#i saw the light out and was like oh hell yeah time to be golden boy

[bones-n-bookles]

Golden hour sunshine boy in his lesbian gear from @losech 🧡💗

[mononijikayu]

to you 2,000... or... 20,000 years from now… — ryomen sukuna.

As they stand to leave, his gaze drifts to one of his portraits—a work that captures a moment from another time, another life. In it, the King of Curses sits beside his beloved concubine, her expression full of light and laughter, radiant in a way that suggests an unbreakable bond. Ryomen Sukuna pauses, his hand still entwined with hers, and a rare, gentle smile crosses his face. Looking at the painting, he lets himself hope, just a little. Perhaps, even in a world he once saw as cold and unyielding, there are threads of something beautiful woven into his story. Perhaps, even for someone like him, there could be a happy ending, one he’d never dared to imagine. He leans down and whispers softly, almost as if confessing a secret. “I like to think they found each other again, you know? That somehow… this time, they got to be happy.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation;

WARNING/S: post canon, future timeline, fluff, possible romance, getting together, mild angst, reincarnation, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, dreams and nightmares, distress, grief, feelings, physical touch, character death, moving on, flashback, humor, no curse future au, pining, light-hearted, happy ending, depiction of the future, depiction of reincarnation, depiction of letting go, depiction of flashback, depiction of getting together, depiction of depiction of character death, depiction of distress, depiction of grief, mention of character death, mention of the past, mention of letting go, mention of grief, reincarnated! sukuna, reincarnated concubine! reader;

WORDS: 15k words.

NOTE: this concludes the final part of the main story of the other woman. i'm genuinely grateful for you love and attention towards my story. this was never supposed to be a series, it was supposed to be a one off fic. but because of your love for concubine reader, i was inspired to bring more to her life.

as i promised, this is a happy ending. well, the happy end that i think would suit the story. of course, this is not the end of concubine reader's story. there will be drabbles of sukuna and concubine reader's life that i never managed to put out.

if you have any suggestion or questions about the story, you can drop some words down in the inbox!!! i'm very happy when you ask questions about the story or have suggestions of what you wanna see next!!! please do so everyone!!!

i hope you look forward to them!!! thank you for reading, thank you for your support and love. i'll continue to write for you all!!! i love you <3

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HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW HE’LL GET THROUGH THIS. He’d never felt like this before. What do his other artist friends call it? Oh, that’s right. A slump. An artist’s slump. Yeah, that’s what it’s called. He’s never had that before.

But why should he? Ryomen Sukuna was a protege. He was a stellar artist with a golden hand, one who never stops. The one who works as though he’s running out of time. It’s him. 

And yet, at that moment, he wasn’t.

Ryomen Sukuna had a problem.

He was stumped from hell and back.

And he doesn’t understand why.

A loud exhale releases from his mouth as he looks up at all the drying canvas in front of him in the various easels. They’re all beautiful, don’t get him wrong. But they’re all the same.

And that bothers Ryomen Sukuna as he purses his lips in a flat line. His own studio has become a homage to these paintings and sketches as of late. There was nothing else coming out of him. Nothing else was occupying his mind.

In the maze of half-finished canvases and dried paint of his studio, there were only those same eyes staring at him. He could feel it even now under the dim lighting casting long, wavering shadows across each and every tender gaze.

He couldn’t stand up anymore. He’s exhausted. He’s been up since god knows when. Everywhere there was paint. His hands are stained, his shirt splattered with colors that have long since dulled. It’s been weeks.

He doesn't know how to deal with this. How could he, when she finds him in every moment? How easy it was to be that way. He’s stopped keeping track of time, because time means nothing when all he can see, all he can paint, is her.

As of late, it was this that haunted him. It was the same as always. It was this woman with those kind eyes looking back at him. That same tender smile greeting him. That same beauty yearning towards him. Everything about the woman’s face consumes him. Everything that she is continues to follow him like a ghost, over and over. 

He can’t even pinpoint when it started. It just started happening out of nowhere. At one point there were normal dreams and soon enough, there were something else.

And as time passed by, there was nothing else left but her. Her beautiful smiling face looking at him. Every single time, she never fails to be warm towards him. As though she could feel him, as though she could see him.

She’s become more than a fixation; she’s an infection, seeping into every corner of his mind, haunting the hours he’s awake as much as those precious few where he drifts into a broken sleep.

She first appeared in his dreams like a fleeting whisper, but her image has grown, intensifying with each passing night, filling his dreams with a crescendo of color and dread. And over and over, it was repeating.

Like a piano key stuck on the board, playing over and over that same repetitive note. And yet, it was still lovely. It was still tender. And then suddenly, it wasn’t. That was the worst part of it all, he thinks. He captures the beauty of her and then suddenly, it just disappears. It goes. Almost like smoke. 

The dream is always the same every night. At first it was terrifying to him. He’d never seen anything like her before. He’d never seen what happened to her before, not to anyone. Not ever. But with her, it repeats.

That nightmare continues over and over again. And he hated it. He hated how he has memorized it. He has hated how it was all he could see over and over again. He hated how this was the fate that such a beautiful, kind woman had to meet.

That beautiful lady, she would stand there and smile at him. Often, she stands at the edge of a crumbling cliff, the ocean roiling and dark beneath her, waves crashing against jagged rocks far below.

She turns, her eyes fixed on him, lips curling into a smile that might be tender, might be mocking, it shifts each time, eluding any attempt to decipher it.

She extends a hand, beckoning, imploring him to come closer. His heart races, his feet propel him forward, but just as he reaches for her, she slips, and he’s left grasping at nothing but empty air.

Again and again, he tries to save her. Again and again, she falls.

The dream wakes him in a cold sweat, heart pounding, breath shallow. He stumbles to his studio, and without thinking, he begins to paint. Her face materializes with each stroke, her eyes holding secrets he can’t unlock.

Her smile flickering with a mystery that tightens his chest. He paints her until his fingers go numb, until his eyes blur from exhaustion. He paints her even when he’s on the verge of madness. And he hates it—hates her—but he’s powerless to stop.

The people around him have noticed the shift, though they don’t understand it. They speak of his new works with reverence, captivated by the haunting beauty of the unknown woman he’s made famous.

But they don’t see the toll she takes on him. They don’t see the shadow of sleeplessness etched into his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the wild desperation lurking just beneath his cool exterior.

Every time he tries to paint something else. Absolutely anything else, it does not work. Not anymore. He would feel his hands freeze, his mind goes blank, and all he can see is her smile.

She’s everywhere, a ghost in his waking hours, her gaze piercing through every wall he builds to keep her out. The thrill of creation is gone; all that remains is the raw compulsion to recreate her face, an act that feels more like exorcism than art.

Ryomen Sukuna slumps back into his chair, eyes trained on the painting before him, hands limp and smeared with shades of red and soft violet. Her face, the delicate arch of her brows, the smirk teasing at her lips. All of it stares back at him, alive, taunting. 

It’s as though she’s watching him, laughing softly at his obsession, fully aware of the hold she has over him. The painted eyes seem to flicker, and in his exhaustion, Sukuna wonders if he’s the one painting her, or if she’s the one reaching through the canvas, carving her image into his mind with a precision that leaves him helpless.

“Damn it. This is so annoying.” he mutters, his voice echoing hollowly in the quiet room. He reaches for his brush, the movement automatic, but his hand falters, dropping it back onto the table as he releases a frustrated sigh. 

The curse feels weak, a pitiful attempt to regain some control, but he knows it’s useless. She’s an endless riddle, one he’s compelled to solve yet doomed to never fully understand.

No matter how many times he paints her, he can’t capture her—not completely. The harder he tries, the more elusive she becomes, as though she’s slipping through his fingers, mocking his every attempt.

He sits there, shoulders slouched, the steady tick of the clock filling the empty space around him. Hours blur into each other, and yet he can’t bring himself to look away, his gaze locked on her face, that faint smile hinting at secrets she will never share.

And then, just as the clock strikes midnight, he hears it. That tender voice giving him grief. That warm voice turning him cold. That voice echoed that whisper, soft as a breeze, calling his name.

“My lord…..my lord Sukuna.”

He closes his eyes, the sound reverberating through him, familiar and yet so distant. She’s there, in his mind, like an echo carried across lifetimes, the warmth of her voice stirring something deep inside.

He knows it’s a dream, an illusion conjured by his own obsession, but he doesn’t care. For a brief moment, he lets himself lean into it, lets her voice wash over him like a balm.

“My lord, my beloved lord Sukuna…” Her voice is softer this time, coaxing, filled with a strange tenderness that he’s certain only exists in his imagination. He can almost feel her fingers trailing along his cheek, the faintest touch, leaving warmth in their wake.

“What do you want from me?” he murmurs, his voice a weary plea, barely audible, as if afraid to break the fragile spell she’s cast over him. “You’re there every night, haunting me, making me see you even when I close my eyes. But what do you want?”

In his mind, her laughter echoes, soft and familiar, as if she’s toying with him. “You know what I want, my lord Sukuna. You’ve always known.”

He clenches his fists, frustration simmering beneath his skin. “Then tell me, damn it. Tell me what I need to do to set you free.”

“Set me free?” she repeats, and there’s a hint of amusement in her voice, as if the very idea amuses her. “Oh, my lord Sukuna… it’s not me who needs freeing.”

His breath hitches, her words cutting through him like a blade. The realization settles over him like a heavy weight, and he knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she’s right.

She isn’t the one trapped here—he is. Bound by his own memories, his own regrets, unable to let go of the past that has woven her image into every part of him.

He opens his eyes, staring at the canvas again, her face seeming to shift. It was almost ever so easy for her to taunt him like that, to tease him. Everything about her gave him that feeling that overwhelms him. Feelings that he's never felt in his entire life.

He could feel her eyes glinting with a knowing look that sends a shiver down his spine. He reaches for the brush, hand trembling as he adds another stroke, trying to bring her into focus, to finally capture the essence of her that has haunted him. But no matter what he does, he can’t reach her, can’t grasp the fleeting vision that seems to dance just beyond his reach.

“I’ll keep painting you. I swear.” he whispers, his voice raw, laced with something close to desperation. “Every night, every dream, until you’re satisfied. Until you let me go.”

But he knows, even as the words leave his lips, that she won’t; she’ll never truly leave. She’ll linger there, a silent muse, a relentless force guiding his hand, embedding herself deeper with every brushstroke.

And he, trapped in this beautiful, maddening cycle, will keep painting her face, night after night, each canvas only revealing a fragment of her and yet never enough.

The clock ticks on, marking the hours that slip away in her wake, but he’s long since stopped noticing. She’s there, in every line, every shadow, every flicker of light on the canvas.

She’s his prison, his muse, his madness—and he knows, even as he tries to break free, that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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BY THIS POINT, HE WOULD HAVE BEEN FINISHED WITH HIS COLLECTION. Usually, Ryomen Sukuna finishes his pieces weeks ahead, leaving everyone else; especially Gojo Satoru—scrambling to catch up. Well, perhaps because he usually doesn’t work until he stops messing about. 

Still, the rivalry is a running joke among their peers. Gojo Satoru  would tease him endlessly, his voice loud and mocking. “The world might as well end if you didn’t finish first, Ryomen Sukuna. I’d have to check if hell froze over.”

Gojo Satoru would say with that infuriating grin, and Sukuna would just roll his scarlet eyes, barely dignifying it with a response. He didn’t need to—he’d simply outdo him, his work claiming the prime spot at the National Gallery, cycle after cycle. That’s just how it works for them.

But now, as the days tick by and his canvas remains trapped in this maddening loop, the weight of that old joke feels heavier. Maybe it would be better if the world did end, he muses grimly, his frustration boiling under the surface. Each day that he fails to paint anything else, fails to break free from this woman’s image—drains him. 

Every line, every shadow, every detail is etched with painstaking care, and yet each piece feels incomplete. He lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes narrowing as he looks once more at the canvas, the same haunting face staring back.

Another artist would leave the piece for a day, perhaps even a week, and come back with fresh eyes. But not Sukuna. He’s stubborn, relentless. Yet this time, it feels as though he’s been bested, and that thought is infuriating.

A soft knock sounds at the studio door, but he doesn’t respond. The door creaks open, and he doesn’t need to look up to know who it is—he can practically feel Gojo Satoru’s grin from across the room. This was a rare visit from his rival and somewhat friend. But, he already regrets giving him his address.

“Not done yet?” Gojo drawls, strolling in with a lazy confidence, hands shoved into his pockets. “Well, this must be it—the end of the world. Should I start making apocalypse preparations?”

“Leave, Satoru.” Sukuna mutters, his voice a low growl. But Gojo just chuckles, unperturbed.

“Can’t. I live wayyyyyy tooo far. Besides, I came all this way to see the fall of the great Ryomen Sukuna. And boy, is it a sight.” Gojo steps closer, his gaze shifting to the canvas. “Her again, huh? Your mystery woman? I thought you were done with her!”

Sukuna’s jaw tightens. “Say another word, and you’ll be painting with your own blood.”

Gojo just laughs, crossing his arms as he leans back against the wall. “Fine, fine. But it’s… interesting, don’t you think? You, stuck on the same image, over and over. And all of this because of one woman.”

Sukuna can feel his patience fraying, each word from Gojo Satoru like sandpaper on a wound that refuses to heal. But Gojo doesn’t stop, his tone shifting from mocking to genuinely curious. It’s already giving him a headache.

“So, bestie……” he says, a glint in his bright blue eyes. “Who is she? A muse? Some long-lost love? Because whatever it is, you’re about to drive yourself mad over her.”

“She’s nothing.” Sukuna says sharply, but the words lack conviction. He doesn’t want to dive into it. Especially for Gojo Satoru. He’d only try to make it all a joke and laugh about it. “Just a woman. Just a damn face that refuses to disappear.”

Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow. “Nothing? Could’ve fooled me, seeing as she’s all you’ve painted for weeks. Either she’s ‘just a woman,’ or she’s haunting you.”

Sukuna clenches his fists, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I can’t… get her out of my head, no matter how many times I try. It’s like she’s taunting me. Every stroke feels like a chase, and I can’t catch her.”

For once, Gojo’s grin fades, a shadow of understanding passing over his face. “So that’s it, huh? You’ve finally found a challenge you can’t conquer. Even after all these years.”

Sukuna scowls, eyes narrowing. “It’s not a challenge. It’s… more than that.” His voice trails off as he glances at the painting, his expression a mixture of longing and frustration.

“Then stop,” Gojo says bluntly. “If she’s driving you insane, stop trying to capture her. Paint something else. Anything else. Get back to your work, to the craft that’s kept you sane all this time.”

But Sukuna only shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the canvas. “It’s not that simple, Satoru. I can’t stop. I need to understand… Why is she here? Why does she keep coming back to me?”

Gojo sighs, running a hand through his bright snow colored hair, clearly torn between amusement and pity. “Well, I can’t say I envy you. But maybe you should try looking beyond the canvas, for once.”

Sukuna scoffs, though a hint of doubt creeps into his expression. “You think there’s anything outside this room that could give me answers?”

Gojo shrugs. “Who knows? Sometimes the answers we need are the ones we’re not looking for. But if this is what’s keeping you chained…” he nods towards the door, his voice lowering, “then maybe it’s time to find out why.”

Ryomen Sukuna says nothing, his gaze flicking between Gojo and the woman’s face on the canvas. And as Gojo slips out the door with a knowing smile, Sukuna feels the weight of his words lingering, as if daring him to break free of the chains he’s crafted for himself.

Gojo Satoru stayed in his studio for a while; the entire time his head hurt. But he couldn’t help admitting that his frustration was put on hold and that he was grateful for it. Annoying as he was, it was better than suffering what he had been suffering with the woman that haunts him.

But when Gojo Satoru leaves, he finds himself unable to leave either. From the night before, he hadn’t really found himself to sleep. But if he was still being honest, he really doesn’t think he made any progress from the ones he had already made  that he feels happy about.

Well, except perhaps three more additions to his deluded dreams of this woman. He couldn’t stop with that. That was not something he could enjoy. It didn’t look good. He didn’t think it was the best he had ever done. He looks at his canvas again and squints his eyes. It was as though he was hoping that he had painted something else. But he knew he hadn’t. There was no need to double check. 

Okay, well, he should be more honest — it’s four now. This is the fourth one. The fourth one for a while and it’s only past lunch time the next day.  Wait, is it really lunch time? He looked around again and saw his clock. His mouth agape in shock. It’s already been a whole day? It’s already the blue hour? What the actual fuck is going on?

He groans as he puts down his paintbrush and covers his face with his hands. A loud groan echoes against his skin, reflecting that bitterness he feels. He was going mad, he’s genuinely sure that he’s really going mad. This time for real. The world is ending and he’s going mad.

Once more, Ryomen Sukuna sits slumped in his studio chair, the dim, cold light from the nearby cityscape casting a pallor over his face. How can this be possible? He's rubbing his temples, staring at yet another drying and yet truly unfinished portrait of her when a familiar voice cuts through his brooding. Ryomen Sukuna turned his back and turned it back once more, just as quickly.

Fuck, its Uraume.

Shit, shit. Is it already that time?

He hasn’t messaged them for two days.

How the fuck is he going to survive—

“Sukuna–san, you have the exhibition in two weeks, you know that!” Uraume reminds him, waking over with their tone both gentle and insistent. They’re standing at the edge of the cluttered studio, arms crossed, their eyes flicking between Sukuna and the growing stack of canvases lining the walls. “Everyone’s expecting new work, Sukuna–san. You can’t just say you aren’t producing anything when this is—”

He cuts them off with a frustrated wave of his hand, as if trying to dismiss both them and the exhibition out of his mind. “I know, I know, Uraume–san. You already know that I know. Don’t you think I know? I just…… What’s the point of even going here? It’s not…it’s not finished—nothing is complete.” 

