate atmosphere that had been building between you and Megumi.

“What’s going on here?” Yuji called out, a wide grin plastered on his face as he slowed his pace. His eyes darted between the two of you, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. Then, as if a lightbulb went off, his eyes lit up mischievously. “OH, I SEE WHAT’S HAPPENING!”

Megumi’s face immediately flushed a deep red, the rare sight of his embarrassment only made worse by the fact that Yuji was practically bouncing on the spot now. His jaw clenched, and you could see the vein in his forehead threatening to pop.

“Itadori…” Megumi’s voice was low, dangerous even, but of course, Yuji was completely oblivious.

“Hey, Kugisaki! You gotta come see this!” Yuji suddenly shouted, turning back to where Nobara was likely still recovering from the mission as well. “Fushiguro’s over here getting all soft and sentimental! You gotta see this—he’s, like, smiling and everything!”

Megumi’s eyes widened with pure horror at Yuji’s words, and you could feel the tension radiating off of him. He looked like he was about two seconds away from summoning his Divine Dogs just to sic them on Yuji out of sheer embarrassment. His fists clenched at his sides, his whole body tensed.

“You are dead,” Megumi muttered under his breath, the calm before the storm.

Yuji, of course, continued to laugh, completely unfazed by the murderous aura radiating from his friend. “Come on, Fushiguro! Don’t be shy now! We were all waiting for this day!” He winked in your direction, still grinning.

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, watching the way Megumi’s composure crumbled in the face of his friends’ teasing. As introverted as you were, you found the entire situation strangely amusing. You’d never seen Megumi this flustered before, and it was oddly refreshing to see him in a moment of such uncharacteristic vulnerability.

Nobara finally appeared, stomping toward the scene with her usual brash energy. She raised an eyebrow as she took in the scene, hands on her hips.

“What the hell is this, Fushiguro?” she asked, her tone a mix of amusement and disbelief. “You getting all soft now? Should I start calling you Mr. Sentimental?”

Megumi let out a low growl, his face still flushed red. “I swear to God, I’m going to kill both of you.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore, and the sound seemed to catch Megumi off guard. His anger flickered for a moment as he glanced in your direction, and for just a split second, you thought you saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Despite the chaos of the moment, you could tell that Megumi wasn’t really angry—more embarrassed than anything. You shared a brief look with him, and in that moment, you understood that while Yuji and Nobara’s teasing would continue, it didn’t change what had happened between the two of you earlier. Megumi had tried to open up, and though it had been interrupted, you knew that he had made an effort in his own way.

“Come on, Fushiguro” you said, standing up and giving him a playful nudge on the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here before they make it worse.”

He let out a resigned sigh, standing up beside you, his face still slightly red but his usual stoic expression slowly returning. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As the two of you walked away, Yuji and Nobara’s voices still echoing behind you, Megumi shot you a sidelong glance, his lips twitching ever so slightly.

“Thanks,” he muttered under his breath, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

You smiled to yourself, knowing that in his own awkward way, Megumi was grateful—for both your presence and for not making a big deal out of his moment of vulnerability.

And as the two of you continued to walk, side by side, you couldn’t help but feel that, despite the interruption, something between you and Megumi had changed.

[colonelarr0w]

Geto w an S/O that’s extremely anxious and overthinks a lot, needs lots of validation and just gets so tired from having such bad anxiety. not a “i can’t stand up for myself” anxiety but a “what if that look means he’s mad at me” anxiety. i just think he’d be so caring and patient with her, gentle n soft and puts her mind at ease with careful dominance. especially if his S/O is always taking care of him and others first.

Sypnosis - Read above request.

Warning(s) - mature themes, Geto is so sickeningly sweet it's insane

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Suguru never failed to notice the dimness of your eyes as the sun set over Jujutsu High. 

Just like the rising sun, your eyes were bright and lively in the mornings when you greeted him; lips turned upward in that smile he adored kissing and eyes crinkled with smile lines indenting the softness of your face.  

But throughout the course of the day, while exorcising curses and assisting Shoko with tending to the injured, Suguru also noticed how the light in your eyes would slowly extinguish, like a candle left out on someone's bedside table.  

It felt as if you were at everyone's beck and call.  

If Gojo needed help with an assignment, you were there. If Utahime begged you to come on a mission with her instead of Mei Mei, you were there. If Shoko needed a light and a shoulder to lean on, you were there. If Mei Mei needed help covering her bill when you found yourselves out, you were there. If Nanami needed help before a mission, you were there.  

But at the end of the day, Suguru had to ask – who was there for you? 

Who was there for you when you returned from tougher missions? Who was there for you when you needed a shoulder to cry on? Who was there for you when you needed an extra body to hold at night?  

Who was there for you in the way that you were there for others? 

Well...he was. 

"Oh, there you are angel. I was looking everywhere for you," Suguru says with a smile, arms laden with white plastic bags from the convenience store. His eyes quickly take in the sight of your face, smile fading as he notices the noticeable bags beneath your eyes and the dulled color of your irises.  

"Were you?" you mutter offhandedly, leaning against the doorframe of your dormitory and willing yourself to smile at him – though it doesn't quite reach your eyes the way that Suguru was used to.  

He nods at you, silently stepping past you as your body shifts to permit him entry into your dorm. Your eyes flicker curiously down to the bags that he holds, but you say nothing to him as he sets them down on the countertop of your dormitory's kitchenette.  

"I got you some of your favorites," he pauses to remove the snacks mentioned, shaking the bags at you and smiling, "and I picked up a movie that we could watch together." 

You press your lips together to suppress the yawn that claws at the base of your throat, wanting nothing more than to curl into your bedsheets and simply vanish. But at the same time, Suguru's voice was doing wonders to drown out the cold whispers that lingered in the back of your mind.  

You continue to keep your eyes on Suguru, watching as he removes bags of chips, candy, and soda bottles from the plastic bags, laying them out over the countertop and smiling as he points each one out to you. Sure, his voice was a muffled buzz to your ears – but it was better than listening to whispers of the worst "what if's". 

"Angel?" Suguru turns to you, eyebrows pinching together in worry at the faraway look that had glazed over your eyes. You quickly shake your head, bringing yourself back to reality with a quiet hum, paired then with a flicker of your gaze. "Are you feeling alright?" 

"Fine," you quickly reply, clearing your throat and wringing your hands out in front of you like a wet towel, "I'm fine." 

Suguru closes the small distance between the both of you, hands extending to tenderly hold the sides of your face. The pads of his thumbs smooth against the skin just underneath your eyes, gentle gaze holding your own.  

"I hope you know that I'm very proud of you," he whispers, leaning down to press a lingering kiss against your forehead. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his lips against your skin, a small yet tired sigh falling from your nose. Your body melts into his own, your face squished against the palms of Suguru's hands. 

"You do so much for everyone, you must be exhausted," Suguru comments, tilting your face so that your gaze meets his own. He purses his lips, his eyes softening at the exhausted expression that had worked its way onto your face. "Come on angel, why don't we go sit down?" 

You allow Suguru to lead you towards the couch, sitting you down and holding a finger up at you. He walks quickly back to your kitchenette, gathering the snacks that he had bought into his arms and bringing them to you, allowing you to pick and choose which snacks you wanted.  

Your boyfriend takes a seat beside you on the couch, opening his arms to you and humming in content as you crawl towards him, resting your head on his chest and squeezing your arms around his midsection. His cheek leans against your hair, fingers rubbing gentle circles into the exposed skin of your sides.  

Your cheek smushes gently against his t-shirt, eyes fluttering shut as an odd feeling of relaxation finally washes over you – eliminating any and all exhaustion that had been previously shackled to your ankles. His scent had always been so comforting to you; that mixture of incense and sandalwood that was just so unapologetically him.  

Suguru hums as your arms squeeze around him, the vibration against your cheek lulling you further into a state of relaxation, one that you welcomed like a warm hug. "Better?"  

You grumble something incoherent against his shirt, squeezing at him as you feel his body begin to shift underneath your own. He smiles, craning his neck to press a chaste kiss against the top of your head, tugging you closer and threading his fingers through your hair, nails raking your scalp comfortingly. 

"I'm so grateful to have you in my life angel," Suguru whispers against your hair, the hand resting on your waist continuing to draw comforting circles into the exposed skin. His lips ghost your forehead, then pressing a gentle kiss there as you lean further into him. "I love you." 

You feel your heart warm at his declaration, squeezing your arms around him and pressing a kiss against his clothed pec. Every bit of worry, every tiny ounce of anxiety melting away with something as simple as three words. And even though you knew that tomorrow would likely be the exact same... 

...at least Suguru would be there to gently pick up the pieces.  

[dianawinchester03]

Season 2, Episode 20 - What Is And What Should Never Be (Part Two)

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: Part Two!!! If you haven’t read part one yet, go here. You’ll need to read it to understand this and the series. Hope everyone likes!❤️

_______________________________________________

Y/N had gone to work and Dean was lounging in their living room, finishing off Y/N’s beer as he flipped through channels on the TV set. Dean let out a content, “Ahhh” as he clicked the remote, landing on a news station. “And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424” The newscaster said.

Dean’s heart dropped, his eyes widening as he leaned forward, instantly recognizing the flight by name. “Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the victims” Dean could feel his fear growing, “No no no. We stopped that crash” His mind going back to that day they had to exorcise a demon on a plane.

-

Dean was now in front of Y/N’s laptop, running his hand over his face as he stared, eyewide at the headline on the article. ‘Flight 424 Crashes. 108 dead’ the headline read. He began skimming the internet for all their previous hunts within the past two years, the words ‘nine children comatose’, ‘parents mutilated’, ‘girl drowns in hotel pool’ rang through his head.

Dean felt sick to his stomach as he read about all the people they saved over the years were now gone, as if all what they did was for nothing. This reality was too much for him, he desperately wanted a normal life but seeing this…it didn't sit right with him.

At the corner of his eye, Dean saw the figure of a woman drift in the hallway. His eyes snapped up to see no one there, he knew it couldn't be Y/N. He knows her figure like the back of his hand, so immediately he got up and rushed into the room. The seemingly empty room.

Dean heard something move in the closet, his head snapping in the direction. He attempted to reach for his gun he keeps in the back of his jeans, only to pat air. Forgetting that he's a civilian and not a hunter. The instinct came naturally. Dean then swiftly opened the door to see the skeletal remains of a man and a woman, hanging by their wrists from the ceiling.

Dean stared at it in shock and fear, before he could do anything, he sensed a presence behind him. He quickly turned around to see the young girl he saw outside the college and in the restaurant, a bleeding wound was prominent on her forehead. Her spirit then diminished out of sight. Leaving Dean stunned.

He spun around to see the skeletal remains he saw just a few seconds ago were now gone. "What the…" Dean muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around the room where the skeletons had been not a moment ago. "What the hell is going on?" He repeated to himself, trying to make sense of everything he had just witnessed.

Frustration boiled within him as he ran a hand through his messy hair, feeling utterly helpless. He took a deep, shaky breath before quickly exiting the room. "Screw it. I need a drink" Dean mumbled, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

____________________________________________

Thunder was rolling as lightning filled the dark sky where Dean stood in the cemetery. He looked down at the headstone that read ‘John Winchester’ with anger, sorrow, pity and a bit of hatred. “All of them. Everyone that you and F/N saved. Everyone that Sammy, Y/N/N and I saved. They're all dead”

The anger in his voice was palpable, as he looked down at the grave with clenched fists. "Everyone!" he repeated, his voice hoarse with emotion. The rain that fell from the sky did little to soothe his anger as he continued to glare at the headstone.

For a moment, he was silent, the only sound being the pattering of rain on his jacket and the distant rumble of thunder. Then he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "And there’s this girl that's haunting me. I don’t know why. Y/N can’t even feel her, I mean, how can she not see her? The chick feels everything, it's annoying sometimes!”

He sighed frustrated, leaning against a neighboring headstone, not even caring if he got mud on himself. "I don’t know why. I don’t know what the connection is." he muttered, raising the bottle of whiskey to his lips. The alcohol burned down his throat, but he welcomed the sensation.

It was a distraction for the moment, a way to numb the pain and anger that churned within him. But as the liquid coursed through his veins, it also made his head feel fuzzy and he soon found himself slumping against the headstone, his eyes growing heavy.

He knew he should probably get up and get out of here, but the weight of everything seemed too heavy, too much to bear. He sighed and took another swig of whiskey, hoping that it would bring him closer to unconsciousness.

“Its like my old life is coming after me or something, you know? Like it doesn’t want me to be happy” Dean rambled in frustration before glaring at his fathers headstone. “Of course, I know what you and f/n say. Well…not the two of you that played softball, but…” Dean’s throat constricted as he held back tears.

“You guys would say, ‘Go hunt the djinn. Hey, it put you here, it could put you back’” Dean said bitterly. “‘Your happiness for all those people’s lives. No contest right?’” Dean further quoted his father and F/N. Dean took a shaky breath, his vision growing hazy as the alcohol continued to take its toll on him.

He knew he was rambling, but the words just kept pouring out of him, fueled by the mixture of anger, sadness and confusion. "I just... I just don’t get it" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?!” Dean exclaimed, his heart clenching as the tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

“What about us, huh?! What? Mom’s not supposed to live her life. Me and Sammy aren’t supposed to get married? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad?! It’s-” The words died in his throat again, so he brought the bottle to his lips.

The whiskey burned as it traveled down his throat, but he didn't care. The pain from the burn dulled the emotional pain that threatened to consume him. He slouched further down against the headstone, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand.

His gaze fell on his father's grave again, his eyes narrowing faintly. "Why can’t I just have a normal life? Why does it always to come back to this?" he let out a bitter laugh, "It’s like I’m cursed or something" He took another swig from the bottle, his grip loosening as the alcohol took effect.

Dean let out a deep breath, feeling the world spin slightly as he attempted to push himself up. His legs felt weak and shaky, but he managed to stand. "Yeah." He muttered, stumbling forward a few steps. He didn’t even look back as he made his way out of the cemetery and towards his car.

-

Dean woke up the next morning in bed, his head was still fuzzy, a nauseous feeling in his stomach. He groaned, his hand moving to cover his eyes as he slowly sat up, blinking groggily to adjust to the light in the room. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the throbbing headache that had taken up residence in his head.

His eyes glanced over to see the time on the clock, 6:30 a.m.

He heard the sound of the toilet flushing in the bathroom and saw a tall glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol was placed neatly on the nightstand. Dean grimaced slightly as he reached for the Tylenol and popped a few pills into his mouth before washing them down with the water.

The coolness of the liquid helped to soothe his raw throat, and he exhaled heavily. He heard footsteps approaching from the bathroom, but before he could turn to look, Y/N swung the door open, a slight frown on her face.

Y/N leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, "Hey." she said, her voice gentle but with a hint of concern. Dean looked up at her, guilt hitting him as he saw the look on her face. He knew by the look on her face that this wasn’t the first time he came home late and drunk, he could see the disappointment in her eyes.

But that wasn’t it, she was nervous. Y/N moved over to the bed and sat down beside him, reaching out to take his hand in hers. Her thumb rubbed soothingly over the back of his hand, trying to offer comfort despite the obvious worry she was feeling.

"You okay?" She asked softly, studying his face intently. He nodded slowly, looking down at their clasped hands. He squeezed her hand gently, meeting her gaze. "Yeah, I’m fine," he mumbled. A lie. “I-“ Y/N tried to tell him what she just found out while she was in the bathroom but her tone was shaky.

Seeing the hesitance on Y/N's face, Dean's heart dropped. "What is it? What's wrong?" He asked, concern etching his features. He squeezed her hand again, silently encouraging her to speak. Y/N took a deep breath before meeting his gaze once again. Her free hand was buried in her robe pocket, clutching the positive pregnancy test in her hand.

“I know we talked about it before… we spoke about doing it after our wedding. I’m ready to do this and I know you are too but-“ She sighed before slowly retracting it from her pocket, placing it into Dean’s hand. Dean's eyes widened as he stared down at the pregnancy test in his hand, his heart skipping a beat when he saw those two pink lines.

His hand trembled slightly as he held it, his mind spinning with a mixture of shock, joy, and trepidation. He looked back up at Y/N, his gaze intense and full of an array of emotions. "You're... pregnant? We're having a baby?" Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she nodded, “After I left for work last night, the beer made me sick and I puked my life out. My boss sent me home early, then I realized my period was late…really late”

A flood of emotions coursed through Dean like a tidal wave. He gently set the pregnancy test down beside him and brought Y/N into his lap, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace.

"We're gonna have a baby," he repeated, his voice full of awe and love. He pulled back slightly to look at Y/N, his eyes glimmering with happiness. "I can't believe it. This is..." He trailed off, too overwhelmed to find the right words to express his feelings.

This wasn't real. Is what his mind screamed at him.

Y/N was more than pleased with Dean’s reaction to her positive pregnancy test. Clinging to Dean for dear life as she sobbed, “We’re gonna be such bad ass parents” She chuckled through tears. Dean chuckled softly, holding Y/N tighter against him. He buried his face in her hair, taking in her scent and relishing in the feeling of her in his arms.

"We definitely are," he agreed, his hand stroking her back soothingly. "We'll be the best damn parents our kid could ask for." All while saying this, he knew what had to be done. Desperately trying his hardest not to cry, because this is all he wanted, but he knew he couldn’t have it.

“Do you have to work today?” Dean asked her tenderly as he traced circles on her back. Y/N shook her head, feeling the comforting touch of his fingers tracing her back. "No," she murmured, "I have today off, thankfully." She snuggled closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his warmth.

"Why? What’s up?” She asked curiously, tilting her head up to look at him. "Just asking," he said lightly, trying to keep his voice steady. "I have some stuff I need to take care of today.” He explained. "I’ll be gone for a bit, but I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?” He placed a kiss on her forehead, attempting to mask his pain with a smile.

Y/N nodded against his chest, feeling a slight sense of unease but not wanting to push the matter. "Okay, baby, I’ll be here," she replied. "Just be careful, alright?" He nodded, pressing another kiss to her temple. "I will," he reassured her.

Reluctantly, he gently eased her off his lap and rose from the bed, grabbing a shirt from the dresser. "I should get going though. I love you, princess." Those words struck Dean to his core. Y/N watched him get dressed, her heart heavy with worry and confusion but she plastered a small smile on her face. "I love you too, charming," she told him.

Once Dean was gone, Y/N sat quietly on the bed, her heart heavy with confusion. It was as if something was off about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She tried to push the thoughts aside, knowing he probably had something important to take care of, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

With a sigh, she laid back on the bed, trying to find comfort in the soft sheets and the familiar scent of the man she loved.

Once out in the garage, Dean leaned against Baby, his shoulders slumping as the weight of what he needed to do hit him all at once. With a sigh, he got in his car and started the engine, the only thing on his mind was the decision he had to make.

____________________________________________

Sam jolted awake in his bed to the sound of the door opening downstairs, it was way early in the morning, he instantly clutched the baseball bat he had under his bed. Gently padding over to the door.

Sam slowly opened the door, his grip on the baseball bat tightening as he strained his ears to listen for any sounds. Hearing the faint sound of movement downstairs, he cautiously made his way out of the room, keeping the bat raised just in case.

He saw the figure of a man in the dark house rummaging through the China cabinet as he peered from the corner. Sam's eyes widened as he saw the figure in the dark. He stayed hidden behind the corner for a moment, his heart racing as he tried to decide what to do.

He gripped the bat tighter, launching himself at the ‘intruder’. Dean swiftly dodged the attack and tackled Sam to the ground, pinning him down with his body. “That was so easy, I’m embarrassed for you?” Dean quipped. "Dean?" Sam exclaimed, breathing heavily, "What the hell are you doing here?" Shoving his brother off of him to push himself to his feet.

“I was looking for a beer” Dean joked, patting Sam on his shoulder. A wave of nostalgia washed over him at the interaction. “In the China cabinet?” Sam questioned, his brows furrowed as he padded over to the wall to flick the light on. His eyes glanced over to the table to see a box of their mom’s expensive knives.

“That’s mom’s silver” Sam pointed out, “Sam-” Dean sighed but his brother cut him off. “Wait, you broke into the house to steal Mom’s silver?!” Sam lowly exclaimed. “It's not what it looks like, okay? I didn't have a choice” Dean tried to defend. “Oh really? What's so fucking important that you gotta steal from your own mother?”

Dean grimaced, raking his fingers roughly through his hair as he tried to find the right words. "You want the truth?" He grumbled. The disappointment in Sam's voice was evident, and it cut deep. But he knew he couldn't tell him the truth. At least not yet. "Yeah. Yeah I do," Sam urged him as he nodded, Dean sighed before coming up with a shitty excuse.

“I owe somebody money.” Sam rolled his eyes. Typical Dean, he thought to himself. “Who?” He asked. “A bookie. I lost big on a game. I gotta bring him the cash tonight” Dean lied. “I can’t believe we’re even related” Sam mumbled, shaking his head. Dean’s face dropped, his heart aching in his chest.

“Sam, I’m sorry” Dean apologized sincerely, “Yeah” Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry that we don't get along. I’m sorry that you and y/n/n aren’t friends anymore because of me. And I wish to hell that I could stay and fix it, fix everything.” His voice cracked. “I wish I could stay and be a father….but I gotta do this” Dean said, his voice filled with determination.

“People’s lives depend on it” Dean sighed heavily before picking up one of the silver knives from the red box. “What are you talking about, Dean?” Sam asked lowly, confusion clear in his tone. “Nothing. Forget it. Just…uh…” Dean said as he turned back to his brother. “Hey. Tell Mom I love her. And tell my princess that I’m so sorry” Dean said with a sad smile.

Sam's confusion turned to alarm as he watched Dean pick up the knife. "Dean, what-?" he started to say, but before he could finish his thought, he saw Dean's sad smile and his stomach dropped. Dean turned on his heels to walk out of the room. “Dean” Sam tried to stop his brother from leaving.

“I’ll see you, Sammy” Dean said tenderly, pulling the door open. He gave the house one last sorrow filled and painstaking look. Then he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. Sam stared down the shut door for a few seconds, his mind spiraling. “What the hell, Dean?” He muttered to himself.

He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut as his worries about Dean only increased. Sam was left standing in the doorway, his heart heavy and his mind racing. He couldn't understand what had just happened. Why had Dean been acting so strangely? Why had he stolen the silver, and why had he talked about people's lives depending on it?

Sam's mind raced through possibilities and worst-case scenarios, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of it. Immediately, Sam fished his phone out of his pocket to call the one person he knew would get through to Dean.

Dialing Y/N’s number, he waited anxiously for her to answer. The seconds felt like hours as he held his breath, silently praying for her to pick up the call. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her voice came through the speaker. “Hello?”

"Y/N," Sam blurted out, his voice filled with urgency. "Something's up with Dean" he told her, pacing around the room in agitation. There was a beat of shocked silence on the other end before Y/N spoke, her concern evident in her voice. "I knew it” She grumbled, gripping her steering wheel.

After Dean left the house when she broke the news of her pregnancy, Y/N didn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong as much as she wanted to. So after over an hour of it nagging her, she hopped into her truck and went all over town looking for him.

“Is he still at the house?” Y/N asked Sam quickly. "Uhhh…" Sam hummed as he peeled back the curtain. The Impala was still outside with Dean sitting in the driver’s side, seemingly lost in thought. “He’s still outside” Sam answered, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened.

"But he was acting strange. He said something about owing money to a bookie and people's lives depending on it. I don't know what to make of it, Y/N" There was a short pause on the other end as Y/N absorbed this information. "That doesn't sound right at all,” she said, her voice filled with worry.

“Yeah, I know,” Sam agreed, his anxiety growing by the minute. "And then… he told me to tell you and mom that he's sorry and that he loves you" he relayed, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and concern. Y/N's heart sank at the mention of Dean's message, a knot forming in her throat. There was an undeniable feeling of dread in her gut.

Sam looked back out the window, his eyes falling on Dean who hadn’t shifted from his spot since earlier.

Her mind was racing, wondering if this was because of her unexpected pregnancy. So she tried her best to formulate a plan, even in this stressful time. “Okay, listen to me very clearly, Samuel. You go outside and keep him there for as long as possible. I’m on my way” Y/N instructed him sternly.

"Got it. I’ll keep him there," Sam assured her, his tone set with determination. “I’ll even pretend to be mad or something.” Y/N’s instructions were clear and concise, giving Sam a sense of purpose and a small hint of optimism, which he desperately needed at this moment.

-

Meanwhile, Dean was sitting in the Impala, lost in thought for God knows how long when suddenly his passenger side. Sam plopped into the front seat with a heavy sigh, causing Dean’s head to snap in his direction. “Get out the car,” Dean exclaimed sternly. “I’m going with you.” Sam insisted.

“You're just gonna slow me down." Dean growled. “Tough!” Sam sassed. "This is dangerous and you could get hurt!" Dean shouted. “Yeah. And so could you, Dean!” Sam shouted back. Dean was still trying to find a comeback when they suddenly heard the sound of screeching tires.

Their heads whipped around to see Y/N's truck coming to a stop a few yards back from the Impala. Y/N quickly jumped out and sprinted over to them. "What's going on?" Y/N asked breathlessly as she yanked the backdoor open, her wide eyes fixing on Dean with concern.

Dean was taken aback by her sudden appearance, feeling a mixture of relief and guilt seeing her there. "You shouldn't be here," he muttered, struggling against his own desire to reach out and hold her close.

"I don’t care. Sam told me everything. Whatever stupid thing you’re about to do, you’re not doing it alone. And that’s that," Y/N asserted firmly. Sam exchanged a knowing glance with her, silently impressed by her determination. Dean’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her, a mix of annoyance and affection.

He knew better than to argue with her once she had her mind set on something. Whether this was really her or not, he’s pretty sure every version of her would fight his stubbornness if she needed to.

His eyes glanced between Sam and Y/N with shock, he could understand why she would be so stubborn, but not Sam. If they weren’t close here, if Dean was so horrible that Sam wanted nothing to do with him, why would Sam stick his neck out for him?

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” Dean asked Sam in confusion. He sighed deeply, tearing his eyes away to face the windshield. “Because you’re still my brother,” Sam muttered. A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she placed a hand on her stomach.

The two words stung Dean, cutting deep into his heart. ‘Still my brother.' His eyes glanced down to Y/N's stomach as she subconsciously placed her hand on it. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, knowing that he would never get to experience that with her.

"Bitch." he smirked at the two, Sam’s brows furrowed in offense as Y/N smiled. “What are you calling me a bitch for?” Sam stuttered, Y/N let out a snort of amusement. “You’re supposed to say, ‘jerk’” Sam’s brows furrowed again. "What?” Sam muttered under his breath as Y/N snickered, Dean rolled his eyes before putting the Impala in drive.

“Nevermind” He huffed. Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder from the backseat, “Asshat” She shot at with a grin. Dean chuckled under his breath in amusement, his chest swelling with the familiarity, “Nutcase”

____________________________________________

Y/N was half asleep in the backseat, her hand resting right over her stomach, lazily tracing circles around the navel through her shirt. She tried to focus on getting a somewhat proper rest having been on the road for more than 12 hours. The hum of Baby’s engine was the only sound that echoed through their ears.

Dean’s eyes landed on Y/N through the rearview mirror, the painful ache in his chest resurfaced as he watched Y/N trace her navel, gently caressing her own stomach, almost as if she was comforting their unborn child before it was even in this world yet.

He wanted so badly to just reach over and do the same, he always knew she’d make a great mother, even if y/n wouldn’t admit it to herself. But he had to pull himself away from that nagging feeling. The voice at the back of his head that was begging him to be selfish for once. He had to focus. He had a mission.

“What’s in the bag?” Sam broke the silence, pointing to the brown paper bag laying next to Dean. Y/N cracked open one of her eyes, “Nothing” Dean huffed, focusing his gaze on the empty dark road. “Nothing?” Sam sassed, “Yeah, nothing” Dean snapped back. “Just open the damn bag, I don’t wanna hear any bickering” Y/N grumbled in annoyance.

Sam scoffed before picking up the back. “Fine” He said, “Fine” Y/N mocked back, earning a glare from him. “You don’t wanna do that” Dean snorted. “Oh, really?” Sam sassed again as he reached into the bag, pulling out a container of lamb’s blood. Y/N gasped theratically as Sam did this, his own eyes widening with shock.

“What the fuck is that?!” Y/N exclaimed, pushing herself up in the backseat. “Blood” Dean shrugged, both Sam and Y/N’s eyes twitched at him. “Yeah, we can see that it’s blood, Dean! What the hell is it doing here?!” Sam shouted. Dean’s smirk widened, “You guys really don’t wanna know” He snorted.

“No, we really do wanna know! We really really do wanna know!” Y/N yelled, crossing her arms over her chest. Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, y’all are gonna find out sooner or later” He sighed, “I needed a silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood” Dean explained casually.

The car fell silent, he craned his head to see Sam and Y/N staring back at him with wide eyes, jaws practically touching the floorboards. Dean had to hold back himself from laughing at their faces, the look they had was hysterical.

“You needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, why!?” Sam exclaimed. “Because there’s this creature, a djinn, and I have to hunt it” Dean stated. Sam and Y/N’s faces dropped, “I let an insane man impregnate me” Y/N muttered to herself, her voice going up and octave as she threw herself back into the seat, looking around in disbelief.

“Okay…stop the car..” Sam began calmly, “I know how it sounds” Dean shot back. “Great. Just….stop the car” Sam tried again, y/n was still staring out the car in disbelief, her jaw hanging. “It’s the truth, guys. There are things out there in the dark. There are bad things. There are nightmare things” Dean insisted, Y/N’s eyes snapped over to him as he continued.

“People have to be saved, if we don’t save them, then nobody will,” Dean said determinedly. Sam and Y/N could feel their heads spinning, trying to make sense of what Dean was saying while still trying to process his previous statement about the silver knife. "You're telling us there's some monster out there you want to hunt?" Y/N asked disbelievingly. "Yeah" Dean said as if it was obvious.

"And you need a silver knife dipped in blood to do it?" She continued, her eyes never leaving his. "Uh-huh" Dean confirmed nonchalantly, his focus still on the road. Sam and Y/N shared a disheveled look. She decided she had had enough, pushing herself over from the backseat and into the middle of the two Winchester boys as Dean drove.

“You’ve gotta be losing it,” Y/N declared, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “And you can’t just go and hunt some ‘djinn’ that supposedly exists, you have no business getting yourself tangled up in something crazy like that!” She cried.

Dean shot her a quick side glance before returning his focus back on the road, “It’s not a ‘supposedly’ thing. These things are real” He stated matter-of-factly. Y/N shook her head in disbelief, her eyes wide, “You’re insane” she muttered.

“Look, man, we wanna help you, alright. We really do but you’re having some kind of psychotic breakdown so…” Sam chimed in, attempting to fish his phone out of his pocket. “I wish” Dean muttered. “Baby…” Y/N said to him tenderly. Dean’s hands tightened around the steering wheel at the soft tone, the nickname making his chest ache with yearning.