“That’s not what you’re supposed to be telling me—”

“I know, I know.” His voice trails off, heavy with exhaustion. He looks at the half-finished canvas before him, her familiar eyes staring back, mocking him. “Look, I need time. Okay? Just a little more time to get over it. I promise. It will be done soon.”

Uraume steps carefully, sidestepping the mess of brushes, scattered paint, and half-finished canvases that litter the studio floor. Their usual calm is tinged with a hint of bewilderment, their brows furrowing as they glance over at Ryomen Sukuna, who sits slouched in his chair, staring blankly at the portrait before him. 

This is the first time they’ve seen him like this—so unfocused, so… lost. It’s unnerving. For as long as they’ve known him, Sukuna was always in control, his power and his confidence absolute. Nothing stumped him; nothing could shake him from his single-minded determination.

And yet, here he is, surrounded by portraits of a woman they’ve never met, trapped in a spiral of obsession that they don’t understand.

“Get over what, exactly?” Uraume asks, a soft but firm edge to their voice, breaking the silence that has grown heavy in the room. “The exhibition is practically sold out already. You are the star of this show—you know that.” 

They hesitate, crossing their arms as they study his profile. “If you let yourself slip now, you’re going to lose everything. They expect something… groundbreaking, something other than…”

Their voice trails off as they catch sight of another painting, and then another; all of them of her. Each one shows a different expression, a different tilt of her head, a different light in her eyes, but always the same haunting face. Uraume’s gaze lingers on the latest painting, her smirk, subtle yet all-consuming, as if she’s daring anyone who looks at her to understand.

They shake their heads slowly, exhaling in frustration. “This obsession of yours…” They struggle for the right words, their gaze hardening as they glance back at him. “I don’t understand it. Who is she? And why are you letting her control you like this?”

Sukuna looks up, his expression weary, but there’s a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes, a glint that only appears when he’s truly challenged. “You wouldn’t understand, Uraume–san.” he mutters, his voice low, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “No one would. Not unless you felt what she did to me.”

Uraume raises a brow, taken aback. This isn’t like him—this vulnerability, this almost painful honesty. They’ve seen Sukuna bring cities to their knees, watched him command fear and respect with the simplest look, but now? Now, he looks more like a man haunted than a man in control. 

“Then tell me, Sukuna–san.” Uraume says, their voice softening slightly, more curious than before. “What is it about her? Why does she matter so much?”

He leans back, a bitter smile crossing his lips. “It’s like… no matter how many times I paint her, she’s always out of reach, Uraume–san.” he says, his eyes flicking to the painting in front of him, the smirk that never changes. “Every stroke, every color—it’s as if she’s taunting me, daring me to try again, knowing I’ll never capture her.”

There’s a pause, the weight of his words settling between them, thick and tangible. Uraume takes a step back, their expression wavering. They’re used to seeing Sukuna drive toward a goal with relentless force, breaking anything that stands in his way. But this? This is something else. Something they can’t touch.

“Is she worth all this?” Uraume asks, more gently than they intended. “Worth losing your edge, your control?” They gesture to the canvases around them. “If she’s haunting you this much, perhaps it’s time to let her go.”

A dark laugh escapes Sukuna, low and humorless. “Let her go?” he repeats, his gaze still fixed on the painting. “I’ve tried, Uraume–san. But she’s there, every time I close my eyes. And I can’t…” He stops himself, the words caught in his throat. “She won’t let me go.”

Uraume watches him, feeling a pang of something they can’t quite name—pity, perhaps, or fear for what this fixation could mean for him. They take a step forward, daring to place a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re stronger than this, Sukuna–san.” they say softly, but firmly. “Whatever hold she has over you, it doesn’t control you. You’re the one in charge here, remember?”

For a moment, Sukuna seems to consider their words, a flicker of clarity in his eyes. But then he glances back at the canvas, at her knowing smile, and his face hardens, as if he’s resigned to the fact that he’s already lost.

“I thought so too, Uraume–san.” he murmurs, barely loud enough for Uraume to hear. “But I’m beginning to wonder… maybe she’s the one painting me.”

Uraume watches him in silence, feeling the cold truth of his words settle between them. They realize, in that moment, that they may be witnessing the unraveling of the man they thought was unbreakable. And for the first time, they wonder if he can even escape from the shadows of his own creation.

Sukuna follows their gaze, feeling a surge of irritation and helplessness. “It’s not that simple, Uraume–san. God, it’s just….” he mutters, running a hand through his messy fuschia hair, which is starting to look as unruly as he feels.

“She’s—she’s everywhere to me. And maybe that’s why she’s always here. Every time I try to start something else, there she is. Like a bad dream I can’t wake up from.” 

He glances at Uraume, searching their face for some flicker of understanding. “Don’t you get it? I need to work through this. You can’t just snap your fingers and make it go away. If I had magic, it would have been fine, but I just….”

“Then maybe make her part of it.” Uraume replies, unphased by his frustration. “People will want to see this obsession—whatever it is. But they won’t be satisfied with half-finished canvases of the same face over and over.”

He stands up abruptly, pacing, as if movement will shake off the weight pressing down on him. “It’s not an obsession,” he says, though the words sound hollow, even to him. “I just need… time. To figure this out. To move past her.”

Uraume watches him with a calm patience that only irritates him further. “You’ve had time, Sukuna-san. And every day, I’ve watched you do nothing but chase shadows.” They gesture to the rows of unfinished canvases, the dozens of faces that all share her haunting expression.

“Maybe you don’t need to get past her. Maybe you need to go deeper, to figure out what she’s trying to tell you.”

Sukuna clenches his jaw, feeling the heat rise in his chest. He hates that Uraume, of all people, might be right. But how could he go deeper when she’s already consuming him? They should know that this is not what he needs right now. He needs support about this trying situation. He needs kindness about this. He needs—

He turns his eyes slightly and soon enough, they land on the first portrait he’s drawn of her. It was rough around the edges, it was true. But he was trying really hard to capture what he had found in her. He thought he would never see her again. That first time, it was all too interesting. Because he thought he would never see her again. And her smile would have been everything even that one time. 

That once would have been enough, it would have fulfilled him whole enough. That one portrait, that first one — it would have been enough for Ryomen Sukuna to feel like someone was always going to look at him kindly. 

That someone would always look at him with such tender eyes. He purses his lips in a line. Here she was. Once again, staring into his soul. Frozen in time. Looking towards him as though he was the world. As though life can only be known through looking at him. He gulped.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” he says finally, forcing his voice to steady. “Just… let me handle it my way.”

Uraume sighs, a long, exasperated sound. “Fine. But remember, Sukuna–san, time waits for no one. Especially not for you.” 

And with that, they turn, leaving him alone once more in his dimly lit prison, with nothing but her face and the ticking of the clock to keep him company. Ryomen Sukuna could not move anymore for a while. He couldn’t. Not when you were looking at him like that.

The echoes of the night pangs into the slumber of the bright starry sky, and the silence in Ryomen Sukuna’s studio is absolute, broken only by the occasional soft creak of his chair or the quiet scratch of his brush against the canvas. And he despises it. Usually, he would be happy about that. It helps him focus on his work. 

Yet, he’s almost afraid to move or make more noise or appease the silence with his enjoyment. Ryomen Sukuna was afraid that if he does, he’ll break the spell that’s settled over him, the fragile connection that’s come alive between him and her.

This ghostly woman, this chasing woman who has rooted herself so deeply in his psyche. He knows she’s not real, and yet every inch of him feels as if she’s in the room with him, closer than a shadow, more vivid than any memory.

The woman on the canvas feels different this time. He’s pushed past the limits of his frustration and reached a depth of expression that feels raw, unnerving. Her face, no longer a series of lifeless shapes and colors, seems to breathe on the canvas. 

Her smile is softer now, her eyes almost… knowing. But the knowing isn’t comforting; it unsettles him, strikes some primal nerve deep inside. He steps back, shaking his head as if to clear it, to dispel the irrational thought that she’s looking back at him with intent, with purpose.

But even standing back, even half-closing his eyes, he can’t unsee her. She seems more real than ever before, like he’s peeled away another layer, only to find her hiding deeper within. He feels his heart beat faster, a slow wave of dread creeping into his veins. How can a face he created himself feel so alive? So sentient?

He backs away from the canvas, his hands covered in paint, feeling a chill settle over him. He’s been pushing himself to exhaustion these past few weeks, painting her in every possible way, but this—this feels different, like he’s crossed an invisible line. For the first time, the compulsion to paint her is laced with fear.

Still, he can’t look away. Her presence fills the room, and he feels the weight of it like a physical force. His eyes roam over her face: the faint shadows around her eyes, the suggestion of pain hidden in the tilt of her lips, the look of sorrow mingling with defiance. Each detail tells a story he’s not sure he wants to know, yet he’s desperate to understand it.

Uraume’s words echo in his mind again: Maybe you don’t need to get past her. Maybe you need to go deeper, to figure out what she’s trying to tell you.

He shudders, the thought reverberating through him. What if this woman, this apparition, isn’t just an accident of his imagination? What if she’s here for a reason, some purpose he’s been too afraid to uncover?

He recalls the dreams—the cliff, the ocean raging below, the way she extends her hand to him with that haunting smile, beckoning him forward only to disappear again and again. It’s always the same. He can’t save her, but he can’t let her go.

He’s always believed that his art comes from somewhere deep within him, from emotions he doesn’t fully understand, from memories he can’t articulate. But this feels different to him. He had never dealt with this before. 

It was almost as if it’s coming from outside of him, as though she’s reaching through the boundary of his mind, using his hands as a conduit. He lets out a shaky breath, clutching the paint-stained edge of his workbench. Is this woman, this image, an echo from his past? A ghost? Or something darker, something he’s unlocked without meaning to?

The thought stirs something in him, a strange, unexplainable pull to keep going, to lose himself in this process of bringing her fully to life. He walks back to the canvas, hand trembling as he picks up his brush once more.

This time, he paints her hand, reaching out, as if extending toward him. The fingers are delicate, almost ghostly, and he layers shadows beneath them, giving them depth, weight. He works until the details blur, until his vision is smeared with exhaustion.

He steps back again, chest tight. Her hand stretches toward him now, inviting him, her fingers just a breath away. The air in the room feels thick, electric, as if she’s drawing him closer, beckoning him to cross some unseen line. He reaches out instinctively, the tips of his fingers barely brushing the canvas.

In that instant, a shiver courses through him, the chill going bone-deep. He feels his hand pull back, but it’s as if something is holding it there, holding him in place. His heart races. He hears the ticking of the clock, each tick louder, more insistent. The woman on the canvas seems closer now, her eyes sharper, more alive, her expression shifting as though she’s on the edge of speaking.

He tears his hand away, stumbling backward, the sudden movement jarring him back to himself. His studio comes into focus, the familiar mess of paint and brushes scattered around, the quiet hum of the city outside. But she’s still there, her face on the canvas, watching him with that faint, knowing smile.

His heart still pounding, he grabs his coat and stumbles out of the studio, leaving her behind, feeling her gaze burning into his back even as he shuts the door. The air outside is cold, crisp, and he gulps it down, trying to shake off the feeling that he’s walked out of a nightmare he can’t wake from.

But even as he steps into the city streets, even as the lights and the noise surround him, he can still see her in his mind, as clearly as if she were standing beside him.

And he knows, with a strange certainty, that no matter how far he runs, she’ll be waiting for him, waiting in the studio, in his dreams, until he finally dares to confront whatever truth she holds.

══════════════════

HE REALLY CAN’T HELP IT. Ryomen Sukuna’s heart hammers in his chest, louder than the muffled hum of voices in the museum, louder than the memories raging through his mind. He stands frozen, his scarlet eyes locked onto her.

This was the woman from his dreams, the face he painted until his hands went numb, until his sanity frayed. The woman he has known is like the back of his hand. She’s here, in the flesh, not on a canvas or a hazy memory, but real, close enough to reach out and touch. And yet, at this moment, she feels farther away than ever.

The woman doesn’t notice him. Of course she wouldn’t have. Why would she? He doesn’t expect her to know what he’s feeling now. She’s oblivious to the storm her presence has unleashed in his chest, the way his pulse spikes as he watches her, every nerve in his body caught between reaching for her and running away. 

She’s gazing intently at the displays, her head tilting thoughtfully as she studies each artifact, and with each subtle movement, she reminds him achingly of her—of the woman he’d known in that past life, his concubine, the one he’d lost so long ago. She has that same air of quiet intensity, that gentle focus, the same soft curiosity he remembers.

And then she steps closer to the display holding the hairpin. That hairpin—the one he’d given to his concubine as a symbol of the promise he couldn’t keep, the one she had treasured even on the darkest nights, when the weight of their hidden love had pressed heavy upon them both. The hairpin he’d clasped in her hair before she was taken from him.

The sight of it had been a punch to the gut even before he saw her. But now, watching this woman—a stranger, yet painfully familiar—reach out as though to touch the glass, Sukuna feels something crack open inside him, a wound he’d buried lifetimes ago tearing fresh and raw.

She lifts her hand, her fingers hovering near the glass, her eyes lingering on the hairpin with a look he recognizes—sadness, longing, nostalgia she can’t possibly understand.

Her face is calm, her expression serene, but he knows that look, knows that feeling. Does she feel it too? Does she feel the echo of something lost, something distant yet so deeply embedded in her soul?

His own hand trembles at his side. He wants to go to her, to pull her aside, to demand to know if she remembers, if somewhere in her heart she feels that same aching void he’s carried for centuries. But the reality sinks in, cold and unyielding: to her, he’s a stranger. 

She has no idea who he is. She doesn’t remember their stolen moments under moonlight, their whispered vows, the quiet, forbidden love that had bound them tighter than any promise. She doesn’t remember his face, doesn’t know the agony he’s endured, living each lifetime haunted by her ghost, painting her face in the desperate hope it might bring her back.

And yet, the hairpin calls to her. He watches her, rooted to the spot, as she studies it with a reverence she can’t name, can’t explain, an inexplicable connection to something lost to time. He can almost see the weight of her past life hovering over her like a shadow she doesn’t even know is there.

Sukuna’s fingers twitch, aching to touch her, to break this unbearable silence and tell her everything: that he’s waited lifetimes for her, that he’s dreamed of her every night, that every stroke of his brush was a desperate attempt to remember her, to reach her, to feel even an echo of what they once had. But how could he explain that? How could he unload centuries of grief, of longing, on her shoulders, when she doesn’t even know his name?

She turns, moving slowly to the next display. But for a single heartbeat, her gaze drifts in his direction. Their eyes meet, and in that split second, the air thickens, everything around him falling away. Her eyes—those same eyes, dark and deep, full of questions and secrets—fix on him, and he feels the weight of their shared history settle like a heavy cloak over them both.

He watches as something flickers in her gaze, an almost imperceptible flash of recognition. She blinks, and it’s gone, but he clings to it, desperate. Did she feel it, even if only for a moment? Did she feel the weight of a life before, a life they shared, a love they lost?

But she turns away, her brows furrowing slightly, as if shaking off a strange thought, and the moment shatters, leaving him stranded in a sea of regret and unspoken words. She disappears around the corner, her silhouette swallowed by the shadows of the exhibit.

A bitter pang cuts through him, deeper than anything he’s felt in centuries. She’s here, alive, within his reach, and yet she’s still lost to him. He’s still haunted by the echo of her smile, the shadow of her memory, the woman he could never save.

Slowly, Ryomen Sukuna forces himself to step away, his gaze lingering on the hairpin. He clenches his fists, feeling the familiar sting of regret, of promises broken, of lives tangled and torn apart.

He’d thought he was prepared to face her, though he could handle the pain that would come with seeing her again. But the reality is raw and relentless, tearing open old wounds he thought were healed.

In that moment, he was the only one who knew the truth: he’ll always be trapped in this cycle, drawn to her only to watch her slip away. No matter how many times he finds her, she’ll always be just out of reach, a dream he can never wake from.

Ryomen Sukuna’s heart nearly stops when he feels a soft hand on his arm, drawing him back to the present. His present. In front of this woman, this woman who haunted him with everything and anything in him.

“Are you… okay?” the woman asks, her voice gentle, her eyes warm with concern.

He’s stunned, his breath catching as he looks down at her, the stranger with the face he’s known all too well, the stranger who feels like a ghost comes to life. But he forces himself to gather his thoughts, to act like this is a normal interaction with a stranger, even though every nerve in his body feels charged with recognition.

“Ah… yes, I’m….I’m good.” he finally says, his voice rough but steady. “I just find the gallery… interesting.” The words feel absurdly inadequate, but it’s the only thing he can manage.

A small smile breaks over her lips, and the sight of it sends a sharp pang through him. It’s so familiar, so achingly familiar, that he has to clench his fists to keep himself grounded. She glances around the exhibit, her expression softening with a hint of pride.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, stranger.” she says. “It was… hard to tell the story. To do it justice, I mean.” Her gaze returns to his, warm and inviting. “I’m a Mikoto, by the way. A descendant of Hiromi.”

He feels his heart stop at the name, and it takes him a beat to respond. “Ryomen… Ryomen Sukuna, that’s my name.” he says, his voice catching slightly as he introduces himself. 

He could only watch as her eyes widened in surprise, and she studied him, the weight of recognition glinting faintly in her gaze, though she didn't seem to realize its true depth. She probably did not expect him to have that name, that exact name, also.

“A descendant of Hiromi, too?” she asks with a soft laugh, her expression open, friendly. When he doesn’t answer, she shakes her head with a lighthearted smile. “It’s okay. The family’s too big for everyone to know where they come from anyway.”

He nods stiffly, a bit overwhelmed, struggling to keep his composure as memories flicker before him. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he aches to tell her, but he swallows it all down, letting the silence sit between them, as heavy as it is fragile.

Then, gathering his nerve, he glances at her. “Can I… can I ask you something about the exhibit? About Ryomen Sukuna?”

She tilts her head, curious. “Of course, you can.” she says. “But fair warning—it’s going to be a long story. A sad story.”

He meets her gaze, and in that moment, he sees a flicker of recognition in her eyes, something deep and familiar that calls to him. He nods. “That’s okay.” he says softly. “I think I need to hear it.”

She studies him a moment, as if trying to understand his need to know. Judging from her own reaction, it's a difficult story to even try and tell. But he was curious. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he wanted to know so badly.

He wanted to know more than anything how these two people lived. How she lived, that woman in his dreams — the woman right in front of him. He looks at her tenderly, curiously. And she nods, a quiet understanding in her expression. 

“Ryomen Sukuna… and his concubine. Their stories are really not easy. Nor is her own. His concubine’s story is difficult. She led a long, sad life. They were together for a long time, longer than Sukuna and Hiromi were wed.” Her eyes lowered, the sight gleaming with sorrow as she touched the glass, trying to reach for the hairpin. 

“She was devoted to him, in all the ways that one could describe devotion. And yet….she suffered under him… Quite a lot, if we’re to be honest. She gave him a son and she lost him and his indifference at times, it broke her.” She hesitates, glancing at him before continuing. “Though in his own way, he loved her. But well, was it enough? We cannot truly tell. From what we know from Ryomen Chiharu, she died without knowing. But perhaps, those are claims.”

The words pierce him like a knife. Hearing it from her lips, from her gentle voice, makes it all feel too real. The bitterness, the heartbreak, the weight of it all surges within him, yet he can’t look away from her. Is that what she has had to live through all that time? Was it only the heartbreak she had lived through? In that past life, in her past life — was it just grief born out of more, one after the other? Is that why she kept falling to her death? Suffering in all that pain? 

“If he had loved her then….” Sukuna could feel some sense of anger bubble through him. “Why is it not ever clear, his feelings? If you love someone, you….you tell them! You make them know when they’re alive. Not when they’re gone! What kind of man is he? Is he even a man at that point? That’s cruel….That’s…..”

In that moment, her eyes turned wide as she gazed at him. She had seen people get angry on behalf of the long suffering concubine of the King of Curses. That was normal, to feel anguish on her behalf. And yet, this mayhaps is the first time he’s ever seen someone so infuriated. And aggrieved. And bitter. Truly, in the sense of the word. Her heart felt warm about that. 

She smiles softly at him and places her hand on his own. “You know….he still did care. Even if he was a terrible man. In some ways.”

“Even then—”

“Come with me, stranger!” she says, her voice soft as she takes his hand, her touch sending an electric shock through him. She leads him to a long table draped in dark fabric, a single scroll lying open at the center. It was a magnificent piece of work.

In the middle was her, that concubine. With her elegant features and her bright eyed gaze, her tender smile that could bring life to a mundane world. The colors illuminated her with such ethereality that one couldn’t even understand. It would have taken much too much time to do this in their lifetime, during the Heian Era.

 And yet, it was so carefully made, carefully thought of. So full of devotion to her, details that one couldn’t even find in any other portraiture in that time. Sukuna could only watch as her fingers glide along its edge with a reverence that pulls him in, as though she’s sharing a secret between them. Her smile grows wider.

“This is painted and written by Sukuna himself, mayhaps, a few years before she passed.” she whispers, her eyes shining as she looks at him. “We don’t know, if he had painted and made this in secret. Or if she had known and seen it.  But….it was to her… a message. From him to her.”

The scroll is faded, ink blurred by age but unmistakable. And as Sukuna reads it, he feels his breath leave him, his pulse racing as he takes in the words he never thought he’d see again. In ancient script, barely visible, are the words he remembers writing so many lifetimes ago, a promise that felt foolish and desperate even as he wrote it:

“To you, my little one, from a thousand years to another twenty thousand years from now, you who will continue to be dear to me.”

His vision blurs, and he forces himself to swallow down the ache rising in his chest. How is that man ever so contradictory? How could he cause her hurt and then do…do something like this? How can one ever make amends, or show love, knowing they had caused grief and pain and suffering? 

He purses his lips, his face echoing in conflict. He could feel his hand tighten in a fist. The woman he saw in his dreams, and the woman he sees before him now. How they both suffered to get to this point. 

That smile a thousand years ago, so gentle and yet….so pained. And now, so beautiful and serene, happy. Truly so happy. He couldn’t help but be so overwhelmed by emotion. By all of this. She looks up at him, her face soft with empathy and warmth, her hand still resting lightly on his arm.

“What kind of person do you think could write something like that?” she asks gently, studying his reaction.

He swallows, searching for the right words, his voice barely a whisper. “Someone who knew… he’d never find peace without her.” he says, almost to himself, his gaze lingering on the scroll. “Someone… who wanted more time.”

Her eyes meet his, something unspoken passing between them, a quiet understanding that hangs thick in the air. She doesn’t say anything, but her expression shifts, her gaze softening, as if she’s sensing something she can’t quite place, something from another life pressing against the present.

In that moment, he knows he can’t tell her, can’t burden her with the weight of it all. This life may not hold the memory, the pain, the love he’d lost, but here she stands, still at his side. The universe, fate, something unknown has brought them here, and for now, in this fragile moment, it’s enough.

Sukuna’s mind swirls, each beat of his heart drumming louder against the silence that now surrounds them. The faint traces of this man’s ancient words—his promise, his plea—are scrawled on the scroll, untouched by time. 

The weight of it feels unbearable, as if this fragile piece of paper holds not just a message from the past but the entirety of his soul. He risks a glance at her, the woman with his concubine’s face, her warmth, her spirit.

She’s watching him with an intensity that pulls him back from his reverie. “I wonder if he ever found her, if he was ever reborn and given new life.” she murmurs, more to herself than to him. “If… across all that time, they somehow managed to find each other again. And are more truthful to each other. I always thought that, even when I was a child. I hoped and prayed that they found happiness together in a new life.”

Her words send a chill down his spine. He wants to tell her they did, that he’s standing here, right now, because of her. But he knows he can’t—no matter how much his heart aches to reach out, to let her in on the truth he’s carried alone for so long. The curse of knowing, of remembering, is his burden alone.

Instead, he lets his fingers drift across the edge of the scroll, keeping his gaze lowered. “Maybe he never stopped searching. Even if he is reborn. Maybe if he doesn’t remember it all. He should find her and make amends.” he says softly. “Maybe that’s why his name and his memory linger even now. So that she’ll notice. And…maybe they’ll live the way you want them to.”

She tilts her head, considering him, her smile touched with the slightest hint of sadness. “That’s a beautiful thought. Almost… almost as if he’s still out there, waiting. Even if he had to endure every lifetime alone.”

Sukuna swallows, struggling to keep his composure. “Sometimes, we don’t have a choice, about it all.” he says, his voice low. “We’re bound by memories we can’t remember, by the promises our futures will have to remake, even if we have to carry them alone.”

She studies him for a moment, her expression thoughtful, as if she’s trying to glimpse the truth beneath his words. “That sounds like something he would have said, perhaps….perhaps to her.” she murmurs, almost to herself.

The weight of her gaze feels like a hand pressing against his heart, pulling him toward her, tethering him in a way that feels more ancient than memory. But she turns her attention back to the scroll, breaking the spell, and a soft smile touches her lips as she reads the words he once wrote.

“You know,” she says after a pause, “my family used to tell stories about Sukuna. He’s more of a legend now than a real person, but there are so many conflicting tales. Some say he was ruthless, others say he was capable of great kindness. I’ve always been fascinated by that contradiction.” She glances up at him, eyes alight with curiosity. “What do you think? Was he a monster… or was he something more?”

Sukuna’s breath catches at the question, the answer sitting like a stone in his throat. How can he possibly explain that the truth was more complicated than either legend or history could capture? That he was both and neither, a man torn by his own humanity and haunted by a love he couldn’t protect?

“It’s hard to say what he was.” he answers carefully. “Maybe he was both. A monster to some, but to others… he was someone who gave everything he had. No one is….no one is truly a villain, after all.”

She nods slowly, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “I like that answer.” she says quietly. “I think we all have pieces of light and shadow inside us. Maybe he was just… someone trying to find a balance, even if he had caused so much hurt. Even if he had failed.”

The irony cuts deep, the tragic poetry of her words like salt in an old wound. Her voice is gentle, but there’s a conviction in her tone that makes his chest tighten. If she knew the truth—if she knew what he’d lost, the sacrifices he’d made—would she still look at him this way, with this soft reverence and understanding?

Lost in thought, he hardly notices her reaching for his hand. Her fingers wrap around his, warm and grounding, and he’s stunned by the simple, natural ease of her touch, as though they’ve done this a thousand times before. Her hand fits perfectly in his, and for the first time in centuries, a glimmer of hope stirs within him.

“Come with me again, stranger.” she says, leading him past the scroll and into a smaller room at the end of the hall. “There’s something else I want you to see.”

They walk in silence, and he lets her guide him, his heart racing, wondering if perhaps, just maybe, she’s starting to feel the pull too—the invisible thread binding them across lifetimes. She stops in front of a display case holding a small, intricately carved pendant, its silver chain gleaming under the soft lights.

“This pendant, it was passed down to Ryomen Chiharu, after a few years.” she says, gazing at it with a fondness that surprises him. “It belonged to her. His concubine. One of the only things she kept close to her heart.”

Sukuna stares at it, his mind reeling. The pendant was once his gift to her, that King of Curses—a token, a promise of protection. Seeing it now, preserved and cared for, feels surreal, a whisper of the life they once shared. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, his voice thick with emotion he’s barely keeping in check.

He wondered, maybe if it was the right time, the right place. If he hadn’t been so enthralled with another — maybe it would have been a match that would have ended with less pain and more joy. Perhaps if the King of Curses had found himself able to move forward, he would have been happier. Maybe his concubine would have been happier. 

But that was a thousand years ago. And humanity keeps making that same mistake. Little by little, you could find people repeating it over and over again. That makes Sukuna so bitter and sad, grievous and angry all at once. How could fate be so twisted? How could fate seem so indifferent to it all? How could…how could fate not stop such suffering of people who wish to be happy? 

“I always thought it was sad, you know?” she continued, her tone soft. “She must have known he’d never be hers completely. But she still kept this close to her heart.  Thinking of him. It’s like she never stopped hoping.”

Sukuna’s throat tightens, the weight of her words pressing into the raw ache within him. “Hope….hope is fragile.” he echoes, his voice hollow. “It can be a painful thing to carry, especially when there’s no chance of seeing it fulfilled.”

Her gaze turns up to him, searching, as though she can sense the depth of his grief but can’t name its source. “Maybe.” she says, her voice a whisper. “But sometimes… hope is all we have.”

He looks away, afraid she’ll see the truth in his eyes. He wonders if she understands, if somewhere deep down, a part of her remembers. But even if she doesn’t, he can feel her empathy, her gentle warmth reaching out to him, soothing his restless spirit.

She squeezes his hand, her touch gentle and grounding. “Thank you,” she says, smiling softly. “For listening to her story with me. I know it’s heavy, but… it’s part of our legacy, isn’t it?”

He nods, his heart raw and open, feeling the weight of the centuries fall away, even if just for this fleeting moment. It’s not enough—not enough to heal the wounds, to bring back what they’d lost—but for the first time, he feels something close to peace.

And in that silence, in her quiet smile, he dares to hope that maybe, just maybe, there will be a way to find and know each other again. She was right there. He likes to think she is. Right in front of him. There was hope, somehow. 

That she would be happy. That maybe, just maybe – he could see her smile so beautifully again. A smile that would reach all the way to her eyes and warm her face and towards the reach of all the heavens.

Sukuna stands there, his fingers still brushing the edge of the glass case, the pendant gleaming faintly beneath his touch. He feels an unfamiliar warmth stirring within him, a strange, hesitant urge for something… more, something real and tangible. He looks down at her, her expression still soft with that quiet empathy that unsettles him as much as it comforts him.

Before he can second-guess himself, he clears his throat, casting a sidelong glance her way. “Would you, uh… would you like to grab a coffee sometime?” he asks, a bit gruffly, as if trying to sound casual. “Maybe you could help me with some ideas for my art. I’m….an artist by the way. ”

The question hangs in the air between them, and for a moment, he feels exposed in a way he hasn’t in centuries, like he’s offering a piece of himself he’s long since hidden. He braces himself for rejection, for her to smile politely and turn him down.

Sukuna watches her smile, a genuine, radiant expression that spreads across her face like dawn breaking over a darkened sky. It’s infectious, igniting something deep within him, as though it was a feeling that has lain dormant for centuries beneath layers of pain and regret. 

Everything in him felt warm inside. Everything in him grasped to life, hoping that she could nourish it to last forever. Her acceptance feels like a lifeline thrown into the stormy sea of his existence, and he clings to it with a desperation he can’t quite articulate.

“Tomorrow sounds perfect, stranger.” she says, her voice a gentle balm against the jagged edges of his heart. “Oh, I should stop calling you that, shouldn’t I? My apologies, Sukuna–san. I wanted to tease you for a little more time.”

As she writes her number on a slip of paper, the world around them fades into a blur. The museum, the exhibits, the weight of history—all of it dissolves until it’s just the two of them, suspended in this fragile moment of connection.

He takes the paper from her, fingers brushing against hers for the briefest second. It sends an unexpected spark through him, and he’s momentarily lost in the warmth of her skin, the softness of her touch. He forces himself to pull away, catching her gaze again, wanting to savor the moment a little longer.

“What do you like to drink?” he asks, trying to keep the conversation going, to stretch this fleeting connection into something more tangible.

“Coffee, mostly. I love a good espresso.” she replies, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. “But I’m always open to trying new things. I’m sure the cafe will have new wonders. How about you?”

He nods, remembering the countless cups of coffee he’d consumed over the years, each one a bitter reminder of the countless sleepless nights spent alone. “I’m more of a dark roast person myself. Stronger the better.”

“Then I’ll make sure to introduce you to the best place in town. They have the most incredible brews, fit for a long suffering artist.” she says with a playful grin, and for the first time, he can’t help but smile back. It’s a small, simple thing, but it feels monumental, like a bridge forming over a chasm he thought would always divide him.

“Great….I uh….” he replies, his voice a little steadier. “I look forward to it.”

They linger for a moment, both seeming to hesitate, caught in a bubble of anticipation and something deeper that he can’t quite name. He’s never been one for lighthearted interactions, especially when it comes to connections. Yet here he is, standing before a woman who feels like a piece of his lost history, someone he feels inexplicably drawn to.

With one last lingering look, she steps back, her smile still warming the air between them. “See you soon, then, Sukuna–san.” she says, her voice light yet meaningful.

“Yeah….. I’ll see you soon.” he echoes, his heart pounding in his chest as he watches her walk away, the soft sway of her figure leaving him breathless.

As he turns to leave the gallery, the weight of the memories of a thousand years presses less heavily on him. He had left behind Sukuna's world, and birthed a new. He hopes he can. He wants to. He wants to make that woman happy. She deserves to. She deserves to be happy, in the way he couldn’t do it. He promises himself that.

For the first time, he feels a flicker of inspiration reigniting in his chest, like a spark that’s been waiting for just the right moment to burst into flame. The idea of coffee, of sharing thoughts and laughter, of discussing art with someone who understands the nuances of his legacy—it excites him in a way he hadn’t felt in what seems like an eternity. It excites him to burn with joy.

The streets outside are bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, the colors alive and vibrant, reminding him of the canvases he has yet to fill. He can almost picture it now, a new piece forming in his mind—a swirling mix of shadows and light, of loss and hope, reflecting everything that has led him to this moment.

In the days and nights that follow, he begins to sketch again. The woman’s face, a beautiful blend of familiarity and freshness, dominates the canvas, layered with strokes of longing and the bittersweet pang of memory. He paints her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and the gentle warmth that radiated from her smile.

Every brushstroke feels like a conversation, a way to weave their stories together—a blend of art, history, and the unspoken connection that binds them. The artist’s block that had once felt insurmountable begins to crumble, each session at the easel pulling him deeper into his thoughts and feelings, and farther from the suffocating grasp of despair.

He dreams of their meeting, the way her presence felt like coming home, and as their coffee date approaches, he finds himself wrapped in a mix of excitement and nerves. What would they talk about? What would she think of his art?

That evening, as he stands in front of the mirror, he catches a glimpse of himself—disheveled fuschia colored hair, weary bright scarlet eyes; but beneath it all, there’s a glimmer of something he hasn’t seen in ages: hope. A hope for the future. A hope for a new world, a new life. One that will echo years and years from now about joy.

Tomorrow, he tells himself as he brushes down his shirt, it will be different. 

Tomorrow, he’ll make her the happiest person in the world.

Tomorrow, he’ll hope that she will never have any more days to frown.