He briefly closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts. “Save the pet names…you don’t mean it like that” he huffed under his breath, opening his eyes as Sam dialed a number on his phone. Y/N physically flinched at his harsh tone as he rolled down the window and snatched Sam’s phone out of his hand before tossing it out of the window.

“What the fuck was that, Dean?! That was my phone!!” Sam exclaimed, whipping his head around in shock. Y/N’s mouth dropped, “You just threw his fucking phone out of the window!” She gasped. Dean ignored them both, his gaze fixated on the road ahead, “I’m not going to a rubber room Sammy and y/n/n, and we got work to do” Dean said calmly.

“We were just trying to help you out, Dean!” Sam shouted. “We don’t want you to get hurt!” Y/N added, tears brimming in her eyes. That made Dean know for sure this wasn’t his girl, because as much as she was a crybaby for sad movies and cute animal videos, she wasn’t so easy to break. “What, you two protect me?” Dean snorted in amusement.

“Yeah!” Sam and Y/N exclaimed in unison. “Oh, that’s hilarious” Dean chuckled sarcastically, turning back to face the road. “Why don’t you twojust sit tight and try not to get us all killed?” Dean demanded before turning on the radio. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Saturday Night Special’ began booming through the Impala’s deck again.

Sam and Y/N sat back in their seats, speechless after being chewed out by Dean. They exchanged a look before facing the windshield again, both of their minds swirling with thoughts as Dean’s music blared through the stereo. Y/N’s hands slid down to her stomach, gently caressing the skin where their unborn child was growing inside of her.

____________________________________________

The Impala pulled up to the familiar warehouse, Sam was passed out in the backseat, snoring rather heavily. After almost accidentally punching Y/N in his sleep, once again, she shunned Sam to the backseat, leaving an unconscious Y/N in the front seat. Her head was nestled in Dean’s lap, using his thighs as a makeshift pillow.

Dean’s hand moved down to Y/N’s hair, his fingers gently stroking the strands. The aching feeling in his chest increased every time he looked down at her sleeping form. His eyes scanned each detail on her face, the curve of her lips, everything.

It has been a long time since he had seen her look so peaceful, she seemed so relaxed and calm as she slept. It was a sharp contrast the way she usually was; stressed, anxious, worried and overthinking about everything.

Dean sighed heavily before fishing his flashlight from his jacket, shining it in both Sam and Y/N’s faces. A wide grin playing on his lips. Sam’s eyebrows crinkled together as the light shined in his face, his eyes fluttering open as he groaned. “Wha—” He muttered, confusion written all over his face. Y/N on the other hand, let out a loud whine.

Twisting in Dean’s lap to face his stomach before shoving her face into his shirt in order to block the bright light. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty and sasquatch” Dean chuckled, shifting in the seat. Sam grumbled incoherently, rubbing the sleep out from his eyes. “Where are we?” He mumbled, still trying to wake himself up.

Y/N remained pressed against Dean’s stomach, trying to fall back into her semi-comprehensive state of sleep. “Well, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Dean replied with a light chuckle. This made Y/N shoot up from her place in his lap. Dean chuckled again at her reaction, a smirk on his face as he turned off the flashlight.

She narrowed her eyes at him before glaring at Sam, who in turn, gave her a small sheepish smile. She huffed in annoyance before looking out the window. Y/N’s eyes flickered over to the warehouse, the air of the cold night wafted through the open windows, Dean’s body heat couldn’t keep her warm anymore. She shivered slightly, bringing her hands up to wrap her arms around herself.

“We’re in Illinois” Dean answered Sam’s previous question. “And you think something’s there?” Y/N’s voice was thick with sleep as she asked. “I know it is” Dean said firmly, his eyes narrowed at the building with determination. Sam and Y/N exchanged a nervous look before turning back to him.

-

The trio all held their own flashlights up, the abandoned warehouse/ruins Dean remembered he was attacked by the Djinn was exactly the way it was. Thunder clapped outside, bellowing through the dark hall as lightning filled the sky.

Dean led the way, his footsteps echoed through the abandoned hallway as they walked. Y/N stuck by his side while Sam followed behind them. She was starting to get a bad feeling, the warehouse was dark, cold and damp. So instinctively, she reached for her fiancé’s hand, interlocking their fingers together.

“See? There’s nothing here, Dean” Sam insisted. “Look, our parents are gonna be worried sick about us, babe. Come on, let’s just go” Y/N pleaded with Dean. Dean gritted his teeth, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightened slightly. “Shh” he hissed. Sam and Y/N exchanged another nervous look, stopping in their tracks when they heard the sounds of a girl crying. “What the fuck is that?” Sam gasped.

“Both of you, stay behind me and keep your mouths shut” Dean instructed them, his voice laced with authority as he let go of Y/N’s hand, using his body to cover her. His free hand instinctively went to shield her belly. They both nodded, falling behind him as he moved forward. The crying got louder with every step they took.

Sam and Y/N’s eyes went as wide as saucers when their eyes landed on the decomposing corpses of a man and a woman. The same ones Dean saw back at his ‘house’. Y/N brought a hand to her mouth, a sick churning in her stomach at the sight of the dead bodies. The urge to puke was poking at her as Dean kept his face stoic, the confirmation that none of this was real was creeping up on him and it devastated him.

“What the fuck?” Sam gasped again, swallowing thickly as Dean’s eyes flicked over to a young girl who was tied up by her wrists. She had a large gash in her throat, her skin looked dirty, as though she hadn’t bathed in months. But she still looked somewhat alive, his eyes piercing into Dean’s.

It was the girl that was haunting him. Dean moved closer to the girl as Y/N reached over to grip Sam’s shoulder, trying to hold up her balance. The urge to puke was growing stronger. “Dean, wait…” Y/N mumbled, her words almost incoherent with the bile threatening to rise up her throat. He didn’t listen, only moved forward.

The girl was staring back at him, her eyes bloodshot and dark. “Dean, don’t” Sam spoke up, watching the scene unfold. But Dean still didn’t listen, he went straight up to the girl, crouching down to her. She tilted her head to the side, as if to study him. “It’s her,” Dean gasped as the realization hit him.

It confused them how Dean knew this girl, but they still felt the need to help her. For Y/N, seeing the young girl in such a state brought out the maternal instincts she never knew she had. “Dean, what’s going on?” She asked urgently, attempting to reach over to untie the girl, along with Sam. But Dean stopped them, “Shhh” He hushed them when he heard footsteps.

Quickly and quietly, they all hid behind a large tank as the Djinn entered the room. The young girl was shaking as the heavily tattooed creature padded over to her, “Where’s my dad? I don’t know.” The young girl sobbed, her voice absolutely desperate and broke. The Djinn didn’t answer, he just inched towards the girl whose feet were hanging slightly off the ground.

“No. Don’t. No. Where’s my dad?” She pleaded weakly as she tried to shuffle away but it was no use. The djinn brought his hand up to her face, placing his fingertips to the sobbing girl’s face, “Sleep” He said, his fingers lighting a small glow of white before fully expanding into a large dark blue light. The girl shivered in his touch, “Sleep…” He said again, caressing her cheek.

The girl soon fell unconscious as the Djinn placed a sickening kiss on her cheek before unhooking the saline bag that was hanging on an IV stand. He then brought the bloodied thin clear hose to his mouth, ingesting her blood.

Y/N felt sick to her stomach, her throat closing up at the scene unfolding in front of her. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t, it was like she was completely frozen, not able to move or break her view from the girl.

Sam wasn’t faring much better, a visible shiver shot through him at the sight. His head felt like it was spinning when the djinn started feeding off the girl, his eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly parted.

Dean, on the other hand, had never felt so angry. His body was tense and his jaw clenched.

Y/N couldn’t hold it back anymore, the bile in her throat built up and she immediately let chunks blew all over Sam’s shoes, causing the younger Winchester to gag in disgust as both the scene unfolding and the sight of the djinn drinking the girl’s blood.

“Agh, Jesus!” Sam hissed, lowly. But it seemed like the djinn didn’t notice, it’s back was turned and it was still in the middle of feeding. But Dean caught the sound of Sam’s gag and Y/N’s heaving, he shot the pair a glare and held his finger up to his lips, signaling them to stay quiet.

The djinn finally finished feeding, letting out a satisfied moan as it pulled the hose out of its mouth. A chilling smile crept across its lips as it left the room. “This is real? You’re not crazy?” Y/N began to hyperventilate along with Sam as she wiped her mouth, buckling over as a pain struck at her stomach.

“She didn’t know where she was. She thought she was with her father” Dean muttered, the wheels turning in his head. The boys then stepped out from behind the tank, moving closer to the girl. Sam held up a weak Y/N, his arm draping around her midsection as Dean clenched his fists.

“What if that’s what the Djinn does? It doesn’t grant you a wish. I just- it makes you think you has” Dean swallowed harshly. He was hoping that somehow, someway, it could’ve just been a super fucked up wish. And he could’ve fixed his relationships with his family. Finally get on F/N’s good side. Be a better brother, be a better fiancé….be a better father.

“Look man, that thing can come back, alright? And we need to get Y/N to a hospital, she’s weak” Sam pleaded with Dean as Y/N’s head tumbled on his shoulder. But Dean didn’t hear him, all he heard was a ringing in his ears, his head snapping to the other side of the room where a light shone over head.

Dean slowly stepped closer to the light, flashes of his own body hanging from a ceiling filled his vision. Causing the elder Winchester to choke on his own spit, his throat constricted as air refused to enter his lungs. “Dean, baby. Please” Y/N’s weak voice pleaded with him. “What if I’m like her?” Dean finally let himself say out loud. “What if I’m tied up in here some place? What if all this is in my head?”

Part of him knew, that voice nagging him at the back of his head knew. “I mean, it could, you know…maybe give us some kind of supernatural acid and then just feeds on us slow,” Dean muttered as he studied the girl’s face. Sam’s jaw dropped at Dean’s words, his brain going into overthinking mode, he was about to say something but stopped when he heard a low whimper come from Y/N.

Her head was heavy on his shoulder. “No, Dean, that doesn’t make sense, okay,” Sam gaped. Y/N’s weak eyes flickered to Dean once more, her breath was slightly ragged and labored from when she had puked. “Please” Y/N croaked, clinging onto Sam. Dean turned to face them.

“What if that’s why she keeps appearing to me? She’s not a spirit. It’s like more and more I’m catching reality flashes. You know? like I’m in here somewhere, I’m catatonic. I’m taking all this stuff in but I can’t snap out of it” Dean put the pieces together.

Y/N, weak as she was, peeled herself from Sam and forced herself to walk over to Dean, her legs were shaking and it was hard to keep herself standing upright But she reached out for him, her hand landing on his arm. “Dean” She gasped. “Look, you’re right. We were wrong, you’re not crazy. But please, we need to get out of here. Fast.” She pleaded, her words coming out thick and choked, trying not to puke again.

Y/N ran her hands up the back of his neck but it made Dean feel sick rather than safe. Dean narrowed his eyes at her, clenching his jaw before roughly pushing her off. Luckily, Sam caught her before she could hit the ground. Y/N and Sam both went wide-eyed at Dean’s sudden roughness. Y/N’s face crumbled, her expression filled with hurt as her eyes began to water. “Dean?” She whispered, her voice so fragile.

But Dean’s face was hard and emotionless, his eyes darkened as he stared back at her. “What the fuck man?! She’s pregnant!” Sam exclaimed as he carefully helped Y/N back onto her feet, his arms held protectively around her. “I don’t think you’re real” Dean gaped, feeling as though he had been shot in the heart. “I don’t think either of you are real.” Dean shook his head, slowly backing away from them.

Y/N let out a choked sob, her bottom lip quivered, the urge to keep herself together was getting weaker. Her head fell into her hand while Sam looked ready to punch some sense into his brother’s head.

He gritted his teeth before helping Y/N to lean on something before storming over to his brother, shaking his roughly. “Did you feeling that? You feel this? I’m real! Y/N is real and so is your goddamn baby! This is not an acid trip! We’re real and that thing is gonna come down here and kill us for real. Now please” Sam pleaded with Dean, his tone filled with desperation.

Dean’s face remained stoic, “There’s one way to be sure” He clenched his jaw before retracting the silver knife from his jacket pocket. He then raised the knife towards Sam. “Woah, Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah! Stop!” Sam cried, his hands shot up into the air, as if to surrender. Scuffling over to shield Y/N who was still clutching her stomach, writhing in pain. But Dean didn’t believe it for one second.

“Dean, what are you doing, man? What are you doing?” He pleaded with Dean, his eyes widened in panicked confusion. “It’s an old-wives tale. If you’re about to die in a dream, you wake up” Dean stated. Sam’s face fell, he knew exactly what Dean was going to do. “No, no, no, no. That’s crazy, alright?!” He protested. “Maybe” Dean shrugged.

Y/N’s head perked up, her eyes widened at Dean’s words as she finally understood what he was about to do. “Dean, no, don’t!” She shouted as Sam used his arm to stop her from approaching Dean. “You’re gonna kill yourself- Okay!” Sam exclaimed when he tried to apprehend Dean but he drew the knife on them in a warning manner. “Or I’m gonna wake up” Dean shot back.

“One or the other” Dean breathed heavily. “Look, this isn’t a dream, alright? We’re here, with you, now, and you are about to kill yourself, charming” Y/N pleaded with him, her voice sounding suddenly stronger. Dean narrowed his eyes at her, “No, I’m pretty sure” He growled, “Like….90 percent sure” He blinked before turning the knife on him, ready to stab himself.

“Wait!!” Sam bellowed. Dean’s head snapped over to the side when he saw the figure of two women, one in a white nightgown and the other in a black. Mary Winchester and M/N L/N approached Dean with sweet smiles on their faces. His heart dropped in his chest as he watched from all corners. Jess appeared, then F/N from another corner.

Y/N was suddenly healthy and well again, slowly walking up to Dean. “Why’d you have to keep digging? Why couldn’t you have left well enough alone?” She asked, her voice wasn’t sounding much like her own. “You were happy.” Sam added as Mary and M/N moved and began walking besides Y/N. “Put the knife down, honey” M/N said gently.

“Listen to her, Dean,” Mary added just as tenderly. Dean was frozen in place, his eyes wide, shifting from side to side as the women in this nightmare, his nightmare, advanced towards him. His heart was hammering in his chest, he looked like he was ready to have a panic attack. The knife loosened on his grip as he looked over to Y/N, his eyes wide like a frightened child.

This wasn’t real… this couldn’t be real. It’s not real.

“You’re not real” Dean’s lip trembled, tearing welling up in his eyes to say this to his mother and M/N, subconsciously tightening the knife in his grips. All three women frowned, “None of it is” He spat. His eyes glancing down to Y/N’s stomach, he felt as thought he had been shot, once again.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s still better than anything you had” Mary said encouragingly. “What?” Dean gasped. “It’s everything you want. We’re a family again” M/N added, offering Dean a small smile. “Let’s go home,” She urged him. “But I’ll die,” Dean’s voice broke.

“The djinn’ll drain the life outta me in a couple of days” He shook his head, part of him wanted to be selfish and take the offer but his conscience wouldn’t let him. “But I’m here with us, it’ll feel like years…” Y/N chimed in, taking Dean’s hand into hers to place it on her stomach. “…like a lifetime”

Dean’s breath hitched at Y/N’s words. He was torn between selfish temptation and morality, his mind was fighting with itself. The feeling of his child under his hand was so real and it was making him falter.

The tears began to fall down Dean’s pale cheeks, he looked absolutely heartbroken. He didn’t know what to do, the women around him had everything he ever wanted but it wasn’t real. None of it was real. His throat was tight, he could feel the bile rising from his stomach but he tried to hold it in.

Mary brought her hand up to caress Dean’s cheek and M/N took Dean’s free hand in his. “We promise. No more pain or fear.” Mary said sweetly as Dean nuzzled his cheek into her hand and tightened his grip on M/N’s hand. “Just love, comfort and safety” M/N added in an urging tone.

Dean’s eyes reopened, still trained on his palm that was resting on Y/N’s stomach. Both mothers stepped back, allowing Y/N to wrap her arms around Dean, running her fingers through the nape of his neck. “Dean. Stay with us. Let’s go home and get some rest” Y/N pleaded.

Dean’s eyes met with Y/N’s, staring into those gorgeous (e/c) irises that he’ll never get tired of looking into. She looked so beautiful, so healthy. It was too good to be true. The idea of her bearing his child, them being parents together, the idea of her actually loving him back was all too good to be true for Dean. His lip quivered as he reached to cup her cheek, caressing his thumb on her soft skin.

“You don’t have to worry about Sam anymore. You get to watch him live a full life” Jessica chimed in. Dean’s brows creased as his chest ached. Y/N leaned up to capture Dean’s lips into a gentle slow kiss. The kiss was long and tender, it felt so real, and it was making this so much more painful for Dean.

He could feel his heart breaking as tears continued to fall down his face, a strangled gasp escaped from him. But Y/N didn’t let go. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and his hand remained firm on her stomach. She pulled away for a breath, her bottom lip trembled as she leaned her forehead against his, “We can finally have a future together. Have our own family. I love you, charming” She whispered.

“Please” Y/N pleaded, the look of desperation in her eyes was enough to bring Dean to a puddle, it took all in him not to crack right there and give in. He stubbornly shook his head, “No you don’t….at least, not like that” Dean whispered back, his voice hoarse as he once again denied Y/N’s love for him.

A frown took over Y/N’s beautiful face, her eyes watering up as the words stung her. “Yes, I do” She insisted, her hands moving up to cup his face so he wouldn’t look away, to look her in the eye. “Dean, I do, I love you” Her voice was pleading, she wasn’t lying. The words were written all over her face, her heart was laying bare for him.

This wasn’t real… this couldn’t be real. It’s not real.

It was Sam’s turn, the younger Winchester stepped forward and Y/N released her loose grip on Dean. “Why is it our job to save everyone?” Sam asked in a calm voice. “Haven't we done enough?” He added, the look of despair on his brother’s face was extreme to the point where Sam was willing to do anything to keep Dean here.

“I’m begging you. Give me the knife” Sam begged him. Dean’s eyes trailed the room. They went to F/N, who was yet to say a word, but he had an encouraging look on his face. “Give him the knife, son” He finally said. Dean’s eyes then went to Jessica, before trailing over to Mary, M/N, Sam and finally Y/N. He gave her stomach one last look before leaning down to press a kiss to it.

Y/N’s lip curled into a small sad smile as he pressed a tender kiss to her stomach before drawing back to stare solemnly into her eyes. They were glossy with tears, she didn’t say anything, afraid that her voice would betray her. Dean’s eyes softened slightly as he stared down at the woman he loved.

His throat was as tight as it was before, but it felt more painful now. His heart ached, it hurt to say what he was going to say next. “I’m sorry, princess,” He murmured. With that, Dean reared the knife back before driving it into his stomach. A chorus of cries filled the room. “DEAN!” Sam and Y/N screamed.

Reality, 2007

Joliet, Illinois

“DEAN!” Sam and Y/N screamed when they stormed the ruined warehouse with Jo, guns blazing, all armed with silver knives dipped in lamb’s blood. Y/N’s stomach dropped, suppressing a scream when she saw Dean tied up from his wrists, a bag of his blood that was being drained was propped on an IV stand. He looked as pale as ever.

Y/N, Sam, and Jo advanced into the room further, eyes locked on Dean. She felt her stomach twist painfully as she took him in; bloody, bruised, pale. He was unconscious, most likely from the blood loss, he was too weak to lift his head.

“Dean” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky as her mind ran a mile a minute. Just staring at him was making her want to break down and cry. “Oh, God. Come on” Sam pleaded as he reholstered his gun and began shaking his brother.

“Dean, sweetie, please” Y/N begged, placing both her palms to his cheeks, gently tapping him as his eyes fluttered open. Jo reached down into Y/N’s boots to take out the butterfly knife she had stored there, flickering it open.

“Oh, Auntie Em. There’s no place like home” Dean moaned and groaned from the loss of blood. “Thank God, I thought we lost you for a second” Sam breathed out in relief, the pain clear in his voice. “Y’all almost did” Dean grunted, his face creasing with pain as Y/N yanked the IV needle from his neck.

“Come on, let’s get you down” Jo said quietly as she began to cut away at the ropes. Sam and Y/N held Dean up, not seeing the Djinn that appeared behind them. “Sam! Y/N!” Dean screamed, warning them. The sound of Dean’s voice, screaming their names, made the pair of them whip their heads around in horror.

The sight of the djinn made them both freeze for millisecond, stunned. The two instantly kicked into action, attacking the Djinn while Jo desperately tried to cut away quickly at the stubborn roping, bounding Dean’s wrists.

Both hunters tried to stab the Djinn with their knives but it was faster and stronger than them, it dodged their attack, gripping them by their wrists.

“Come on, hurry up!” Dean yelled at Jo, yanking at his wrists. “I’m trying!” Jo screamed back, quickening her pace, the two were horrified.

Y/N raised her foot, high kicking the Djinn across his face (thank you cheerleading) dazzling the creature. He backhanded Sam into a railing, the hunter went headfirst into it, also dazzled. The Djinn suddenly grabbed hold of Y/N’s throat, a gasp left her at the unexpected attack. It yanked her backwards, holding her in its grip.

Y/N struggled in his grip as he picked Sam up by his throat, attempting to squeeze the life force out of the two. Y/N reached her hand out in an attempt to summon her discarded knife on the ground with her mind but it was no use, the lack of air was causing her to grow light headed, her focus was minimal.

She was losing her touch as darkness slowly crept into vision, her eyelids grew heavier as she struggled to keep eye contact with Sam, who was equally as dizzy. She could see Sam flailing about, his lips moving but Y/N couldn’t hear him through the loud, continuous buzz that was ringing in her ears.

Suddenly, Dean and Jo appeared behind the Djinn, the younger huntress buried the knife in the Djinn’s spine. A sickening pierce echoed through the room as the Djinn groaned, gargling on his own blood. Her face contorted with anger as she twisted the knife for good measure.

They watched as the Djinn collapsed to the floor with a strangled moan, his grip loosening on the two, allowing both Sam and Y/N to break from his grip. Y/N let out a strangled cough, filling her lungs with oxygen and trying to regain her breath.

Dean turned his head to look at Y/N and Sam, who were both slumped against the flooring, both dazed. “Hey! You two okay?” He asked urgently, placing his hands on both their shoulders. “Yeah” Sam croaked, his voice hoarse when he swallowed. “Fine” Y/N nodded, reaching up to her neck to feel the aching skin where he gripped her.

Jo breathed out in relief as she crouched down to place her hand on Sam’s cheek. Sam winced as he leaned his cheek into Jo’s warm gentle touch on his face. The pair stared at each other for a moment, both glad the other was okay.

Sam was the first to break eye contact, he forced himself up from the floor, letting out a sigh, his legs felt like jelly. His eyes shifted over to Y/N, he extended his hand out to her, silently asking if she was okay. Y/N looked at him, letting out a shaky breath and nodded, taking his outstretched hand in hers.

Dean then suddenly remembered the girl from his dream, his head snapping behind him to see her tied up the same way he was. His face fell with instant sorrow when he saw her bound state, she was in a gown that was torn, her hair was messy and disheveled, her face was pale and lifeless.

Dean felt anger as he began to approach the girl, his legs stumbling as he attempted to stand up. His legs were still weak and wobbly from the Djinn venom. Dean brought his fingers up and pressed it to the side of her neck. His eyes widened when he felt the light thumping of a pulse, “She’s still alive, guys!” Dean exclaimed with relief as Jo reached up and cut the girl down and Dean retracted the IV needle from her neck.

Dean cradled the almost lifeless girl in his hands, “I got you. I got you. We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? I got you. I got you” Dean breathed out, even though weak, he held her up in his hands. Y/N smiled to herself as she watched Dean cradle the girl, his voice was soft and gentle as he murmured soft little reassurances to her.

Shushing her as if he was trying to soothe a child. She and Sam shared a concerned look however as Jo frowned. All fearful and unwilling to imagine what Dean went through in just a span of a few hours.

____________________________________________

Dean was sitting on his bed in the motel room, reading one of Y/N’s playboy magazine’s while Sam was on the phone with the hospital and Jo was lounging on Sam’s bed. Y/N was making a cup of tea for Dean, per her request, to bring his strength back up.

“Okay, uh, thank you so much for the update. Okay, bye” Sam said into the phone before hanging up. “That was the hospital. The girl’s been stabilized. Good chance she’s gonna pull through” Sam informed Dean, who just nodded in return. “That’s good,” Dean grunted. “Yeah” Sam sighed, settling in the bed next to Jo.

Y/N returned to Dean’s bed, handing him the cup of tea. “How about you? You alright?” She asked gently. “Yeah, I’m all right, thanks” Dean cleared his throat, unable to keep eye contact with her as he accepted the cup of tea. Sam, Jo and Y/N shared an unconvinced look.

“You should’ve seen it, guys. Our lives…” Dean sighed. “You were such a wussy” Dean shot at Sam jokingly, making the room erupt in chuckles. “You weren’t there man, sorry” He said to Jo. “No worries” Jo chuckled, shaking her head. Dean took a small sip of the warm tea, making sure to not burn himself.

“So we all didn’t get along then, huh?,” Sam asked. Dean’s brows raised suddenly, “Well- Nope” He replied bluntly, shaking his head. Y/N sat down next to him on the bed. “At all?” She asked, raising a suspicious brow. “Yeah nope” He chuckled dryly, lying through his pearly white teeth, taking another sip of the drink.

“Man, I couldn’t imagine us not getting along” Sam muttered, the look of disbelief on his face matched the other two. “I thought it was supposed to be this perfect fantasy” Y/N sighed, crossing one leg over another. “It wasn’t- It was just a wish” Dean cut her off, his eyes trained on his tea.

“Yeah, I wished for Mom and M/N to live. If they never died, F/N would’ve never told dad about hunting. And we all just never…uh…you know” Dean said sadly. The other three had frowns on their faces, feeling the pain they all could relate to in him. It was a hard life they led, full of loss and suffering, they all felt it.

“Well I’m glad we do” Sam said, “And I’m glad you dug yourself out Dean” Jo added, both meaning their heartfelt words. “Dean,” Y/N said quietly, placing her hand on his leg. “Most people wouldn’t have had the strength. They would’ve just stayed.” She assured him.

Dean lifted his gaze from the tea, meeting Y/N’s comforting eyes. “Yeah, well. Lucky me” He replied with a small dry smile, his eyes scanning her face. Dean’s eyes flickered over to Jo and Sam, both were staring at each other deeply. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I gotta tell you though, Sammy. You had Jess, you were gonna give mom grandkids. And Y/N…your dad was alive and you were gonna get married to Xander” Dean lied.

Sam’s head snapped up, an uncomfortable look instantly appeared on his face. “Yeah,” He replied awkwardly, rubbing his face. This wasn’t exactly a topic he enjoyed talking about. A frown set on Jo’s face, she knew about what happened to Jess after Sam gave her a deep dive of his life and she did the same with him.

Y/N saw the frown appear Jo’s face, immediately coming to her defense. “Yeah, but, Dean, it wasn’t real. Nothing that happened in your head was real, nor will it ever be” Y/N told him gently. Dean paused for a minute, feeling as though he had been shot for a third time.

His heart was practically ripped from his chest at her words. Dean clenched his jaw, “I know….but I wanted to stay.” He confessed gruffly before gulping down a mouthful of tea. His eyes glanced down at Y/N’s stomach, memories of the Djinn’s world were still fresh in his head. “I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since F/N and Dad….all I could- all I could think about is how much this job’s cost us”

“We have all lost so much..w-we have sacrificed so much” All three of them stared at Dean, surprised at his confession. “We know,” Y/N affirmed gently, her eyes staring at him with a mix of understanding and sadness. Sam nodded in agreement, the pain and suffering was something they all had. “But people are alive because of you. It’s worth it, Dean” Sam countered.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “It is, man. And- it’s not fair. And- you know- it hurts like hell” Jo chimed in, scoffing dryly. “But like Sam said, it’s worth it” She assured him. “And you’ve got us” Y/N reminded him softly. All three hunter’s eyes were on him, their faces were sincere.

Dean swallowed deeply, his eyes glanced back down at his tea. A small part of him wished he was still in the dream. Y/N nudged him gently, “Hey” She whispered, bringing up her pinky. “I pinky promise” She smiled softly.

A small smile cracked on the corner of his mouth, a small chuckle left his lips. Dean gently raised his hand and linked his pinky with hers. “There, you can’t break a pinky promise” She winked, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

____________________________________________

Authors Note: “yOu CaNt BrEaK a PiNkY pRoMiSe” oh sweet summer child, just you wait until the next episode💀 (as someone who takes pinky promises very seriously, I’m already in tears)

ANYWAYS, did I break your heart? Did I make things better? Or are you plotting my demise?😂😂😂

I hope everyone loves this one! Be sure to tell me what you loved or what you hated, I can’t wait to hear your feedback🥰

Thanks for reading and have an amazing day loves!

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258

Xoxo

[emeraldoodles]

The Master Post from Serizawa Week 2024

I had lots of fun participating! Mine are little snapshots from the week, linking one day to the next.

If you would like more story read below.

Thanks @ygodmyy20 & @acermp100 for letting me bound ideas off you the whole week. Also, @yu-artist for sharing the Seriweek prompts!

Monday, March 25th - Friends

Serizawa made going back to school look so fun Minegishi decided to join. Sometimes Dimple/Yoshioka likes to stop by and say hello. Today he was a distraction to Serizawa, so he had trouble paying attention and listening to the homework assignment.

Tuesday, March 26th - School

Poor Serizawa, having to stay up late to finish an assignment. At least he's not alone. The cat's name is Gizmo! Thanks @acermp100 for the cat name suggestion. @secretagent9 I really love the idea of a Gundam name, but not being a fan I didn't know what to choose.

Wednesday, March 27th - Outfit

Reigen and Serizawa were hired to exorcise mischievous spirits that kept harassing the maids at a cafe. Serizawa was very tired from yesterday's school assignment and not on his A-game today.

Reigen volunteered to lure out the ghost by wearing a maid's outfit, but maybe he just wanted to wear it. Serizawa is wearing his cute butler outfit! The maids were very excited to dress him up, not so much Reigen

Reigen: Those brats! Wont even help me tie my apron. Grumble. *struggles to reach behind*

Serizawa: Here, let me. *zips up and hooks Reigen's dress and ties the apron*

Reigen: *many hand gestures* Competition, that's what is is Serizawa! I'm competition because of how good I look.

Serizawa: *chuckles* You do look good sir. Very pretty, very cute.

Reigen: R-really? *blush* I-I er, I mean of course! Now! Let's get to work!

Poor Reigen, he got ice water dumped on him several times that day. He wasn't feel great before the exorcism, but was wiped out by the end the assignment.

Thursday, March 28th - Food

Mrs. Serizawa is teaching Kastuya how to cook, so he can stop living off instant noodles. Today is a hearty beef & leak stew!

Mrs. Serizawa: Remember, the leaks need to be thoroughly washed.

Kastuya: Nods, Nods!

Mrs. Serizawa: Also, the more passion and enjoyment you put into your cooking will reflect in the final dish. So, relax and take it slow and your love will shine through.