When the sun rises, he feels it all too well. There was a flutter of anticipation in his chest as he prepared to meet her. Each step feels lighter, each moment filled with possibility. The thought of sharing coffee and stories—his past entwined with hers—ignites a spark of creativity he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

As he enters the café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee envelops him, and he scans the room, searching for her familiar face. When he spots her, seated at a cozy corner table, her hair cascading softly around her shoulders, he feels a rush of warmth.

Her smile brightens the space around them, and as their eyes meet, he knows he’s ready to embrace whatever this connection holds. It’s a chance to delve deeper into their stories, to explore the tangled threads of fate that brought them together.

“Hey!” she says, her voice lighting up the air between them as he approaches. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” he replies, the weight of the past lifting as he takes a seat across from her. “So, what’s first on the menu?”

As you sit together, enveloped in the warmth of shared memories and laughter, Sukuna leans forward, his gaze both intense and gentle. The edges of his usually guarded expression soften, and the small lines near his eyes deepen with a smile that’s almost boyish.

“You know," Sukuna says, his voice low and thoughtful, “I have to say this to you… but… I never thought I’d find someone who could understand me like this. The things I’ve seen—it’s hard to explain to people who haven’t lived through the same nightmares."

He glances down at his coffee, a faint smirk on his lips. “But with you, it doesn’t feel like explaining. It’s like I’m just… remembering with someone else who was there too. This feels so natural. Between you and I.”

She smiles, feeling a warmth blossom within her. “It’s strange, isn’t it? I mean, if someone had told me even a month ago that I’d be here with you, talking like this…” She trails off, laughing softly, feeling a little lost for words. “I would’ve thought they were crazy. But here we are.”

Sukuna chuckles, the sound surprisingly warm, free of his usual biting edge. “Crazy doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He pauses, his gaze meeting hers, searching as if he’s trying to decipher something hidden. “It feels like I know you… not just from now, but from a long time ago. Almost like I was meant to find you.”

His words send a shiver through her, a feeling both comforting and unsettling in its intensity. She nods slowly, letting the feeling settle within her. “I know what you mean,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. “It’s like we’re picking up where we left off… wherever that was.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving hers. “Every lifetime,” he murmurs, as if saying it to himself. “Every single one, I think I’d find you.” His hand drifts across the table, his fingers brushing hers in a tentative, almost reverent way. “And every time, I’d be the luckiest man alive.”

She looks down at his hand, his touch grounding her. “Do you believe in that, then? In soulmates? Lifetimes together?”

He smiles, almost a little sadly, as if unsure of his own answer. “Maybe I never did before… but with you, I can’t help but think maybe I was wrong.”

A comfortable silence settles between them, the words hanging like a delicate thread binding them together. After a while, he speaks again, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You… you make me see things differently, you know that? I just met you, but I just… I think it’s meant to be.”

There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one she’d never expected to see. “Like maybe life doesn’t have to be as lonely as I thought it was. Or maybe, it just doesn’t matter, as long as I’m here… with you.”

Her heart aches at his words, sensing the pain he’s carried and the hope he’s now daring to hold onto. She laces her fingers with his, giving a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore, Sukuna-san,” she says softly. “Not as long as we have this. As long as we have each other. Maybe… maybe we’ll find something more to life together.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding. When he opens them again, there’s something raw, something almost fragile in his gaze. “I’m… I’m honored,” he whispers gently, a small smile forming on his face. “If that means I’ll be able to live by your side in this life.”

She blushes, feeling the depth of his sincerity. “I’m just as grateful, you know?”

“Thank you.” he says, the words rough, yet sincere. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“You never have to say thank you to me.” She whispered back to him, smiling even wider. “Or say sorry. Okay?”

“Okay.” He smiles back at her, almost contagiously. 

“So, do you….do you wanna watch a movie with me?”

“I’d be honored.”

In that moment, it feels as though nothing else exists—just her and him, caught in the quiet gravity of each other’s presence. 

As the sun sets outside, casting a warm glow over their table, Ryomen Sukuna feels a flicker of something he thought long extinguished. 

And as long as she’s beside him, he knows he’ll be right there with her, finding a new meaning to every breath and every heartbeat, perhaps better than he’d ever dreamed. 

After that day, Ryomen Sukuna stopped having those nightmares about that long suffering concubine.

Instead, he started to dream of a tall man and that long suffering concubine, walking away from him — smiling. Together.

══════════════════

HE WAS LUCKY HE MADE IT. He hadn’t slept much, but it was all worth it. He liked to think that he made his best gallery presentation yet. He knew she liked it just as much as he did. And that had made him even more happy. 

He wasn’t the best of storytellers, he knew that much. Writing was more or less something else to him. But, art like this? He could do it. And so, as he promised, he would make happiness appear on his canvas. He would make that concubine happy again. 

 As the evening progresses, the atmosphere in the gallery transforms, infused with a blend of excitement and reverence. Guests drift in and out, their whispers and laughter weaving a tapestry of shared appreciation for Sukuna's work. 

The vibrant energy of the space pulses with life, but at its core lies a poignant sense of introspection; a collective acknowledgment of the stories each painting holds.

Sukuna stands near the centerpiece, his gaze lingering on the depiction of himself and his concubine, locked in an eternal moment of tenderness. The hues swirl together, capturing not just their faces but the very essence of their souls; a connection that feels almost palpable. Each brushstroke is infused with the weight of longing and regret, but now, standing beside his companion, he recognizes a glimmer of hope amid the sorrow.

As the crowd ebbs and flows, Sukuna finds solace in watching her interact with the guests, her warmth radiating in waves. She engages effortlessly, sharing her thoughts on the art, her enthusiasm infectious.

He catches snippets of their conversations, her laughter ringing out like music, and he can’t help but smile at the ease with which she navigates the social landscape. It’s a stark contrast to his own guarded demeanor, and yet, her presence encourages him to lower his defenses, to engage in this world he once viewed from the shadows.

With each passing moment, Sukuna feels a shift within himself. The uncertainty that had plagued him for so long begins to dissolve, replaced by an exhilarating sense of possibility. As the crowd gradually dwindles, he glances at the painting again, his heart swelling with emotion. It’s more than just an image; it’s a testament to love that transcends time, a narrative that binds past and present.

Suddenly, he turns to find her standing close, her expression reflecting a mixture of admiration and something deeper. “You’ve poured so much of yourself into this, Sukuna.” she says softly, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. “It’s not just about the concubine; it’s about you, too. You’ve laid bare your soul.”

The intensity of her gaze sends a shiver down his spine, and he swallows hard, feeling exposed yet liberated. “I wanted to capture the essence of what we had… to honor her, in my own little ways.” he replies, his voice low and steady. “But I realize now it’s also about my journey. This is as much about my pain as it is about her love.”

She nods, her understanding palpable, and in that moment, he feels a deep connection; there was an unspoken bond that links them through shared experiences and emotions.

The weight of his past no longer feels like a burden; instead, it becomes a source of strength, a wellspring of creativity he can draw from as he embraces this new chapter in his life.

“I think you’ve done an incredible job of that, you know?” she says, her voice softening. “You’ve shown that even in our darkest moments, love remains a guiding light. It’s beautiful.”

Sukuna’s heart races at her words, and he feels a warmth blooming in his chest—a mixture of gratitude and affection. “Thank you, really.” he replies, his voice sincere. “It means a lot to hear that from you. You’ve been… a source of inspiration for me.”

Her smile deepens, and there’s a spark of something electric in the air, a subtle shift that sends his pulse racing. “I’m glad I could be here for you, you know?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s a privilege to witness your journey, to see you reclaim a sad story to a happy one.”

He looks at her, the soft glow of the gallery lights illuminating her features, and he feels a wave of emotion wash over him. For so long, he had been shackled by the weight of his past, haunted by the ghost of his concubine and the mistakes that had led to their separation. But here, in this moment, standing with her amidst the beauty of his creations, he feels the chains loosening.

“Will you stay a little longer?” he asks, almost hesitantly, fearing her response. “I’d like to talk more… about the paintings, about everything.”

Her eyes light up, and the warmth in her smile reassures him. “I’d love that.” she replies, and they find a quieter corner of the gallery, away from the remnants of the evening’s festivities.

As they settle into a cozy nook, surrounded by the lingering essence of art and history, Sukuna feels a sense of calm wash over him. The world outside fades, leaving only the two of them and the unspoken connection that has blossomed between them. 

“What do you see in these paintings?” he asks, eager to hear her perspective.

She leans forward, her gaze thoughtful. “I see love, loss, and resilience. Each piece speaks of a journey, a struggle to find beauty amidst pain. But what resonates most is the longing—the desire to reconnect with something that was lost. It’s powerful.”

He nods, her words echoing his own feelings, and as they discuss each painting in turn, he feels an exhilarating rush of creativity and clarity. The art becomes a conduit for their emotions, a way to explore the complexities of their shared experiences.

They dive deep into conversation, their voices low and intimate, each word exchanged drawing them closer together. She shares her own stories of loss and heartache, of moments when she thought she’d never find her way again. It’s a cathartic exchange, and he listens intently, captivated by her honesty and the strength she exudes.

With each revelation, Sukuna feels the walls that the King of Curses had built around himself begin to crumble. He shares his own struggles, the weight of his legacy, and the guilt that had shadowed him for centuries.

And perhaps, redemption may soon come for him in love.  In this safe space, he finds himself opening up that man, that myth, that curse,  in ways he never thought possible, unearthing emotions he had long buried. 

The night wears on, and as the last of the guests trickle out, the gallery transforms into a cocoon of intimacy. It’s just him and her, surrounded by the echoes of their stories, and for the first time in ages, he feels a sense of belonging—a connection that transcends time and pain.

“I never thought I could feel this way again.” he admits, his voice thick with emotion. “After everything I’ve lived through… I thought I’d lost the ability to truly connect with anyone.”

She reaches out, her hand brushing against his in a gentle, reassuring gesture. “You haven’t lost that ability, Sukuna. You’ve just been waiting for the right moment, the right person….the right time.” she says, her gaze steady and filled with warmth. “I’m here now, and I want to be part of your journey.”

The sincerity in her words washes over him, and in that moment, he knows he’s found something rare—a connection that has the potential to redefine his understanding of love, art, and the future. The vulnerability he feels is both terrifying and exhilarating, but he knows he’s ready to embrace it.

As the last notes of music drift into silence and the soft, warm lights dim, the two of them sit close, hands intertwined, surrounded by the vibrant, intimate world he has created.

Each painting on the wall, each sculpture in the dim light feels like a memory brought to life, and she feels him relax beside her, the weight of his past somehow easing with each quiet heartbeat.

His thumb gently strokes her hand, and in that small, tender motion, she feels him say more than words ever could. With her here, in this sanctuary he’s built out of his own creativity and passion, he’s no longer the solitary figure haunted by shadows. He’s simply a man who has finally, against all odds, found someone who can see past his darkness and anchor him in light.

As they stand to leave, his gaze drifts to one of his portraits—a work that captures a moment from another time, another life. In it, the King of Curses sits beside his beloved concubine, her expression full of light and laughter, radiant in a way that suggests an unbreakable bond. 

Ryomen Sukuna pauses, his hand still entwined with hers, and a rare, gentle smile crosses his face.

Looking at the painting, he lets himself hope, just a little. Perhaps, even in a world he once saw as cold and unyielding, there are threads of something beautiful woven into his story. Perhaps, even for someone like him, there could be a happy ending, one he’d never dared to imagine.

He leans down and whispers softly, almost as if confessing a secret. “I like to think they found each other again, you know? That somehow… this time, they got to be happy.”

She squeezes his hand, her eyes shining with warmth and understanding. “I like to think that too.” she replies gently, her voice full of affection.

They walk out together, the cool night air surrounding them as they leave his art behind. And as he catches her smile, he feels his heart swell with gratitude and a strange sense of peace.

For once, he isn’t looking back, haunted by the ghosts of what once was. Instead, he’s looking forward—toward a future that, with her beside him, feels so much brighter than he ever thought possible.

In his heart, he offers a silent prayer, hoping that they’ll continue to find each other, in this life and in all the ones to come. And as they disappear into the night, hands intertwined, this Ryomen Sukuna hopes that the King of Curses finally allows himself to believe that, this time, happiness might be his after all.

══════════════════

THERE WOULD BE NO MEMORY OF THIS WHEN HE’S REBORN. Ryomen Sukuna knows that much. That is the will of the unknown, of the gods unseen and unheard. He does not care much about the propriety of the accuracy. Why should it matter what their name is? He was dead, why should he care?  

In the stillness of the afterlife, everything feels suspended, timeless. Everything was not what he had expected. Long ago, he had resigned himself to the thought that a final death would lead to the depths of burning inferno. And yet, it was not. He was stuck in a journey, a journey that continuously repeats over and over again. 

He does not know what those gods intended with that. What was the purpose designed by the gods? What was the purpose of this journey? He had asked himself that for hundreds of years, walking and walking like the pilgrim he was and yet without end in sight. There was no road that was left to find a stop.

Perhaps, that is until now.

Ryomen Sukuna was the first to notice.

There was a wide shoji that appeared before them.

Ryomen Hiromi was quite unsure about what that was all about. But when she stepped right in front of it, the field protecting it had barred her from even touching it. She pursed her lips in a flat line. This door was not one for her to enter. 

And she probably had already known that. Looking at him with those knowing purple eyes, she knew that it was not for her. It was for him. The gods had sent him a path, and it was not to be with her. It was a road for him to take, a road that was for him. Only him.

He took a short step towards it and allowed his hands to feel the space occupied by the massive wooden shoji. His touch could pierce its space. It was truly for him. There was no mistake in that. Uraume looked at him with a tense uncertainty. His most loyal Uraume is quite that timid  child, still. Just as when Sukuna had met them years and years ago. 

For a moment, it reminded him of Chizuru. That gentleness of that youth, that tenderness of youth. He could only see his little one. The little one that he misses most. His soul is already at peace, and perhaps Sukuna would never see him again. 

He doesn’t deserve to. He wasn’t a good father to him. But moments like this, it gives him relief. Even if Chizuru didn’t need him anymore, then someone else did. And that someone still needed him. Even if he wasn’t the person suited to be needed.

Sukuna looked down at them, and then nodded reassuringly. Uraume reached forward and gasped. Their touch too pierced through its barrier. Of course, Sukuna thought to himself. Uraume tied their entire life to him.

They were one in the same. The loyal servant cannot live without the master. No, no. Sukuna corrects himself. There was always a need for someone. People will always need people.

He stands there idly as Ryomen Hiromi stood beside him, though keeping a distance. Everything around them had grown brighter. Brighter than before. All that surrounded them had been bathed in a soft, eternal light that neither burns nor fades. 

This place, this moment, is for closure—a place where the bonds of the past can either linger or be released. A purgatory for souls, sinner or not. All souls look the same to the gods. Well, that’s what Hiromi had told him.

Sukuna’s gaze rests on Hiromi, taking in the warmth in her expression, the calmness in her presence. Even here, she glows with an inner light that he has always cherished. Serene as the moonlight, as mellow as the clouds. 

There had always been a quiet grace that no one could replicate. He had known that in his long lifetime. And for as long as he had lived, he thought that his job had been to protect it. To protect her. No matter what, with everything in him —  even if it often meant tearing down the world around him.

For a long while, they simply stand together, the weight of their shared history resting between them. A thousand years, feeling even more than that, reflected in the understanding that came in the silence. He had known her too well, she had known him too well.

There was nothing left between them. Only knowing. And perhaps, that’s why it wouldn’t have ever worked. He thinks about that. Knowing someone, even too well, will never truly be living a life with them. 

There was too much he did not know about her life. There was much she did not know about his own. They had lived lives that grew out of their tender love. People who loved each other so much, that they risked everything in the world — finally became two boats in the night waiting for each other to pass. 

Perhaps that’s all that there could be, he thinks about it now. No matter how much he loved her, no matter how much he still does love  her — they were parallel lines. Right people, wrong place. Right place, wrong time. 

That in itself was hard to admit, he knows that. He always has. But it was hard to say. It was hard to accept. Perhaps it always will be. Yet there is so much more beyond that grief of something already lost. Of life already lived and passed by. No matter how much he wants to follow Ryomen Hiromi with all the love in his heart, with all the devotion given from all his life, there will always be fate. And fate knows better than he. 

As much as he tries, he was not a god.

He will never be one, he has tried to be.

He was just a sinner, a cruel cursed sinner.

Taking a deep breath, Sukuna speaks, his voice soft, yet resolute. "I can feel it, Hiromi." he says, looking down at his feet. “Somewhere out there……..I am soon to be reborn. Soon….I must enter this door.”

Ryomen Hiromi’s face softens, and a knowing smile tugs at her lips. She tilts her head, teasing, but with a hint of sadness that she can’t entirely hide. How could she? Ryomen Sukuna was her person. He was her family. Her dearest friend, her confidant.  The man she loved, still does love. The love of her life. 

But she knew that he was not yet ready. Perhaps he will never be ready to move forward like this. There was much tying him to the world of the living. To the earthly life. And she knew it wouldn't be her. It will never be her. 

She could see it in the corner of his scarlet eyes. He too had lived a life. He had moved on. And he wants to see that loved one again. He wants to return. Even if he does not know it. He wants to see that smile on her face again.

"So, you’ll stop following me now, huh?"

He chuckles, the sound quiet, almost reverent, as he brings her hand to his chest. "I’ll love you most in the world, you know that.” he murmurs, each word weighed with truth. “You were the part of me that was good, Hiromi. Everything I am….was because of you.”

She looks at him, shaking her head. She remains smiling. “Endless flattery is not your style.”