Serizawa is learning how to make tonjiru soup. He wants to make it for someone "special" this week.

Friday, March 29th - Spring

Dimple: I don't get it. If you're worried about Reigen go check up on him.

Serizawa: I don't want to intrude on his privacy.

Dimple: Ugh, you two are impossible.

It was an unusual day. Reigen didn't show up for work and Serizawa just got a message from him saying "I n68 sick".

Saturday, March 30th - Comfort/Bravery

Serizawa: Reigen, please eat a little more.

Reigen: No, I feel so sick.

Serizawa: But you've not eaten since Thursday. Here, let me get you just some broth.

Reigen: Kastuya...

Serizawa: Y-Yes?

Reigen: I.... I... Bucket. I need the bucket.

Reigen proceeded to dry heave into the bucket while saliva and tears fell in. Serizawa rubbed his back while he continued to convulse for several minutes.

Sunday, March 31st - Birthday

Serizawa went over to check on Reigen, who surprised him by throwing a little birthday celebration. It was just the two of them, but Reigen originally had planned something bigger. Luckily, the present, a multiplayer game, arrived on time, so they could play together.

Reigen was still sick, and drugged up, and making bad decisions. But Serizawa didn't mind. A love confession from Reigen made this the best birthday.

[pmpmyread]

Tailor-made

Content tags: mentee Nobara, mentor Nanami, papamin vibes. Summary: Nanami fills in for Gojo to lead an individual training session with Nobara, and you witness a new bond forming between the two. Characters: Nanami Kento, Kugisaki Nobara, Gojo Satoru, Reader-insert Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader Word count: 3.8k | Also on AO3

Nobara was on the tail end of a combat drill, one of the many making up today’s training curriculum, which overall consisted of timed exercises to practice her Straw Doll technique. Her objective: take out a handful of cursed corpses as rapidly and efficiently as possible.

In the absence of Gojo, who had been called off to a last-minute mission overseas, Nanami was exceptionally supervising today’s session. 

The Grade 1 sorcerer had remained mostly quiet throughout Nobara’s runs, observing her intently and only interfering punctually to read out each of her circuit timings off his stopwatch.

While he was not as well-acquainted with her skill level as he was with Yuuji’s, Nanami did not need to be in order to realize that she appeared to be somewhat off her game; her stiff movements, vacillating focus, and some increasingly longer performance times were all indicators betraying a struggle that seemed to be more internal than otherwise, yet very much perceptible even as he stood at a distance, behind the metallic chain link fence that delineated the training field.

Nanami pressed his stopwatch just as Nobara closed out her drill.

“Four minutes, twenty-six seconds.” He called out.

It was her longest time yet.

He watched as Nobara dejectedly let her hammer and a handful of nails drop to her sides.

“Please wait a moment before you reset, Kugisaki.” Nanami instructed, as he opened the fence gate, entering the field to approach her where she stood.

Once he was in proximity, he found her crouched with her hands on her knees, still catching her breath, eyebrows scrunched into a frown, and eyes fixed ahead at the spot where she’d eliminated her final target. He knelt beside her before speaking.   “Kugisaki, you’re doing well overall, you have a very steady control over your cursed energy, which is crucial to your success. That said, I do notice that you tend to hesitate sometimes before sending your shots. It is the single determining factor slowing you down in your weaker runs.”

Nobara lowered her gaze just as she lifted her hands, glaring at them as though chastising herself.

Nanami continued, “You seem to be well aware of this, and I have a feeling you’ve already given it some thought. Am I correct?”

The first-year student was stunned at the level of Nanami’s perceptiveness. The two had rarely ever interacted, in fact, this was the longest Nobara had ever conversed with the 7:3 sorcerer. And yet, in the time of a single training session, he had managed to skillfully unearth the challenge she had been struggling with for weeks.

She finally gave a slow nod in return, eyes still fixed on her hands.

“Alright. Then I’d like to hear your thoughts, if you don’t mind, so that we can get to the root cause of this hurdle.”

Nanami’s incredible level of patience was not lost on her; he had let her run through quite a few drills on her own before this intervention, something she deeply appreciated as it had granted her the agency to trial and error and to attempt to find her footing on her own. Even now, as she struggled to find the words to formulate a response, he did not rush her; he simply waited.

She could see now, clear as day, why Itadori had sung Nanami’s praises.

After a moment, she finally spoke.

“I’ve been told that… I mean, I am aware that I have the tendency to underestimate my opponents, in battle.”

Just as the words left her mouth, her thoughts flitted to vivid memories of the close call she’d had on the detention center mission during which she’d run out of nails and failed to exorcise the spirits that came after her.

She had spent many moments, since that incident, wide awake with her heart rate accelerating in both fear and frustration, as she replayed the moments during which she’d believed that she was done for and as she tormented herself with the strident reality that she assuredly would have been, were it not for Fushiguro coming to her aid at the last minute.

Also resonating through her mind were echoes of Maki verbalizing this weakness of hers in her slightly harsh but kind words, during a discussion they had following a recent sparring session. As much as she’d appreciated her friend’s brutal honesty for the place of genuine concern it was coming from, the culmination of all of these incidents, combined with her first-year peers’ seemingly exponential growth in their techniques felt dizzying, even now.

She pushed against her knees to straighten up, determined to keep it together, and finally looked at Nanami for the first time, her voice shakier than she’d expected.

“I tend to get overconfident, so I’m trying to re-adjust.”

Nanami let her complete her thought, waiting a short moment to ensure that his student had contributed what she wanted to convey before he slowly nodded and responded.

“I see. I commend you for honing in on this vulnerability. The finite number of nails you are able to carry demands that you make each hit count.”

He picked up the two discarded nails that sat on the ground by her feet, right by her hammer and held one in each hand, pinching each at the head with his thumb and index fingers.

“If I can provide some advice: consider both your abilities and your limits.” Nanami hit both nails against each other, crossing them at their center to emphasize his words.

He continued, “You do very well with ranged attacks so try to make use of that distance to fully assess the situation. Once you determine your attack path and commit to it. Making that calculation up front will save you the risk of hesitating when you’re within closer range. Each sorcerer has a unique kit of abilities, so there will never be a single strategy that applies to all. Your self-assuredness and confidence are assets in the heat of combat so they will be advantageous to you as a sorcerer when employed appropriately. Do be cautious, but do not overcorrect and shrink yourself. This applies both in and out of combat. Understood?”

Nobara nodded again, hanging on to his every word, only now realizing how desperately she’d needed to hear them until they were uttered. Nanami’s advice was a balm of calm over the storm that was in her mind.

“Good.” Nanami dropped both nails in his left hand and picked up her hammer with his right, handing them to Nobara before he stood to his feet. “Are you up for trying again?”

“I am,” she replied, a newfound wind of determination coming into her sails.

When Nobara resumed her exercises, the impact of her incorporation of Nanami’s advice did not take long to manifest itself;  her movements had shed their delayed indecision and became swift, and her overall technique from visibly irresolute to decisive.

Her drill timings finally began showing some incremental improvements.

When she completed her final circuit several drills later and approached Nanami at the sidelines, he simply brought up his stopwatch to her eye level, letting her read off her time herself, instead of calling it.

“What… under three minutes?!” An expression of relief chased one of shock on Nobara’s face, as she absorbed her new record, before bringing her fist down in a rejoicing gesture.

“Yes! I can’t believe I did it!”

“Good job, Kugisaki.”

“Thank you, Nanami-san! Seriously, this changes everything.”

“No need to thank me, this was all you.”

“And I just know I can beat this record too!”

“That’s the spirit, you’ll get there with a bit more practice. And always with confidence.”

They tidied the training area and Nanami closed the gate behind them before the two began making their way back to the school.

“Hey Nanami-san,” Nobara started, the light swing of her hammer as she took each step surfacing her lighter mood, “since we are on the topic of confidence, I want to say for the record that no matter what Gojo-sensei says, I’ve always admired the way you rock that tie. Not only is it a great display of confidence, I think it makes for a unique statement piece!”

Nanami looked down at his signature leopard print tie, measuring his words carefully.

“And just what exactly has Gojo been saying about—actually, never mind I’ll deal with him myself once he returns.”

“I’ve been looking for a statement piece to add to my wardrobe. I just can’t find anything that suits my style. The stores that Gojo-sensei showed me are too trendy for my taste. It’s hard to select something when everything looks the same.”

“I am certain that Gojo-san’s shopping habits consist of simply purchasing the entirety of a brand’s available catalog available that season. He has no selection process,” Nanami replied, flatly.

Nobara cackled at the unexpected snark coming out of the otherwise stoic sorcerer.

“Yes! That is exactly what I told him! It must be great for keeping your wardrobe fresh, but we’re not all Gojo, and really sometimes you’re looking for that one piece that brings out your individuality. Surely this is possible in a city as large as Tokyo. My search continues!”

Nanami looked down at his tie once more.

Individuality.

That was the term that ignited an idea in his mind.

Later that afternoon, you were making your way towards the school’s break room, particularly eager to take what would be the first break of the day during a work week that had been hectic as ever, typical of one for an auxiliary manager during this busy time of year. So when you found Nanami leaning against the counter, seemingly on a break of his own and sipping on a cup of tea, you were elated by the surprise of his presence.

“Good afternoon, Nanami!”

You noticed his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he returned your smile.

“Good afternoon,” he replied, handing you a freshly prepared warm cup of tea.

“Matcha green, just for me? The man that you are… And with such perfect timing!”

“I heard your Shinjuku mission was wrapping up early, I figured you’d pass by here before your next mission.”

You took the cup and briefly closed your eyes as you brought it to your lips to take a sip. A formula you’d prepared for yourself for years and one that you’d thought to have mastered, now progressively seemed to taste better whenever Nanami made it for you. You hummed in delight as the familiar warm mixed notes of sweetness and bitterness hit your tongue.

“Thank you. But I must ask, is there an occasion for such a lovely treat?”

“Am I not allowed to prepare a tea for my colleague?”

“Colleague? Since when was I demoted to that?”

“Since I got demoted to Nanami,” he responded, without missing a beat.  

“I— come on, we’re at work… it’s a force of habit—” You took notice of the slight upturn of his lips as betraying his sly smile creeping up to his face betraying his relishing at your stammering struggle. “Yeah, it’s fine, I really hope you enjoy messing with me,” you said as you gave him a light, playful hit on his arm.

“You know I do.”

You took another sip, taking your time to savor it, before speaking again.

"For all of your posturing, Kento, I can tell you have something to tell me.”

“Oh, am I that obvious?”

“Well, let’s see. Impromptu midday encounter during dead time between missions and lessons…” You leaned towards him in mock conspiracy, “It’s side quest time, isn’t it?“

Side quest time was a term you’d coined to define the few occasions during which you and Nanami would make creative usage of dead time and your access to the car issued to you by Jujutsu Tech, a manifestation of a rebellious streak you’d managed to surface within him as the two of you grew closer. You would sneak out to lunch at a cafe you were both meaning to try, or drive up to a nearby park or lake just to get away from the hustle and bustle of the school.

While Nanami was the proactive planner in the matter of your real dates, you were the usual orchestrator of these clandestine outings. Facing the prospect of experiencing a rare initiation on Nanami’s part, your curiosity was now decidedly piqued.

“Yes, side quest time.”

“Though word of warning, I was assigned to a last-minute dropoff.” You paused to look at your phone. “Meaning my break ends in less than an hour. So this would have to be fairly quick.”

“That’s fine. I was intending top plan this for another day anyway. I don’t want it to be rushed and you’d need to be there for the duration of the time as I’d like to rely on your opinion throughout this.”

You set down your cup on the counter after your current sip, now fully invested in learning where he was going with this.

“Alright, now the suspense is killing me. Please tell me what you have in mind before I combust?”

“I only took a quick glance, and was simply indicating that the colors complement each other, nowhere in that statement did I evaluate the material!” You exclaimed, raising your hands up in defense.

“Yes, but leather and velvet?” Nanami asked, his tone dripping with judgment. “You know Kugisaki, perhaps it was a mistake having her tag along,” he said, teasingly.

“And what exactly do you mean by that, Nanami?” You replied, in mock indignation.

Nobara gave an amused glance between you two, visibly entertained by your playful dynamic before quickly coming to your rescue, sweet as ever.

“Nanami-san, she’s right the colors match amazingly!” Nobara quickly said, before turning to you, with an apologetic expression, “We do just need to find a better combination of fabrics.”

“Thank you, Nobara, for not making me feel completely useless.”

“You are so not useless! And you helped me get properly measured for the first time, thank you, I really appreciate it!”

“You’ll have to thank Nanami-san,” you started, eager to put him on the spot in an act of retribution for his earlier teasing, knowing that he disliked this sort of attention. “This was all his idea, after all!”

As expected, Nanami quickly schooled his expression back to a neutral expression. Luckily for him, one of the shop attendants returned from the back store where he’d disappeared about an hour earlier.

“Ah, Kugisaki, let’s go take a look at the final result, shall we?” Nanami said, gesturing for Nobara to join him at the counter.

If you had to decide what touched you most between the context and sequence of events that brought you to your current reality and the scene that was unfolding in front of your eyes, you would lean towards the latter, but only due to the tangibility granted by the present moment.

A few days had elapsed since the day you’d listened to Nanami share the details of the training session he’d had with Nobara, of the subsequent seemingly offhand conversation he’d had with her that ended up meaning so much more to him, as evidenced by the idea that was sparked in his mind that afternoon.

Days later, and you could feel the stillness in the air, as he spilled to you, unprompted and through a short and succinct monologue that would come to typify him, the meaning behind his signature tie.

You recalled Nanami’s eyes unfocusing as he slipped into memory, quietly peeling the layers beneath a promise he had made to himself, years ago, just after he’d decided to step back into the world ruled by the violent dynamic between curses and the sorcerers that exorcised them. 

He spoke of a commitment to depart himself from the normalcy he had once craved and chased so ardently during his stint in the corporate world, a sentiment he’d since traded for one of proud individuality, shedding any remnant of his desire for conformity in the process. 

All this, symbolized in a simple patterned tie. 

He never explicitly said as much, but you understood this to be one of Nanami’s many acts of rebellion against a system he still held some contempt for. And you admired him all the more for it.

While your relationship with Nanami was fairly new, you believed that you had a solid grasp of his nuanced personality. After all, you’d spent a lot of time observing him both from a distance as well as from your newfound proximity; you’d seen him in action in the line of duty and you’d watched him interact with Yuuji, and witnessed how his bond as a teacher and a father figure had evolved over time.

And yet, nothing could prepare you for the gesture he wanted to make for Nobara, outwardly small in its size yet so consequential in its meaning, a representation of a value he both espoused and aimed to instill within his students.

Such is how the three of you found yourselves embarked on the “side quest” you’d plotted out with Nanami almost a week prior in the Jujutsu High break room, one that found you all in the small boutique Nanami frequented for his tailoring needs and which also specialized in seamster, situated in the corner of a Shibuya-area mall.

You’d spent the first half hour watching as Nanami assisted Nobara walk one of the shop attendants through the design of what would be her new signature statement piece, and spent the second half helping the seamstress diligently take Nobara's measurements for any future custom clothing orders her heart would desire. Finally, as you waited for the finished product of her custom order, you’d been perusing the different patterns and textiles available, leading you to the conversation you’d just had a minute ago. 

Throughout the outing, you observed a special bond blooming between Nanami and Nobara, much like the one you’d seen manifest between him and Yuuji, one resembling a father and daughter brought together by a shared affinity for finer threads and reinforced by each of their desire to establish their individuality. Nanami slipped into the role so seamlessly, that you’d felt like the privileged one, having a front-row seat to it all.

When Nobara finally held up the fruits of her custom order, it was in the form of a brown leather belt, very much resembling the one she currently wore with her school uniform, this version differing with a very small detail added as embroidery on it: two golden nails crossing at their center, much like Nanami had held them a week prior, as he dispensed his advice to the first-year student. The pattern repeated three more times on the belt, marking off each quarter, and then once again in the form of a golden button on the pouch portion, right where a regular snap closure would have ordinarily been. 

“It looks amazing. My own design. And it is so me.” Nobara said.

“I agree.” Nanami acquiesced.

“Oh I can’t wait for Maki-san to see this!” She gushed, as she took out her smartphone to snap an up-close picture.

“Try it on, let’s ensure it fits correctly,” Nanami said.

She slid off her current belt and swiftly replaced it with the new one, and it snapped right into place.

“It’s perfect! Thank you so much Nanami-san.” She said, giving him a bow.

“You’re very welcome, Kugisaki. Good work this week, and happy early birthday.”

“It looks so good! Happy birthday, Nobara!” You echoed.

“Thank you both!” Nobara beamed as she twirled, admiring her new trademark accessory.

Your heart swelled with joy and pride as you witnessed Nanami watching on, with the genuine smile that you had grown to live for. You must have been caught up in the moment because you hadn’t noticed Nobara eventually appearing at your side, holding her phone in her hands and nervously dancing on her two feet.

“Could you help me take a picture while I’m wearing this?” Then, turning to Nanami, directing the last portion of her question at him, “Perhaps with Nanami-san?”

“Of course,” you and Nanami inadvertently said in unison, drawing a chuckle out from all three of you.

Nobara handed you her phone, scooted to Nanami’s side, and posed by throwing up a peace sign with one hand and proudly pointing at her new prized possession with the other. You knew how Nanami felt about posing for pictures, so while you were not surprised when he kept his hands at his side in his typical fashion, you were thrilled when he offered a hint of a picture-ready smile.

“Ready?” You said before taking a few shots for her to choose from.

When you handed her phone back, Nobara thanked you and scrolled past a few options before settling on a shot, laughing mischievously as she tapped away at her phone.

“And this is the one I’m sending to Itadori!”

“Oh, just in time, here comes one of our lovely students, let’s ask directly, shall we? Hey Nobara!” Gojo exclaimed, calling his student over.

A few days had elapsed since your outing with Nanami and Nobara. Gojo had finally returned from his overseas mission, and you all had just left the school following a long and dreary all-staff meeting. You were with Nanami and Gojo, who were engaged in yet another of their typical bantering exchanges.

As you took the path connecting the staff room to the dormitories, Gojo had spotted Nobara in the distance, headed towards the direction of the latter.

“Gojo, this is all so frivolous, just let it go,” Nanami responded in annoyance.

Gojo ignored him and waved Nobara over, barely waiting until she was within earshot before excitedly engaging her.

“Nobara! Settle a bet between us? Assume we have a day off tomorrow, and you get the opportunity to spend it with either one of us,” he started, wrapping his arm around Nanami’s shoulder, who was quick to wiggle himself out of his grasp in response. “Do you choose boring Nanami or me, your amazing, exciting, not-boring-at-all sensei?”

“First of all, that question assumes that I wouldn’t already have plans for my day off…” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she placed her shopping bags down before an air of excitement took over her face. “Hang on, are we off tomorrow?”

“We are not. Good job, Gojo, you’ve already managed to create unnecessary confusion. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Nanami began walking away from Gojo and towards you, only to be forcefully pulled back by the arm by the white-haired sorcerer.

“Nope, you’re so staying for this, Nanamin!” Then, turning to the Nobara, “It is a hypothetical! Now please answer the question, Nobara! Surely you’d rather stick with me, right?"

“In that case, Nanami-san,” she said.

Gojo’s jaw dropped.

Nanami sighed.

You burst out laughing.

“What?” Gojo exclaimed when he finally found his words. “After I took you to tour damn near every single store in Harajuku?”

Nanami rolled his eyes at Gojo’s dramatics. Nobara picked up her bags and resumed her walk, visibly no longer interested in this discussion, before reiterating.

“I said I choose Nanami-san, and it’s not even close, Sensei.”

“I will remember this betrayal, Nobara. I leave for ten days and this is what I get?” Gojo called out to disappearing form, before turning back to glare at you as your giggles increased in volume at Gojo’s typical over-the-top aghast reaction.

He then lightly grabbed Nanami by the collar, narrowing his eyes as he got ludicrously close to his face.

“Oi Nanamin, first Yuuji and now Nobara. Are you slowly plucking my students away from me?”

“But Gojo-san, were they ever really your students if they are so easy to steal?”

As Gojo sputtered around his next response, Nanami glanced at you as he fixed his signature tie in the signature move and the sly smile you’ve grown to learn to mean that he was very much in a rare, boastful form.

Thanks for reading! 🩵

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 13: TEGAMI

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

Your mouth is a thin line that he wants to kiss. He knows better, though. The distance he’s standing away from you is a demonstration in patience itself.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , masturbation, implication of bdsm, angst... AND fluff <3

ੈ✩ wc: 5.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: soooooo sorry for how long it's been here's a love letter about satoru being a sad down bad pathetic wet kitten for you. disgusting

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

April, 2011

Satoru doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s pathetic, really.

He realizes that even when you were just a ghost in his house, helping your mother with her duties, you were still there. Ever-present, always available for him to play with when you were kids, to stare at as a teenager. Even when he decided he’d ignore you, you were still there. Always. It was what he was used to. It was what made him believe that you always belonged to him.

He hates being wrong.

It had been two months since he’d last seen you, and to say that he was in agony was a fucking understatement. 

Shoko would never hear the end of it. Satoru knew that he was beyond annoying, always has been, but lately, Shoko’s patience was a frayed thread. 

“She needs to be her own person, you leech,” she’d snapped at him the day before.

The amount of gin and tonics she had couldn’t even cover the amount of hours she had to tolerate Satoru, who wasn’t even being an emotional drunk at the moment. That, she could deal with – he was a lightweight after all. He’d probably knock out eventually. But no, he was this annoyingly lovesick while sober.

“She is her own person! She can be her own person next to me!” he whined. 

“You know what I mean, idiot. She couldn’t do anything without you glued to her leg. The space is probably good for her.”

“Well, it’s miserable for me,” he muttered under his breath. 

Bribing Shoko with alcohol wasn’t nearly enough for her to continue listening to his woes. There were times she thought about relaying the information to you, suggesting that you’d throw Satoru a bone just so he could stop being so fucking whiny about you, but she knew both of you better than that. She dropped some hints but was mostly met with an eye-roll, which… was fair. It was about time the strongest got over himself.

He knows he’s obsessive. He can’t help it when it comes to you.

It wasn’t like you fucking died – yet there he was, stewing in his own grief. He’d go on his missions and exorcise curses with the intention of bloodshed. Beyond grief, he often only felt rage, and it was the only thing that felt close to good. 

The only thing as violent to him as love was rage. When love was tumultuous, it shook his world, felt indescribably pivotal in the context of his life. It was pathetic, the way he felt about you. 

The missions weren’t enough.

He’d tried everything — smoking cigarettes (he hated the taste), smoking other things (his brain would be fucked and so would his cursed technique), and drinking (Shoko had to cut him off one too many cocktails far too many times). 

Fucking other girls didn’t work. They would irritate him to hell, smelling much too sweet, being way too loud in a way that would grate his ears. It’s not like anyone else could touch him the same way you could, either. God, he hated it when they would try to take control and put their hands where they shouldn’t. Manicured hands grabbing at him that felt foreign. 

He couldn’t tolerate it. It was always better when he could shove them into the pillow, pretending their muffled moans were yours. He could think of you in enough detail to cum.

Satoru had already heard through the grapevine that you were fucking that Zenin brat. He remembered having to deal with Naoya at clan meetings when he was younger — perhaps it was ingrained in his birth that Zenins were his natural enemies. Either that or the fucker was genuinely that annoying. Probably both.

Every time he thought about it for too long, he wanted to punch something. The only reason he didn’t bother to warn you because you were already deep in it, the naive little girl you were. You were too stubborn for your own good, always. There was no use. 

He should probably just kidnap you. Handcuff you to his damn bed, even if you’d hate it. 

But he won’t. Not any time soon, hopefully, if he can control himself. You’ve successfully ignored his texts (maybe you blocked his number?) and definitely threw out the bouquets he’d send (he watched you do it the first time and it took everything in him to not confront you right then and there).

He doesn’t know what to do, truly. So for now, he lays in his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about your eyes. The image of them finds him anyway, along with your nose, your mouth, your—

Fuck. He shouldn’t.

Yaga would absolutely give him shit if he was late for the meeting, but he doesn’t care. He’s already half-hard in his trousers and he’s only thought about you for less than two minutes. It’s about time he’s had a cathartic release — he’s been dreaming about your hot, panting body underneath him for weeks.

He spits in his mouth while his other hand frees himself from his pants. He groans when he palms himself, imagining your delicate hands, your eager eyes. After all these years, you would still look at him with a certain innocence as you’d palm him, your mouth watered. He missed it desperately.

Do you still think about him, now? He had been your first, your only for so long. He had to be at the forefront of your mind when you touched yourself, when your cunt got wet at all. Right? 

Maybe you’d even thought about him back in high school. Satoru likes to imagine this, that ever since you were child, you had a little schoolgirl crush on him. He tries not to think about how it’s the other way around, that his desire for you had been there since he’d known you. 

He misses the shape of your mouth when you gasp his name. He can almost hear it now as he strokes himself, his groans mixing with the wet sounds of his cock rubbing against his palm. 

You’d always been a little shy about being loud, ever since your first time. He remembers it so vividly. 

S’good. Feels good. Come kiss me.

His mind wanders to the image of Suguru’s hands on you. Suguru’s cock deep in your pussy as his own cock rutted into your mouth. He groans at the faint memories. He hates that he can only chase them like a distant mirage. 

The warmth that pools in his stomach threatens to rise and choke him. He feels feverish everywhere as his hand moves faster. He’s so fucking close — he thinks about himself ramming into you. You whining as you clench around him. Your hands all over him.

He grunts your name as he cums. Satoru rolls his eyes back as he spurts, covered in himself. When he comes down from his high, he gasps a few short breaths as he stares at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. Body flooded with ecstasy, then shame. Enough shame for his insides to twist uncomfortably, as if he feels the need to go to confession for the mere act of what he did.

The warmth in his body only lasts for so long.

June, 2011

The handprint on your thigh stings. You’re used to rough treatment, could argue that you might even like it. You’re not, however, used to being degraded. 

You’ve always liked the feeling of being wrung out. Satoru and Suguru had liked you pliable, a vessel for them to turn inside out. Soft insides. Soft enough to bruise. 

You should’ve known that when you started living alone for the first time, some men would take advantage of that. You didn’t realize that you could meet a man that was even more demanding and childish than Satoru. 

“You have too many clothes on,” Naoya mutters, pawing at the strap of your bra. You had taken the day off because of the heatwave. Kyoto was rising to ungodly temperatures, and you were hoping to spend the day lying on the floor in front of the fan. Of course, the fucker had other plans.

He was much more charming after the many encounters you’d had at the bar. Now, it was embarrassing to be with him. You weren’t exactly with him, though Naoya thought you owed him a few crumbs after the occasional dinner date. The sex fulfilled the deepseated desire you had for more pleasurable times, but to think about those times would only make the void inside of your chest ache. It was ultimately better to be used up, distracted.

“I should make you a fucking clan princess,” he murmurs, nibbling on your ear. You’re only half-conscious during your second round. Your attempts at redressing were not met kindly. 

He laughs when you whimper. Knows how much you hate it when he talks like that, how it probably reminds you of the Gojo brat. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I’m going to be the head after all.”

He’s all talk. Maybe he means it, maybe he doesn’t. You don’t care either way. At this point, you’re just using his dick to get off. The violence is a little cathartic. You’d forgotten what tenderness felt like and refused to turn back, as if to punish yourself.

Naoya was always quick to mount you, making your thighs feel whipped. Flesh all lashed from his grabby hands. He was a little drunk tonight, which made it all more annoying.

Luckily, he comes fast because of it. 

“You’d make a good wife,” he says as he lights up in your bed, billowing smoke in the direction of the fan. 

“Shut up.”

“I mean it. Sweet girl,” he grins, lip curling. “I’ll be a good head, too. You can be my right arm.”

You look at him, half-amused, half-pissed. “I’m good.”

“I know,” he scoffs. “Everyone in my clan’s an old fucking fart. You’d probably be into my cousin, to be honest, if he didn’t fuck off like a runaway.”

You pause. “Why’d he run off?”

“Dunno. No one’s heard from him in a while. Maybe he’s finally dead from trying to kill sorcerers. Toji was basically useless without a technique anyway.”

You freeze at the name. You think of getting pistolwhipped, of a mouth scar. Zenin Toji?

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“Nothing,” you dismiss, fiddling with the buttons of the blouse you’re putting back on. “I don’t blame him for running off.”

July, 2011

You’ve always loved the myth of Tanabata. It was a story your mother loved to tell.

Star-crosssed lovers separated by the Milky Way, only bound to meet once a year. It reminds you of someone when it shouldn’t. You shouldn’t yearn for his presence. You shouldn’t even be thinking about him. 

You’ve moved on. Maybe.

You’re lost in thought about the myth when you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. When you look up, you see Utahime leaning on the door of the greenhouse, watching you cut saplings and fill egg cartons with dirt. 

“You’re not going to be cooped up in here for the whole festival, are you?” 

“Hm?” You look up to see her smirking at you with her arms crossed. 

“Gakuganji gave us the day off. You know that, right? For Tanabata?” she raises a brow.

“I know that,” you huff. “I’m just… catching up on stuff.”

“You’re finding excuses to not leave campus. Shoko’s visiting.”

Your ears perk up at that. You hadn’t seen Shoko in months. Admittedly, you didn’t often pick up the phone, let alone text back. You tried not to be on your phone too much at all, otherwise you’d look through old photos and messages that you had no business reminiscing about. It would be nice to see her. 

“When is she getting in?” you ask.

“In about two hours. Get your kimono on and meet us at the school entrance? We’re gonna go write wishes at Kiyomizu-dera.”

You nod in agreement. It would be nice to go out. You consider the barren state of your room, the empty bottles of plum wine under your bed collecting dust and spiders. Anything was better than holing yourself up there, especially on a holiday like this. You’d always enjoyed watching the fireworks, at least. 

Your heart feels a little lighter when you get to hug Shoko later that night. She’s wearing a pink kimono with a floral pattern, something more feminine than you expected. You almost don’t recognize her without a cigarette in her mouth and lab coat draped over her shoulders. When she’s with Utahime, her face is brighter. You’re almost envious.

“Wish for anything special, baby?” she taps your cheek, feeding you a skewer from her yakitori.

You think of your messy handwriting scrawled onto a red tanzaku. You imagine one miles long enough to fit a whole letter. Maybe you should start journaling.

“That’s a secret, isn’t it?”

She grins knowingly. “I missed you. I didn’t just come here for Hime, you know.”

“Don’t worry, I begged her to come for you, too,” Utahime quips, fixing her braids. 

“You did not beg,” Shoko scoffs. “You know I’d never miss an opportunity to see my girls.”

You feel too warm in your kimono. Part of it is the heat, part of it is that Shoko was rather reliable in getting you a fix, meaning that you were immediately treated to a round at an izakaya before heading out to the festival. While the buzz through your skin doesn’t exactly translate to comfort, it’s enough for you to wade your way through the crowd without a care to get yourself some takoyaki. 

You freeze when a warm hand touches your shoulder. You’re stopped by him before you can even round the corner.