His eyes warmed towards her. “It is not flattery if it's true. You know that most. I do not lie, not easily. Not without reason.”

“I know.” She huffs back in response, her eyes lowered to the floor. “I know you too well.”

“I need to go. You know that. There are still…..too much left undone. I have a lot to make amends for, things I must repair.” His voice grows steady, almost solemn. “I need to start with someone else I love. Someone who’s waiting, on the other side of the shore.”

Hiromi’s gaze flickers, her surprise shifting to understanding. There’s a light in her bright purple eyes, a pride that only deepens as she studies his face. For a moment, she wondered when he had grown up. When had he aged this well, lived this well. A part of her mourns the things they never saw. But she knew it was too late. He had someone else waiting to see those sides of him now. 

“I always hoped you’d find something worth living for, beyond me. Beyond our clan. Beyond Jujutsu.” she says, her words carrying an emotion he hadn’t expected. She laughs. “You’ve done well, Sukuna. I know you would. And now you’re better at admitting your faults. You’ve….you’ve truly grown up! Father and uncle would be so glad to see it, don’t you think?”

The weight of her words settles deeply into him, her silent devotion across lifetimes coming into sharp focus. Ryomen Sukuna closes his eyes, feeling the immensity of all that they’ve shared, all that he’s never truly expressed. 

“There’s still much for me to set right, Hiromi.” He looks at her, his expression softening as he finally speaks the words he’s never quite managed to say before. “But the love we shared… It's the best part of me. It’s the part of me I want to carry into the next life. Everything you taught me, it will be for the better.”

A soft laugh escapes her once more, and she shakes her head as if she’s hearing a promise she’s waited lifetimes for him to make. Her hand reaches up, gentle, almost motherly, as she brushes a stray hair back from his face. Leaning in, she presses a delicate kiss to his cheek. 

“You don’t have to say anything else. I’ve always known you loved me.” She pulls back slightly, her hand lingering against his face. “I’ll always love you too, Sukuna. But we have different lives now. Paths that aren’t tied together anymore. No paths are bound, after all. Isn’t that what was taught?” 

Her words are tender but firm, and he nods, finally accepting what she’s known all along. “I know.” he whispers, the smile on his face tinged with the bittersweet ache of goodbye. “But I think I’ll be alright, night flower. I’ve found something, someone… who I believe can make me better. She’s out there, waiting.”

For a moment, she could feel her heart shatter. In that moment, to remember what he had called her. With those words, with that tone of finality. With that tone of farewell. She could feel the warmth of water echo through her eyes. But she tries to make sure they do not pour. Those tears shouldn’t be poured. Not for him. He does not need it. She must send him happily. She must send him off with a smile. A good farewell.

Hiromi pulls away, her hand slipping from his, though her gaze remains fixed on him with a profound love and pride. Her bright eyes gleamed at him, even brighter than before. She smiles at him, though he could notice how tight it was. No matter how happy she is for him — she will mourn. She can’t help it. 

“Then, I want you to find her, hm?” she says softly, the conviction in her voice like a benediction. “Find her and find your happiness, the kind that lasts. The kind that you finally deserve.”

He nods, and there’s a rare, open softness in his expression, a gratitude as deep as the ages they’ve spent together. He takes a good look at her, as though he was memorizing this moment. For as long as it still lasts, he wants to remember it. He wants to remember her, giving her blessing. 

“Then, I’ll go, nightflower.” he says, his voice low and filled with purpose. “I’ll find her… and try to live the life I dreamed of with you.”

Hiromi smiles gently, and with one last lingering look, she turns to leave, pausing only to say. “Someday, I hope to meet her too—the one who brought you peace. Bring her back with you. So that I may thank her for taking care of you.”

He nodded at her. He takes a deep breath as he lowers his gaze and sees Uraume looking at him, as though asking for courage. Sukuna takes Uraume’s hand and tightly grips it, but is careful not to hurt them. A ghostly smile appears on his face, beaming it towards them. 

Uraume could feel their eyes glisten as they felt the warmth of that smile. Uraume could feel warmth in them, tenderness — tenderness that molds their will to live with courage. Sukuna turns his head slightly, looking at Hiromi. His smile gets wider, and becomes more honest than before. She smiled at him, waving him off. 

As he and Uraume walked towards the shoji, Ryomen Hiromi knew that she too has to move away. Ryomen Sukuna slowly watches her walk away into the path of light, alone, feeling the weight of a thousand lifetimes lifting from his shoulders. He could feel his breath hitch as he watches her walk away, perhaps for the final time, perhaps until they get reborn again. 

If you were not waiting for him, if he had not met you, if he had not loved you — perhaps he would have turned away from these doors and moved towards the path of life and rejected rebirth. He would have let his soul rest in peace for all of time. But he knows that he was no longer that person anymore. He wanted to move forward. He wanted to break the cycle. He wanted to be with you.

Ryomen Sukuna is ready to face the world again, this time with a purpose that is as clear as the love he feels for the woman he will now seek.  He must atone. He must live a new life. He must make you happy. 

Both of you will be happy, he knows that. And as he steps forward, towards his own rebirth, he carries her blessings, his heart finally open to the happiness he had once believed was out of reach. He will live it now. He will atone, he will find redemption. He will make you happy.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘..?

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Your worst fears come true when you realize Sirius and Remus didn't want kids.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ��: Talk about pregnancy, pregnant!reader

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Wolfstar x reader

The early afternoon sun was streaming through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the cozy living room as you lounged on the couch, legs draped over Sirius’ lap, Remus sipping tea from his spot on the chair beside you. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through Sirius’ hair, watching him lean into the touch, his smirk softening into something more vulnerable. Remus caught the slight shift in your expression before you even realized it was happening.

You had been thinking about this moment for days now—wondering if it was the right time to bring it up. But after spending the past week with Lily and seeing her excitement over Harry growing inside her, the yearning in your heart had only intensified. You could practically feel it in your bones now.

"Hey," you started, a little softer than usual, catching both their attention. "What do you two think about having kids?"

There was a beat of silence that followed, their reactions not immediate, which only made your heart race a little faster. Sirius quirked an eyebrow, his usual cocky grin flickering into something more unsure. Remus stiffened ever so slightly, and you noticed his fingers tighten around his mug, the faintest of trembles in his hand.

“K-kids?” Sirius echoed, the words like a foreign concept in his mouth. He glanced at Remus, the two sharing a look that wasn’t lost on you.

“Y-yeah,” Remus began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t think that’s the best idea right now.”

Your stomach dropped, the air growing heavier. You tried to play it off, giving a weak laugh. "Oh, alright. No worries, I was just—just curious."

But the lump in your throat betrayed you. There was a beat too long of quiet and you suddenly remembered how suffocating the room felt.

“Oh! Actually, I—I forgot,” you stumbled over your words, pulling your legs off Sirius and standing up quickly. “I was supposed to meet Lily and James today.”

Remus furrowed his brow, a hint of concern crossing his features. “Are you okay?”

You waved him off, grabbing your jacket and trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I’ll see you later.”

The second you were outside, the cool autumn air hit your face, and your resolve shattered. Hot tears pricked at your eyes as you made your way to Lily and James’ house. How could they not understand? How could they not even entertain the idea?

James opened the door with his usual wide grin, though it faltered the moment he saw the state you were in. “Hey—whoa, what’s wrong?”

You managed a wobbly smile before your face crumpled. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

Without another word, James pulled you inside, calling for Lily. “Lils! We’ve got a situation here.”

Lily appeared moments later, cradling her swollen belly, her face lighting up with concern. “Oh, love. What happened?”

You collapsed onto the couch, and it all came pouring out—how you had asked Sirius and Remus about kids, how they had dismissed the idea like it was nothing, and how much it hurt because you already knew deep down that something was different.

“They don’t want kids,” you sobbed into your hands, feeling utterly lost. “And I just—what if they never want them? I can’t wait forever, and—"

“But do they need to want them now?” James asked, trying to make sense of your outburst.

You didn’t respond, just cried harder, until Lily placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. Her eyes softened as the realization dawned on her. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, kneeling in front of you. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

Her words sliced through the fog in your mind, and you dissolved into fresh sobs, unable to deny it any longer.

James’ eyes widened in disbelief as he sat down beside you. “Bloody hell.”

For the next few days, you stayed with James and Lily, hiding away from the world—and from Sirius and Remus. Every time they sent an owl, you ignored it. Every time they came by, you pretended you weren’t home. You couldn’t bear to face them. What if they were never ready? What if this dream of yours was something they’d never want to share?

Back at home, Sirius paced anxiously while Remus stared out the window, worry etched into every line of his face.

“She’s avoiding us,” Sirius growled, frustration bubbling to the surface. “What the hell did we do?”

Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It was the question. We brushed it off like it didn’t matter, but it did.”

“We can’t be ready for something like that,” Sirius muttered, his voice low. “I can’t—what if I’m like him? What if I’m just like my father?”

Remus set his mug down, his eyes clouding with his own fears. “And what if—what if it’s a full moon and the baby—what if it’s like me?”

They sat in silence, haunted by their shared doubts and insecurities, until it hit them both like a lightning bolt.

“Oh,” Sirius whispered, eyes wide. “She wasn’t asking for ‘someday.’ She was asking for now.”

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on James and Lily’s door again, only this time you couldn’t ignore it.

James opened it, looking between Sirius and Remus with a mixture of relief and exasperation. “Took you long enough,” he muttered, stepping aside to let them in.

They found you in the sitting room, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around you like a shield. You didn’t look up when they entered, but you felt their presence immediately.

“Love,” Sirius started softly, coming to sit beside you while Remus hovered nearby. “We… we’ve been absolute idiots.”

You sniffled, keeping your gaze on your lap. “You think?”

Sirius winced. “Yeah, we do.”

Remus crouched in front of you, his eyes pleading. “We didn’t realize what you were trying to tell us. We didn’t understand.”

“And now that you do?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What then?”

Sirius reached for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “Now we tell you that we’re scared. Terrified, even. But we want this. We want a family with you.”

Remus nodded, his voice soft but steady. “We don’t have all the answers. But we’ll figure it out—together. We’re ready, if you are.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from hurt. They were from hope, from the overwhelming love you had for these two men who, despite their fears, were willing to take this leap with you.

You let out a shaky breath, a small smile tugging at your lips as you whispered, “I think we’re going to be alright.”

And in that moment, with Sirius’ arms wrapped around you and Remus’ hand resting protectively on your stomach, you believed it. You were going to be more than alright.

You were going to be a family.

[rae-writes]

colored lenses

om brothers x reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : nsfw under the cut

synopsis : they say the eyes are the doorway to ones soul, and if that’s the case, yours must be intertwined with his, no?

a/n : nooo, asmo’s part was not rushed, I don’t know what you’re talking about-

Lucifer 

He’d seen a flash of it before- a quick glimmer of midnight blue in your eyes before it was gone

He never thought anything of it though, not until he saw it fully 

Diavolo had been going over everyone’s midterm grades and was congratulating you on your scores 

Lucifer noticed your typical polite smile as you waved off his praise, but his eyes were trained on how your hues lit up bright, prideful blue 

It made his mouth go dry; he was in awe

Subtlety, he’ll begin complimenting you more on the things you do so he can see that riveting shock of color

Mammon

On rare occasions do your eyes flash his pretty yellow, but the first time he saw it sent him reeling 

The two of you were having a gaming competition with Levi and you’d finished first. “W-what?! Alright, best 3 out of 4! Winner gets a prize!” 

Mammon was about to refuse, knowing he didn’t stand a chance at Devilkart if Levi was playing, but-

“Hell yeah, you’re on!” Grinning determinedly, your eyes flickered with golden yellow 

The second born almost passed away on the spot

He might’ve gotten a bit more greedy seeing the sin on you, and fuck, did you look like a gem with it 

Levi

Levi saw your eyes flash the colors of his brothers’ power from time to time, but given his sin, he didn’t mind the lack of seeing his own

He didn’t know how thrilling it could be though

You two had been out in town when he got stopped by a very flirty demon. He was too busy trying to get out of the conversation— he didn’t even realize…

When he glanced over at you for help, his body heated considerably at the sight of your eyes flashing a toxic orange 

If he wasn’t so familiar with the sin he’d be sweating, but you make it look heavenly 

Envy might not be a good feeling, but it’s a good look on you

Satan

The fourth born had felt your rage rise and simmer many times before

Being able to physically see it was a whole other experience he didn’t know he needed in life

Another rowdy night at the dinner table- typical - but you had a migraine and had asked the boys to stop five times now

It’s safe to say you were a bit pissed, and Satan knew it. When he glanced up, though, all thoughts of scolding his brothers went away 

You sat there with your jaw clenched, eyes twinkling with wrath green. It was gorgeous. 

Satan finds himself craving the look of his wrath on you, however he wouldn’t want his sin to trouble you too often

Asmo ; suggestive

Ohh when he discovered this little addition to having a pact with them, Asmo dreamed about seeing it every night (and got a little jealous when he saw his brothers’ colors instead)

He just needed to practice a little patience though

Upon Diavolo’s insistence, the student council was treated to drinks at the fall, and Asmo was already a little buzzed when he dragged you to dance 

Body grinding against yours, he turned towards you in hopes of stealing a kiss- only to see a shock of pink in your irises

Heat shot through Asmo immediately; he couldn’t keep his hands to himself after that

More, more, more! Asmo adores seeing his sin on you and he doesn’t mind begging for it either

Beel

There were many times when he thought he saw a peak of red in your eyes as the two of you got food, but he always brushed it off as a trick of the lighting 

It was only until you had to skip breakfast and lunch one day did Beel realize ‘oh’

You were leaning against him as you walked to Hell’s Kitchen, grumbling and complaining loudly

At Beel’s offer to carry you, you glanced up pitifully, showing the red hue bleeding into the color of your eyes

His own eyes widened, cheeks beginning to flush a deep pink

While he never wants you to go hungry, he doesn’t mind admitting that seeing his red on you is pleasing

Belphie 

Soft waves of purple inside sleep riddled eyes were something Belphie saw often and loved every time he did 

The first time was special, though. Right after you’d come back to the Devildom the first time, saddled in his arms after so long of him not having you 

Sleepy you and even sleepier Belphie, but he wasn’t too out of it to miss the gentle light of purple 

He was confused at first, but the familiar color shocked him awake and his heart nearly beat out of his chest 

Sloth. His sloth. Showing up in you like it was the most natural thing in the 3 realms. He liked it better on you. 

Even more than before, Belphie begs to sleep or nap with you— he needs to see it happen again and again

nsfw ver.

Lucifer 

Tensions high and adrenaline running through your and his veins like lightning 

Diavolo was due to come for a meeting in no more than 10 minutes

You knew that. Lucifer knew that. Yet you were still on your knees, tongue swirling around the head of his cock while you peered up at him through your lashes 

His head was thrown back, eyes clenched, trying to compose himself— you didn’t like that. You wanted his attention. 

Humming, you dug your nails into the exposed skin of his thigh, fighting back a grin when his head snapped up

Ruby hues narrowed down at you, ready to scold when the words died in his throat 

The color of your irises had been completely taken over by his blue, shining with pride at the situation you had him in 

Gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to moan, he chose to growl instead and thrust into your mouth sharply, smirking when the blue shone brighter at the taste of his cum

“Proud to be mine, Mc?” 

Mammon

“Harder!” 

Mammon gasped, hips following your order smoothly, “H-hah..what has gotten into you today?”

You whined as you pulled him closer, choosing not to answer in favor of burying your face in his neck 

The moment he had walked through the door, you were all over him, begging and pleading to have him (which he’d never say no to) 

“Mc-“ he tugged your head back by your hair, a sharp moan instantly following when he saw your eyes; shimmering greed in the form of yellow 

Picking up the pace, Mammon held your head up by your jaw, demanding you keep your pretty eyes on him 

Murmurs of ‘mine’ and ‘’s pretty f’me’ left him as he filled you up, watching the yellow flash gold

“Again. Wan’ more, Mammon- more of you.”

His own greed flared, making your pact burn pleasantly, “That’s right, Mc, show me your greed.”

Levi

You wanted Levi’s attention and you wanted it now but he was too caught up in the new official Ruri-Chan illustrations (with special outfits too)

Glaring at his back, you could feel magic pooling in your irises 

“Levi.” Without waiting for a response, you yank his chair back and fiddle with his pants, “Give me attention.” 

“Mc-!” He gaped as you took his cock in your hands, tail whipping out to wrap around your waist when you sheathed him fully inside 

His eyes shot up to meet yours, wanting to ask what all this was about, when the air practically left him 

There you were, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, and eyes still glaring down at him- only this time they were orange 

Levi whined loudly, hips involuntarily raising you up before he settled back down again, keen on letting you fuck him however you pleased 

And fuck him you did, one hand tangling in his hair while the other rested against the base of his neck, hips not stopping their movements even after he’d already spilled inside you

“Quell my envy, Levi.”

Satan

You and Satan had gotten into a small dispute, but the feel of his anger coursing through your pact made you angry

Arms wrapped around your waist, lithe fingers gripping your hips hesitantly, but firmly, “I apologize. Shall we take some time to cool off?” 

“I think we can cool each other off.” You glanced up with newly green hues, eyes narrowing involuntarily

Satan’s lips parted and he immediately grabbed you up and pressed you against one of the bookshelves, fiddling with your clothes until he was lined up and pressing into you 

He set a hard, furious pace instantly, “How is it that you manage to be the one that calms me down and makes me so mad I can’t think, hm?” 