His hair’s a mess, white tufts spiked up in haphazard peaks as if he’d just woken up. The black sunglasses make him look out of place, so does his entire aura. Satoru was always a lean giant, legs going on for miles with a grin like a cowboy. Normally, you’d fall victim to it. Right now, you’re mostly in shock.

“I could’ve paid for that, angel,” he coos.

Your stomach flips. Satoru was very good at having horrible timing. Maybe it was the universe itself taunting you, but the Six Eyes has always been more calculated than that. He must’ve planned on seeing you.

You swallow back the taste of something acrid crawling up your throat.

“What are you doing here?”

Before he can respond, the girls had already caught up to you, staring in disbelief in a distance. When you glance back at them, Shoko mouths an apology before pulling at Utahime’s arm and ushering her away.

“Why did you—”

“I didn’t come with Shoko,” Satoru interjects. He shifts uncomfortably like a teenager telling a lie. “Most of the Gojo clan is in Kyoto, remember? My, uh, parents wanted to come for the festival.”

Your mouth is a thin line that he wants to kiss. He knows better, though. The distance he’s standing away from you is a demonstration in patience itself. 

He doesn’t have to tell you that he’d arrived the day before, stalking the Kyoto campus just to see what you were up to. He chalked it up to boredom, the same as checking up on an ex-fling on social media, if hovering around the greenhouse for hours was considered casual.

“It’s good to see you,” you say. You tell yourself it’s a lie, just a filler for politeness. You know that you’ve been aching for him since he had kissed you in the winter.

His heart flutters in his chest, begging to burst, but he doesn’t show it. 

“It’s good to see you, too.”

You smile at him awkwardly as you play with the fabric of your kimono. You clear your throat. 

“Have you seen Shoko or Uta yet?”

“No, not yet.”

His voice is wary, like he’s walking on eggshells with you. He searches your face for any emotion beyond indifference. The slight smile on your features is mild, and he’s sure you’re only putting it on for him.

Satoru is sure you’re begging for a way out. Truthfully, he wants to steal you away, take you to the shore so he can pin your body down to the ground, feel the softness of your skin. He’s had too many wet dreams about it that it almost feels like a prophecy in his head. 

So he lets you lead him to Shoko and Utahime, who both smile politely but maintain a visible proximity to you. He doesn’t blame them.

He should be tired. He almost rejected the offer from his mother to go on “vacation” for Tanabata since he’d come back from a three-day long mission — Yaga had attempted to arrange a sort of mentorship between Satoru and some new first-years. It was mostly a bust considering a special grade had emerged after the initial grade twos. Satoru was forced to hold his weight, of course, so he came back exhausted, too tired to go away.

When his mother mentioned that they’d meet with the clan members from the Kyoto quarters, he was suddenly eager to go.

Now you are here in front of him and his heart feels like it’s going out of his ass. You look beautiful as ever. He notices how much you’ve grown, staring at you with reverence. It’s not like you look so different than the last time he saw you, but it’s been a while since he’s seen you like this. In something more formal. 

You’d only wear kimonos on holidays. He remembers watching your mother sweep up your hair with little sticks, jade charms hanging from your ears. He couldn’t be around you then, back when you were kids. Not when he was stupid and hormonal and trying to get over you in high school. His chest hurts in the same way as it did back then. 

You share your takoyaki with him as you walk to a quieter part of the festival. There’s a garden by the large festival grounds, hydrangeas blooming and kissing the archway of a gate. They’ve been everywhere you see in Kyoto since the rainy season ended. 

Satoru clears his throat. You raise a brow at him. 

“What?”

He stares at you, his mind blank. You don’t look like you’ve missed him. You don’t look at him the same way you used to, with that certain tenderness that he always liked. He almost reaches for you.

“You look…”

“Hm?

He swallows hard before continuing. “Beautiful. You, uh, look beautiful. That’s all,” he mutters. 

“Thanks. You look good, too, Gojo.”

Gojo. When was the last time you called him by his last name? Not since you were in his estate, sweeping his damn floor. It stings more than any disparaged look you could give him. At least when you’re a little cold to him, he feels the need to rile you up. He’s always liked to challenge you that way. 

You not even using his first name is a harder blow than anything else.

“Oh, wow,” he chuckles meekly. “Big downgrade, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“You called me, uh–” He coughs nervously. “Just– nevermind.”

Your stomach twists with guilt. He looks like he’s about to cry. 

“I missed you,” he blurts out. The distance between you two is driving him insane. 

“Uh, I know. Shoko told me.”

“You smell like cigarettes.”

“Yeah?”

His palms feel sweaty. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, can only list stupid facts like that’s a fucking conversation. You’re smoking too much. You look beautiful. I’ve been dying for months because I haven’t been able to kiss you.

“And… amber. You still wear that perfume I got you?”

You sigh. “Yes, I do.”

His eyes brighten so quickly it’s almost pathetic. He blinks at you wetly like a child, resisting the urge to pull you into his arms and bury his face into your neck. To inhale you. 

His skin itches. 

“Sorry for being weird.”

“You are being weird.”

You didn’t anticipate seeing him. Hell, you never do, even when you were together and sleeping in the same bed as him. His presence was like a lightning strike, unbearable to look away from, beaming with so much light that it hurt your eyes.

You almost feel ashamed when your stomach flips at the intense eye contact.

Satoru is at a loss for one of the first times in his life. He doesn’t know what to say. Wants to say it with his hands instead, his mouth. He shouldn’t. He bites the inside of his cheek, softly grimacing at the way you’re speaking to him — it’s so unlike how you used to be. Quiet and warm and soft. 

He huffs. “Yeah, well. S’your fault.”

You roll your eyes. His lips twitch into a smirk. Finally, a reaction from you. He’d like to make you react more, push your buttons. At least then you’d give him attention. 

“Do you even care that I missed you?” he complains, pouting.

You smile lightly at that. “You always miss me. Even when you saw me every day, you missed me.”

Fuck. 

He really, really wants to touch you. His face heats up slightly, his hands twitching again. Aching to feel your skin.

“Yeah,” he says without shame. “Because I always want you.” 

He continues to stare at you. You know he’s being genuine, but the way he’s always been so candid with his feelings felt like he was taunting you. It’s always been a bit of a game for him, seeing how far he can go before you break. But he knows you’ve always seen through him. You were the only one who could, besides —

"I’m not used to not having you around,” he confesses. 

“I’ve lived in Kyoto for like a year. You survived, no?”

The look he gives you is mildly offended before he snorts. It’s a stupid thing for you to say. He’s not a child. He can survive just fine without needing you around. It doesn’t matter that you would take care of him after missions before, that you’d take care of him out of obligation when your mother had worked in his estate. He didn’t need you. It’s what he tells himself every night before he dreams about you. It’s a lie that he repeats in his head, hoping it will stick eventually. 

“Survived is a bit of a stretch. I’ve been miserable, Twigs.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He hums and tilts his head. 

“Why?” he says, taking a step towards you. “You don’t like it when I do?”

You say nothing. He’s gotten so close to you now that his body brushes against yours. The height difference is a bit more stark now, and he’s looking down at you with that same cocky expression that you’re used to seeing.

 “I like calling you Twigs,” he almost whines. 

“It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not.” He reaches out to you, his fingertips tracing down your jawline, then your chin, tilting it upwards ever so gently. 

“My pretty little Twigs,” he says in a soft voice, as if talking to a child.

“Satoru.”

“Finally calling me by my name, huh?” he grins at the way it sounds from your mouth, even if you’re irritated. 

He thinks that you could be screaming it, threatening him with a fucking weapon or your cursed technique, and his eyes would still be as big as the moon with twice as the amount of love.

“Don’t.”

He doesn’t listen. He’s too preoccupied by your face, by the feel of your skin under his touch that he’s missed for so long. His thumb brushes across your bottom lip as his fingers still hold your chin. 

“Still as beautiful as ever,” he murmurs.

“You always do this,” you scoff. “I tell you I need space and you don’t give it to me. It’s like you enjoying disregarding my boundaries or something.”

He scoffs back at you. “Or something,” he repeats.

Satoru takes another step until you’re fully pressed against him. His hand moves from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers playing with the edges of your hair. It’s satisfying when you give him a reaction, and your expression of annoyance makes him want to grin widely. He holds it in, not wanting to make you outright angry.

“Your boundaries are inconvenient,” he says. “And pointless. And I don’t like them.”

“I don’t care.” 

“Why do you care so much about boundaries, sweetheart?” he teases. “You used to be such a good girl. Always doing what I said.”

Your breath hitches. God, you need to fucking get out of here. At least out of his grip.

He notices it immediately as your body responds to his proximity. The little gasp you make, the way your eyes flutter a little faster than you mean to. It encourages him. Makes him cocky. His hand moves from behind your neck to your waist.

“Always letting me touch you,” he continues saying lowly in your ear. “Letting me do whatever I wanted. You’re still my good girl, aren’t you?”

“You’re a fucking dick.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m still hot when I’m pissing you off?”

You stare at him coldly and his smirk falters. The look on your face stuns him a bit.

“You’re actually upset.” It’s not a question.

"Yes, I am. Because every time I see you, you just treat me like a fucking toy. It's exhausting."

“Toy,” he repeats, his jaw clenching. “That’s what you think I see you as. A toy?”

The idea of you thinking that he’d ever see you as just makes his chest tighten. It reminds him of when he first started seeing you. The pitiful look on your face whenever he would be stupid and careless, nothing but a fucking toy. He’d like to think that he was better than that, that he could be better for you. He loved you too much to ever actually think of you as a toy.

"I don’t like it when you say things like that. I’ve—" He stops himself halfway. He’s on the verge of giving you too much — of being too truthful and baring too much of himself. “Fuck. You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get, Satoru?”

The words are on the tip of his tongue. He can feel them, how desperately he wants to say it. But he can’t do it. He huffs instead, and turns his head away from you. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Right,” you spit back bitterly. “Of course.”

You’re angry but it isn’t enough. Even with the tone of your voice, you were still rather nonchalant. It’d be better if you cried or yelled or pushed your small hands to his chest. 

Anything other than the sardonic treatment he was getting. You’ve always been a little too calm for his liking, even when you were upset. It reminded him of when he would fight with Suguru. You must’ve gotten it from him. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Satoru says, almost pleading. Bleeding with desperation. He takes your wrist in his hands, turns it over so he can trace your veins.

“Sorry for what?”

“For disrespecting your boundaries, and for being a dick, and being so dismissive when Suguru left. For being selfish about you, for wanting you all to myself, for talking to him without letting you know. I’m so sorry.”

He’s prepared for you to walk away as he looks down at you nervously. There’s a heavy silence between you, the distance a growing chasm that he doesn’t know how to bridge. It had all crumbled so long ago and he fucking hates it. He hates how everything has changed. He hates how despite all the pain, he can only stare at you and be enamored by how beautiful you look even when you’re pissed off with him.

You do the last thing he expects. You hug him.

Your body is flush against his and his heart races. It’s like a dam breaks, the way he tightens his arms around you, almost crushes you. Satoru nearly kisses you. The ache in his chest hurts so much. 

“God, Twigs,” he mumbles into your hair. “I missed touching you. I missed everything.”

“I know. I do, too.” 

You stay like that for a while. Quiet. The sounds of cicadas and street vendors and children from a distance are background noise outside your little bubble.

“I feel like I've been bound to you since we were kids,” you whisper. “I'd hate it. Even when I'm in love with you, I hate it. I just... I wanted to try to be my own person."

His breath catches in his throat at your words, because he knows exactly what you mean. He’s felt it before, too. The strange pull that ties the two of you together no matter where you go. No matter how much time passes, it still seems to bring you together.

“You are your own person,” he says, his voice muffled against your neck. “You’ve always been your own person. And I—“ he swallows, gathering himself. Trying to calm down the heavy thrum of his heart. The dull ache in his head. “I never wanted you to feel trapped. Never.”

You nod, pulling away. You look away from him, your eyes fixed now on the moon. You think of the wishes you made, if anything you wanted would ever come true. If you should be ashamed that all you ever wanted was Satoru. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks quietly.

“Tanzaku trees,” you whisper. 

“What did you wish for?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” you roll your eyes. 

He pouts. “You never tell me. Even when we were kids. C’monnn, you can tell me. Is it something naughty?”

You laugh and Satoru feels like his body is starting to soar out of itself. Like his spirit jumps out of his skin. Beaming.

“Well, what’d you wish for?” 

“You. Like always.”

You scoff, wanting to hide your face in your hands. It almost makes him grin wider. He steps closer to you, his large frame surrounding you, his height blocking the moon from your view. 

“I used to wish for you when we were kids, too. I’ll probably wish for you every year.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. He’d always had a way of getting to you. You suppose he always will. His white lashes flutter at your reaction and he steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He’ll keep pushing his luck for as long as he can if he can at least see you smile like that every so often. 

He’d be damned if he ever gave up on you. His persistence was exhausting. It was one of your favorite things about him, even when he was unwelcomed.

“Are you surprised or charmed?”

“Neither.”

You sniffle. Dry tears making your face sting a little, but the moonlight helped conceal them. You could feel the weight of his stare making your insides melt and congeal like a hard rock. You’d let yourself reunite with your lover just like the deities.

You used to believe in angels and spirits and eyelash promises. Satoru Gojo at the forefront of it all, every small desire, even if you refused to admit it. 

You felt impulsive. It was the banter that you missed. It didn’t even take a drink or two like it usually did, not the proximity that Satoru forced out of habit. Yes, his persistence as annoying. Your willingness annoyed you even more.

You look up at him. Always stupidly tall, white hair blocking the moon from your view. It’s a view you’d seen so many times, wishing you could capture it with a camera, but photography would never be able to do the little halo any justice. Stupidly beautiful, stupidly prophetic-looking. It was like the stars were hung just to complement his eyes.

Your lips touch his gently and it satiates him at first. Calms down the manic need until starts back up again, a groan rolling from his throat as he finds his bearings in your waist. Satoru tries to keep it slow, but fuck, he feels like a virgin again. Heat drunk. As if he wasn’t having pussy every other day of the week to distract himself from the way your hair smells.

You pull away when you hear a faint moan, the brush of something thick against your thigh. You almost laugh.

“There’s your damn wish.”

“What about a buy-one-get-one? Tanabata special?”

“That was a gift. Don’t be greedy.”

“Please, baby?” He ignores your warning, already has kisses trailing down the length of your throat. Dandelion-soft to tease you, but to also restrain himself from biting. “It’s been so long. Let me have you for the holiday. You can be my little weaver girl.”

“Are you going to say the whole poem now?”

“Sure. Something something, Heavenly River. Ano natsu no hi, kirameku hoshi,” he sings, purposefully offkey.

“Is that the fucking closing credits song from the anime we used to watch?”

“Yes,” Satoru deadpans. “It references the folk tale, duh.”

You look at him incredulously. He smiles with all his teeth, blinding white. Too perfect. You should punch the lights out of him, really, but you find your grin matching his.

“Jesus, you’re a nerd.”

[wannabepoeticischiya]

fragments of caelum

It’s frightening… a love with a time limit. When he was the right person, with all the time in the world… and she was nothing but a fraction of time he’d experience. Something you know will end before it can even begin.

ao3: fragments of caelum pairing: sukuna x f! reader genre: romance, angst, heian era wc: 15.4k status: completed art by: usobuki_jj on twitter

Songs of the spring echoed in the courtyard, domed by an eternal blue sky, bordered by the stretching forests. Vines circled the barks of the trees, reaching far into their branches with hopes to touch the heavens. Sun rays thawed the dewdrops, casting them far into the depths of the sky.

Cradled underneath it all was the vessel of the King of Curses. The falls of his steps were the only rhythmic clatter clashing against the silence that blanketed the lands.

Haze of the early morning remained, tying everything to peace. No noise, no curses, no Sukuna.

Itadori continued his journey to the library where he knew no living sorcerer would ever step foot in. For what reason? Why, to run an errand for his all-time favorite teacher, Gojo Satoru, of course!

That place was as horrid as the curses they were trained to exorcise. It didn’t help that it was riddled in eerie quietness, or that the principal had these thick black curtains covering every window because he didn’t want those ancient manuscripts to crumble to ash and be blown away.

Quite simply it was a place he would never enter if he could help it.

Itadori pushed open the heavy wooden doors, hearing an ominous creaking sound emanate from it, going on and on for what seemed to be forever until the back of the door crashed against the wall with a loud bang.

The young sorcerer gulped, putting a foot forward, and trod as quietly as he could to the farthest corner of the room, where those papers (written with ancient runes no one ever really bothered to read) were dumped. Why his teacher wanted those, he didn’t know—Itadori wasn’t even sure if he could understand what was recorded in those, they were probably older than all of them plus Principal Gakuganji combined.

When he reached the very back, a dusty table greeted him along with a few books stacked up in the middle of it.

The sight had him asking, when was the last time anybody’s been here?

He sighed and picked up everything that cluttered the table. Mumbling about how the school needed to stop being cheapskates and hire a janitor.

One by one, he placed them back on the shelves, pondering which section they should go to, but it proved to be for naught since he couldn’t understand what most of them said.

Whether by accident or by fate, he knocked over a journal: weathered by the hands of time, pages golden with age. A compass was etched on its cover along with a name that had faded perhaps years before he was even born.

As he bent down to pick it up, an old picture slipped from one of the pages.

When his fingers grasped the object, Itadori realized it wasn’t a photograph, it was a drawing. One so detailed it deceived his eyes.

I guess cameras weren’t a thing back then, huh?

On its blotched page, a smiling girl could be made out. Her hands held up a peace sign over her closed eyes with one of her hands boldly slung over a man that only plastered on a ghost of a smile. Written on the side in messy little characters were:

'Ryōmen & (Y/n)' Auflage, 850

Itadori squinted, trying to see the face of the man—finding it strikingly familiar like someone he knew was tethered to the same features.

"Sukuna..." He called; eyes still glued to the sketch. Itadori wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

It was the King of Curses, feared by sorcerers and demons alike. But here, in this moment trapped in time he looked… human. As though he couldn’t be any farther from the names the world had called him.

"Oi! Sukuna! Do you know this lady?"

Itadori’s head remained free from thoughts. For a second he nearly believed that there was only a single soul inhabiting this body of his.

The silence remained, scattering like stardust through the stuffy and tense atmosphere. Itadori, who was once just curious began to worry about the demon king’s unresponsiveness.

It was strange. The oxygen in his lungs came in leveled breaths, yet his heart thudded so wildly in his chest he thought it would break free from its cage and start running to the ends of the world.

This woman couldn’t be any more than a stranger to him… so why?

"Where... where... did you get that?" Another voice, deeper in tune, laced with anger and sadness, broke the stagnancy.

It felt like his blood was pushing past its limits. His organs felt ignited, and his vision began to blur. This was Sukuna’s doing. To have him answer was rare enough as it is but to have him open the lid to his sentiments—have them pour in abundance that it became overwhelming for Itadori to handle—was never something so farfetched he couldn’t even dream of it.

"ITADORI!" Sukuna's voice echoed in his head, tearing apart his daydreams and bringing him back to reality.

 "Okay... Okay... Relax.” He breathed, coaxing his body to stop its trembling. “It just fell from one of the pages."

You kept it… even after all of that… idiot woman.

Itadori inspected the fragile piece of paper, careful to not let any scattered sunlight graze it for fear that it might crumble and fade for good.

He flipped past the cover of the book and carefully turned the pages. The words of the owner were inscribed in ancient text, one so archaic he doubts there were still records of it alive to this day.

It's old, that's for sure. Have other people seen this? It doesn't look like it's been touched for years.

"Sukuna. Oi! Sukuna!" Itadori tried to call, only to be rewarded with disregard.

SUKUNA!

The young sorcerer grumbled, knowing he wouldn't get anything out of the—now surprisingly quiet—demon. So, he pulled out his cellphone and snapped a shot of the drawing, careful not to use a flash. He would get answers even if it killed him.

He slipped the drawing back into the journal, placing the artifact on the table.

Auflage's Hero: (L/n) (Y/n), the Little Liar.

Itadori ran.

Out of the library, down the winding halls, over the cobblestone pathway; drowsiness being overpowered by his overwhelming curiosity. He rushed to find the person he knew that'd know the answers he so desperately wanted to hear, Gojō Satoru.

Was this the reason why he sent him there? To find that? To see Sukuna in a way he never would have imagined?

Leaves of springtime began to fall, littering the grey sidewalks and roads with silver and blushes of pink. Puddles from last night's apparent rainfall made the scent of warmth linger in the air.  

Glimpses of the open field slipped through the foliage, pushing him to hurry.

As he reached the final steps of the courtyard, he saw the person he was looking for.

"Gojō-sensei!" He called, trying to catch his breath.

The blindfolded man turned to look at the heaving form of his student.

"Itadori!" He enthusiastically bellowed before turning to face his students once more.

"See? You guys could learn a thing or two from him! You know... he can finish a 50-meter track within 3 seconds! Ain't that impressive huh? He could be a car!"

Itadori scrambled to his feet, approaching the happy figure of his sensei.

"Do you know someone named (L/n)?"

The albino-haired man seemed to be deep in thought, his pointer finger repeatedly tapping on his chin before joyfully declaring his knowledge on the topic. "I do! In fact, there's an entire clan of them! Bow-using priests and priestesses. Isn't that right, (Y/n)?"

"(Y/n)?" Itadori’s question rang, shadowed by a sonorous tune.

A mischievous smile plastered on Gojō's face, "You know her, Sukuna?"

Perhaps this was his plan all along, to rile the King of Curses into silence. Force him to relive a memory written down as one of the greatest achievements in sorcerer history.

"Tch. Who could forget?"

And it worked because the demon king never resurfaced for the rest of the day.

"What does he mean by that, Sensei?"

"Yeah. Why would someone as evil as Sukuna have ties with the sacred clan of (L/n)?"

"Why'd he suddenly get all chatty when he heard (Y/n)-chan's name?”

Question after question left the mouth of his students, flooding his ears, making his head spin.

"All right. All right, I'll tell you... just be quiet. Come on, let's all go inside."

---

Welcome to AUFLAGE.

The sign that welcomed visitors to the town was old, decorated in ivy and overgrown flora. Some of the white paint had already begun peeling off, and the wooden board where the words were engraved had its edges ridden by termites.

Please d i e slowly.

And that same sign gave travellers a very warm welcome.

Auflage was a little village near the end of society. Covered by thick forests of the west, flagged by towering mountains in the north and south, bordered by the sea in the east.

The isolation eased the nerves of its citizens, chains of brooks and rivers that circled around the town were considered a protective barrier by the old folks that resided there. They claimed that it was what protected them from the curses of the outside world.

In that same village resides a happy young woman. Easily swayed by strangers, fooled by travelers, and convinced by the shadiest of stories. (L/n) (Y/n) was what they called her.

The carefree girl that lived near the brooks. Always stuck in her own world. She came into town one day dressed like a shrine maiden.

None of the townspeople knew where she had come from, nor did they bother to ask. Perhaps she came from the next town over, or maybe even farther out in the cities. It didn’t matter. To have a new face linger for a few days was a delight, and they rejoiced at the news that she would be there to stay for a long time.

Her little home was far into the woods, a small humble hut littered with firewood, still, the people of Auflage accepted and loved her.

As the trees swayed to the rhythm of Mother Earth, her figure emerged from the thick mist. Her zori sounding in soft thuds as it hit the hardened earth. Thin golden armbands glinted in the faint light of the sun that slowly seeped through the cracks of the mountains.

The rest of her figure came into the scene, dressed in a pair of wide-legged, pleated trousers, dyed in bright red, a white kimono-style upper clothing held in place by a wide belt, with sleeves that flared at the wrists fluttering ever-so-softly in the wind.

Adults and children alike were scattered across the small village. The little ones chasing their friends around, laughing joyously without a care for the world.

It was a simple sight that she saw every day but every time she laid eyes on it, it grew more and more special.

The lady made her way across town and entered the local tavern, guided by one of the strongest shamans out there.

(Y/n) took a seat on one of the many unoccupied stools in the building.

"One mug of cider please."

Her forehead met the wooden counter, still drowsy from the early wake-up call. The sound of her plea got the attention of the flair man.

"Ah! (Y/n)-san! Always good to see you!" He cheered, wiping a glass to use for her request.

"Good to see you to Amaury-dono, how's the wife?" She raised a hand in greeting, eyes still rooted to the floorboards.

Amaury only smiled at the girl as he finished up her fill, "She's good, Arne is due in a few weeks so got to work hard."

He placed the mug of cider in front of her as (Y/n) mumbled a silent ‘thanks’.

Creaks of the opening door dragged Arne’s attention to the incoming patronage. "Welcome! What'd be for today Seizou-sama?"

Seizou shook his head and took off his sun hat, revealing his balding scalp and the wrinkles that etched themselves on his face, resembling the years that passed in his life. Hanging it on one of the hooks near the door.

"Nothing of the sort lad, just came here to issue a request."

Amaury nodded and smiled, nonetheless.

"Sure thing, let me just get some papers in the storage."

(Y/n) lifted her head to see Amaury's retreating form, his back getting further and further away until he disappeared around the corner.

Once she was certain he was out of earshot, (Y/n) faced the trembling man.

"What kind of request is it, Seizou-san?"

Seizou gave her a sad gaze, one where despair and hopelessness ravaged in those fading irises of blue. "Killing the king of curses."

(Y/n) pondered on the thought. In all her years living here, she only came across that title a couple of times when it was whispered amongst warriors and hunters or woven into a tale of caution.

Beware the demon king by night, With blazing eyes and fangs so bright.

The scrolls that the village owned were useless; moth-eaten, fading as the days passed. And even if they weren’t, the priestess wasn’t fortunate enough to know how to read—such a luxury reserved for nobility.

His whispers lure in dreams unseen, To snatch away the pure and clean.

Of course, rumors and stories flutter past her ears every once in a while. Parents told the tales of the demon king who will take you away to his palace if you don’t eat all your vegetables. Even depict him as a being with horns and wings with sharp jagged teeth. There were the occasional sketches that went around if a painter was visiting town, albeit (Y/n) doubts if they will ever ring true.

Walk the paths where lanterns glow, Stray too far and the dark will show.

"Say, what... what brought this on hmm? What makes you think that this 'king' even exists?"

It was difficult to believe that which you have not seen for yourself. Much more to fear a creature you have never once met.

The aging man only sighed, he couldn’t blame the young woman, really.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the seat near hers.

"Be my guest."

Seizou situated himself on the stool only a few feet away from the girl.

"The king of curses is no mere legend, miko. Few of my kin have encountered him during the hunting season, saying there lay a creature in the woods far too fast for the eyes to see, resilient to the sharpest of blades—the strongest of swordsmen. But it was no forest beast… it was a demon. The vilest of them all. No shaman could bring him down. Calamity falls on the cities he ventures. Towns reduced to ashes from his wrath. He spares no one, not women nor children. They say that he has four arms and a mighty build. His body adorned in ink; eyes dyed red from all his bloodshed. Only he had four, prodding at you every which way; so deformed one would think he had two faces. My son... tried to... hunt him down and never came home. Soon, my youngest also attempted to do it, he too... never returned."

(Y/n) listened earnestly to his tale as she shifted in her seat, resting her cheek on her fist. "Say he really does exist...” she entertained, still skeptical of the demon’s existence.

“Surely, you can’t expect people to do this for such a noble reason as vengeance?”

"Of course not. I’m putting all my fortune into this. At the very least, if someone were to defeat him... It'd do great for the future."

The girl looked towards the window seeing the clouds swirl and darken over the once azure sky, feeling something creep up her spine. "Oi, Mr. Seizou..." she called.

His fading icy blue eyes clashed with her (e/c) irises. "I'll do it. I'll kill him."

---

At the rise of daybreak, (Y/n) prepared for her estimated lengthy adventure. From sharpening blades to making wards to stocking up on food and other necessities that she needed to live.

The priestess wrapped her things in a large cloth, hiding the little things in the pockets of her kosode. 

She barricaded her windows and finally locked the door. (Y/n) was sure she wasn’t returning here for a while. Although it was sad, for she had grown to love her humble home, it had to be done.

After grabbing the map (given by Seizou) that supposedly leads to the castle of the king, the priestess took off on what will be a year-long journey to the kingdom of the demon king.

As she walked the cobblestone path of Auflage—the last one for a very long time so it seemed—stores of all kinds and sizes that a great deal of things welcomed her vision. From bakeries to armories to the newly established livelihoods. For a town near the end of the world, it sure held a lot of variety.

Despite having been in town for a long time, the structures and the people still fascinated her.

(Y/n) decided to stop by one of the stores that recently opened.

A jingling sound flooded her ears, ringing all throughout the space, the moment she opened the door. A sign perhaps… that somebody entered the place.

The priestess observed her surroundings, weapons were fastened to the mahogany walls, huge beams of wood holding the building upright. Daylight streamed through the windows of the door, and there it lingered. Torches lined the posters, bringing luminescence to the room clouded in shadows.

What caught her attention were the odd-looking things lining the shelves. From swords to butcher knives to just rotten banana peel-designed wrappings.

(Y/n)’s stare drifted from one trinket to another, finding them so strange from the usual apparatuses used by the shrine maidens. What kind of shop is this? Is that a toenail?

"What'd it be for you, missy?"

Her curious gaze met the eyes of the man at the end of the aisle, clothed in a humble grey hakama and kosode.

"I see a lot of cursed energy pilling up inside you." He commented, eyeing the products he had for sale. Surely, he must have thought them odd, too.

"I beg your pardon?"

The tiny keeper laughed, clutching his stomach at how hilarious he was. His hunched form and disheveled appearance approached the weary figure of the priestess.

"You see that man over there," the woman looked to where his bony finger pointed to, "you're somewhat similar to what he is." He smiled, crossing his hands behind his back.

At the other side of the store was a muscular man, cautiously looking over the things that were on display. His ears catching patches of the conversation that was quietly weaving behind him.

"—could learn a thing or two from him."

The tiny old hunchback walked to the back of his shop, soon coming out with a bow and a case of arrows in his arms.

"I'll rent it to you," he casually dropped the weapon in her arms, not minding the clatter that followed as a few of the arrows fell to the floor, "if you come back alive, you can have it. If you don't, I’ll charge everything on your descendants."

If the wind could penetrate through the thick walls, (Y/n) was sure that it would blow everything away... everything including her.

She looked to the odd man; his posture, appearance—even just the fact that he was running some quack shop sent warning signals all over her head.

"Kill the king for me, too."

---

(Y/n) walked the final steps that would lead her to the ends of the village, one where the forest path lies ahead: the only entrance and exit to Auflage.

She passed through the large torii gate that welcomed travellers to the estranged town and soon, she also passed the broken sign that should've spelled drive instead of d i e.

Towering trees flagged her vision, the endless ocean of green and yellow littering the ground, accompanied by the rhythmic orchestra of the fauna made her head go into a frenzy of cautiousness.

(Y/n) had already made the journey through the woods halfway. If she kept at this pace, she would reach the town before eventide.

Still, it did not make her ventures a whole less eerie.