You did nothing but tug at his blonde locks, bright green becoming darker as the seconds pass

And despite loving the neon color on you, Satan can’t help but coo at the sight of it fading— all because of him fucking it out of you

“Kiss.” 

His own wrath faded down to nothing, lips covering yours softly as he held you close while you both finished together. “Calm the savage beast, yeah?”

Asmo

“C’mon, sweetheart, lemme see it- please? Pretty, pretty, pretty please? Show it to me.” 

Asmo curled his fingers up just right, sending your body lurching in its chair and your eyes shooting open wide 

“There it is…” alluring pink encased your irises, sending Azzy’s eyes flashing pink in return 

Gasping, your eyes darted around until they landed on the self-satisfied expression your lover wore— you grinned

The phantom feeling of fingers pushing inside him made Asmo squeal, jumping up from his spot in surprise 

With eyes now glowing a neon shade, you stared down at him while bucking your hips, “What’s the matter? Why’d you stop- was feeling so good.” 

He gaped- you were using magic to mimic touching him. “Naughty~” 

The two of you refused to let up until he’d came all over your lower half and your cum covered his fingers— and both your eyes were literally glowing

“Not done yet, darling~ let’s see if the pink can drown out the whites of your eyes too~” 

Beel

“Mmph— hey…” Beel frowned, visibly deflating when you pushed his head out from between your legs, “‘m hungry…”

You kept pushing until he was flat on his back, “Me too.” 

Heat shot straight to his cock- which you were pawing at- from the look you gave him; your irises were red

And he didn’t fully understand right away, not even when you settled on top of his face while also wrapping your lips around him 

“w’nna taste y’too.” 

Beel complied eagerly though, burying his face back in his spot while he tried not to thrust his hips 

Only when you began quickening your ministrations with a muffled “give it t’me, beelie, ‘m hungry— wan’ it, wan’ y’r cum” did he click the pieces together 

And though he tried not to, his hips stutter and thrust up, following your lead until he’s filling your mouth

Practically in awe at the way you don’t waste a drop, his sin cracks through his body- sending it flaring up in your own. “Again. ‘M still hungry, Mc..don’t you want more too?” 

Belphie

Choked whines echoed in the attic, turning into embarrassed stuttering when you suddenly shifted and slid into his lap sluggishly 

“Why didn’t you just ask for-“ you paused to yawn, “-help?” peering down at him with a purple glow, your hand replaced his on his cock

Belphie was basically speechless, watching you tiredly jerk him off before shuffling, working on getting your clothes out of the way

“W-wait! You don’t have to- ah!” 

You sunk down comfortably, rocking back and forth at a leisure pace while stifling another yawn. “Help, please.” 

His hips began moving before you could even say ‘please’, hands trailing under your shirt

“‘S good to me, my favorite human, makes me feel s’good—“ Belphie broke off with a moan, clamping his eyes shut at the embarrassing ‘ah, ah, ah’s that were leaving his mouth

The slow buildup was setting both your senses on fire, but you stopped him from moving faster (making him whine louder). “Slow, Bel…’m tired.”

[lovelyverosika]

You didn’t know but with a twist

Hazbin Hotel! Adam x Fem!Reader

Warning: swearing

A/N: Hey<3 My name is Verosika and I’ll write fanfictions whenever I have the time to :) This is my first time writing one, so it’s based on the song "You didn’t know" to make it easier for me. Just to let you know english isn’t my first language..so be prepared for some grammar mistakes :,D

Y/N POV:

We all sat in the courtroom, waiting for the trail to begin. Next to me was my husband Adam and Lute. I wasn’t supposed to be here but Adam wanted me to hear the "childish" and unrealistic ideas of the princess of hell.

After everyone was here Sera spoke "We're gathered here today to determine whether or not a soul in Hell, can be redeemed into heavenly realm by means of this 'Hazbin hotel', Princess Morningstar?",Sera said wanting Charlie to speak up.

I looked down to Charlie,my head resting on Adam’s shoulder. "Webster's dictionary defines redemption as-" before Charlie could speak Adam interrupts her: "Objection, lame and unoriginal". I sighed at his immature behaviour and gave him a slight bump with my head.

Charlie was flipping through her cards making Adam roll his eyes. "If you have actually evidence, then show it already." He said,glaring at Charlie. "We have two patrons already they’re making incredible progress" Charlie defended and I smiled, "Who?", I asked. "Angel Dust" Charlie spoke. "Oh yeah, the pornstar demon" Adam snickered as he added. "He's totally worth being redeemed".

Suddenly Monika,another demon stood up. "Well then, if you know so much…what do you think it takes to get into heaven?",she spoke. It was quiet until I asked if Adam was okay. He scoffed as he pulled out a golden paper from his pockets and a pen, "Give me a fucking moment, okay?",he then started writing and gave me the paper as I read it out, "Act selfless, don't steal, stick it to the man?", I chuckled looking at him with an raised eyebrow. He shrugged "Uh, yeah? Sure got me here...didn't it?",he said seemingly questioning himself. Sera sighed before saying: "He was the first human soul in heaven."

In the following hours Charlie showed us the improvement of this demon called Angel dust and how he did everything what Adam wrote on his list but nothing happened. Sera only sighed as she wanted to declare the trail as failed and that we will see what brings someone to heaven when the first soul arrives. I sat there with my head hanging. I felt bad for keeping my secret,especially when I looked over to Emily,who held the paper that Adam had written earlier.

Emily: But she was right, Sera. She showed us a soul can improve. He saw the light, Sera. Checked all the boxes that you said would prove a person deserves a second chance. Now we turn our backs, no second glance?

Sera: It's not as simple as you think. Not everything is spelled in ink.

Charlie: It's not fair, Sera!

Vaggie: Careful, Charlie, keep a cool head.

Charlie: No! Don't you care, Sera? That just because someone is dead, it doesn't mean they can't resolve to change their ways turn the page, escape infernal blaze.

Y/N: I'm sure you wish it could be so. But there's a lot that you don't know.

Lute: What are we even talkin' about? Some crack-whore who fucked up already? He blew his shot, like the cocks in his mouth. This discussion is senseless and petty.

Lute & Adam: There's no question to be posed!He's unholy, case closed. Did you forget that Hell is forever?

Adam: A man only lives once, we'll see you in one month. Gotta say, I can't wait to…

Y/N: Adam…

Adam: Come down and exterminate you.

Emily: Wait!

Adam: Shit…

Emily: What are you saying? Let me get this straight…You go down there and kill those poor souls?

Charlie & Y/N: You didn’t know?

Adam: Whoops

Lute: Guess the cat’s out of the bag.

Adam: What’s the big deal?

Emily: Sera, tell me that you didn't know…

Sera: I thought, since I'm older it's my load to shoulder

Emily: No!

Sera: You have to listen, it was such a hard decision. I wanted to save you, the anguish it takes to do what was required.

Emily: To think that I admired you, well I don't need your condescension. I'm not a child to protect! Was talk of virtue just pretension? Was I too naive to expect you to heed the morals you're purveying?

Charlie: That's what the fuck I've been saying!

Emily,Charlie & Monika: If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie! If angels can do whatever, and remain in the sky. The rules are shades of gray, when you don't do as you say. When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again.

Monika: Don't you act all high and mighty!Adam did you ever think your "sweet" wife might be a liar?

Y/N: Huh? Wait no…please!

Monika: Don’t be such a crybaby! Why hide the fact that you were a demon just like us?

Part 2

[internet1girl]

Chapter 6: Crazed.

Pairing: Johnny Cage x Fem!Reader

Summary: Uh oh! Looks like you came into contact with something in that lab…

Word count: 7.3k

Warnings/Notices: named!reader, violence, fighting, angst (can you guys tell that i love angst), annoying johnny, sexually suggestive, a few curse words here and there

First Chapter / Previous Part / Next Part

A/N: a short(er) chapter yayyy

“What the FUCK!!?” Johnny screamed, his voice echoing around the surrounding hills. He had to take a step back because Jesus Christ… this was the most gruesome thing he had ever seen.

You pushed yourself up off of the ground, taking on a feral fighting stance as you turned to face your terrified companions. What was once a beautiful, human woman was now a Tarkatan beast. When you pricked your finger on that spike in Shang Tsung’s laboratory, it must’ve been laced with that Tarkat infection. Your overheated temperature, your foggy mind, your sudden onslaught of bizarre hunger, all of it was the Tarkat in your system taking hold.

You were growling at them now, baring your large and jagged teeth. Your mind was completely overtaken by the virus running through your body. You didn’t see Johnny and Geras as your partners anymore - no, you now saw them as food.

“Holy-“ Johnny tried to speak but was cut off. A loud, threatening growl from your infected self was enough to make him back up by multiple feet. His eyes were fixed on you. His mind was still trying to comprehend what was currently in front of him, that being… well… you.

You turned to him, taking your time in looking him up and down, eyeing your meal.

“Your blood, I smell ittttt…” You snarled, rolling your head and opening your split, mutated jaw momentarily. “How sweet it will be to lick off my fingerssss…”

This was not the same you that Johnny knew. This wasn’t the same smart, strong-willed woman who argued with him, or went against his words. This was a mindless beast that only desired one thing: his flesh. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God…” He continued backing away, not daring to take his eyes off of you for a second. This has to be a dream, right? It has to be…

Even the horses at the front of the carriage were freaking out, they were visibly stirring in their spot at the sight before them. Geras, however, was still thinking critically. He refused to let his fear overwhelm him. He knew what to do, how to proceed.

“Keep her occupied.” He turned to Johnny, deadly serious. “I know what to do.”

The last thing he expected to hear was that. “Keep her occupied”? How the hell was that going to be possible? But, as terrified and confused as he was, Johnny was trying his best to keep his cool. 

“Yeah…yeah, I’ll keep her busy.” He hesitantly nodded, his voice shaky.

With that, Geras quickly walked away, sprinting for behind the carriage, teleporting away in a stream of golden light. He was going back to Sun Do, back to the Palace, to find a cure for the virus in your veins.

Johnny was now left all alone with a Tarkat-crazed you, as scary as it sounded. Taking a page out of Geras’ book, he swallowed his fear and bravely took on a fighting stance, just in case you lunged at him.

And lunge at him you did.

You took out your bō staff, equipping it with a grunt as you rushed to your terrified partner, green streaks flying through the air. Your bō produced a dreadful swinging sound as you aimed for the crown of Johnny’s head, just barely missing.

You were one of Liu Kang’s best assassins. There were a multitude of reasons why he was so fond of you. Your bōjutsu prowess was extraordinary; the Fire God had come across very few people in his long lifespan that exceeded your talents in martial arts. Even with the crazed state that you were currently in, you were still quick, fast and very strong.

For Johnny to see a version of you that still possessed your kombat, but with the strength and ferocity of a Tarkatan, it was frightening, there was no other word for it. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that the monster attacking him was, in fact, you.

Unlike your human self, Tarkatan you fought like a wild animal. You were wildly swinging your staff at your partner, who was just barely able to dodge your incoming attacks. Your bō was coming at him at insane speeds, one end of it slammed into the side of the carriage at one point, the loud clang that emanated from the contact made Johnny literally yelp out in fear. None of the grace or elegance that you always carried was present, the brutality of your bōjustu was in overdrive. Your sole intention was to chop your next meal up into pieces.

He had just dodged one of your swings when an opening presented itself. Instead of counterattacking, he opted to grab your right hand and disarm you. Johnny forcefully loosened your grip on your staff, the weapon dropping to the ground with a slight clang. Not missing a beat, he spun you around and pinned you to the carriage, slamming your body into the wooden wall. 

“God…damn it…” He huffed, holding you firmly in place.

“Let… go of me!” You spat out, attempting to crane your head to get a better view of your subduer. You might have been crazed by Tarkat, but he was still larger and physically stronger than you. His grip on your body was iron, your writhing against the vehicle was doing little to waver it.

“Not a chance in hell.” He retorted, strengthing his hold on you as your growls grew more and more animalistic and aggressive. Johnny’s other hand planted itself on your upper back, pushing you further into the carriage side, for both of your safeties.

The thing about this particular variant of Tarkat… is that as the infected grew more enraged, their strength saw an increase. This was something that Shang Tsung didn’t mention in his journal, he likely didn’t even know about this.

Johnny was finding it increasingly harder to keep you pinned to the carriage. You were shifting around more and more, his grip on you was faltering by the second. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before you broke out of his hold entirely.

Looking down, you saw that his foot was close. Taking the opportunity, you brought the heel of your boot down as hard as you could, right in the dead centre of his shoe.

“OW! FUCK!!“ His scream echoed throughout the surrounding scenery, causing the horses to neigh in surprise. The pain now shooting through his veins was too much to ignore, he instinctively held onto his right foot with both hands, hopping up and down in an attempt to mute it.

Ah shit, you were free.

You spun around, your eyes wide and your mind clouded by a thick mist of rage. You took advantage of Johnny’s incapacitation, balling up your fist and punching him square in the nose. His head jerked backwards, a pained yell seeped out through clenched teeth as he tried desperately to stop himself from toppling over. Blood splatters flew in all directions as your knuckles collided with his face, a sickening crunch being produced from the contact.

A fight ensued.

You didn’t even bother to pick up your bō staff that was lying on the ground, you were so crazed that you fought Johnny with nothing but your bare hands. You were wildly clawing at him, managing to scratch his face and draw even more blood a few times. Johnny couldn’t do much but dodge, block and weave your frantic attacks, he didn’t want to fight back and hurt you further.

At one point, you had him by the shoulders as you went for his jugular. Your large mouth opened wide to reveal rows upon rows of jagged, sharp teeth, all screaming for a bite of him. You nearly made contact before he quickly and violently shoved you away, knocking you backwards and sending you crashing into the carriage once again. He looked around for anything that he could use to defend himself against you as he was catching his breath. His eyes practically lit up as they fell on your bō resting in the grass a few feet away, he wasted no time as he scrambled to pick it up.

Johnny was trained in various forms of martial arts, but bōjutsu was not one of them. All he could do was swing the green staff in your vicinity, putting some distance between you and mentally cursing himself for not paying more attention to yourself when you were using it. Damn it, he could’ve actually picked up on something if he paid attention to anyone but himself.

His attempts at fending you off proved futile. You were a master at using the weapon, he was not. Eventually, you kicked your staff out of his hands, your foot hitting the bō with such force that it was knocked clean out of Johnny’s grasp. In one swift kombo, you knocked him down to the ground, picking up your staff again as you moved to stand over him.

“Jade… listen to me… please…” His desperate voice was barely above a whisper, all the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. He was on his back, staring up at you with widened eyes as the paralysing fear of being impaled like a chunk of street meat took hold of him. 

You were in no mood to listen. You were ready to strike like a snake as you stared down at him between your legs, snarling ferociously. Primal rage burned in your eyes, your Tarkatan mouth was on full display. Your food had attacked you, what was it thinking? He must die for laying his hands on you like this.

This was it. This was how he was going to go out. His eyes clamped shut, a tear made its way down the side of his face as you raised your staff, intending to deliver a fatal blow. The brace for impact was horrible, but he accepted his fate nonetheless.

It was a surprise when your momentum stopped. Instead of growling, Johnny could hear… struggling? He opened his eyes to see what was happening and smiled. Such an intense wave of relief washed over his being at the sight before him that he couldn’t help but start laughing.

There, holding you in place, was Geras.

“Damn… good timing, old man...” He muttered as he hesitantly sat up, his chest still aching from your impact. A pained but wide smile wove its way onto his cut face, watching as you were being held in a bear hug.

You were no match for Geras. Your strength may be enhanced, but the construct was well over double your size. He even had some height on Johnny, towering over you both every time he was near. He barely even struggled as he contained you, much to your dismay.

He had his arm wrapped around your body, holding you tightly as you writhed and thrashed in his grasp. Using his other arm, he brought up a syringe to your neck and injected you with something. Whatever it was, it affected your crazed self instantaneously. As soon as the needle left your skin, you started to calm, squirming less and less in Geras’s grasp as you fell unconscious. Your limp body was slowly lowered to the ground, your rampage finally coming to an end.

Your nasty Tarkatan features started to dull and disappear. Your sharpened claws fell off, giving way to a set of new, normal fingernails. Your large mouth full of jagged teeth shrunk, your jaw morphing back into your regular face. Your lips came back as the flesh around your mouth returned, all back to normal. The serum he had injected you with was a cure, one that Princess Mileena uses regularly to dull her own respective symptoms.

It was almost as if Johnny was seeing a magic trick in real time, the whole transformation was shocking to watch. One moment, you were a crazed, ravenous animal, and the next… you were you again, the same one as before.

He stood up and walked towards Geras slowly, taking a place right beside him.

“Is she… gonna be alright?” Johnny hesitantly asked, looking down at your unconscious self in wonder.

“She will be fine. The serum that I have injected her with counteracts the Tarkat in her system.” He answered, his grip on the empty vial loosening as the adrenaline within him dissipated.

Geras walked over to the carriage, soothing the horses before opening the door of the vehicle.

“It is in our best interests to get her back to Sun Do as soon as possible, back to Liu Kang.”

Johnny nodded, acknowledging the seriousness of the situation. He turned his attention back to you, unconsciously resting on your back. You looked so peaceful, so normal, with your eyes closed and your chest slowly rising and falling with every breath.

He knelt down, gently picking you up in his arms, bridal style. He cradled you against his chest as he walked over to the carriage, trying his best to ignore the small voice in his head whispering: “So light and beautiful...”

Entering the carriage slowly, he gently laid your body down on the seat across from him, careful not to bump you on anything. It was unclear how long you would be unconscious for, his best bet was to just silently watch over you and hope that you would be okay.

As the carriage took off, Johnny took the opportunity to breathe and let go of the tension he was holding on to. He crashed down in his seat, loudly sighing as his exhausted body slumped against the cushions.

He sat motionless, save for his chest rising and falling with each haggard breath. His eyes were focused on the still unconscious you, his gaze roving across your still face. Seeing you switch from your cold, dignified self to a feral beast was still something that he was comprehending. All of your overwhelming rage and ferocity really shook him, that Baraka-like jaw on you was something that he would definitely be having nightmares about. This calm, docile version before him was no doubt your superior version.

His face hurt like hell, the adrenaline muting the burn of his injuries was starting to wear off. You thankfully didn’t punch him hard enough to fracture his nose, but the pain was still searing. The scratches on his face stung, the deep red marks on his cheeks were starting to make their presence known. He made a mental note to get those wounds checked out when he arrived back in Sun Do. He opened his phone, selecting the camera icon on his screen to fully inspect the damage. Johnny winced as he slowly turned his head to the side, his fingers lightly grazing over his facial wounds, careful not to cause further damage.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

By now, an hour had passed since your little… incident.

The carriage was well on its way to Sun Do, now moving at an increased pace. Geras wished to get you back to Liu Kang as soon as possible, the once slow-moving carriage was now moving noticeably faster.

Johnny had now taken the majority of his attention off of your unconscious form. There wasn’t much he could do with you like this, completely out cold and unresponsive. He was leaned back in his seat, his focus diverted to his phone, occasionally taking his eyes off the screen to peek at your resting self, just to make sure you were alright.

It was during one of these glances that his eyes began to wander down from your face. They slowly trailed along your form, his brain seemingly studying your body. He really did hope that you would be alright. But also…

You were wearing a fairly standard uniform, just like him. It was tight fitting, your breastplate outlining your figure very clearly. He made no effort to stop his gaze from roving over your body, his eyes stopping right on the curve of your-

No! He couldn’t be checking you out right now. You were his partner, for the Gods sake! You’d just come into contact with an incredibly deadly infection, this wasn’t the time to be staring at your… features!

Johnny tried desperately to push his filthy thoughts out of his head, but it would be a lie to say that he didn’t find his eyes and mind wandering every few minutes.

He had just concluded a routine eyeing of you, going right back to his phone. Though, from his peripheral vision, he could see you start to stir. Quickly, he shut his device off and dropped it down beside him, your well-being of much more concern than Instagram. He leaned forward, his arms coming to rest on his knees, his eyes trained on you.

You spent a few moments like this, murmuring and mumbling nonsense as you shuffled around. Then, your eyes slowly opened, now back to their normal colour and shape.

You were awake.

“Where… am… I?” A low groan escaped your lips. Your body ached like you’d just been in a brutal beatdown. Your head was a raging storm and your jaw was throbbing like crazy. It felt like it had just been ripped open or something.

You pushed yourself up, slipping a little as you did so. You weren’t at 100% strength yet, your movements were slow and uncertain. Your vision started to clear, a concerned Johnny coming into focus.

"You're in the carriage. We're headed back to Sun Do." Johnny answered your question, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. He gently helped you up, his hands planted on your upper arms, carefully guiding your movements.

“Johnny…?” Your mind was clearing, but you were still extremely disoriented. From your perspective, the last thing you remembered was you and him heading back to the carriage, the former feeling very unwell. Then it all went black. And now…

“…What happened?”

Looking at you, a mix of emotions welled up inside of Johnny. Concern and worry were the main ones, but he couldn’t deny that he also felt… relief. He couldn't help but feel relieved to hear the sweet and silky tone of your voice, paired with your normal appearance. You finally looked like yourself again.

"You don’t remember anything?" He asked, his tone still gentle. He didn't want to overwhelm you with everything that had transpired in your “absence”, not when you were like this.

The last vestiges of your blurry vision cleared away. Your eyes settling on a busted, scratched-up Johnny really wasn’t a welcome surprise.

“By the Gods, your face!” You recoiled back, a hand clasped over your mouth. Your loud voice of concern echoed around the small confines of the carriage, the bloody state of your partner fully snapping you out of your drowsiness.

“Yeah, you really did a number on me, didn’t you?" He chuckled at your reaction, amused (and maybe a tiny bit flattered) by the worried look on your face. As if he’d let you know that, though.

Now you were confused, as well as both hyper-alert and slightly in pain. A nasty combo. But that wasn’t the point of your focus at the moment. Did… did you do this?

“I… did this? To you?”

“Yeah… uh…” He sighed, his hand coming to rub sheepishly at the back of his head. This was going to be hard, but there was no other way to do this. “You, uh… turned into a Tarkatan… as crazy as it sounds-”

“I what?!” You were shouting now, in total disbelief. Johnny winced at the panic in your voice, recoiling slightly, though you were too in shock to notice.

You looked down at your suit, and your throbbing right hand. Both were stained with blood. Blood that wasn’t there the last time you checked. Your knuckles were aching like you had hit something, or someone…

And that’s when everything started to come back to you. The secret lab, the dead Tarkatan in that cage, Shang Tsung and his notebook, that prick on your finger, your fever, your weird behaviour…

By the Elder Gods.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, chill out! Chill out…” He tried to calm you down, his hands coming to rest on your knees, his thumb caressing the material underneath. "It’s okay, you’re okay now."

Your eyes remained lowered for a few moments, your breathing heavy. The past hour was still something you were attempting to process. The realisation that you did indeed attack Johnny, and presumably Geras, sank in. It made you feel so incredibly guilty. You couldn’t help it, those injuries on his face looked so painful. The injuries that you caused.

“…I am truly sorry for attacking you.” You finally spoke up, looking up to lock eyes with him. Your usually cold eyes were now warm with guilt, shining with remorse.

He shook his head gently. "Hey, that wasn’t your fault. That bastard Shang Tsung infected you. You weren’t in control of yourself, you can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t even do."

“No, this was my fault. I didn’t take the proper safety measures to ensure that nothing from that underground facility was transferred to me. Whatever happened was a result of my carelessness.”

As well as regret, a wave of embarrassment washed over you. How could you be so careless like that? Of course that prick was going to mean something. Johnny’s going to think that you’re totally incompetent now, and when Geras tells Liu Kang all about what happened he’ll most likely kick you out of the Wu Shi, then you’ll be homeless again and-

The overwhelming amount of paranoid thoughts started to prove too much. Your jaw clenched as you brought up a hand to your eye, an effort to fight back the tears behind your closed lids.

“Jade, hey, hey…” Johnny placed a hand on your leg, trying to keep you grounded. His voice was soft, he couldn’t bear seeing you like this. “It wasn’t your fault, okay? It could have happened to anyone."

You took a shaky breath in and a precarious breath out. Whatever you were about to do, it was NOT cry in front of Johnny. You did what you’ve always done after taking a moment to compose yourself: push your emotions back down. 

You once again met Johnny’s gaze. Your eyes were slightly wet with tears - for some reason, you were expecting him to be judgemental of you and your fuck-up. But no, instead, you were met with a look of compassion. Despite all that you had done, he was still making the effort to console you. It was heartwarming.

“…Thank you for your words.”

"You don’t have to thank me. I just don’t like seeing you blame yourself for something that you have no control over." He smiled at you, his soft and caring gaze locked on your face as he leaned back.

For the first time in like, ever, you returned his smile with a warmer one of your own. You were genuinely smiling at him. Being comforted by Johnny Cage was not something you thought was going to happen today. And yet… it did.

The sight of your smile nearly made Johnny’s heart explode, his own smile widening in turn.  

“You’re alright, Houzuki.”

The small smile on your face widened. You had to look down a little, to hide the sheepish smirk daring to form. You hated it, this weird effect he had over you. You despised the way your cheeks reddened at his praise, how that warm feeling would sliver through your belly when you looked at his carved features for a little too long. It was all so… ugh.

“Thank you, Cage.” You looked back up, meeting his gaze once more.

He cleared his throat, smirking a little. "You know... you're more bearable when you're smiling. You should do it more often."

“The ‘you should smile more’ line doesn’t have the effect that you think it does.” You scoffed, leaning back in your seat.

“Oh, is that so? Then what about, ‘You look way better when you don’t have that stick stuck up your ass’?"

The smile on your face grew into a laugh, the sound making his skin prickle.

“You’re a prick, you know that?”

"Hey, it got you to laugh, didn't it?" He laughed again, the warm feeling in his chest growing a little more intense.

Fuck, Johnny’s charm was actually starting to work on you. The way he was so casually leaning back, hair messy and elbow resting on his propped-up knee, it all had unwanted demons stirring deep within your core. Damn him and his stupid picturesque features!

Though, as you were looking at Johnny, you did start to take note of his facial injuries. All the blood on the space between his nose and upper lip was dried by this point; there was so much that it was a wonder how his nose wasn’t broken. And all those deep scratches… Gods, they looked so sore.

The smile on your face slowly turned into a frown, your guilt from a few minutes ago making its return. It was… terrible to see him like this. You felt really bad. Despite being an assassin, the sight of all that dried blood under his nose actually made you feel a little sick. It wasn’t right, no matter how much of a nuisance he was.

In turn, Johnny rolled his eyes and groaned, knowing full well what was on your mind.

"It's all right, darlin’. Don't worry about this." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, a failed attempt to clean the dried blood off of his face.

“That doesn’t matter…” You mumbled, lowering your head out of guilt. “...I’m sorry.”

"I told you. It's fine. No need to apologise." He retorted, now a little incensed.

Your self-wallowing came to a halt when you felt a light squeeze on your hand. You looked up to see Johnny leaning forward, his large hand covering yours. The sympathetic look in his eyes was hard to ignore, there was something about it that had your remorse melt away.

"Stop beating yourself up, Jade. It wasn’t your fault." He gently squeezed your hand, the callouses on his palm rough against your skin.

You once again smiled at his reassurance, and the weight on your shoulders eased. You couldn’t remember the last time someone was this kind to you. It was nice, no matter who it came from.

The seeds of your crush on Johnny Cage were now sown.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Hours had passed, it was the peak of night. The evening had come and gone; Outworld was now shrouded in darkness.

The carriage had reached Sun Do, a result of its quickened speed. The city’s streets were empty, not a soul was in sight. However, unlike Kakariko Village, all of the residents were here and well, they were just still sleeping soundly in their homes. Geras slowed the horses upon entry of the city’s gates; he was quietly steering the vehicle along the cobblestone roads.

In the distance, the soft clip-clop of horse hooves broke through the lunar silence, growing louder as the carriage emerged from behind buildings. The vehicle was parked right outside of Liu Kang’s estate, Geras hopping down from the front seat and tending to the animals before making his way over to the carriage interior.

Inside, Johnny was fast asleep. The pain of his facial injuries were temporarily dulled whilst he was unconscious, deep in a dreamless sleep. Light snores came from him as his chest rose and fell with each breath. You, however, were wide awake. You couldn’t sleep, you weren’t even the slightest bit tired. Whether it was the medicine in your veins, or the fact that you were still processing the day you had, wasn’t known to you. You were sat up, your attention on the dark world outside.

You grew bored of looking at Sun Do’s empty streets, as well as being tormented by your own thoughts. Without thinking, you turned to the side, towards a sleeping Johnny.

He looked so peaceful when he was resting, it was hard not to be captivated by the view. The carriage’s pink lights once again highlighted his gorgeous features, but they also illuminated his injuries. You couldn’t help but feel a sliver of guilt again when you focused on his scratched face. This wasn’t your fault, and you understood that, but… maybe you could’ve been more careful in that lab.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the carriage stopping. Not long after, you were met with the sight of Geras opening the door, his glowing blue eyes cutting through the darkness. The two of you locked eyes for a few seconds, not a word exchanged. He looked down to a sleeping Johnny, then back at an awake you. The construct waited for you to gather your bearings back before speaking up.

“Jade. It is good to see that you are well. We have arrived back in Sun Do; we are outside Liu Kang’s manor.”

You nodded, turning to face Johnny as you stood up. You leaned over his sleeping body, lightly shaking him, not wanting to be too rough with his unconscious form.

“Johnny… wake up…” Your voice was a whisper above his ear. The feeling of his hard bicep under your palms made that warm feeling sprout in your stomach again, but you ignored that for now.

“Hm...?” He opened his eyes, his voice groggy and thick with fatigue. You leaned back as he slowly sat up, examining his surroundings before looking back at you.

“We’re back in Sun Do.” Your voice was soft, but firm. The sleepy look on his face was really cute, it had you biting back a smile. “We’re outside Liu Kang’s estate.”

“Sweet…” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Geras saw that you both were on the move and stood to the side to let you two out. You grabbed Shang Tsung’s notebook beside your hip and quietly exited the vehicle, shivering a little at the cold night.

In contrast, Johnny lazily and recklessly stumbled out of the carriage. He loudly yawned and dramatically stretched his limbs once he was standing. He would never get used to sleeping in that damn carriage.

After you finished your silent judgment of your companion’s behaviour, you turned to face Geras.

“Geras, I would like to apologise for what happened, back at the village. I am sorry if I happened to attack you.” Your voice was sincere, your tone remorseful.

He listened to your apology, not saying a word. His expressionless eyes pierced through you, making you feel a little uneasy. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just staring at you blankly. Eventually, Geras gave you a small nod.

“Rest assured, Jade. I know that you were not in control of yourself. You were under the control of Tarkat; you do not need to apologise. None of your actions were done by you of your own free will.”

You smiled at his words, a wave of relief washing over you. After a few moments, Geras spoke up. He pulled something from behind his back, handing the item to you.

“Here is your bō staff. You dropped it during your frenzy. I have kept it safe for you throughout our journey.”

A small noise of surprise came from you. You were wondering where that thing went! 

“Thank you.” You graciously took the compacted staff from his hands, strapping it to your hip.

Geras nodded at you again, and then both you and him turned your attentions towards Johnny.

He was leaning against the carriage, his arms crossed to his chest. He looked bored, to say the least. He didn’t bother to listen to what you two were conversing about, none of your words centred around him so why should he care? He yawned as he glanced to the side impatiently, his eyes wandering around the empty city.

“Now, the both of you must see Liu Kang immediately. Tell him of what has happened, of your findings. And then, you two must seek urgent medical attention.” He told you.

“Of course.” You nodded. You turned around to face Johnny, gesturing for him to follow you as you walked through the gates, towards the entrance of the manor.

You strolled up to the front door, the sound of your boots heels against the cobblestone clicking through the quiet of the night. He was right behind you, trying to keep his eyes forward and not on your... lower half. The effort to keep his gaze up was really harder than it should be.

Not that you noticed. You leaned forward a little and rapped your knuckles on the door, the sound slightly echoing around the front porch and the interior of the large building.

A few moments of silence passed by. The only audible thing was the occasional breeze. Then, the sounds of footsteps were heard inside the manor. The door creaked open, although it wasn’t Liu Kang. One of his servants was on the other side, greeting you both with a bright smile.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“…And he had constructed this laboratory underneath the village library.” You explained, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face.

Both you and Johnny had long since made your way inside, you two were now debriefing Liu Kang of all that had been found during your time away, as well as you both receiving the medical attention that you needed.

A few more doses of Mileena’s suppressant were estimated to permanently eradicate the infection from your system, the nurse predicted. An injection every day for the remainder of the week should clear up any lingering traces of the virus, thank the Gods.

Johnny, meanwhile, was receiving dressing for his scratches. The cold ointment against the open wounds made him wince a little on contact, the substance stinging against his skin, making him grip the sofa arm. It was nothing major, according to the nurse. Only a few flesh wounds, nothing that would harbour anything long-lasting.

Despite the late hour, Liu Kang was more than happy to see you two, and hear about all that the two found during their time away. He was listening intently as you both gave your own reports. His face was stern, his features giving no indication as to what he was thinking.

“It was… filthy. Completely covered with viscera and grime. This laboratory was where he was conducting his twisted experiments.” You carried on, shifting in your seat as your mind unwillingly replayed the day’s memories.

“And you say he was conducting experiments on villagers with this Tarkat infection?” Liu Kang queried, to which you nodded at. 

“Shang Tsung was using the villagers as live test subjects, unconsenting guinea pigs for his vile work.”

His expression was as serious as ever, his eyes held a certain intensity as they scanned over you and Johnny. He let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back in his chair as he rubbed at his forehead with two fingers.

“Geras told me of how this… infection took hold of you. Is this true?” He was careful with his words, his tone incensed. “Yes… it is.” You looked down for a minute, ashamed once again as you fiddled with your fingers. It was horrible to know that you were mutated into little more than a wild beast. Your skin crawled as you thought of all the damage that you could’ve potentially inflicted.

Liu Kang’s face remained neutral, but eyes held a sliver of pity. He was looking at you two with an almost cold intensity, as if he was trying to make up his mind about something. He shifted his gaze to Johnny, the fire god’s gaze hardening as he looked at him.

“And you.” Johnny’s spine visibly stiffened as Liu Kang addressed him. “Were you also infected?” Liu Kang’s tone was stern, his white eyes were staring Johnny down in his seat.

“Ah, no… no, I wasn’t infected, boss.” He meekly responded, his composure faltering under the crushing weight of Liu Kang’s intense stare, a stare that he couldn’t meet for more than a few seconds.

The way Liu Kang was glaring him down with such intensity even made you feel a little uncomfortable. It’s almost like he was mad or something, like he was silently chastising Johnny for not being by your side in the lab.