It's quiet. Too quiet.

The echo of a snap compelled her to turn her head towards the direction of the sound, to find a culprit for her startle.

The scene that greeted her was certainly, how do you put it...

Odd.

"Handsome, aren't I?" He smirked.

"More like strange..." The priestess countered cautiously, eyeing the man behind the trees.

"And handsome."

"It must be nice to have such vain concerns." She sneered.

The stranger emerged from where he hid behind the tree, his pink hair spiking in meaningless directions, clothes barely covering the areas it was supposed to cover. His body was packed with muscles, like he had all the food to eat with no one to share, yet he appeared somewhat wounded.

But what made (Y/n) halt her observations was the striking crimson pooling in his irises, as though every shade of red was made just so he could have it. It must be a trick of the light, surely. For what human could be blessed with such beauty that even the gods might envy him for it.

“If you draw me now, you might finish it by twilight.”

Alas, he had a foul mouth on him. And it irked the priestess—especially when he was saying such atrocities with that sickeningly haughty grin and a face drawn with ink. I’ll put you in your place, you pig!

"What're you doing in the middle of the woods?" She questioned, forcing her patience to reach further. "Almost naked at that."

(Y/n) gestured to his beaten figure.

"If you wanted a quick coin, you could at least have tried a town. You’re not going to sell much out here with tanukis and foxes."

Pinky boy tilted his head to the side, amusement glimmering in his red eyes. "Do you not know who I am?"

Taken aback by the sudden question, (Y/n) raised an eyebrow at him. "Am I supposed to?"

The stranger grinned wider at her retort, doubling over in laughter because to him, the tiny little priestess was oh-so amusing.

"Interesting..." pinky hair chuckled, wiping the water from his eye.

"I'm Ryoumen." He declared, spreading his arms out in a grand boisterous gesture.

"I didn't ask... but okay. I'm (Y/n)." The priestess bowed humbly.

Orchestras of birds hastily fluttering their wings and taking off interrupted their conversation. Soon, gray clouds blotted the sky, thunder echoing through every nook and corner of the forest.

“I can walk with you until the next village, it’s just around two hundred and twenty-five cho away*. If we walk now, we can reach it by twilight."

(*30 km or 18 miles)

“Heh?” He smirked, raising a brow at her bold offer.

“Or you can just stay here and freeze to death,” (Y/n) shrugged, turning her back to him, and soon started to walk away. “Either way, I offered so my conscience is clean~” she waved, “Don’t curse me if you die out here.”

---

"Gojō-sensei! Who's Ryoumen?"

"That's Sukuna's last name. Now shut up or I'll leave you all hanging."

--

"You want to kill the king of curses?" Sukuna laughed at her declaration.

(Y/n) forgetting all about her manners, hurriedly slurped every bit of noodle left in the bowl before slamming it down on the table. "So, what if I do?"

The man scoffed and flicked her forehead, "I think you're a hundred years too early to be trying that."

She slapped his arm away, ignoring his jibe. "I can do it. It’s what I always wanted to do ever since I arrived at Auflage. Besides, you wouldn't know until you try."

"Your optimistic attitude will be the only reason you'll make it to the gates of his temple."

His comment caught the priestess’s interest, eyes shining with wonder and admiration that agitated the pink-haired man. 

"You've been there, old man?"

"Don't call me that.” He glared at her. 

“And... yeah. I have. That's why you saw me in such a state." Sukuna crossed his arms over his—still naked—chest, defensively.

His statements were half a lie, half the truth. When he realized his hesitance, he briefly wondered, why in heaven’s name was he guessing over what words to say.

Sukuna had gone there, of course—it was his home, after all. And he got battered and beaten from destroying town after town, chased by some shamans who wanted to take his head.

Still, he lied just as easily as he killed. Finding that his resolve faltered when she looked at him with such shameless appreciation…

"Ain't that cool!" She beamed and flashed him a charming smile, "Hey~ teach me, will you?"

Sukuna broke free from his daydreams, shackling himself back into reality where he left no room for such foolish thoughts.

"No. I don't teach. I don't have anything to teach you."

The priestess deflated at his rejection, eyes watering and lips quivering. "You’re a real pain." she silently mumbled.

(Y/n) sniffed, intakes of breath growing more and more frantic by the second.

Then the tears came streaming down her face, gaining the attention of the people, and fast.

Oh... she's good.

"W-Why... why... WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!"

His eyes widened at her yell, "Wha—"

"After all we've been through?!" She stood up and slammed her hands on the table, making the porcelain and silverware that littered the furniture clatter.

Murmurs erupted from the people who silently watched the scene unfold. To them, it looked like (Y/n) and the pink-haired man were having a lover's quarrel... but none of them could see the glinting mischief that pooled in the eyes of the priestess.

She's worse than me.

Sukuna didn’t know what to make of this silly little woman. It unnerved him so, he could have killed every single person in this inn, even burn the entire town to cinders… yet he remained—staring at her with unmanned wonder.

"YOU DID IT WITH HER DIDN'T YOU?"

Confusion rattled his soul, "I don't know what you're talking about—" he really didn't, they haven’t even spent one moon together!

One thing was clear, (Y/n) was causing a scene... and it was a very convincing one at that.

"YOU RAILED MY MOTHE—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Sukuna’s hand covered her mouth. Eyes widening to bowls at her supposed declamation.

"Fine, I'll teach you—just... be... shut your foul mouth." He harshly whispered in her ears.

The curse really didn’t know how he agreed… or why. Perhaps it was the lingering murmurs, or the boredom waiting to be tamed. Still, in the darkest corners of his soul… it remained, this little spark that soon will blossom into raging fire—casting his world alight.

Sukuna grabbed her hand and led her out of the varying gazes of the people inside the establishment.

"Now that wasn't so difficult, right?" (Y/n) placed her hands on her hips and laughed at the painted expression of annoyance that colored his face.

“For a priestess, you’re pretty scummy.” Sukuna sneered.

“Hah! Jokes on you, I’ve heard worse than that, Ryoumen~”

He stole a glance at her at the mention of his name, one of the many, he reminds.

Sukuna realizes it then… that it was the first time someone’s lived long enough for his name to be voiced in his presence. It had always been Sukuna-sama with him, or Demon king, beyond that there was nothing at all.

Despite having many titles, he was hardly called. As embarrassing as it was to admit, many years would pass without a living soul uttering his name. He would often forget about it, failing to recall that he had one in the first place.

So, to hear it now with his own ears felt strange. Sent him reeling back into the darkest corners where there was nothing but the familiar oblivion—away from that fickle flame.

Because how would he make of it when she lets it flow past her lips with such gentle familiarity? Like he was given that name so long ago just so she could call him that here at this very moment—that her voice will string with that title for every crimson moon to come. For every passing lifetime.

Silence covered the distance between them, leaving the faint rumble of people talking and laughing to echo in their wake. Flames that danced from the lanterns cast an orange glow over their faces, painting their shadows in elongating strokes.

(Y/n) exhaled loudly before she started prancing around him like a lost horse.

"What'll it be, huh? Martial Arts?" She ghosted punches over his form, pretending to kick the air.

Idiot.

"One of those fancy breathing techniques with the sword thing I keep hearing about?" She grabbed a stick and lightly hit the impassive man on both sides.

Sukuna, irked at her ministrations, grabbed the stick and broke it into two then threw it to the sides.

"Can I breathe fire?"

"What about water?"

“Hey! Wait up!” (Y/n) chased after the form of the walking man. 

"What about those chakra things? With the psschhooww and the wham and bam will I be able to do that?"

Sukuna dragged a hand over his face, silently questioning the decisions he makes whenever he had nothing to do with his time.

Man, she's annoying.

The priestess and the king of curses continued their journey, treading the path until the cobblestone faded into hardened earth and the midnight sun shone overhead.

They halted in front of a small hut on the side of the road, with shattered windows, fungi blanketing the roof of the small shack. No flicker of fire could be seen inside the humble house.

It kind of reminded (Y/n) of her home back in Auflage.

"We'll stay here for the night." Sukuna forced his way into the house. If this was compliant with the Shogun’s law, the priestess didn’t want to know. She just hopes that whoever owns this shack wouldn’t mind if they occupied it for a little while.

Clinks of glassware being broken, wood scraping against the floors, thuds of heavy objects hitting the ground. The sounds made her worry.

Soon enough, Sukuna emerged from the doorway, leaning his forearm against the threshold, his other hand holding an unlit lantern.

"There's no light though..."

"Really? You're gonna worry about lights when you're literally going across the country to kill the king of curses?" He stood to his full height and towered over the priestess.

The gentle breeze of the evening swayed the (h/c) threads that were planted firmly on her head, a shiver crawling up her spine as the cold wind bit against her body.

"Please don't kill me!" She wailed in mock panic, shutting her eyes tight.

"I'm not going to kill you, you maniac. I should be worried if you're gonna kill me." He defended.

"You don't have to be so defensive about it." (Y/n) ceased her act and rolled her eyes at him.

I want to kill her so badly... she's so annoying.

(Y/n) turned to face the man, the light of the imprisoned fire casting a faint glow of orange on her face. How he managed to set it ablaze, she had no clue.

For a moment she looked at him like she wanted to say something, but she held back. Probably something stupid, he thought.

Her pondering continued until she let out a laugh, eyes glinting with scheme and mayhem, smirking up at the tall man. "You're not going to take advantage of me, are you?"

A flash of fire rushed past her head and blew a hole through the wall of the already rundown shack. "WHAT WAS THAT?"

"I'm not gonna take advantage of you... you sicko!" Sukuna fisted his free hand, restraining every bit of anger in his soul. To think this—this demon spawn could even be the least bit grateful!

Oh, he's mad.

"That was a curse. That's what you'll be learning first thing tomorrow." He lectured, handing her the lamp and pushing her through the doorway, "NOW SLEEP!" before he slammed the door shut.

The King of Curses remained standing under the stars, trying his best to restrain the bubbling urge to incinerate everything in his sight.

What in the world am I doing? He sighs, walking further into the rice fields.

Sukuna sat under a tree, a great distance away from the hut. The cicadas sung their melodies into the night, frogs croaking from the side. He watched aimlessly as the curses circled around the area of his energy, seeing them lurk around the edges of the forest, or peek from the foliage yet remained a means too far for them to be harmed.

If only that idiot priestess was the same.

The light from the lamp gradually faded, a sign that she was yielding to slumber. Curses weren’t tethered by such earthly needs. Sukuna had no need for food or water either. He simply indulged in the flavors they brought but he held no obligation to them.

She held a striking difference to him.

Long after she had passed from the memories of every person she had met, their children, and their children’s children, Sukuna would live on for the centuries to come.

The priestess was so painfully mortal. A hand from him would send her soul to the borders of death. A slip—a mistake. A burst of anger, an annoyance, if she were to be at the end of his temper…

Sukuna pondered then, if he should leave.

This has been nothing but a simple detour. A way to kill the time he just had so much of.

But she shone like fire through the abyss that it made looking away impossible. Because when you’ve known nothing but resentment, you’ll latch yourself to any form of kindness that shows your way.

---

Light of daybreak refracted the early morning dews like prisms, casting the colors of the sun into the haze of dawn.

"WAKE UP RYOUMEN!"

(Y/n) banged together a metal ladle and a metal pot while repeatedly saying her new favorite phrase, 'WAKE UP RYOUMEN!'.

"I'm up! I'M UP WOMAN! STOP YOUR DAMN NOISE!" He grabbed the utensils out of her hand and threw them out the window. “You’ll wake the entire village with your racket!”

In the end, Sukuna returned before the break of sunrise, telling himself that he’ll play along until the act gets old, or he grows too tired to keep up—until his patience wears thin, or she dies. Whichever comes first. He didn’t know then… that those were all just excuses.

For a priestess, she has such a terrible attitude.

“Hey, um…”

Sukuna looked from the broken window (a lot more broken than last night) to the priestess.

Her cheeks were dyed as scarlet as her hakama, hands behind her back as she bit her lip.

“I just… wanted to say… that—”

Irked by her stalling, he snapped. “Spit it out, miko!”

“THANK YOU FOR COMING ALONG!” Startled by her words, (Y/n) quickly covered her mouth like she could hardly believe she had said those words of her own free will.

“What I meant was that… that… uhmm…”

A firm hand covered the expanse of her head, ruffling the already unkempt threads.

“I said I would, didn’t I? I don’t break promises.”

The king would never know how his simple truth would tether the priestess to him. How the words he spoke on a whim would be the frail vow that would shackle her until the day she dies. That it would latch onto him as tightly… just like he had held onto her.

(Y/n) beamed at him from under his arm, grabbing the shoulders of the tall man and shaking him back and forth, "Teach me then, o great one."

Sukuna led the priestess to a large clearing. Far from the prying eyes of any other mortal.

Reaching the area with a large tree (the same one he had idled under last night). He told her to stay a few steps back.

Sukuna spiralled his focus in a single breath—

“Ready when you are!”

“Be quiet!”

Once more, he breathed in, his posture upright and relaxed yet brimming with intensity. Sukuna’s eyes narrowed sharply as he channeled his cursed energy, hand rising with fluid grace. His fingers parted in deliberate gestures, steering the power that sparks and swirls to take the shape of a fiery arrow. In a controlled motion, he draws his arm back, the flames burning brighter every passing second.

Then he fired, sending the arrow straight to the tree, burning through it, and blasting open a boulder on the other side of the field.

Pleased with the small display of destruction, he turned to the priestess with sheer delight. Finding that she had her jaw dropping to the ground from shock.

“You’ll be learning that miko.” Sukuna smirked, jutting his thumb at the fiery wake of his technique.

Snapping out of it, she shut her mouth and readied herself to protest, “Are you kidding me?! I can’t do that!” (Y/n) crossed her arms, glaring at him all the way from where she stood a hundred feet away.

“It’s the only beginner trick I know!” He hollered, silently snickering at her predicament. “Kids could do twice as much if they tried!”

“You cheat! That’s a lie and you know it! You’re the worst teacher ever!” The priestess fumed, snarling at him from the distance, shaking a fist in the air from sheer annoyance.

Sukuna slowly crossed the distance between them, taking in her angered image. It amused him seeing her so riled up from a single comment. Human emotions were truly as fickle as their lives. 

The sun glared brightly over their heads. Still, its rays fell warmly for what seemed to be the first time in half a century.

As he drew closer, he craned his neck to catch her gaze. “You’re already giving up?” He teased, shaking his head in disappointment, “What happened to all that hope? Come on~”

“Why you—”

“OI! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU SCOUNDRELS ARE DOING? YOU BURNED MY TREE DOWN!”

The priestess looked to the raging villager in panic, getting ready to kowtow for forgiveness while Sukuna didn’t even spare a passing glance as he stood uprightly.

“I think… we should…” She looked to Sukuna with a diabolical grin, finding that he did not even show the slightest bit of emotion on that inked face of his. With a shake of her head at his indifference, the priestess intertwined her hand with his and tugged him forward breaking forth into a—“… run.”

“Hey! Get back here!”

She laughed, the melody echoing between the borders of the valley and his ears, feeling his soul calm at the sound.

The unusual duo ran from the angry man, stopping only once they heard no footsteps chasing after them.

Sukuna has never run from something so obscenely foolish—he reckons he never ran away from anything at all. There existed no creature who could make him fear for his life or sweat from nerves.

Still, even as he tried to deny, he could not shake off this excessive thrumming in his heart—screaming that getting dragged by this human was just a teeny tiny bit fun.

---

For days and weeks on end, that became their routine: wake up because of the loud banging (whether it be a broken sword, a wooden stick, or an out-of-tune biwa), eat (mostly just for the priestess), go to a clearing, practice techniques that can easily be done by a kid if the teacher wasn’t such a jerk to his student that obviously wasn’t a kid but a priestess who could only try so hard!

If they were lucky, angry mobs of people wouldn’t come chasing them out of the village… that was very rare. It had them sleeping in marshes, openings of an old tree, caves.

(Y/n) didn’t mind. In her heart, so long as Ryoumen was there for her every waking moment she was certain that everything would be alright.

But it could not be said for the rest of the world.

Soon enough, tales of the king of curses traveling with a priestess began circulating from town to town. Undoubtedly originating from the folks they startled half to death, given their flashy explosions and endless bickering.

In twilight's glow, the priestess strides. The demon king at her side.

They knew nothing. All those foolish humans and shamans conjuring their own truths to soothe their fear, to vanquish uncertainties, to pin their accusations on whoever was close enough to be suitable.

His eyes aflame, her heart of grace. Souls entwined in a wicked embrace.

But if the world ran on scales being tilted to fair and unjust then there would be no need for rulers. Reality remains: the truth can be muddied and lies can come as clear as water. If people in power put their faith in that notion, who were the unfortunate as to question them so?

Calamity awaits this dark dance, A fate in ruin, a cursed chance.

Stories of the king’s companion reached the ears of power, binding the unknown priestess in a place far from where she actually stood. It was simple, really. If one cannot get to the root, you stick the poison in the bark until it seeps in and kills it from within.

For those who lived in torment of his existence would stop at nothing if it meant eliminating him from the lands.

O priestess pure, who dared to scheme, With demon king, forsake your dream. In shadows deep, your light shall wane, A traitor's fate, eternal pain.

Bound to the fiend, your soul will weep, In eternal gloom, your spirit keep. For conspiring with the devil's might, In endless night, lose all your light.

“Curse the traitor who dares to walk the shadows.”

Wades of grass swayed from the broken gale, leaves rustling until the breaths of their life got carried into the blue ether.

“Oi, get up.” Sukuna loomed over the hunched form of the tired priestess, looking down on her with bordered patience.

The woman panted and tried to catch her breath, pushing her palms against her knees to hoist her body upwards. “Yeah… just… give me a… second.”

“I can see the sun go across the sky, that’s how long you’re taking.”

“That’s so rude—” her body was suddenly shaken by violent coughs, sending her crumbling to her knees. "I think I might be coming down with something." She laughed, looking up and flashing him a forced grin.

"Yeah, the wrong idea." He jeered, poking her forehead.

"It might be a cold." The priestess tried to put forward, grabbing the hand that continuously knocked on her head to help hoist her upright.

"Don't be ridiculous.” Sukuna scoffs, prying his arm from her once she’d found footing, tucking it under his battered kimono. “Idiots are too dumb to catch a cold."

“Right? That’s why you’ll never have to worry about getting sick!” She laughs, walking past him and onwards the path they had to tread.

Sukuna, frozen where he stood, could only stare and watch as her figure got further and further away. Draped over by the daylight that lingers around her, loyal as they come. Clothes that fluttered in the wind like waves crashing against the shore. Eyes that looked back at him when she noticed his footfalls weren’t anywhere near hers.

He wasn’t so sure if he was angry at her comment… or relieved that she was alright.

Even now as she waved at him from so far away, her sleeves waltzing with the breeze, Sukuna couldn’t see any of those hurtful resentments—the ones that he was most familiar with—as though they had not existed at all.

“I’m leaving you if you don’t hurry up!” she yelled, cupping her hand near the side of her mouth to have her voice reach him.

Foolish little human, he would think. He could cross that distance in the blink of an eye, even appear at the gates of his home without a single breath passing. Still, he chose to walk alongside this priestess… wasting the time he just had so much of.

But deep down, he knew. He was happy that he was wasting all his time with her.

---

“If you don’t feel well just say so, idiot miko.” Sukuna knelt beside her heaving form, his shoulder being the only thing stopping her from falling to a crumpled heap on the floor.

“No… I’m… I’m fine.” She caged the fabric of his clothing between her fingers, chasing the breath she kept on losing even from a simple exercise like walking to a clearing. “I just… need—I just need to catch my breath… that’s all.”

Sukuna shifted in his position, slumping on the hardened soil, allowing her weight to fall on him completely.

“You’ve been saying that for the past week.” He reminds, planting a hand to support both their weights.

“You don’t seem to be getting better.” Sukuna’s fingers carded through her hair, wanting to untangle them… only they stuck to his digits like glue, bunching up in his hand like he had yanked it straight from her scalp.

“Yeah… sorry about that.” Her chuckles sounded tired, as though it took everything in her to even force it out. The priestess loosened her grip on him, letting her hand fall.

Time felt warped in those few arbitrary seconds, perhaps he was just imagining that it did; never quite admitting the bothersome whirring his heart would emit when he saw her struggling all this time. It was fine when he was the one to cause her little setbacks, because she, too, took part in riling him up. But it was an all too different matter when it was caused by something else.

Still, in those few passing moments, the pieces seemed to gravitate together. And he yells at himself for ignoring the warnings. His agitated energy, the flutter of his power, the unsettling gloom trailing past her shadow. The coughs, her hair… the patches of green and violet decorating her skin.

Even from a few moons ago, he shouldn’t have brushed it off. The priestess would wake in the dead of the night screaming—yelling that something was out to get her. She’d jump at the slightest rustle, asking if Sukuna felt it too… that someone was watching them. Her sadness from the hostility of the animals from the villages, or that she wasn’t as happy as she used to be… that it probably killed her inside just to pretend that she was alright.

Sukuna pushed the priestess, not enough to get her to let go, but far enough for him to be able to see the dark circles under her eyes and within them, the hazy reflection of the one that had been cursing her.

---

“Your wife seems to be in terrible condition.” The shaman from the village inspected the priestess, squinting his eyes in what looked to be pretend observation. Of course, anybody, be it human or curse, could see that she wasn’t doing well.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, not even bothering to correct that the woman was not his wife—he’d rather eat his own fingers than be bound to her for eternity.

“Well, let her stay here for a few days to get her energy back. It’s a long way from the one hexing her so she should be alright.” The human excused himself from Sukuna, leaving him to stare at the bedridden form of the priestess.

With every stutter of her breath, the twitches in her closed eyes, even the faintest mumbles that slipped past her lips, Sukuna found himself clinging to the moments when her laughter would ring in his ears, that she’d poke fun at him and say he was walking like an old man, or when she’d complain and say she was tired… that she wanted to sleep and eat until she couldn’t breathe.

Back then, it all looked so foolish; annoying if nothing. On days like those, he wished she would just cease her endless chatter—even if it was for less than an hour—or that she would tire herself out from running around like a child, or that she would stop asking all those unnecessary questions.

Why is the sky blue?

What’s your favorite season?

Where do you want to live once this adventure is over?

But one would never really know the value of a moment until it’s forced to become a memory.

He drew closer to her, raising his arm in a languid manner, a spark of blue flame dancing on the tips of his fingers.

Sukuna’s hand lingered above her body, hesitant to cast the spell that would end her torment. He wouldn’t have admitted it, and he knew that he never will, but in that space in time—a little rift that belonged to him alone—he trembled in fear.

What would she make of him if she ever found out? That the king she had so desperately sought was the same being walking alongside her. The same one who was at the receiving end of her kind smiles and warm affection. What would you think of me… if you knew the truth?

It was easier that way. To hide. To run. To cower away from all that he deserved from the one person he didn’t want to look at him that way: In fear, in hatred, in contempt. Because beyond that, Sukuna didn’t know where to be. He couldn’t bear to know what would become of him if the priestess would see him the way humans did. The vile curse who killed anyone in his wake. Sukuna. Calamity bringer. Demon king.

But the sight of her in pain, plagued by the nightmares conjured by a wicked sorcerer, weakened by the spell wrongfully placed on her, haunted by the waking thought that it would never get better.

No. that’s too much.

Sukuna let the fire fall, burning away the remnants of harm thrown at her. Swearing to himself that he would not let her suffer for his sake.

If she were to wake one day and realize her mistakes, then it would just have to be the monument of his retribution. He would take it, so long as it was not right now… here, where the fervent longing in his heart blazed for nothing but the priestess. Burning so fiercely, blinding any other thought, because he didn’t want anything, not the humans or the curses, to take her away from him.

Not the human who fearlessly led him through the forest, clung to him like he was the one who held all the answers, looked at him like he had hung the stars in the sky.

Not when he wished for nothing but to stay by the miko’s side.

---

A hundred million lights shone on the midnight canvas overhead, illuminating the world in a soft glow, casting faint drizzles of warmth to cover the face of the sleeping girl—no longer running from the darkness.

Sukuna never left the room. For if she was here, then there was no need for him to be anywhere else.

Yet once more, the world—or rather, his subordinate—begged to differ.

"Sukuna-sama."

The demon king spared not even a passing glance at the sudden entry of the white-haired servant, choosing to keep his crimson stare pinned on the priestess.

"Oh, Uraume." He acknowledged emptily.

"I have been looking across the country—"

"Get lost. I don't need you right now." He was quick to dismiss his servant’s urgency with a wave of his hand.

Uraume placed a foot in protest, although hasty to rescind when a sharp glare emanated from the eyes of the demon king. "But Sukuna-sama, the sorcerers..."

Fed up with the useless rambling, Sukuna let out an exasperated sigh, "What? Are you so weak that you can't take care of a few little humans?" he ridiculed.

"They are dabbling with the forbidden arts, Sukuna-sama." Uraume tried desperately to raise even a grain of attention in the king’s heart, yet he remained impassive to the situation all the same. "One was recently sighted to have cursed a few nobility—"

Sukuna leaned back in his chair even more, resting his cheek on his fist and glancing at his servant from the corners of his eyes. "Since when have I cared for others, Uraume? Let them die."

His words were cold, uncaring, and cruel… but not once has he torn his gaze from the soul resting on the cot.  

Uraume thought it to be strange. The king of demons had spent so long treating the lives of others as nothing less than dirt under his foot, yet he held this fleeting human he’s known for less than six full moons as a treasure he could not look away from.

It wasn’t any of the servant’s business. How Sukuna chose to spend his time is out of Uraume’s concern. Uraume merely has to report to Sukuna and take care of all the things he didn’t want to concern himself over.

"She did from the grounds of her home, Sukuna-sama." Uraume tried not to falter from Sukuna’s heavy stare, choosing to bow instead of facing the angry expression painted on the king’s face. The servant did not want to be at the end of his wrath.

"Pink eyes? Blue hair?" His footsteps echoed within the small room, and Uraume was soon looking at the seams of a white kimono.

"Yes, Tsukumo Ren, are you perhaps acquainted with her—?"

"Kill her." Sukuna’s hostility forced the servant to the floor.

Now that Uraume has confirmed it, Sukuna had no doubts. Tsukumo Ren was the sorcerer behind those pools of (e/c) staring back at him that day. The same ones that used to look at him with all the hope in the world. The same ones that were glistening in pain—begging for him to put her out of her misery.

"Kill that sorcerer. That's an order."

The sound of fabric rustling had Sukuna withdrawing his energy, looking down on his servant in contempt before he tore his gaze and walked away.

“Leave.”

Uraume wasted not a single breath and teleported away. Either the servant obtains the sorcerer’s head, or Sukuna would be the one to take Uraume’s.

After what felt like eternities dragging on, the priestess had finally woken.

Sukuna pushed the gnawing sensation of relief down the depths of his soul.

He felt silly… feeling like that, for a human, no less.

"Were you… talking with someone… just now?" She rasped, hoisting herself to sit up.

But he would admit to it just once that in this moment, Sukuna was happy to be the one who stood here. To be the first thing she saw, the first voice she heard. To be the first person she thought of.

“No.” Sukuna was quick to deny, as he handed her a cup of water. “You were hallucinating.”

After being the object of contempt for many, many centuries… it was nice to know that beside her, he was wanted. Above all else, beyond rhyme and reason, when he was with her… he felt seen.

The priestess downed the liquid, feeling her the tightness in her throat diminishes. “I see. Have you eaten yet?”

“Worry about yourself more, idiot.”

He felt loved.

---

The demon king, in twilight’s glow, Found solace in the priestess he’d come to know.

Not a week later, the renowned shaman who could curse anybody from a distance was proclaimed dead. Shards of frozen water bordered her home that had exploded into splinters. Sorcerers investigating under the command of the shogun found her body sliced to pieces, her blood painting the walls.

For her, his heart would fiercely burn, And vengeance swift would soon return.

Soon enough, rumors emerged from town to town. Iterating the tale told by one folk to the next, each one a lot more diverted from the truth than before. Still, it would not matter. For the chants written down in history would prove every other legend wrong—yet this one will always remain true, even as the world is raised to ruin.

To those who dare to bring her pain, His wrath unleashed will reign like rain.

---

"Who ever knew I'd be so famous that others would want to curse me?" (Y/n) walked joyously, swinging her arms back and forth divergent to the falls of her steps.

Sukuna trod alongside her, as he told the priestess the truth, finding no need to withhold it from her. If his servant held life second to Sukuna, then the sorcerer would be no more.

"Yeah, waste of a perfectly good incantation if you asked me." The king shrugged nonchalantly, purposely saying the words that would add fuel to the fire flickering in her.

Sukuna could feel the sharp glares she was sending his way all while he pretended not to notice them, suppressing the laugh that threatened to burst from his throat.

The priestess huffed in annoyance, turning her head away from him and walking at a much faster pace, leaving him behind.

“Oi! I was just joking!” He yelled in protest, hurrying his strides to catch up with her who was now turning the next corner of the street.

Sukuna stopped moments before he could collide with her back.

People walked past them in every direction while they stayed stagnant in the midst of it all, like an iceberg adrift in the vast ocean.

"So, how do you intend on paying the healer?" The priestess turned to face him, inclining her head to meet his stare.

Her question took him by surprise. They had to pay? For what? That quack doctor didn’t do shi—

"Uh... I wrote my name; they can ask for something in return when they want to." Sukuna looked away, scratching the back of his head. Like hell he’d do something for a lowly human—

"You know how to write? That's so cool!" She looked to him in adoration, the same one she had always worn before that sorcerer took it away—and heavens was he elated to have the light of those eyes end its journey behind his own.

"What you don't?" Sukuna smirked, flicking her forehead.

"Nope! Not even my name!"

Sukuna was left staring at her, at a loss for words, like he had seemed to be for the past twilights. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, how this little human squeezed through the tight crevices in the walls he built so high—or perhaps it was him who tore them down.

"You wouldn't even know if you're a national criminal." He laughed, tucking his hands in his sleeves, and continued to walk.

"Right?” She grinned, skipping every now and then to match his lengthy strides, “I do know how to write Auflage."

Sukuna scoffed, slowing his pace so he could poke fun at her from a nearer distance. "That's useless."

"Correct again! Wow, you're really smart, Ryoumen!"

There it was again, that little stutter in his breath at the mention of his name. One of the many, he continues to remind.

Even with the chatter of the townspeople, the clatter of their sandals hitting the cobblestone path, the late afternoon breeze singing their melody, he feared that knocking of his heart would be too loud—that it would overpower all the resounding restrictions he so desperately tries to put on himself and he would end up giving in to all this… all this happiness.

"You're just an idiot..." He whispers halfheartedly.

"Hey! Teach me how to write your name." The priestess bounced on the balls of her feet as she looked to Sukuna with a heart full of hope and stubborn determination. 

"Shouldn't you be more interested in yours?" Sukuna raised a brow at her, pushing the priestess to move with the rest of the crowd towards the river.

"No. You probably know how to write that but it's not fair that I don't know how to write yours." She shook her head and pointed an accusing finger at him.

"What?"

They halted near the bank of the river. The setting sun sank behind the horizon, painting his face golden; striking the priestess with shadows.

Then she turned to face the rushing river, half her face dyed in aureate light, casting the illusion of eternity.

"How am I gonna find you if you go disappearing on me? I can't write. I can't read, and I can't draw."

Slowly, humans came occupying the fields of grass, scattering their laughter in the once silent atmosphere.

"At the very least, if I know how to write your name, I'll be able to look for you in the future... and find you again."

As the last rays of daylight faded into the earth, she looked to him for what should be no-less than second nature… so why? Why did his soul scream at him to go to her? To be near her no matter what life she lived? To be the one within arm’s reach… to be the one she looks for, the one she asks to see.

How ridiculous her words were. To him who ardently believed that he was born and reincarnated to be the object of everybody’s contempt, that he lived only to hurt other people.

Still… why does she look at him like those didn’t matter? As though they never held importance to begin with. She was the one being ridiculous! Not him!

“Hello? From the magnificent miko of the land to Ryoumen? Is anybody home?” The priestess waved a hand over his face, the one who stared at her unblinkingly.

But Sukuna realizes then that he too was accountable for some of the blame.

“Sit down and pay close attention.” He grabbed a small branch and sat on a log away from the rest of the crowd.

Because even as he harbors these doubts, he still finds himself looking for her. Everywhere. In everything. In everyone.

Through fire and flame, where darkness holds its sway, The demon king feels something start to sway.

When Sukuna turned to see if the priestess obeyed his command, his soul nearly descended to the depths of hell as he sees her sitting so painfully close to him, staring at the undisturbed earth with such fervor.

As moonlight dances on her gentle grace, A flicker warms his cold and distant face.

The king began drawing lines on the dirt, glancing at her from the corner of his eye to see if he still had her attention. He did.

兩面

“How do you read that?” She gazed at him in wonder as she pointed to the characters on the ground, written so neatly it would have passed as a calligrapher’s penmanship (the priestess has never seen a calligrapher’s penmanship. This is the first handwriting she has witnessed).

“Ryoumen, you idiot. Now you try.” Sukuna flicked her forehead and handed her the stick.

In her presence he sheds his ancient rage, And finds his soul anew free from its wretched cage.

As the priestess glanced back and forth from Sukuna’s writing and to her own, the king finds himself sinking more and more into the warmth she gave. When he looked at her, he would often think to himself, how lucky am I to have been right here where you existed. Even now as he drowns his crimson irises in her image, in this time, in this life… he finds himself wishing for this moment to last just a little bit longer.

“There. All done.”

Sukuna peeked an eye open. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting to see from someone who hadn’t written anything in her whole life. But it certainly wasn’t this.

“What’s with the scrambled sticks? These look like summoning runes!”

The priestess inhaled a breath of offence, holding a hand over her heart. “I haven’t written anything in my entire life! You’re supposed to be encouraging me to do better.”

He desperately tried to hold back the harsh criticisms flooding his tongue as he grabbed the twig from her hand and erased the characters they’d both written.

“I’d be lying to your face if I told you that you did a good job.” Sukuna gave the stick back to her, looking at the priestess with a deadpanned expression.

“You’re supposed to follow certain strokes not write whatever you want wherever you want.”

He moved closer to the priestess, holding the hand she used to write and guiding it to draw on the ground.

The priestess held her breath for all the seconds she felt him so close to her. She could have sworn her vision dotted from the lack of oxygen flowing in her lungs, but she feared her heart would crawl out of her mouth if she so much as let out a sound.

His hand felt cold over hers, like he was plunged in eternal frost before coming to wake in the vernal freshness of the sun.

Yet to the priestess, he was like a cool breeze during the summer heat, or the anchor in a raging storm, the moonlight in the illusions of midnight.

He felt like home.

And she swore she could have stayed like that for all the eternities to come, caged in his hold, safe from the cruelty of the world, seen amidst ten thousand people.

If only her lungs didn’t burn from the breaths she didn’t want to take.

“On—On second thought…” The priestess broke free from his half-embrace, standing up and fisting the fabric of her clothes, “you—how… how about you find me instead!”

Sukuna’s eyes widened at her yell, he thought for a second that the miko was giving up, that is until he saw the scarlet coloring her cheeks all the way to the peaks of her ears. 

“You’re smart, and you know how to read and to write. So—uhm, I’ll just wait for—for you to come and get me… if I get taken away.”

“Okay.”

“It’s more of a situational condition anyway, it’s not like I’ll be—wait, what did you say?” The priestess ceased her pacing and faced the man still sitting on the log, watching her with radiant glow.

“I said okay. I’ll find you in the future.”

She broke out in a face-breaking smile and sprinted to where he sat, beaming down at him with all the happiness the world could offer, “Really?” She spoke in a joyous, hopeful tune.

Before Sukuna could berate her for asking too many questions, something shone from the corner of his eyes.

The king watched as the villagers, one by one, then all together, lit up the objects they held, letting them float into the midnight ether. The lights flew into the sky, disappearing as though they’d become one with the stars.

He once deemed the festivities foolish, looking at them from far away, alone in the courtyard of his temple. Humans throwing their trash into the sky or letting them sink into the rivers. What was the use of such fleeting moments, he would think. For what good is there to laugh and cry knowing it will come to an end sooner or later?

But the humans remained happy either way, even if they knew their lives were as fickle as the lights they set off into the night.

Sukuna looked away, not liking the feeling of something brewing in his chest. He turned to tell the miko that they were leaving, away from all this frolicking, only to find her holding one of those lights.

Ah, why am I like this?

“Hey, c’mon hurry. The light’s gonna burn out.” With haste, she grabbed hold of his hand, placing it parallel to hers on the lantern.

For so long… it was all so strange to him. How do humans take it? All these happy memories will crush them one day, he knows it. What greater heartbreak is there than realizing that these will pass… just as everything else does.

That you will pass… just like all you mortals do. Scattering the lands with all your laughter that it echoes even after you’ve gone. Long after your death, for many centuries to dawn.

“Now make a wish. If the light reaches the heavens, then your wish will come true. Ready?” The priestess closed her eyes, squeezing his hand with ardor.

The light of the lantern painted her face in a warm glow, setting alight the fervency of her desire.

But Sukuna only had one wish.

“Now.” He felt her hand push his to raise the light afloat. “Look at it go! Our wishes are definitely going to come true.”

She watched the lantern ascend to the heavens and Sukuna watched her. For what good was the promise of paradise if heaven was right there.

---

Beneath daylight, the demon found, His heart for her was tightly bound.

As the days of their journey neared its close, the very last meadow they stepped foot into was half a wasteland.

"Hey, Ryoumen..." The priestess sat under the shade of a tree that had miraculously survived, watching as the clouds drifted by in shapes and sizes blotting the earth with shadows painted in their likeness.

Sukuna sat a little ways off, in the middle of a small patch of flowers. He looked out of place, or so he had believed. To be embraced by life when he only brought death.

"What is it?" he asks, not tearing his attention from what he was doing.

The priestess, innocent and kind, Knew not the feelings within his mind.

"A shop owner gave me this," She pulled out a large bow and a case of arrows, one she had forgotten about until she was so painfully reminded of their existence (tripping over it as she was packing her things), "he told me that I was somewhat similar to a person nearby at that time..."

Sukuna faltered in his activity, thinking back to that moment she spoke of. One that transpired nearly eleven—no, twelve full moons ago. Once, he would have thought of the time passed as nothing—if you’ve lived long enough, everything starts to blend together at some point. But all these days to him have felt like a lifetime, a lifetime that wasn’t nearly enough.

Similar to me, eh? Very wrong, filthy sorcerer. She's nothing like me.

The priestess threw the weapon at Sukuna, thinking that perhaps he had the answer. But the moment it made contact with his skin, a sharp hissing sound emanated from his skin.

Her eyes widened at the scene, standing up so fast and rushing to his side to cast the bow elsewhere.

"Hey—what... why is there... steam? What? Are you okay—"

Sukuna held up a hand and that stopped her from reaching out for him, "It's nothing."

Sukuna rose from his position and returned the weapon, feeling his hands burn from the contact.

“Hey! Wait just a moment, Ryoumen. You’re hurt, aren’t you?” The priestess tried to catch up to him when the sun had mysteriously gone out, and the scent of flowers invaded her nose.

"Let's go to the village. Might be the last time you'll see a human. You never know..." His voice echoed in the wind, coming from everywhere all at once until it faded to a distant buzz.

In silence deep, his truth concealed, For she knew not what love revealed.

Her fingers found solace in the circlet he draped over her eyes, a wreath of flowers.

When her vision narrowed to search for his presence, to call his name—ask what he means for every gentle touch, warm smiles, and kind undertakings—she found he was already up over the hill, standing there… waiting patiently for when she’d be ready to depart.

Perhaps then, it all became clear…

Under the azure canvas overhead, painted over with the silver water of light, surrounded by the passing zephyrs, she knew.

The hustle and bustle of commerce from the town strung from one corner to another. Streets were littered with people. Children ran around, keepers and vendors opened their businesses for travelers and residents alike. Banners that vary in size and color were hung all over the place. Laughter and chatter of everyday life danced in the happy and uplifting atmosphere.

It made the priestess smile; it was exactly what she missed most about her town.

"Get yer Ambrosia here! Buy one get one free!"

"Rat poison for sale! Up for free taste!"

"Expired milk! Fit for your cheating husband! Get two for the price of one! Limited time only."

The demon king and the priestess walked through the lively streets. Her hand clutched firmly against the cloth of his light-colored kimono that he only got after the rest of his torn and beaten clothes crumbled and got taken away by the wind.

"Get your portrait drawn by the greatest artist around! 50% off on people with companions!"

The priestess dragged Sukuna to where she heard the calls of the advertiser. His hand intertwined firmly with hers as she dodged and avoided people as much as she could.

"Hi there, onee-chan! Here to get drawn?"

She nodded her head, and the little boy beckoned her to follow him. The priestess tugged at the unwilling hand of Sukuna who stood firmly and unmoving outside the venue. 

"C'mon Ryoumen! It's to commemorate the finish of the training thing! This may be the last thing we'll have to remember each other... never know..." She tried to use his own words to convince him, continuously pulling at his arm trying to get him to agree.

Still, he refused.

The priestess sighed, ultimately deciding that it was her pride or this absolute need for remembrance, and she wasn’t going to leave with either so she pulled out the greatest weapons any girl could have... the look.

"Pwease~"

The pink-haired man showed a look of disgust and shivered from the image engraving itself into his head and slammed a hand to cover her horrifying face. 

"Alright, I’m going. Just—just stop it with that face."

"YES!" She cheered and circled around him—the space she occupied for herself.

Sukuna silently watched her, a faint smile gracing his usually annoyed face.

What a weirdo...

"Onee-chan, Onii-san, this way please..."

---

"It looks so cool!" The priestess gushed, ogling at the portrait that took almost 3 hours to make.

"It's not half bad. I guess..." Even Sukuna couldn’t put it in himself to deny.

She turned to the little artist, "Do you have a quill I can use?"

The little boy nodded and handed her a spare.

“What for? You don’t know how to write.” Sukuna smirks, looking over her shoulder to see what she was up to.

“Currently not entertaining the jeers of bashers.” She swatted him away and continued to write albeit in slow, messy strokes.

'Ryōmen & (Y/n)' Auflage, 850

Sukuna took notice of the writings she engraved at the bottom of the paper. Had she been writing? All those times she had her back to me… she was practicing?

"Why Auflage?" He found himself asking. Sukuna knew it was one of the three things she knew how to write: her hometown, her name (which he demonstrated after many, many pleas and cries from the priestess), then Sukuna’s name. But she could have easily asked him to write it for her. The priestess would have only needed to say, and he would have made it so.

She looked up at him and flashed him a beaming smile, "Because that's where we first met, silly."

When did I start seeing you like this?

The gentle breeze of the early afternoon danced around her body, rays of the bright sun highlighting the curves and bumps on her face.

How can you still look at me like that? After knowing me… wasting so much time… on me—

"I will treasure this for years to come! Maybe when we meet again, I can laugh about how you showed up in front of me half-naked!" She lightly chuckled at her suggestion. “The great Ryoumen!”

When did I start thinking that my name had a ring to it whenever you would say it?

"Thank you." The priestess handed the quill back to the boy and continued to wander around the town with her companion.

She held the portrait up and inspected it for the hundredth time that day, "Wow! We look like a couple here."

That I'd do anything for you over and over again if you'd ask me to—if I knew it will make you smile.

Sukuna stole a glance at the drawing with mock disgust, and an evident flush of red dusting his inked face, "A couple of jackasses."

"HEY!"

---

What Sukuna said had rang true. No, not the 'couple of jackasses'. The part where he said that that'll be her last human contact for a while.

It had been three full moons since that last village, twelve since she had set foot in her home. Still, the seconds ticked by as though they were but a grain of sand in the endless desert.

Sukuna and the priestess traveled for a long time, passing by a long, deep ravine, walking through dark, creepy forests, and eerie swamps. As they crossed the distance to his castle, the more he began to feel the heaviness in his chest grow.

The curses lingering in the shadows began to act more unpredictable, fearing nothing, believing themselves to be the strongest.

“What is going on in that head of yours…”

Sukuna diverted his attention from the darkened borders of the woods and towards the priestess who had her hands supporting her head as her elbows rested on her knees.

“You always look so out of it ever since we came here.” She pointed out, tilting her head in question. “If you’re scared, we can just go back—”

“Whoever said I was afraid?”

“You don’t have to say it when it’s written all over your face.”

Sukuna scoffed. Why would he need to be afraid of himself? He could care less. At least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

Still, why didn’t it cease this hurricane of sadness wreaking havoc in his soul?

Crackles of the fire permeated the space between them. There existed no cicadas’ orchestra, no rustles of the foliage, the king even doubted if the zephyrs dared to venture into his domain.

It was just him in a place far too big for a single soul to inhabit.

“Do you think the king ever feels lonely?” The priestess stood and walked near him, not knowing that the person in her question was already at the receiving end of her words.

“So vast a kingdom for there to be no citizen.” She sat next to him, keeping her eyes on the dancing flames.

Sukuna didn’t know what to say. He was the king, renowned in all the lands. Demon king. King of curses. Calamity. He has had so many titles for the past century, be it as a curse or as a human. But he never chose to be labeled by any of those.

He had a name once, just like the rest of them. He once turned to see who uttered it so long ago, he would know he was needed at the mention of it, and he would be reminded of his own self—breathing, living—just like the rest of them.

“Maybe that’s just his fate. To be the abomination in everybody’s eyes.”

But now, his name was buried under the titles he was bestowed, woven in tales of terror, burned in history as the vilest demon to have ever been born. Perhaps he was far too gone in the oceans of his sin to be called by his name.

“No one is born to be hated, Ryoumen.” The priestess nudged his shoulder with her own, “I would know, the head priestess in the shrine I used to work at told me. And even if she didn’t, I’d still think so.” She smiled, seemingly proud of her belief.

“The same way no one is born to be revered by the heavens, no one is born to be the basin of everybody’s anger.” The priestess tossed a few sticks into the fire, watching as it burst forth to blaze once more. “Because that’s just cruel, isn’t it?”

“How do you bring yourself to love a world that did nothing but reject you?”

Sukuna stared at her in wonder. For so long, he lived his days believing that there was nothing in this world for him to have, nothing for him to hold dear, nothing to be blessed with. So, he took what he wanted… even if it already belonged to someone else. It wasn’t fair. Why does everyone have something while I’m here with nothing? Yet here she was, wholeheartedly believing otherwise. As the light of the fire painted her face golden, Sukuna found himself thinking, how could anyone… be as marvelous as her?

“That’s why I’m glad… that I met you. It really feels like a stroke of luck! After years and years of nothingness, nothing but this spiralling darkness, all of a sudden—there was you. I didn’t really know why I was born all those moons ago, but now the answer just seems so simple. Maybe, just maybe… I was born so I could meet you.”

He believes it then, if the world had so selfishly kept it all from him, letting him believe that it didn’t need him… Sukuna will just have to keep living for someone who does.

---

Her words shone like daylight in this never-ending darkness. At the falls of twilight, in the wake of dawn, mists of the afternoon, shadows of midnight, there existed not a single second where her warmth had ceased to be near him.

Sukuna recalls the tender falls of his name from her lips, and all her kind affection. All that happiness, all those adventures, and everything in between. He treasured them all, carving them deep in the shrines of his soul, promising himself never to forsake them, resent them, or throw them away. Even if the sorcerers of the future were to damn him into eternal suffering, he would never forget.

I would rather be pained by the reminder of you, in every corner and every turn, than to live a life without a single memory of you.

Because he knew that after this, there was no going back. There would be no tomorrow. No lanterns to keep the roads alight. No fires to keep them warm. No nagging miko to keep him company.

It would just be him all over again. A single soul in a world that was far too big.

"His place certainly fits the description." The priestess looked up from the sketch and towards the looming temple in front of her.

Towering pagoda-like spires, carved with serpents and grotesque faces, reached for the skies. Beams of darkened wood stood at held the obsidian tiles covering the expanse of the roof. Screen windows were sealed shut, leaving no room for glances as to what secrets it held inside all that ancient malevolence.

There existed no clear route to the palace-like structure, for it looked to be as if there was no need for one. Not a single soul had ventured here in one piece, nor had anyone been fortunate enough to leave with it intact. The grounds were overgrown with thorny brambles, shadowed by the foliage that left no room for the gale to weave through.

An eerie, dim sunray streams through the dense canopy, painting the cracked stone pathways with unsettling patterns.

The priestess looked to be hesitant to go through the thresholds of his home, although Sukuna guesses her reasons were far too different from his. She had probably feared for her life, much like many mortals do… yet he feared that beyond this, nothing would exist. Just like how it had been before he had come across her being.

“Ryoumen I—”

“Move forward, miko. The king is ahead.”

Sukuna led her through the winding corridors of the temple, finding every torch ignited to a fault, leaving no room for shadows to linger. Crimson and obsidian tapestries depicting the waking nightmare of mortals hung from the walls. The air was heavy with the scent of incense blended with something acrid.

"Who knew he was such a collector huh?" The priestess jested, trying her best to give him one of her grins—yet she, herself, found it difficult to perform such a gesture when she was walking under the ceiling of the place serving as the foreboding citadel of demonic power, within the realm where the demon king reigns supreme.

“Listen, Ryōmen—" she faced him and looked at his weary eyes, "maybe we should leave.”

She gave him a halfhearted smile as silver began to brim the horizons of her lashes. “We can just tell everyone that they were mistaken, that the king doesn’t exist. Or that we killed him—anything!” The priestess drew closer to where he stood, clutching the fabric of his kimono, scared of letting go.

“I thought this was your dream?”

"Please…" her words were silenced by the sound of doors sliding open, crashing against the walls with a resounding bang.

No… it’s not. It hasn’t been for a long time now.

The priestess felt her chest rise and fall as her breath slowly dwindled. With a guilt-ridden heart, her gaze trailed upwards, like those lanterns from all those moons before. She found herself desperate to trace the contours of his inked face, memorize the shade of crimson dyeing his eyes, see the hints of warmth decorating the plains of his cheeks. The priestess treasured them all knowing that after today… she will never get to see them again.

You were my new dream.

A searing pain flowered from the beds of her stomach, casting her vision to tunnel to the image of him—so profound, so out of reach… so pained.

“Su…kuna… ah, I finally… got to call… you that…”

In his bewilderment, ropes of blinding white erupted from the shadows of the corridor, binding the king in a heavy hold.

Sukuna clenched his fist in protest, desperate to break away—to catch her before she fell in a crumpled heap on the floor. Only to falter when it dawns on him that this was her scheme all along.

For so long, people called my name in fear, resentment, like I was the very scum that walked the earth.

Sorcerers emerged from the corners, flooding the halls in numbers. Dressed in white kosodes and black hakamas.

“Well done, girl.”

A man rounded the corner, his hair shaded in the likeness of snow, eyes refracting the color of the sky. Sukuna recalls those features, having been inherited from the clan they labeled Gojo.

Sukuna looked to where the miko lay, a hand clawing the floors to reach where he stood, bound beyond escape, while the other was dyed red from holding her wound. A very prominent arrow nock blooming past that kosode she so devotedly wore.

Beneath the stars, the demon grieved, For love was true, yet hearts deceived.

The stranger knelt to where the priestess was, face down and holding tightly onto her wound as her blood flowed out of her body like waterfalls.

The man fisted the threads on her head and held it up, forcing her to witness the fruit of her crafted scheme.

The priestess, pure, in love so deep, Had no intent for harm to reap.

Yet to Sukuna, it remained clear as daylight, that she wanted no part in this. Even as her life is held at the palm of another, ready to be taken away, she remained looking at him… like she had always done.

“Your precious demon king, about to be sealed away.” Seizou shook her head back and forth while the priestess could do nothing but clench her eyes and endure the pain.

“Finally, after all these years.” he dropped her to the floor, choosing to draw closer to where Sukuna was bound, “Your reign will finally come to an end—”

Seizou’s words were swallowed by the white-hot pain searing through his chest, blood pooling in the back of his throat.

“Too bad yours will, too.” The priestess twisted the knife, imbued with a thousand curses, deeper into the heart of the man, hilt painted crimson—the color of her life… the color she had come to love so ardently.

“SEAL HIM AWAY!”

But darkened plots from hidden hands, Sealed his fate with cruel commands.

“It’s over—demon!”

The binds burned brighter, forcing him to revert to the form he was known for. One whose face was so deformed that humans were quick to conclude that he had two, his four arms tearing through the fabric of his kimono—the same one he recalls that she had held on so fervently.

Ah, the miko…

Everything slowed down. Her fingers freed the knife from her bloodied grip, staggering in her place and Sukuna closed his eyes.

As cowardly as it was, he didn’t want to see her turn away in resentment. He didn’t want to see the light, he had once been the center of its orbit, dim to leave him in the darkness. Sukuna, above all else, didn’t want his last memory of her to be one where she looked at him like he was anything but himself.

Humans prayed with their lives clutched so tightly, afraid that I'd be the thief that would take it away. Did they really deem themselves so precious that I'd steal their breath? It's kind of arrogant, really. The ones who declared themselves to be the humblest in the lands had held their souls higher than the heavens.

He was ashamed. Over and over and over again, he believed himself to be foolish—to have fallen so low as to crave the affection of a human. The priestess who was so painfully mortal.

But it remained. Every fervent thought. All the waking daydreams. Glimpses of heaven in you.

When did I get strung in such sappy things?

When did I...

Sukuna, feeling his fingers be burned from his limbs finally raised the curtains of his irises.

The hallways were free from noise, not a single breath in place.

“…hey.”

Aside from the priestess who lay beside his feet, tugging weakly on the seams of his clothes.

"Pretty... aren't I?" She laughs weakly. 

"More like strange..." Sukuna could have sworn he heard those words before.

"And pretty." 

"Sure, and pretty."

“I’ll… write your name. I promise… and they… won’t look like… summoning runes.” She coughed, casting away the substance that gave her life, no matter how painfully short it was.

How do mortals bear such anguish, knowing all that they loved would meet this end?

Sukuna spoke her name, one tethered with such earnest longing—a desperate plea for her to keep her life—to keep living, far longer than any other human. To outlive these sorcerers who gave him such a fate, even if it was just for a second longer.

“You… finally… called me… by my name.” The priestess smiled, letting her hand fall to the ground.

As the binds grew brighter, encasing everything in white, Sukuna caught the sight of a lone tear falling from the side of her eye, along with the words… “find me in the future.”

---

In realms where twilight meets the darkened sea, A priestess loved the demon king, though doomed to be.

Their passion burned where stars and shadows blend, Yet destiny decreed their hearts would never mend.

She fell to darkness, he was bound in chains so tight, Their love a fleeting spark in endless night.

[eves4pple]

YUI KOMORI HC’S

A/N: heyyy! I got a lot of really good feedback from my post about the mukami brothers! And everyone seemed really interested! So here’s so more! Regarding the mention of my AU I will be doing a small guide to what I’ve been working on so you all can enjoy it to the fullest extent!

Mentions of SH, ED, and religious imagery

- Grew up strictly Catholic. So even now she does the cross across her chest when she sees a statue or a painting of Christ, God, and The Virgin Mary. As well as before she prays.

- Favorite historical figure is Joan of Arc cause she related to her so heavily as she also thought she could hear the word of god as a child. Turns out it was something else

- Has a very dull appearance. Dirty blonde hair and brown eyes rather than the vibrant pink eyes and blonde hair

- Had doubted her faith a lot, even more since living with the Sakamaki’s

- has pretty prevalent SH habits, these doubled when she started living with the Sakamaki’s as well

- Her and Cordelia share a brain and body, rather than an awakening in my AU Yui has had contact with Cordelia since puberty

- Cordelia can switch places with Yui easily due to their connection

- Her relationship with her “father” is rocky. Since a young girl she denied a lot of what the church taught her and her father would punish her. The nuns really cared for her more

- was exorcised due to her telling an older nun that she was hearing voices, this has happened twice within this universe

- favorite animals are little rodents. Mice are really her favorite out of them all, she thinks they’re sweet and thinks their big ears are funny

- definitely a Cinderella lover, she relates a lot

- lowkey a picky eater? But mostly because she’s constantly stressed out and eating makes her feel sick.

- hates hates HATES dolls. Her and Kanato don’t really get along well due to this fear of her’s

- she actually tries really hard to be nice to every person she meets, but after some time at the manor she really stopped caring as much and her personality also dulled

- Horrible Social anxiety, she literally only has herself or Cordelia for a good majority of time

- smoked weed once with a guy she met when she was living with her father still and actually really liked it. Has partook time to time in the current events of the au, but it’s limited cause Reiji threatened to cut her soiled lungs out of her body if she continued. When in the Mukami manor she partakes more often but its anxiety inducing now.

- In my au Yui is a mixed blood, solely due to Cordelia sharing her body for years. Yui is technically a vampire, when she hit puberty and got her period that’s when Cordelia started talking and engaging with her more often. So when Yui arrives to the manor the awakening was already in process

- Wanted to be a writer as a kid and would sneak out to read books from the nearby library

- has a fear of dogs as well

- ED habits, this started when she first arrived at the manor due to the way the brothers would prod at her skin plus influence from Cordelia

- hates Coffee

- Demi romantic and Demi sexual- meaning she needs a genuine connection with a person before dating/having sex

- claims she doesn’t have favorites but is seen more with Subaru and Reiji more than the other brothers. Does indeed have favorites at the Mukami manor, and it’s Azusa and Yuma

- hates apples a lot

- has had horrible insomnia since a kid

[ancha-aus]

Ghosts & Medium AU Drabble - New Haunting

I am back :3 With a continuation of the drabble where Killer and Dust meet!

And what happens after :D

*-----------------------*

Dust sighs as he reads his notes over.

Ash grumbles from beside him "At least eat your breakfast."

Dust shrugs but blindly grabs the cinnamon roll to nimble on as he checks the notes he made.

Almost a week had passed. A WEEK!

And Dust still hadn't managed to get Killer to leave the house. Which is unusual for him. Most of the time it takes him a day or two to get the ghost to move on. Three if it is a hard case.

Killer?

Killer does not seem any closer to moving on.

At least Dust didn't get a migraine from being around him anymore. As he normally gets that after long exposure to new spirits.

Sadly instead he gets a headache from the other's constant flirting and pickup lines.

Ash sighs "Can't we just write this off as a lost cause? Tell the family to stay somewhere else for a bit until he moves on himself?"

Dust is honestly considering it at this point. He is starting to think tha tKiller jsut doesn't want to move on. and the poltergeist is stubborn. If he doesn't want to go he clearly isn't going.

Dust sighs "I am honestly considering it..." he reads his list over again. it isn't as if he hadn't figured it out by now. Killer had a very... violent past. He worked for many people and had very little freedom for himself. something went wrong and he was tortured before being left to die somewhere alone.

Dust had figured all of that out at this point. but nothing could get him to move on.. because in a lot of ways.. Killer had already moved on from that past. Even if some fears remained but those are normal, even for living people.

Dust sighs as he puts his things away "at least Killer is mostly docile now. I will just tell the family i couldn't fix it and advice them to stay out for a bit. Let killer think the family moved out and move on to a new spot."

Ash nods "make it someone elses problem."

Dust frowns as he rubs his arm "i don't know..."

ash sighs "hey i know. you cant fix all the ghosts."

They get to the house and Dust has a conversation with the family. explain he can't fix it but that moving out and leaving the house empty for a while could pursuade the ghost to leave. Dust advices them to make a show of packing their things and to just sleep over at a friends place for a while.

The family isn't happy. but are willing to try it.

Dust watches them move stuff and their bags to their car as he goes in to say his own goodbyes to Killer. wish him the best and then leave himself.

Dust takes a seat at the coffee table and Killer is immediantly in his personal bubble with a large smile "Hey!! I was wondering when you would get here." he grins and winks "you just can't stay away from me and my charms." and he winks again.

Killer does that a lot. the winking.

Dust shrugs "only fair to come by and finish stuff up."

Killer blinks and freezes "waht?"

dust tilts his skull "the family is leaving after all... they hired me to talk with you and stuff. try and get you to leave. I can't make you leave."

Killer frowns and grows quiet. clearly processing the news. Dust told him ages ago that he had been hired to help get killer to move on. Killer had been more worried about the fact that dust was working for someone over the whole exorcising thing.

Killer frowns "but... if the family leaves... you can just move in!" and he grins widely "You can stay here with me!"

Dust tilts his skull "I got my own home. I can't stay."

Killer frowns more and the red target, that had started to show off a soul shape before, becomes a target again as the black sludge gets worse.

Killer is looking from side to side as he frowns. clearly thinking and planning quickly.

Killer frowns as he floats closer "When would you be back?"

Dust blinks as Ash makes a groaning sound behind him "Of coruse you get a clingy ghost."

ironic seeing as Ash is the most clingy of them all but Dust doesn't say that instead he answers killer "I... would likely not come back... I go where i can get jobs and work..."

Killer shakes his skull and mutters things "We can't do that! long distance relationships are much more likely to fail than normal relationships."

Dust blinks "euh.. what now?"

Killer points between himself and dsut "our relationship obviously!! We only jsut started this! we can't complicate things with long distance!"

Dust suddenly feels like he missed some very important information along the way "we... aren't dating?"

Killer shoots him a grin and floats closer "obviously not quite. but we are now in the phase of the 'will they won't they' so it is important we keep interacting and spend time together!"

Dust looks unsure at Ash but his brother isn't much help as ash just stares at killer as if killer is an idiot. Dust looks forwards himself "euh... it... wouldnt work? You are a ghost? I am still very much alive..." and not plannign on changing that anytime soon. mostly because Ash will END him if Dust did something stupid and got himself killed.

Killer grins and winks "oh bunny. Of course we can make it work."

Yeha Dust thinks he lost the plot of this a while ago. he tries to get the focus back to the point he was trying to make "anyway... I need to go... I still need to get work to pay for things... It was nice to meet you killer and-"

Killer gasps loudly "That is it!" he points at Ash "That is the answer!"

Ash looks confused as well "what."

Killer nods and flies straight at Dust and dust yelps as killer just flies through him.

Dust shudders at the feeling of cold and the different energy not to forget the flashes of Killer's past life. too fast for him to keep track off and mostly just overwhelming.

Killer grins "That should have been enough!"

Dust shoots him a glare as he rubs his sternum. "What was that for?!" Ash hovers near him worried as his brother looks him over.

Killer grins and waits.

Dust frowns but then he feels it.

Oh... Oh no.

Killer grins "oh yes!" he nods "You couldn't stay meanign it was me who would ahve to move! But anchoring myself to all kinds of places and moving that the whole time would get annoying. sooo!! I did what your brother did!"

Ash screeches "You did what?!"

Yup. That are two links now. Two different spirits are both using him as an anchor to remain.

Fucking hell.

...

What the fuck is he suposed to do with this situation?!

...

He better get a good fucking tip for this shit from this stupid family.

*-----------------------*

[diaryujin]

𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒

summary: ahn yujin was a name you didn't want to hear ever since your break up three months ago. sure, it hurt at first, but now you were okay, you were over her. until she gave you a letter.

genre: angsty fluff

includes: panic attacks (happens twice), parties, mentions of alcohol (reader doesn't drink) and making out, all of lsrfm and ive except leeseo and eunchae, lizrei side ship, reader is in denial, angst with a happy ending, exes to lovers, lmk if i missed anything

pairing: ex! yujin x ex! fem! reader

word count: 3.1k

a/n: this took way longer to type down than i'd like to admit

With shaking hands, Yujin gave you a small envelope before dashing off in the opposite direction. Your heart leaped as you guessed what it was.

Yujin was your ex. It had been three months since you both ended things. She told you that she didn’t feel like she was in the right mindset to continue being in a relationship anymore. While you were grateful that she didn’t just ghost or ignore you completely, damn right did that hurt. What was worse was how you couldn’t really blame anyone for this since it was no one’s fault.

You had moved on though. You had bandaged up your wounds, and the ghosts that haunted your which reminded you of her had been exorcised. 

You were ready for this letter, but you weren’t going to read it on campus. Shoving the envelope in your purse, you walked out. Autumn was evident — leaves were turning orange, brown and yellow, falling out of trees and flying away with the gentle, cool breeze. You pulled the beanie you were wearing more over your ears, not wanting them to go cold. The sound of soft, calming music playing in your earphones accompanying the visual treat your eyes got to see made you smile to yourself and momentarily forget about Yujin and her letter. Upon reaching your dorm, you took out the dorm key and unlocked it, seeing the living room pristine as usual. Trust Rei and Wonyoung for that. You went into your room, which was a stark contrast. Throwing your purse and bag onto your bed, you flopped into your chair in front f your desk exhausted. It was a Friday, which meant that you had the weekend to do your work (or procrastinate), so you stayed in your chair in an odd position, almot like a ragdoll.

Your eyes darted to your purse and you sighed.

Yujin.

‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ a voice in your head said.

‘But satisfaction brought it back,’ another one argued.

You reached out for your purse. If you didn’t read it, you’d be in the dark about what Yujin wanted to tell you, and it’d be rude to ignore her and what she wanted to say. Your fingers traced the edges of the white envelope, as if scared to read the contents. Slowly peeling off the seal, you undid the flap and pulled out the paper inside. You unfolded it carefully, heart beating quic-

“Y/N, Y/N, me and Wonyoung are going to the mall to get some new clothes. There’s a limited edition collection. You coming?”

This could wait. A distraction was exactly what you needed.

“Sure. Give me ten minutes to get ready.”

“The outfit you came back in is fine.”

“Bu- Wait, you saw me?”

“Duh?”

“Oh. Alright then.”

Placing the envelope in your desk drawer, you took your purse again, before opening the door of your room. Rei and Wonyoung were waiting in the living room, Rei giggling at her phone and Wonyoung teasing her about it. Their outfits fit them and their personality perfectly, and for a minute you felt self conscious. Their fashion sense was to die for.

“Ah, Y/N! Ready?”

“Yep. Wonyoung, I really like your shirt. It’s cute.”

She smiled sweetly at you.

“Thank you. Yujin bought it for me.”

Your face froze at the mention of her, and Wonyoung (being the caring person she is) immediately apologized.

“Ah, sorry. I know things aren’t all…smooth sailing…with you guys.”

She grimaced at her own mistake, but you didn’t notice. You were thinking about the letter, and your mind was tracing back to the memories of the year you were together, and oh God, oh God-

“Y/N?”

You could feel her hands on your shoulders, concerned eyes looking down at you.

“You’re shaking…”

She hugged you tight in a moment so rapid you barely felt it. Her arms wrapped around you protectively, one of her hands patting your head like a mother comforting her child. Rei was nearby too. You didn’t see their faces, since your eyes were closed shut so that you could prevent your tears from falling, but you could hear Rei softly talking and reassuring you that everything was okay, a stark contrast to how she usually was.

“Y/N, listen to Wonyoung’s breathing, okay? In and out…in and out. That’s it, that’s it. Nothing’s going to happen, you’re just fine.

They didn’t know what else to say. Neither of you did anything wrong, and Yujin was their friend too. It was a confusing thing to handle.

“Y/N, how do you feel now? Do you still want to come?”

“Yeah. Need to take my mind off things.”

“You sure?”

“Mm.”

“Not a clear answer.”

“I am.”

Rei sighed before nodding.

“If you’re okay.”

Five hours.

You were at the mall for five hours.

And it sure as hell did take your mind off things.

There you were in your room — stomach satisfied, bags with clothes, stationary and other random items (maybe a plushie or two) in the corner, yet your mind was still restless. Delaying the reading of the letter was not a good idea, since now you had even more nerves than before. You had to open it at some point, but holy shit could you just not do it? You took out the paper inside and unfolded it slowly, your hands shaking as much as Yujin’s when she gave it to you.

Dear Y/N,

It’s been three months. I thought I moved on, really.

As I write this to you, I realize I haven’t.

I’m not asking you to take me back, but I can’t sleep properly at night because I think about you and cry so much.

~ Yujin

Your eyes widened, and your jaw dropped. You thought you had healed, but this? These three sentence ripped off the bandages and rubbed salt into the wounds in your heart. You put the paper on your desk, wanting to process what you just ‘blessed’ your sight with, although your brain begged you to read it again. In the end, you gave in and read through it again.

And again.

And again.

And then it hit.

Yujin still loved you. It was so simple with the way she wrote it, but due to the shock factor, it didn’t click.

Yujin still loved you.

No wonder she was shaking.

There was another question — did you still love her too?

Didn’t you move on?

Didn’t you?

Or had you been lying to yourself this whole time?

Leaning back in your chair, you started thinking. You would think about her every night, every time you were bored, every time you were free, every time you were stressed — basically, all the time. You’d think about how she’d hold you, comfort you, hug you, kiss you, cuddle you, talk to you, laugh with you, cry in front of you, vent to you…and more.

Whenever you found yourself in an unideal situation, your mind always darted back to Yujin. ‘What would Yujin do?’ was something you’d ask yourself when you were in hot waters. 

Maybe you weren’t over her.

Maybe you still needed her.

Scratch that maybe.

You still loved her.

This realization — this enlightenment — shook you to the core.

The world was spinning around you. You desperately needed her. You needed her with you, to hug you, to calm you down and to tell you that everything was going to be alright. 

But she wasn’t here, she wasn’t here.

Interrupting the loud and muddled thoughts in your brain causing havoc was a soft knock at your door. 

“Y/N-ah? Can I come in?”

Hastily shoving the envelope and letter in your drawer, you call out.

“Sure, Rei!”

You saw the door handle slowly move, and the girl entered. Her eyes scanned the room, before finding a spot to sit on your bed. You tried to act cool, willing your eyes away from the drawer.

“Y/N, how are you feeling now?”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot, honestly- but right now I’m referring to the slight panic attack you had earlier…?”

“Oh, that. I’m fine, I swear. Yujin’s name just brought back back memories, and- I don’t really know.”

She nodded, her face making it evident that she was lost in her thoughts.

“So the reason I came here is to ask you something.”

“Go on.”

“There’s a party happening tomorrow evening Wonyoung’s not going because she wants to complete her assignments, and I don’t want to go alone…”

She pursed her lips into a thin line and looked at you, a tad bit of hope in her eyes.

“I mean, sure.”

“It’s going to be in Yujin’s dorm…Gaeul and Chaewon are hosting it. I’m pretty sure that Yujin won’t be coming out of her room though.”

That made you freeze. Even though Rei had mentioned that it was unlikely that you’d see her, there was still a chance you would.

Did you want to risk it?

Rei had no one else.

Things could either go spectactularly right or horribly wrong.

“I’ll come.”

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

“You’re sure sure?”

“I’m sure sure.”

You laughed a little, and she smiled too.

“Tomorrow, 7 p.m. Wear something…party-ish, but not too formal, I guess? You know what I mean.”

“Yup.”

6:45 p.m.

You were sitting on the couch of the living room, wearing an outfit you deemed appropriate for the party. Rei was still getting ready in her room, so to pass the time you were on your phone, scrolling through your Instagram feed.

Chaewon. Like, comment.

Gaeul. Like, comment.

Wonyoung. Like, comment.

Jiwon, Rei. Like, comment, cute.

Yujin.

She didn’t post anything fancy or pictures of her going outside or having fun.

It was just selcas of her wearing her new headphones. She had her favorite lipgloss on, her hair was in a bun and she was wearing her glasses in the pictures.

10 minutes ago.

She probably wasn’t going to be in the party then, since her outfits for parties were completely different.

You should have been sighing in relief, but no — you felt your heart sink from disappointment.

Yet, you were staring at the pictures. She looked adorable, and she was smiling brightly in the last picture, and damn it you were falling for her all over again.

If you weren’t down bad before, this cemented it.

You wanted to see her smile, you wanted to see her face right in front of yours, not on an Instagram picture that didn’t fully capture and present her beauty. You wanted to see her laugh because of you. You wanted her to be with you, and it hurt.

You quickly turned off your phone as you heard footsteps. Rei came in, shining with excitement. She looked stunning. You grinned at her.

“Trying to impress someone?”

Her face turned red, and she looked away from you.

“Uh…um…”

“Is Jiwon coming? Your precious Liz?”

She was cosplaying a tomato at this point, giving you your answer. Liz was a nickname for Jiwon that only Rei had permission to use, and bringing it up was how you could squeeze stuff out of either of them that they were unwilling to divulge at first.

“She is, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Cute. Love the Instagrm post too, by the way.”

“You saw-?”

“Of course.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m not stalking you both! I follow you girls, remember?”

She sighed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. We should get going now, it’s 6:57.”

You realized how quickly time passed while you were staring at Yujin’s pictures. You stood up and walked out the door, not really expecting anything.

When you reached, the strong smell of alcohol hit your nostrils and you winced, not really liking it. You couldn’t back out now, however, so you just shrugged it off before sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room as people danced, socialized and drank all around you.

You didn’t know anyone at the party on a close basis save for Gaeul, Chaewon, Sakura, Yunjin, Kazuha and of course Rei. You preferred to keep your circle of friends relatively small so that you wouldn’t be involved in any drama, although you liked hearing about it. You always thought it worked effectively, but now you were wondering what it’d be like to be on the dance floor with a few other friends.

Chaewon and Gaeul came over and talked to you at some point, but they had to leave after a while since they were the hosts and had attend to other guests. Chaewon told you that Yunjin and Kazuha didn’t want to come. Sakura was busy, so she couldn’t. Just like Wonyoung, you couldn’t help but think.

You were thirsty and they had arranged some juice in the corner for those who didn’t want to drink. You got off the couch, deciding to let the couple making out nearby have some space. You went over to the table with the juice, and you took a bit of time to choose what you wanted to drink. As you were troubling yourself with this very hard choice, you heard a quiet and groggy voice right behind you.

“Hey, can you pass me a cup of apple juice?”

Extremely familiar voice. Your fingers gripped the plastic cup in your hand tighter.

“Yu…Yujin?”

You turned around, and your guess was right.

There she was in full glory.

She had those headphones on, and was wearing an oversized shirt and sweatpants that looked comfy. You subconsciously tugged at the collar of your dress. Her hair was ruffled, and her eyes were red and puffy along with her face looking sullen, making it obvious that she had been crying before.

“Y-Y/N? I’m sorry, I-I’ll just get-get it my-myself-”

“No, it’s…fine. Apple juice, right?”

The tension was so thick that your 3rd grade English teacher’s ass was (quite literally) shaking. She nodded, and watched you pour her a cup. You could feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to say something, and you guessed that it was about the letter.

Suddenly, you could feel her hand on your shoulder, before she gently pulled you close to her as she wrapped her arms around you in one of her familiar and comforting hugs. Her hand was in your hair, stroking it.

“Come, let’s go to my room. I’ll help you calm down.”

You didn’t say anything in protest, instead simply allowing her to take you. The two of you went inside her dorm room, and she closed the door, locking it. Your eyes darted around the four walls you were in, and your mind flashed with memories of that whole year you both had. You set free the tears trapped in the prison that was your eyes. She hugged you tightly again, her voice soothing.

“Y/N, darling, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry.”

The petname she reserved for you, ‘darling’, slipped out of her mouth, as she always used to use that with you. She froze for a moment, but as she saw that you had no reaction to it, she relaxed. Back then she could call you that unabashedly, but now she had to be careful. You didn’t care though, you loved the way it rolled off her tongue.

After a few minutes, you had finally calmed down. You looked at the plastic cup in your hand, noticing that it was now half empty. You were sure that it was nearly filled to the brim before though. Your eyes trailed to Yujin’s shirt and you saw a few stains on it, solving the mystery of the missing juice. Were your hands really shaking that much?

“Um…sorry about the juice on your shirt.”

“Nevermind it. How do you feel now?”

You slowly moved the cup — now only contaning half of its previous content — to her free hand, but she gently pushed it back and tilted your hand upward, towards your face.

“You drink it.”

“But-”

“Drink.”

She smiled a little at you, and you were mesmerized. You probably looked like an idiot right now, gaping at your ex, but could you really care? She was here, in front of you, smiling at you, and your eyes darted to her lips almost instinctively, missing how they felt on yours.

“Y/N, how do you feel now?”

Obviously, you couldn’t stare forever.

“Better. Thanks Yujin, you…really helped.”

She tilted her head at you endearingly in her usual manner, her smile getting wider, although there was some sadness behind it.

"I missed you."

Her eyes widened, her facial features rearranged into surprise, confusion and a tiny bit of hope.

“You…missed me?”

You looked at your fingers, fiddling with them nervously. 

“Uh…sorry if it was a bit inappropriate to say rig-”

“No, no, no- don’t apologize, Y/N.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t mind.”

Her eyes looked deeply into yours, searching for something, searching for an answer. You knew what she wanted, and you took a deep breath.

“I…I read your letter.”

Her eyes widened, and her fingers intertwined with your desperately. You missed the feeling of her hand fitting perfectly into yours badly, and you didn’t realize that until now.

“And…? I’m not going to react harshly to anything you say, I just-just need an ans-”

“I want you back.”

Her eyes were about to pop out of their sockets at this point. Her face was full of disbelief.

“Re…Really?”

“Yeah.”

Gently taking the plastic cup from your hand before setting it on the nightstand near her bed (one you remembered well), she held the other hand too, a silly little smile on her face.

“Y/N, you don’t have to if you don’t wan-”

“But I do. I want you. I want whatever we had. I need it all back.”

Her smile reached her eye, squeezing out a few tears. One of her hands moved from yours to cup your cheek. 

“Thank you for giving me another chance, Y/N darling. I was scared of what you’d say, if I’ll be honest.”

You smiled at the familiar nickname, and inched a bit closer until your foreheads were touching. She giggled softly, a sound that warmed your heart.

In a quick movement, you felt her lips on yours in a small yet delicate peck, as if anything more would make you break. She pulled back, looking away shyly. Your eyes were wide, and your face was frozen in shock. Your lips were parted slightly for a moment, before you put a hand on her shirt collar and tugged it, making her jerk forward so that her lips could meet yours again. 

Just like that, you both were back in the old times.

[madaqueue]

playlists

such a pretty house | "no surprises" x radiohead

synopsis: walking through the empty halls of what should have been your home, you reminisce on the life you could have had with gojo

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

themes/content: semi-canon curse au. angst. language. mentions of death/loss.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: thought of this mini series idea since i found this song and literally could not stop thinking about a tragic backstory to it with gojo, so if you wanna get the "real" experience listen to it while you read ! this is like...not conventionally happy lmao but here it is anyways :) i'll get back to the regularly scheduled series tomorrow but i just had to write this one

a sigh leaves your lips as you walk up the familiar stone path, now overgrown with long grasses, tickling against your bare ankles. the cool autumn air bites at your skin, dead leaves falling from the old maple trees and crunching under your shoes as you make your way up to the house.

this house.

reaching the front door, you turn the now-tarnished gold handle and step inside. the old wooden floorboards creak under your weight; it’s likely been years since anyone has been here, further evidenced by the thin layer of dust settled over the empty space.

the space that was supposed to be your home.

your eyes gaze to the right and your legs follow, taking you into the living room. the bay windows overlook the front yard, the wooden bench beneath them bare. it was supposed to have red pillows, a reading nook for you. he always knew how you loved those books, consuming knowledge like it was the only type of nourishment you needed. the stories, the worlds that let you forget time while he was away on missions. but now, every word you read feels baren. you haven’t picked up a book since then.

continuing your journey through the empty house, you find yourself in the kitchen. the cabinet doors are now falling off, and surely the stove wouldn’t turn on anymore - not that it really worked in the first place, but the two of you made do. you’d bring in pizza on nights when the shitty electricity died out, sitting on the floor lit only by candles, talking about your futures.

well, what was supposed to be your future.

the window above the sink looks over the backyard, the remnants of the flowers you planted now overgrown with weeds. what a pretty garden it could have been.

“can you plant me the blue ones?” he asked, his arms wrapped around you as you stood outside under the heat of the summer sun.

“you only like those because they match your eyes,” you tease, turning your head to face him.

“maybe so,” he grins. “how ‘bout this, let’s find ones that match your eyes too, so it’s like i’m lookin’ at you every time i see ‘em?”

“deal,” you giggle, leaning against him.

you find yourself at the stairs, slowly making your way up as your hand traces along the railing, dust collecting on your fingertips.

you aren’t even sure why you came here, after all this time, back to this house, the physical tomb of your past.

it was supposed to be for you and satoru.

–

you were just kids, stupid, young kids. when you met in your first year at jujutsu high, the two of you were inseparable. every class, every meal, every mission you did together. it got to the point where you practically lived together, trading off which dorm room you slept in so you wouldn’t have to be apart. the two of you were attached by an invisible thread that kept looping itself around your necks until it became too tight.

the mission was supposed to be easy: exorcise a grade 2 curse and save the family it had kidnapped. you’d done it before a hundred times, and having gojo by your side only simplified the whole thing.

that is, until you got hurt. until you were unconscious, at the brink of death. until you found out why they had sent gojo with you - you didn’t think much of it at the time, but this was the lowest grade curse he’d been assigned to for a while.

it was a test. the higher ups wanted to see what gojo would do when he lost someone. they needed him to prove that he was what they thought he was: the strongest.

except, like always, he never failed to surprise everyone. he wouldn’t let you go that easily; not you, his world, his love, his everything. they picked the wrong person to sacrifice.

by the time you awoke, it was too late. you couldn’t quite place it, but something was different inside you, inside your very essence. as your eyes fluttered open, all you could feel was the warmth of his embrace around you, his hair hanging forward as he clutched your body. hot tears streamed down his face and landed on your chest.

“i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry,” he muttered over and over, softly rocking on his knees as he holds you.

“s-satoru,” you manage to croak out, the taste of blood in your mouth.

his eyes shift up to yours, a darkness and fear in them you’ve never seen before.

“it’s okay, it’s okay now, i’m here,” he whispers, his voice shaking, pulling you into him.

–

reaching the top of the stairs, the empty hallway looms before you. you turn into the first room on your right, what should’ve been the library. empty shelves line the walls as you stand in the middle of the space.

“y’know,” his voice smooth as he sits across from you, “eventually i’m gonna get promoted, and i’m gonna need a big office.”

“oh yeah?” you respond, shifting so your head rests on your open palm, propped up against the table between you. “what makes you so confident about that? you know the higher ups literally hate you, right?”

“psh, they love me,” he pauses, reaching across the table to shut the book in front of you so your full attention was on him. “and then, i’m gonna fix up this house, and i’ll build you a library and an office for me, and we can spend every day in there together.”

you pretend to consider the option for a moment. “fine, but it’s still gonna be my library. i’ll let you put a desk in there but don’t you dare forget that it’s mine,” you joke.

his hand reaches up to the side of your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “as long as i’m with you, sweetheart, it can all be yours.”

you sigh, leaning against the wall before sliding down to sit against the old wood beneath you. he would’ve given you everything, he would’ve done anything for you.

–

it didn’t take long after the mission to figure out what had really happened: the grade 2 curse was actually a special grade, something you were woefully underprepared for. however, the higher ups had planned for that, even wanted it - they needed you to die. not because of any inherent value you had, no, but for satoru. they needed to see if he could handle a special grade curse on his own, something he had already proven he could do, but with a new challenge: loss. could he control himself, his emotions, his power, when he was forced to confront your death?

no. he couldn’t.

the only good thing about this being a special grade curse is that it was smarter, more cunning, than an average curse. not smart enough to beat gojo, but still.

when satoru saw you, your body slumped in the corner of the room, blood covering your face, something happened inside him. he snapped.

so, he did what any completely irrational person would do: he made a deal with the curse.

if it would heal you, it could have your cursed powers. this sounded like an exceptional deal to the curse, thinking that surely with your cursed technique it could easily kill gojo and leave the ordeal more powerful than when it began.

but, like always, gojo surprised everyone. even with your cursed energy he managed to exorcise the monster. he was glad you weren’t there to see it, the way his body took over as he pulled it apart limb by limb, eviscerating any remnants of the thing that dared to harm you. he didn’t even use his cursed technique, he needed to feel the life draining from it in his own hands.

when it was done, he ran to you. he held you. he cried over you. until you opened your eyes, whispering his name.

–

stepping out of the library, you continue down the hall and into the next room. the bedroom, the one you and satoru spent weeks planning.

“okay, what about purple?” you ask, holding up paint swatches to the wall.

“bleh,” he stuck out his tongue. “no purple. what about a nice green?”

you rolled your eyes at his theatrics. “honey, we have too much green already. by the time you’re done with it this entire house is gonna be green.”

his eyes light up. “what about honey?”

“what about it?” you ask, tilting your head.

“that’s it, that’s the color! it’ll be perfect, it’s warm, and sunny, and it’ll make me think of you whenever i’m in here,” he explains, nearly running over to you and picking you up, spinning you around. your arms wrap around his neck as he holds you in the air, both of you smiling with joy.

as you look at the room around you, the unfinished grey walls feel more empty than any other part of the house. it’s like looking at a skeleton, the raw, old bones of something you once loved.

–

of course, after you lost your cursed technique, you weren’t allowed to continue at jujutsu high. they had no purpose for you there, and you felt out of place with everyone anyways. gojo begged them to let you stay, offering to let you live in his dorm so they wouldn’t even need an extra room for you, but his request was repeatedly and ubiquitously denied.

“fine,” he huffs, pacing around your room as you sit on the bed, all of your belongings stuffed into boxes around you. “if they won’t let you stay, then i’m going with you.”

“gojo, you can’t. you know you can’t,” you explain calmly yet sternly.

he stops momentarily, looking over at you. “i have to,” he murmurs, “this is my fault, anyways.”

you stand up and walk towards him, reaching a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek in your palm. “the only thing that’s your ‘fault’ is the fact that i’m still here, and you better not be blaming yourself for that.”

“but-”

your lips press into his, the only way you could think of to get him to stop talking. he’s soft against you, his arms lowering to loosely hang around your waist. for a moment, you stay like that, just the two of you in your empty room.

pulling apart for a moment, you just stare at each other. finally, he breaks the silence. “okay, but if you won’t let me officially leave with you, can i at least sort of leave with you?”

“gojo, what the hell does that mean?” you smirk, not understanding what he’s even asking.

a smile breaks through his lips as he looks down at you. “i have something i want to show you.”

the house.

he holds your hand, pulling you up the stone pathway next to him, leading you to the freshly-painted front door, gold handle practically glowing in the sunlight.

“ta-da!” he shouts, throwing the door open and allowing you to see inside.

“it…it’s an empty house?” you ask jokingly.

“no,” he turns to you, holding your waist, “it’s our empty house.”

“what-”

“i got it for us,” he cuts you off, beaming down at you. “when i first heard that you might be asked to leave jujutsu high, i bought it, thinking we could move in here together.” you don’t say anything, stunned by his kindness, tears beginning to form along your waterline as you think about just how much you love him. “i wanted to give you a home. i hope we can make it one, together.”

leaning up, you kiss him again. finally, together, in your home.

–

why did you even come here? the cold, stale air stirs around your lungs as you rest your head back against the wall.

despite everything that happened, you had to see it one last time. you overheard someone at the store saying how they were finally going to be tearing this place down, putting in some new luxury apartments or something. it’s not like anyone lived here anyways, maybe it’s for the best. give the grave of your past a new life.

it had been nearly ten years since you were here last. a part of you wanted to move on, to forget it, but it hung in your mind like it had been nailed there.

you finally stand up, dusting off the grime that clung to your clothes from the floor. every step another memory you had here, another painful reminder of the life you never got to have.

–

it started slowly, at first. gojo kept getting tasked with harder missions, and he kept handling them with ease. even the higher ups were at a loss with what to do with him, his raw power developing into something they had never seen and had no idea how to control.

as you sat in the empty house, alone, you tried to not let it get to you, but the feeling ate away at you all the same. the glares you’d get when the two of you went out together, the whispers from other classmates or the higher ups, they clung to you.

you knew you were less than gojo - you always were, and it never bothered you. but now, with no cursed energy, you felt like nothing compared to him.

the words replayed in your mind, reminding you what you were.

failure. broken. fragile. useless. a burden. a hindrance. a flaw. a weakness.

of course, satoru never said any of these things, going out of his way to make sure you never heard the insults his so-called colleagues muttered about you, but it wasn’t enough. it ate and ate and ate away at you until you were empty.

when you left, his world collapsed. he begged you to stay, pleaded to let him come with you. he’d leave jujutsu, all the sorcery, all the hierarchy, all the bullshit behind if it meant he could be with you. but you knew he couldn’t; if he left with you, you’d just be proving them right. you’d be dragging him down with you.

“i love you, satoru,” you whispered, your thumb wiping away the tears that fell slowly down his cheek as you stood in the doorway of the house you promised would be your home. “that’s why i have to leave.”

–

making your way back down the steps, you sigh again, a single tear rolling down your cheek, your heart heavy with loss, the loss of the life you should have had. you and satoru, making breakfast together in the morning, falling asleep next to one another, planting flowers in the garden. the simple, quiet life. but instead, you’re here, alone.

your steps are heavy as you trace back through the rooms, the last time you’ll likely ever see them.

the floor creaks in the entryway.

slowly, your eyes follow the sound.

white hair, black uniform, and those bright blue eyes. he has a few more wrinkles around his cheeks, but it is absolutely, unmistakably, him.

“satoru?” you whisper.

he smiles at you.

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Pairing: Chrollo x Reader

Summary: a smutty excerpt from my full-length Chrollo fanfic. However, I think that it can be read standing alone as well. Enjoy!

Warnings: smut, language, some fluff at the end <3

It was quite nice to have something that could be dubbed 'home.'

Over the past few years, you had stayed in many places, but none of them earned the title. They lacked certain qualities that one might include in this category.

There was no breath of relief when you walked inside, only a looming forecast of some new threat approaching. There was definitely no feeling of contentment, the expectation of moving ever-present. The penthouse, on the other hand, possessed many of these traits, though you weren't certain it was because of the building, rather the person you shared it with.

Safety and comfort were easily achieved when you pulled into the parking lot, two check marks on your mental list considering this issue, but there was something else present as well.

The air seemed hollow. It filled your lungs, leaving an empty feeling in your stomach, waiting to be appeased.

You should let him kiss you at the party.

Fuck you, Hisoka Morow.

This feeling followed you into the elevator, a phantom of satisfaction just begging to be exorcised. It's ghostly voice tickled your own vocal chords in a masquerade of confidence.

"You can..." You cleared your throat, but the sound that came out was still annoyingly quiet. "You can, um, kiss me now. Only if you want, I mean."

With a ding, the doors opened. Chrollo glanced down at you before stepping out into the hallway, making you avert your eyes immediately. "I don't know. I really should start making dinner."

"Are you serious?" You whined, following after him into the penthouse. Usually, the tone would have made you cringe internally, but enough of his antics had been endured tonight. He silently waited until you had gotten inside before closing the door and locking it behind you.

With a discontented sigh, you reached around your back to begin taking off the confining gown. While beautiful, it had become uncomfortable after a while, as most pretty things did.

Your hands never made it.

Instead, they were snatched midair, completely forgotten as Chrollo's lips crashed against yours. You gasped, but he captured the noise easily, dropping your hands in favor of cupping your face with one of his. Another found its way around your waist, offering a bit of support as you began to melt further and further into his arms.

The feeling of Chrollo's mouth against yours was captivating, possessing a siren-like allure that overpowered your corporeal need for oxygen.

If this was what asphyxiation was like, you would gladly suffocate under his control.

Backing up, you attempted to find something, anything, to lean on, scared that if this continued your legs might turn to putty. Thankfully, he followed, keeping a constant hold on your frame.

A wall hit your back, prompting another startled exhale. He took advantage of this one too, running his tongue against the rim of your bottom lip in a wordless request. The air in your lungs seemed to dissipate as you allowed his tongue to meet yours, clinging to his touch like it was your only lifeline.

Every bit of contact was felt in your abdomen, a quiet spark that had you sighing in delight.

So when he finally pulled away, you couldn't help the quiet, pitiful whine that left your throat.

His breathing wasn't anywhere near as quick, but as he rested his forehead against yours, the ardent look in his eyes seemed to be quite the indication as to what was running through his mind.

"Is this okay?"

Oh.

Oh.

And you immediately decided that it was. Your words back at the party were nothing but honest.

You wanted him.

You wanted to be his, in every way possible.

Regardless, your fervent nod didn't seem to satisfy him.

"I'm sorry, dearest, but I'm going to need you to use your words." Using a finger, he tilted your chin upward, urging your gaze to meet his. "Now I'll ask again; Is this alright?"

"Yes." You breathed. "Please keep going."

At your acceptance, he closed the distance between you once more, the kiss turning hungry and desperate.

Every moment was pure bliss, but it was never enough.

You could feel his hand inching across your back, searching for the zipper to your dress. He found it quickly, allowing the garment to fall to the floor.

Red fabric pooled at your feet like a fiery sea. The chilliness of winter air attacked your body, now only protected by mere undergarments.

His lips slipped from yours, trailing downwards to edge your jaw before descending again to place a line of kisses across your exposed collarbone. Your breathing accelerated when his mouth found a sensitive area and, based on the way he smirked into your neck, you were quite sure he noticed too.

With gentle guidance, Chrollo led the both of you towards his room, kicking open the door with minimal regard as he shrugged off his suit jacket. It was discarded as your body fell into the silk sheets of his bed.

Coat off, he positioned himself above you, fingers undoing the first few buttons of his shirt as you were left to squirm under the scrutiny of his gaze.

You had never been so naked, so vulnerable, in front of someone else. The idea of having your bare body on display sent heat to your already burning cheeks.

Instinctively, you moved to conceal yourself, but he was quicker, grabbing your hands to pin them above your head. Ebony locks fell over his eyes as he looked down at you, ever so slowly releasing his hold on your arms.

"Say the word and I'll stop. Do you understand?"

"Yes." You murmured, apprehensive about whether or not your voice would actually work, but desperate for him to continue.

He nodded, sneaking a hand behind you to release your bra with measured precision. The clasp was undone and the garment tossed away, leaving your upper half completely exposed to the man hovering over you. Insecurities immediately flooded your mind as you tentatively forced your line of sight to meet his.

Somehow, you had continuously failed to notice completely enamored Chrollo was with you. Unbeknownst to you, he had already pretty much come to the conclusion that you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, regardless of the fact that some parts of you had been left a mystery. And although patience happened to be one of his more noteworthy traits, he would also be a liar if he didn't admit this moment had frequently taunted his restraint for the past few weeks.

And damn, if the wait wasn't worth it.

He sucked in a sharp breath, steel eyes once cold and uncaring, now ablaze with desire for you.

"Fuck."

His mouth found yours again before following a route similar to the one before, descending past your jaw and toward your neck. This time, however, he continued downward to your chest. Skin still frigid, his lips were sparked fireworks with every touch.

You gasped sharply when he wrapped his mouth around your nipple, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud while his free hand found its way to your other breast, gently kneading the flesh. He pinched your nipple, pulling a whine from your throat as your thighs clenched, desperate for friction.

At some point, he backed away, continuing the assault on your neck like it was the last time he ever enjoyed human contact. You didn't notice the withdrawal, much too distracted by the feeling of his hands on your chest.

However, you definitely noticed when his touch found its way below your abdomen, pressing softly against your clit through the fabric of your underwear. Your back arched into his hold as you absentmindedly realized you had never hated any object quite as much as you did right now. Self-consciousness had completely faded away, replaced by the need of his direct contact.

Chrollo nudged the cloth to the side, a smug grin spreading across his features before he yanked it off completely.

He ran a finger across your slit, examining the wetness that followed it with pure satisfaction.

"Fuck, I've barely done anything yet."

Slowly, he inserted a finger inside, pumping at a steady pace before following with another, making sure to keep his thumb trained to your clit in a tortuously slow rotation. Pleasure coursed through your body, forcing a moan from in its wake. You quickly slapped a palm against your mouth, hoping to muffle the embarrassing sound, but his ears were too sharp.

"Uh-uh." He chided, grabbing both of your arms with his free hand. "I want to hear you."

"Good girl."

"I'm not... shit, your dog." You complained, but the soft spark of pleasure of his words were undeniable.

"You sure whine like one."

The mere sound of his voice was audible bliss. Your body had seemed to betray you, clenching around his digits at the tantalizing tone.

"Hm." He appraised. "Praise and degradation. Noted."

"I'm not-"

Your denial was quickly cut off when he inserted another finger, curling them against your core until the only sound you could emit was a low groan. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught that. Would you mind repeating it for me?"

Anywhere else you would have been happy to call him out for feigned ignorance, but you were much too far gone in the way he was able to heighten the warmth in your core. It grew steadily with each pump of his fingers until you were ready to burst.

Soon, Chrollo had you unraveling upon his hand. Ever attentive, he continued to stroke the ever sensitive bundle of nerves, leisurely helping you down from your high as he unbuttoned his dress pants.

Your eyes immediately trained down towards his waist once he was done, inner walls clenching around nothing. The empty, hollow feeling left you even more unsatisfied than before. It was a relief to not be the only one exposed, but fuck was he gorgeous.

He quickly noticed where your line of sight had traveled, letting out a dark chuckle that only heightened your desire. "Pervert."

Brain still on sensual overdrive, the taunt did nothing but spur another flicker in your core. The embarrassment only seemed to push your need further. He seemed to notice your stare and the pleading expression across your features.

"What did I say about using your words, darling?"

"Please." You mumbled, hoping against hope that he would take pity on you.

He carefully aligned himself at your entrance, its soft, steady beat still present and yearning to be satisfied. "Anything for you."

With a slow, antagonizing pace, you waited for him to finish entering you. Slight pain followed with every inch forward, but nothing compared to ache you felt for his touch. Soon, the soreness melted into satisfaction and you found yourself unconsciously lifting your hips to his, desperate for some kind of tension.

Thankfully, he understood your wordless plea, beginning to rock his hips into yours at a steady pace that had you internally begging for more. His thumb found your clit again, rotating around the nub in slow, gentle circles. He reveled in the moans that were pulled from your lips.

The heat continued to intensify, filling your core to the brim until all the only emotion running through your brain was need.

With an increasing rhythm, he continued thrusting into you until pleasure had completely overpowered your senses, leaving you a moaning puddle of satisfaction in its wake. Every kiss to your cervix tightened the coil more and more until it was unbearable. The bliss was excruciating, bright and hot and wonderful all at the same time.

He caressed your overstimulated clit in a way that made you want to burst, and with a few final pushes, you did.

Euphoria flooded over every crevice of your body. Your walls fluttered around him as your high was met, offering a soft convulsion that allowed him his own release. Your eyelids fluttered to a close, heart on overdrive and mind still abuzz from pure ecstasy.

He slowly pulled out, careful not to jostle your form too much before gently picking you up and carrying you towards the bathroom. The difference in light made you cringe slightly, but, although spent, you were still curious.

Damn, it's nice in here.

You marveled as he set you down on the counter to start a bath.

The past hour, and probably the trials of today as well, had left you tired, the next few moments no longer memories, but foggy sensations of bliss.

His voice echoed amidst the rushing water, muttering kind praises that were extenuated by the soft tingle of his lips against your skin. The soothing warmth of the bath soon replaced them, then the soft cotton of a shirt that was much too large to be your own.

Next, the cool sheets, somehow new and folded neatly, cocooning around your body. You did remember reaching out, searching for his own figure against the bed. You also remembered the quiet laugh as he met your grasp, allowing you to easily wrap your arms around his torso. He mirrored your embrace, placing a final kiss on your temple.

In the past few weeks, you had fallen asleep in Chrollo's grasp multiple times. However, as the world faded away, you were able to coherently recognize that this way was most definitely your favorite.

[lightlycareless]

If you have time, do you think you could share some jealous Naoya headcanons? 💗

Heya anon!

Thank you so much for the wait!! I decided to write a little something this time around (as always lmao) one of the things he'd do when highly jealous, and desperate too.

Here are the warnings: Naoya has idiot friends. He doesn't like men around you. You don't like it either but you have his reputation to think about.

Happy reading!!

Jealous Naoya is not the kind of person to whine and bitch to their partner when feeling jealous (when he’s hopelessly devoted to them, of course)

No, of course not.

Instead, he’s the kind of person to do everything in his power to let the rest of the world know they’re his.

Naoya has long understood that some people are just jealous of what he’s got; it’s only natural, after all.

…

Especially when it comes to you; perhaps the only one whom he’s ever had such strong feelings, of both adorations and, well, insecurity.

Either way, he doesn’t like how some seem to keep questioning the veracity of his relationship, hounding you like dogs… as if you weren’t his girlfriend!! And that is something no one should question!

But even with all the things he’s done to remove any reasonable doubt… some still needed to be reminded of this fact.

Naoya has to take his determination to the next level, but what could possibly be better than gifting you the most expensive things available in the country (he’s working on the rest of the world—you tell him it’s too much), taking you to equally luxurious places whenever possible, settling for nothing less when it comes to dates, as well as rejecting every single person that approaches him by reminding them that he’s very happy with you? With you doing the same?

It's a necessity that leads him down a path he’s never considered before, too… shy for it (believe it or not) even more when you did it.

But he’s getting desperate; Naoya really doesn’t like it whenever there’s a new guy circling around you; and though you’ve long reassured him that you only have eyes and feelings for him, sometimes he… well, he can’t help but let his self-doubt win.

You’re the first girlfriend he’s genuinely cared about, after all, and the first one that treated him as the man he was, not for what his family represented—so it was only natural that he’d initially believe your actions to be deceitful, if not… more deserving for someone else.

And yet, you always did your best to prove him wrong.

How is he not supposed to fall in love with you?

Or reel in burning jealousy when seeing you chat with another one of his nameless friends, the same one that always had something to say about you, acting as if he couldn’t care less about his relationship, but as soon as he turned around, he was all over you.

That poor soul couldn’t even see what was coming to him.

“—and then, we managed to exorcise the curse; Naoya will never admit it, but he needed my help, or we wouldn’t have been able to do it.” He gloats proudly, and you… well, you laugh just to be amicable, not because you were truly interested in whatever he had to say, his intentions nothing but clear before your eyes:

He was trying to discredit Naoya’s efforts, make him appear as less than what he truly was, a talented, accomplished sorcerer, and your boyfriend, whom he should be respecting instead of hoping he’ll get a chance of dating you.

Why did Naoya even bother continuing to be his friend? It’s obvious that he doesn’t like him that much either!!!

But then again, there might be a side of their friendship you’re ignorant about; maybe a favor to repay, a childhood friendship, or forced to bond because their mothers were friends or something…

Either way, there’s no denying that he irritates you very, very much; oh, how you wished Naoya would simply whisk you away…

Which, truth to be told, might happen sooner than expected.

Albeit completely different from what you envisioned.

“Naoya!” you’d gasp upon seeing him, not bothering to hide the enthusiasm you felt to be rescued see your beloved boyfriend, careless if your actions hurt him his two-faced friend, as he quickly approached you.

As much as Naoya hated him, you knew he’d still greet him, either through a snarky comment scolding him for spending his time on literally anything else but training, or a quick glance before eventually retreating with you…

Never once considering what transpired next: the abrupt, yet careful, way he’d reach for the back of your neck, intertwining his fingers with your hair to pull you back and see him; barely giving you enough time to process what’s happening before his lips take yours, in a deep, breathless kiss that leaves you ashamed, yet…

“Leave my girlfriend alone.” Is what he says as soon as he draws away, fiery gaze on his friend as he declares this irrevocable statement.

And he… well, he wasn’t able to say anything either, before he’s effectively pulling you away from the table, safe from the stupidities he was spewing and to his side, where you should always, safely, be.

“—I’m sick and tired of that idiot thinking he’s allowed to do whatever he wants with what’s mine” Naoya scowls as he leads you to his dorm, intending to be in solitude with you, just as he always needed when jealousy got the best of him. “Seriously, do I need to drill it into his head?! Guess some people are just stupid since birth—what’s gotten into you?” Naoya asks upon noticing your silence, the blush in your face alongside the wide grin in your lips.

“Hm?” You ask, tightly holding onto his hand. “What do you mean?”

“What do I—Well, you’re awfully quiet for a start, and you’re also… red.” Naoya says.

“I’m just listening!” you cheer, as if that didn’t make your boyfriend any more suspicious.

Naoya sighs. Even when blinded with jealousy, he was still capable of understanding what he did was a bit… intense.

“I thought you’d be upset.” He adds. Since public displays of affection were unofficially… discouraged. “Or at least confused.”

“I won’t say that I wasn’t startled by your approach, but… I actually… kindoflikedit.” You quickly say, looking away. “…I always like it when you kiss me.”

Naoya could only stare in silence, as if trying to make sense of your adorable response… before finally succumbing to these feelings, a smile parting his lips as he pulls you closer to him, holding you tightly.

“I should’ve known to not mistrust my greedy girlfriend.” He snickers. “Shameless, even in front of others…”

“You’re the one that started it!” you cry, leaning into his chest. “…It’s not my fault I feel this way with you.”

“Is that so?” he prods. “Perhaps I should tease you more, then— I wouldn’t mind seeing the shocked look on that idiot’s face again, or how flustered you get afterwards.”

“If it’s going to be like that, then I don’t want it.” You frown—while unwittingly cute, it was quite embarrassing, especially his reaction. “Makes me think you like seeing him more than me…”

“What?!” Naoya shrieks, scowling out of disgust. “Where did you get that idea from?!”

“Nowhere.” You giggle, standing on your toes to kiss him. “I’m just messing with you.”

“First him, and now you… you really are trying to get me on my nerves.” He murmurs darkly, a smirk on his face that shows you’ve perhaps gambled more than you were willing to win, sending shivers down your spine as he publicly decides to take you to his dorm. “I guess I still have some lessons to go through.”

Jealousy is amongst some of Naoya’s strongest emotions, ones that you always attempt to ease, reassure him that your heart only has space for one, and it’s already taken.

But in occasions like this, where he’d lose his inhibitions and provide you a new, unexplored side of him… maybe acting the fool once in a while wasn’t so bad after all.

In other words, Naoya is willing to do the things he doesn't like if it means others will leave you alone!! You got this man whipped :')

And you also like how aggresive he gets in that sense. It's like yes, tell everyone I'm yours!!! (ngl this reminds me of those cringe alpha male videos omg... what have I done?!)

Rest assured, you don't like making Naoya feel that way, so it's not like you'd actually permit others to talk to you when you know Naoya doesn't like them; unless it's his family, or someone important.

Anyways, I hope you liked it!!! I'm always happy to write fluffy shenanigans between out favorite couple 🥺❤️❤️ thank you so much for sending in this ask!!

Take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️

[yandere-sins]

I'm not sure how thirsty our thirsts are allowed to be but I just stumbled upon your ghost oc from the halloween thingy while searching ghost from cod and WHAT?!?!?!?! Listen....all I'm going to say is 💦💦💦💦🥵🥵🥵 that is literally the best smut I've ever read in my ENTIRE life and I've been reading smut since about the 2000s. Would you be interested in continuing that piece or for writing an additional part? Maybe when they come to the apartment for the exorcism, they try 'channeling' or calling to the ghost to come, but he's fucking reader the entire time right infront of the roomate and officiate? My brain is thinking it would be so sexy if there was a glitch and he was visible for half a second but that can't be right....right? Why else would your roommates see a tall, sexy man taking you from behind at such a time? Must be a trick of the light! I love the perspective you write in and how even though this very supernatural sex scene was happening, you didn't describe it in a confusing or overly complex way. Your way of describing things, especially naughty things just hit different. It was extremely enjoyable! And so freaking hot!!!!! Seriously, there isn't a lot of content out like that so you're literally an angel for providing us with that haha. Going to give myself an anon name here, is 👻 available? Ahem, no reason why I chose that emoji hehe

Aww, I'm so glad you enjoyed it! It was a lot of fun to write :D Not sure I am always as clear when describing smth, but I'm doing my best! Thansk for you sweet ask and nice request, I hope you enjoy this story as well! ♥

Disclaimer: I don't speak latin. I google translatored this. Warning: Yandere, Heavy Sexual Content, Biting

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"Dele omne mal-- ah--!"

"Malum, Baby. If you want to erase all evil, you gotta say your words right~"

It was hard enough to read the little pamphlet in your hands with your body shaking like crazy, thanks to the thick cock plowing into you with every word you were saying. You could have really forgone the condescending nitpicking of the ghost you were trying to exorcise, but you weren't that lucky.

"Malum," Eli whispered, leaning over to you and raising an eyebrow you could see even in the sparse flickering of the candles around you. They couldn't ask, not wanting to disturb the ritual you three had initiated. Still, their gaze alone silently questioned your inability to perform your part properly, even more shame washing over you.

"M-Malum," you finally finished your sentence, giving them an apologetic glance before lowering your head to avoid any more eye contact. You wanted them to notice this bastard of a ghost as soon as possible so they'd believe you, but at the same time, you were too embarrassed to be caught by them like this.

Aside from Eli, another person had joined you in this strange rite meant to banish the evil from your apartment. A guy named Brian, who seemed to really believe in this stuff despite being unable to see the ghost haunting you either. You had held your breath when you entered the apartment together with him, wondering what his reaction would be to seeing the spirit clinging onto you almost instantly, rubbing his cock against your ass and whispering lewd nothings into your ear.

But Brian made a grand show of convincing Eli that the apartment had bad 'juju', and needed cleansing immediately, which, strangely, your roommate believed him without any doubts. It only gave the ghost another chance to taunt you as he revealed that Brian was no more sensitive to the supernatural than Eli was, there being no escape from your unwanted roommate.

Now, you three knelt around a drawn-up pentagram on the floor of your room, the epicenter of paranormal activities how Brian explained, and between the fog of incense, the dim candle lights, and your nightmarish lover slipping in and out of your wet cunt, you could barely think even one cohesive thought.

It wasn't that you actually enjoyed being exposed to other people, the tension doing nothing for your pleasure other than making you squeeze the ghost cock tighter whenever it was your turn to speak. It wasn't a comfortable environment in any way. But something had changed. The ghost had changed.

You hadn't noticed it this morning at the breakfast table, nor when he bent you over the counter, feeling too worn out and fucked loose to actually feel the difference. But he had grown. After a few hours of staying away, you finally noticed the change in girth of his ever-so-eager cock. It was thick and bulging, especially when he pressed it to your sensitive cunt. It had made you gasp and tremble the first time it entered you, painfully spreading your walls, and even now, you could barely produce enough slickness to have it rammed into you comfortably.

Despite this, juices were flowing out of you, pooling on the floor beneath your gaping pussy as the ghost kept spreading and demanding deeper and deeper access. You blamed the incense for getting to your head, making you feel all aroused as you clenched around the suddenly bumpy and pleasurable grip his cock had. "Just like this, Babe. Fuck, you're so unbearably tight," the ghost groaned, burying his face in your shoulder as you unwillingly shuddered, your walls holding on to his length as it twitched inside you, the bumps and ridges covering his cock, stimulating your soft flesh.

You were going to cum. There was no denying it. In front of Eli and Brian, no less. 

"Now, let's hold hands, so we ask the ghost to pass over to the other side and leave this apartment peacefully."

A hand on each side of you was held out, and forcing yourself to take them, you couldn't help squeezing them tightly, earning a rather displeased look from both before Brian cleared his throat, continuing.

"I'll pass over, all right," the ghost mumbled, his pace picking up, cock twitching while he picked up the speed. You prayed to any god that could hear you that the others wouldn't notice your shaking and rapidly building orgasm. Your breath was hitching, pussy tingling delightfully as you closed in on violent spasms. 

"You feel so fucking heavenly~ I might die all over again. And I'll pass all my jizz right here."

And with that, you felt his tip kiss your cervix, your pussy spread to the max as the ghost stopped his movement, arms wrapped around you as he pressed you against his body, squeezing the air out of your lungs as if he wanted to take you with him to the afterlife. Your body had no choice but to accept his cock, wrapping around him and having him brutally stimulate all the sensitive spots inside you while you could barely hold on to reality.

Brian said some incomprehensible words, the rumbling of thunder suddenly scaring all three of you to the bone, making you jump. That little movement was enough to send you over the edge, the ghost pulling you back as you slid off his cock a little, his tip ramming into your cervix. It released all the pent-up pain and pleasure inside you first before soothing the burning heat of desire inside you with cold, dead spunk shooting up into your womb.

You were shaking harder than ever as lightning lit up the room, followed by another bellowing thunder. Brian gasped, his eyes widening as he stared at something behind your shoulder, the ghost letting out a husky laugh as he let his long tongue slip from his lips, dragging it over your ear before wrapping it around your throat once completely. "Mine," he growled, the tip of his tongue caressing your cheek, searching for your lips to dig in, and Brian let go of your hand, unable to get away fast enough as he let out a scream, stumbling to his feet and out of the door, leaving everything, even the things he lent you guys for the ritual, behind.

"What's up with him?" Eli asked, totally confused as they looked after Brian, surprised by the sudden freak-out. "What the fuck is going on? Why is he-- hey? Hey, what's wrong?"

Shocked, they noticed your unnatural hunched-over body, hanging only in the arms of the ghost that they couldn't see. Eli touched your shoulder, only to get shocked by electricity you could only guess came from the ghost. "It's over," you mumbled, feeling spit drool out of your mouth, your throat too restricted by the ghost's tongue to swallow. "Finally over."

"Never, Darling. We're only beginning," the ghost chuckled. "Tell them to leave."

"You can go, Eli," you slurred, letting your body fall back against the ghost's chest. Your eyes were hazy with the brutal orgasm you still felt shaking in every bone of yours. Gaze unfocused as you tried to direct it at Eli. The cock was still buried inside you, emptied yet hard and solid as if it manifested. Juices began to drip out, and had Eli looked at where the Ghost bundled up the black robe Brian made you wear in his grip, they would have seen the pool of indecency collecting on the floor between your wide-spread legs. 

"Are you sure? You seem... weird. Are you really okay? Should I call an ambulance? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No!" the ghost screamed, followed by the loud crashing of thunder as he grew bolder with every orgasm he could steal from you. He no longer lived to tease and bother you. He was finally evolving into an even worse spirit than before. Possessive. Starving. Greedy. Only you could hear him, and you shook your head in pain, exhausted.

"It's fine! Just... Just go. Please..."

"Err... okay?" Eli definitely wasn't considering hurrying up as they collected the few things Brian allowed them to take with her into the ritual, like their phone. But eventually, they stepped out of the door, closing it while watching you warily. "Let me know if you need something, okay?"

And with that, the lock finally snapped into the frame, and you breathed a sigh of relief as the ghost lowered you gently onto the floor, laying you down on top of the pentagram. "You're not going anywhere. And you can't get rid of me, do you understand now?"

"Please..." you mumbled, covering your face with your arms. You felt weak, used, and disgusted. So many bad things had happened in the last few days, and you were exhausted. Nothing you did made it better, and you were running out of ideas. It made you feel exposed and vulnerable, you even felt...

"I'm scared..."

Tears welled up in your eyes. A reaction you never wanted to show him, knowing the ghost would take every chance to belittle you. However, to your surprise, he leaned over you, licking and kissing the tears away gently, softly, a purr escaping his throat.

"It's okay, Sweetling. No one's going to take you from me. I'll satisfy all your desires and perform all these sinful things you'll come to wish from me as you fall from your graces. You are bound to me, and I am to you, and we'll grow stronger together until we can leave this place. We'll cause havoc and chaos wherever we go until we're strong enough to even wreck hell. I need you. You need me."

Pressing his body between your legs, you could feel his hard cock rub all over your cunt, now even teasing your clit. You mewled, head falling back as he pressed it painfully close, your pussy suddenly aching to be filled by his thickness while his lips trailed down your body, licking the sensitive spot between shoulder and neck before replacing it with his teeth.

His tip prodded against your entrance, and your cunt gave him little resistance as he pushed it in slowly, fangs sinking into your flesh at the same time. The ghost pinned you down by your hands, and with his weight, your whole body trembled so hard as if you were going to explode while you gurgled from the pain and pleasure. You were so out of it, you didn't even notice the pentagram beginning to glow beneath you as your blood spilled from the bite, some lucky drops dripping to the floor while the ghost licked up everything else.

"My queen, my life," he mumbled against your body, and you could feel his lips curl into a mischievous grin. "My pretty little fucktoy."

A burning sensations spread all over your back, making you gasp. Even more tears leaked from your eyes, but at the same time, you arched your back, the ghost's cock slipping inside you completely, turning the pain into pleasure.

"We're bound now," the ghost groaned loudly, lifting himself from you, and you felt his cock twitch inside as if he was ready to spill again.

Looking up at the ghost through teary eyes, you couldn't believe what you saw, his translucent skin slowly turning black and solid. You were horrified to see the burning mark of a pentagram go up in flames on his chest as his body solidified, great satisfaction brimming from demonic eyes.

"Finally, we're bound to each other. And with this new body of mine, nothing can stop us."

His touch had always been real, but the leathery feel of his hands wrapping around your throat was different. Frightening. You gasped and gurgled as he pulled you on his lap, now the one to kneel on the ground as he impaled you on his cock, one hand falling to your ass so he could move you up and down his shaft. "You're going to make such a beautiful pet for your future king of hell. I have to thank you for giving me enough strength to recover my true form. And I know just what to do to reward you."

Hugging you to his chest, you were pressed into the burning pentagram. The flames licked at you, lapping at you like an excited dog but didn't burn your skin where they touched. They were warm and comforting, engulfing you in an unlikely sweet embrace. All while more warmth spread through you like wildfire. Your back felt like it was burning up the same as his chest was, bigger and hotter with every toe-curling, scream-enticing plunge on his thick, slick cock.

"Birth my army as well, Human. Let's rain down disaster on this planet, and I promise you will never lack anything in life ever again."

You didn't care anymore.

Your tongue was hanging out of your mouth as your brain got shredded by otherworldly pleasure. Flames had spread everywhere, playing with your clit and nipples like eager appendages, teasing and lighting you on fire, even licking at your butt, waiting for a chance to enter you alongside their master. You could hear the wailing voices straight from hell as your ghost—demon?—grunted like a boar in heat while plowing into you mindlessly, satisfying his lust and need for your life force. You felt your life drain from you just as a new life built in you, strengthening you. Against your will, he was transforming you into something you didn't want to be. Something like him. A being that could weather all his desires and wishes. That would be just as depraved and selfish as he was, with a mind too broken to refuse him.

His queen. His life source.

His pretty little fuck toy.

His.

[galpalkirk]

I made a post a while ago about how ttpd is the perfect loustat album. Long story short it then evolved into this playlist.

Notes on each song choice under the cut (because I'm insane and they're long):

1. Guilty as Sin? - POV Louis Ep 1x1 In throes of increasing wonder... it's all about desire and religious guilt.

2. But Daddy I Love Him - POV Louis Ep 1x1 "He ain't white, he french." Ep 1x2 "He had a way about him" He was chaos, he was revelry. Ep 1x4 I'm having his baby! The obvious forever iconic baby trapping.

Crazier - POV Louis (not on the list because of vibes but still an honorable mention) Ep 1x1 You lift my feet off the ground, you spin me around. Levitating vampire sex. Ep 1x2 You showed me something that I couldn't see, opened my eyes and you made me believe. Lestat trying to free Louis from the trappings of his life and Louis literally seeing the world differently as a vampire.

3. I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - POV Louis Everything about them. Ep 1x2 Louis starting to see that he cannot stomach the way Lestat enjoys killing. Lestat humiliating and killing the opera singer simply because he was a bad singer. Ep 1x3 The jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud. "What is wrong with that man?!" and then add Louis actually trying to fix Lestat by having him only kill evil people.

4. False God - POV Louis and Lestat We were crazy to think, crazy to think that this could work. But we might just get away with it, religion's in your lips, even if it's a false god. I know heaven's a thing, I go there when I touch you. Honey, hell is when I fight with you. I can't talk to you when you're like this, staring out the window like I'm not your favorite town. You can't talk to me when I'm like this, daring you to leave me just so I can try to scare you. Self-explanatory.

5. Renegade - POV Lestat Ep 1x1 I tapped on your window on your darkest night, the shape of you was jagged and weak. There was nowhere for me to stay, but I stayed anyway. Louis running away from Lestat to the church to try to exorcise him from his mind and heart. Trying to keep him out rather than let him in. Ep 1x2 After the phantoms of your former self. Are you really gonna talk about timing in times like these? And let all your damage damage me? And carry your baggage up my street? And make me your future history? Louis trying to continue his life as it was before he was turned but finding it difficult in a multitude of ways. "I almost ate my nephew, Lestat!" You've come a long way, open the blinds, let me see your face. You wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody. "You are a challenge every sunset, Saint Louis. And I'd have it no other way." Ep 1x3 You fire off missiles 'cause you hate yourself, but do you know you're demolishing me? "This is not a life!" "That's because you TOOK my life!" Louis leaving Lestat because he hates his own vampire nature. Ep 1x5 Is it insensitive for me to say "Get your shit together so I can love you?" Louis' depression after Claudia leaves. Is it really your anxiety that stops you from giving me everything? Or do just not want to? "Say 'Lestat, I am never going to love you.'" Louis never telling Lestat "I love you" during their 30 years together.

6. Bejeweled - POV Lestat Ep 1x3 and onward. Don't put me in the basement when I want the penthouse of your heart. Lestat starting and continuing his affair with Antoinette whenever he feels neglected or rejected by Louis.

7. High Infidelity - POV Lestat I just think the cheating blondes Lestat and Taylor have a lot in common. Ep 1x5 Put on your records Read your books and regret me. Lestat being ignored by Louis who is only staying inside and reading his books since Claudia left. Ep 1x5 (with additional 2x7 context) You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love? The slowest way is never loving them enough. "If every word coming out of his mouth is vitriol or disinterest for seven years... you don't want to. You still hope that he'll emerge out of his melancholy. That he'll love you like you love him." But in the meantime you cheat. I bent the truth too far tonight, I was dancing around, dancing around it. Lestat keeping up his affair with Antoinette after he had promised to end it. You said I was freeloading. Not related to the show but in the original novel Louis keeps saying how Lestat was exploiting him for his money.

8. My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - POV Lestat Ep 1x5 The Fight™️ Oh, here we go again. The voices in his head called the rain to end our days of wild. The "Claudia has left" depression spanning for several years. Lestat hoping he'll "emerge out of his melancholy" but also just being sick of it because he wants to bejeweled. But first, pull the string and I'll tell you that he runs because he loves me. "I have waited, Louis. I have patiently waited in vain for you to love me, as I love you." Ep 2x7 (still The Fight™️) He saw forever so he smashed it up. Hehe, Slam Reid his face into the coffin.

9. The Great War - POV Louis and Lestat Ep 1x5 The Fight™️ 2: Electric Boogaloo I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone. Louis ignoring Lestat and going deeper into his depression. And maybe it was egos swinging, maybe it was her. "A thousand nights of sulking, and the first sight of her, you are just gonna up and leave me?!" Ep 2x7 (still The Fight™️) Your finger on my hairpin triggers. "A word of context for our jury. The single worst thing that a vampire can feel is loneliness." Soldier down on that icy ground looked up at me with honor and truth. Broken and blue. So I called off the troops. That was the night I nearly lost you. Louis leaving Lestat after being dropped from the sky. "I did it to hurt him. And it did hurt him. And afterwards he was a broken thing. I know, I saw, because I am the one who broke him!" Ep 1x6 We can plant a memory garden. Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair. There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair. And we will never go back to that bloodshed. The aftermath of The Fight™️. "We leave the damage so we never forget the damage."

10. imgonnagetyouback - POV Louis Ep 1x6 Whether I'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house. I haven't decided yet, but I'm gonna get you back. Louis swimming the Mississippi to yell at and fuck Lestat after he sends him the "Come to me" record. And then taking him back. And then plotting his death to get him back.

Rest of the songs will be in a reblog because apparently you CAN reach character limit on a tumblr post...