“Lord Liu Kang, my infection was in no way Johnny’s fault.” Your voice broke through the rather tense silence, much to Johnny’s surprise. “It was the result of my own carelessness; I apologise for not taking the proper safety measures when searching through that laboratory.”

You turned to Johnny and gave him a small smile.

It was mostly unnoticeable, but Liu Kang’s stern expression subsided when he saw you smile at Johnny like that. His eyebrows raised at the small sign of courtesy you showed. This was completely unexpected, for both of the men.

After a bit, you turned your attention away from Johnny and back towards Liu Kang. As you shifted in your seat, you felt Shang’s journal in your pocket, pushing up against your hip. Damn it, you’d forgotten to show Liu Kang one of the most important things you’d recovered.

“Oh! I also found this.” You took out the journal from your pocket and leaned forward, handing it to him.

Liu Kang’s eyebrows shot up once again at this. He took the book from you and opened it up. His eyes were glued to the ink staining the pages, his interest fully piqued by what was inside.

By the Elder Gods, it was much worse than he thought. His eyes widened upon each turn of a page, his brows furrowing at the onslaught of information. After a few minutes of reading, the book closed to reveal the astonishment all over his face. His white eyes were wide with shock, processing what was just before them. He sat in silence for a few minutes, before looking up to speak to you both.

“This is much worse than I thought. To know that Shang Tsung and General Shao are collaborating is extremely concerning.”

He ran a hand down his face, sighing deeply. Shang Tsung and General Shao’s alliance was not only unexpected, but a possible catastrophe. Liu Kang felt a cold sense of dread start to creep up on him, caused by the knowledge that the sorcerer and the disgraced general had joined forces. The two of them together were such a potent force to be reckoned with; the danger they posed to Outworld and the other realms was immense.

But all of that is for another time. Right now, it is important that you and Johnny rest. All of this can be dealt with once the sun is up.

Liu Kang stood up, pocketing the journal for further study. He turned to you both, a small smile on his face.

“Thank you for your work, both of you. I am pleased to see the two of you work well together.”

You smiled, beaming with pride. “I am in your service, Lord Liu Kang.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome or whatever.” Johnny was less graceful with his response, something that earned a judgemental side eye from you.

Liu Kang almost rolled his eyes, but considering you and him have been making progress, the fire god decided to let his usual snark slide… for now, at least.

“Now, please retire to your rooms. After the ordeal that the two of you have been through, some rest is in order.” He placed a fist and an open hand together, and did his typical bow. He then made his way over to the door of his study, opening it and gesturing for you both to exit.

The doors of his study shut quietly once you two had departed. Soon, you and Johnny were the only souls in the hallway.

Both of your respective chambers were in the same direction, meaning that you two were now walking side by side on their way to your rooms. The halls of Liu Kang’s manor were deserted, save for the occasional cleaner every now and then. Everyone was asleep, resting in their own quarters. Both of your footsteps echoed throughout the empty halls, cutting through the silence of the mansion.

“Hey, Jade.” Johnny suddenly spoke up, his voice shattering the silence.

You turned to face him, your pace slightly slowing.

“Yes, Johnny?”

“You did good, y’know? You were great back at that village.” He gave you a smile, his eyes dilating at how beautiful you looked in the hallway’s candlelight.

“Thank you.” His praise made you smile back, your face felt warm at his kind words.

He spoke again after a few moments. “What, not gonna say I did good too?”

You scoffed and shook your head. It’s almost like this man needed to have his ego stroked, like a fish needs to be in water. Admittedly, it was as amusing as it was annoying.

“Considering I both found the secret laboratory and the journal, I think I’ll refrain for now.”

“I’m wounded, Jade. Wounded. You don’t think I contributed at all?” Johnny feigned a look of exaggerated offence. He put a hand over his heart, a look of theatrical hurt crossing his face.

“Maybe on the next mission assigned to us, you’ll have a more significant role?”

“Next time, hm?” He was grinning, crossing his arms across his chest. It was nice, hearing you finally treat him like an equal, rather than some piece of trash.

“I think next time, you’ll be the useless one, and I’ll be saving both our asses.”

You scoffed again because, yeah, right! As if that would happen. So far, on your assigned excursions, you’ve been the MVP. You located that machine back at the pyramid AND you uncovered the true story of Kakariko Village’s depopulation. Johnny was just… there. Like the piece of eye candy he is.

You had no more time to think about that, though. Eventually, you two reached a corner of the manor. On the left side was the rest of the way to Johnny’s room. On the right side, the rest of the way to your room. This is where you both say goodnight.

“That’s your room?” He pointed down the hall to the right, to your door. You nodded in reply.

“Alright, then. See ya tomorrow, partner.” His eyes lit up as the words left him, like he had an idea. Slowly, he leaned in closer, his voice low and sultry.

“…Unless you wanna spend the night with me?”

Alright. Once again, Johnny had pushed his luck too far. His dumb comment wiped the tiny smile off of your face, like an eraser to a whiteboard.

“Goodnight, Cage.” You muttered as you turned away and walked off, headed for your room.

Johnny just laughed, the sound ringing in your ears. He called out to you one last time, his voice loud and obnoxious.

“Sweet dreams, dollface!”

You ignored him as you walked down the corridor, resisting the urge to raise your hand and flip him off. You’d hit your Johnny Cage limit for today, any more interaction with this man might just finish you off.

You closed your door behind you with a sigh; you were so grateful to be back in your room. You smiled as you set your sight on your bed. After everything that had happened in the past 24 hours, finally being able to rest felt amazing.

You kicked off your boots and discarded your suit in a corner somewhere. Showering was out of the question, you were too damn tired. You lazily slipped on a nightdress that you found in your wardrobe. The pain from Geras’s injection earlier still somewhat lingered, you winced every now and then as you changed. Oh well, nothing a good night’s sleep can’t fix.

You slipped under your covers and pretty much fell asleep in a few minutes. Your warm, soft bed felt a million times better than those firm carriage seats. A deep, dreamless sleep awaited you, greeting your mind as it slipped from reality.

A/N: i have nothing to say 🧍‍♀️thanks for reading xoxo

[sednas]

['CAUSE HE'S A F×CK BOY ─ s. gojo]

꒰ ͜͡➸ sorry what did you say? oh you want a virginkiller!gojo fic? with enemies to lovers vibes? yeah I might have this one in store for you. smut will be in the second part tho! (which will be posted in one week or five months, who knows! :))

pairing: virginkiller!gojo x virgin!fem!reader

tw: college!au, suggestive themes, virginity kink, (dub-con) make out session, gojo is annoying but hey what's new, sexual tension, light fem masturbation at the end

gojo satoru was the golden boy. the most intelligent student of his class, the most talented sports player of the school, the most popular guy of the campus, maybe even of the whole city. he was excellent at everything. people were too amazed by his talent to notice his arrogance and his condescending smile, too blinded by his bright blue eyes and his snowy white hair.

gojo was the best at everything, and it included fucking. hell, fucking was actually on top of the list. he had a cheerleader waiting for him every night in his room, sometimes he could just wink at a girl and she was already spreading her legs for him in the bathroom a few minutes later. he could have literally everyone, but what he liked best was virgins. he loved them, such good girls who managed to keep their innocence until college. they were always so easy, so pliant.

and the thing he mostly liked to do with them was fucking them so hard that nobody could ever compare after that. he wanted them to think about him every time they would fuck someone else, he wanted them to rub their thighs together while thinking about him years later, this is what he liked to do with them. of course, the thought of ruining them for their first time was also appealing, they were usually so shy and reserved, he liked to take them apart piece by piece, make them drool, and then cry, and then forcing them to look at themselves in the mirror, letting them see how the filthiest version of themselves looked like. and in the end, when they were too fucked to think, he made them say thanks.

and this was exactly what he wanted to do with you.

you were way more difficult than the others, doing your best to ignore his piercing blue eyes, answering by a simple nod of your head every time he was trying to start a conversation, leaving the room every time he was in.

yeah you were difficult, but satoru always got what he wanted.

“all by yourself uh?”

he startled you a bit, and he could see that you were already looking for a way out by the way your eyes were looking at everything but him.

he moved his body to be at the same height as you, looking at you through his glasses, and then he said your name in a sweet voice, smiling when he saw how easily he got you looking back at him, your face obviously flushed.

“finally paying attention to me mh? it's a shame that you don't look at me often, I really like your eyes, they're pretty.”

and he really meant it, you were telling him everything with those eyes, the way you were constantly daydreaming about him, how you were humping your pillow at night, imagining it was his thigh instead. yeah, very pretty eyes.

“I want to get to know ya.” he said with a smile, and he got closer.

he kept himself from laughing when he saw you taking a few steps back and then he stopped, not wanting to make you panic too much.

“here, gimme your phone.”

you obeyed after barely a few seconds, and it only confirmed what he was already thinking; you were wrapped around his finger even though you were trying to hide it.

“mmh cute wallpaper… alright I'm just gonna add my number to your contacts annnnnd… done!” he finally said, his relaxed smile still on his face, handing you over your phone.

he didn't let go of it immediately, making sure your hands brushed against one another, noticing the way your breath got stuck in your throat.

“call me okay?”

one month passed by and you never called, or even texted. gojo felt frustration for the first time in his life, and because of that he was rougher than usual when he was fucking a cheerleader, his thoughts always coming back to you, and the way you were still ignoring him even though you were fucking yourself with your fingers every night while thinking about him. he was starting to get tired of his own game, but still, he wasn't planning on giving up. and so when he saw you standing in the kitchen during that halloween party, a devilish grin appeared on his pale face...

it's already too late when you spot him across the room, his blue eyes are on you. you can barely think of an escape that he's already in front of you, wearing a black tuxedo, a white collar wrapped around his neck and long white victorian sleeves hugging his arms, and making the rings on his fingers look elegant.

“you didn't call me.“ gojo whispers against your ear, his long arms trapping you between his body and the kitchen counter.

you open your mouth but no sound comes out, your eyes try to escape his teasing gaze as you're sure he can see every little detail on your face by standing so close.

“I thought… I thought you weren't serious when you gave me your number.”

he chuckles, noticing how you're even more embarrassed to look him in the eyes when he hasn't his glasses on.

“I like your costume, it suits your body.”

you feel your skin grows hot, his voice so soft and intimate, his eyes trailing on your body from up and down. it feels like you're alone in the whole house with only him. and your heart is racing with fear and anticipation, as you bring your thighs together. gojo notices it, placing his knee between them before you can fully close them, making you gasp.

“so tell me something baby…” he starts speaking in a honeyed voice, his lips coming closer to your ear.

you blink at the nickname, his body weighting a little more on your own, your back uncomfortably pressed against the kitchen counter as your body slowly bent to accommodate to the awkward position.

“are you scared of me or something?”

a nervous laugh comes out of your mouth, turning your head to escape from his warm gaze.

“I'm not scared of you.”

he can tell you're sincere, but it only makes him want to know more.

“then why are you avoiding me all the time uh?”

he tilts his head to the side, eyes burning with curiosity and his teeth flashing at you when you finally look back at him.

“i'm avoiding you because… you're so annoying, and you fuck everyone you know and you're so arrogant, always thinking you're better than anyone else. I don't like you, at all.”

a few seconds of silence pass by while both of you just look at eachother, until a smirk slowly appears on gojo's face.

“I didn't know you were so mean.” he laughed. “but if you hate me so much why aren't you pushing me away right now?” his sultry voice keeps sliding on you like honey, his mouth so close to your skin, breath fanning over your neck.

he's right, and he knows it, smiling even wider when he sees you looking at the ground in defeat.

“that's what I thought.” he smiles, one of his hand sliding along the side of your jaw, the sudden touch making your heart skips a beat.

his pale hand looks good on your skin, you can feel his fingers squeezing lightly your throat and the atmosphere becomes more tense than before, he still has this grin, like he knows everything about you, especially how much you want him to touch you more.

you're a few seconds away from giving up, your body almost falling on the counter to let gojo fully rest on you. somehow his smirk grows wider when he sees you closing your eyes. you let out a little whine when you feel him pressing all of his body weight against you.

“that was a sweet sound baby, mind if you make some more for me?”

despite shaking your head no, you pressed your body against him, hungry for more, finding a new pleasure in being the center of his attention. his slender fingers find their way to squeeze your chest, drawing another whine out of your mouth.

“more…” he orders, the sound of his voice muffled against your skin.

you try to close your lips, in a poor attempt not to give in so easily, but your legs turn to jelly as soon as he puts his soft lips on your neck. one of your hands flew through his white hair as you gasped at this new sensation.

his hot tongue tracing kisses along your neck, he grabbed your hips, bringing you even closer, letting you feel his boner. you feel dirty, intoxicated, but the heat coming out of his body is addictive. you let out another sound and your fingers are now grabbing his shirt in a needy way, trying to get him even closer to you. you want more. you need more.

you suddenly open your eyes when you feel his warmth vanish from your trembling body. you watch him walk away in disbelief while he's wearing a wicked smile on his face.

“I think my friends are waiting for me… it was fun, you should call me later okay?” he winked at you before exiting the room without letting you have any time to react.

you're left here, breathless, blood pumping into your veins, eyes clouded with desire, a pool of arousal between your legs. your hands clench into fists, of course he did it on purpose.

your eyes are fixated on your phone as breathless sighs keep coming out of your mouth.

"fuck!" you let out an exasperated groan, throwing your head back into the soft pillows.

your fingers are still trying to reach that spongy spot inside you, you arch your back, lifting your hips in the air, hoping it will allow your fingers to touch deeper parts. but you're left unsatisfied again, your legs twitching in frustration. your head hit your pillow and your eyes go back to your phone.

"he would fuck me right." you mumble to yourself.

part two

jjk masterlist

a lovely reminder that reblogs and comments are highly appreciated ♡

[broidobe]

I saw your recent slash fics and there so good! Could you possibly do a smut one of him where he’s subby? Like not supper subby but just he’s a little whiny and a bottom. Only if your not busy and comfortable with it🖤

𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯

OH HELL YEAH!

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

the soft glow of candles cast flickering shadows across the room, bathing everything in a warm, golden light. the air was heavy with the faint scent of sandalwood and the remnants of wine from earlier in the evening. you sat on the edge of the bed, watching as slash leaned back against the pillows, his curls cascading over his shoulders, his dark eyes full of that teasing spark you knew so well.

he’d been coy all evening, throwing you little smirks and subtle brushes of his fingers against yours during dinner. it wasn’t unlike him to flirt shamelessly, but tonight, there was a softness to it, a quiet yearning that tugged at your heart as much as it ignited a fire in your veins.

“what?” he drawled, his voice low and slightly husky, his lips curling into that trademark smirk. “you’re staring.”

“you like it when i stare,” you shot back, a playful lilt in your tone.

his smirk faltered for just a second, replaced by a flicker of something more vulnerable. you tilted your head, studying him, and he let out a soft chuckle, looking away briefly as if to compose himself.

“maybe i do,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “but only if you plan on doing something about it.”

you stood and crossed the small distance between you, crawling onto the bed until you straddled his hips. his hands instinctively moved to your waist, but you caught them, pressing them back against the bed. his dark eyes widened slightly, and you could see the conflict play out in them—the urge to take control warring with the intrigue of letting you lead.

“stay,” you murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw, just below his ear. “let me take care of you tonight.”

he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing, and you couldn’t help the satisfied smile that spread across your lips.

“you’re not usually this bossy,” he said, his tone teasing but his voice shaky.

“and you’re not usually this obedient,” you countered, nipping at his earlobe. his breath hitched, and the sound went straight to your core. “but look at you, slash. you’re being so good for me.”

his cheeks flushed at your words, and he let out a soft, almost petulant whine that made your pulse quicken. you kissed your way down his neck, taking your time to mark him, leaving small bruises in your wake. his hips shifted beneath you, his growing need evident, but you pressed your weight down on him to still his movements.

“patience,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his collarbone.

“you’re killing me,” he groaned, his voice edged with desperation.

“no,” you said, sitting up slightly to meet his gaze. your fingers trailed down his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. “i’m savoring you.”

his hands twitched at his sides, and you could see the effort it took for him to keep them there. once his shirt was open, you leaned down again, your lips tracing the tattoos that covered his skin. his breathing grew heavier, his body trembling slightly beneath your touch.

when your hand slipped lower, palming him through the fabric of his jeans, he let out a broken moan, his hips bucking involuntarily.

“y/n,” he murmured, your name falling from his lips like a plea.

“yes, baby?” you asked, your tone sweet but with an edge of mischief.

“please,” he whispered, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

“please what?” you pressed, wanting to hear him say it.

he groaned, tilting his head back against the pillows, his curls spilling out like a dark halo. “you know what i want.”

“do i?” you teased, your fingers working to undo the button of his jeans. “you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“you’re evil,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. instead, he looked up at you with wide, pleading eyes that sent a thrill through you. “i need you. please.”

satisfied, you leaned down to kiss him, your hand slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans and boxers to wrap around him. his reaction was immediate—his hips lifting off the bed, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. you stroked him slowly, relishing the way he writhed beneath you, his usual composure completely shattered.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” you whispered, your voice full of reverence. “completely at my mercy.”

he let out a breathless laugh, but it was cut off by a sharp gasp as you quickened your pace. “anyone else and i’d…”

“you’d what?” you interrupted, squeezing him just enough to make his words falter. “tell me, slash. what would you do?”

his eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting as he struggled to find the words. “i…fuck, y/n… i don’t know. you make me… god, you make me crazy.”

pleased with his admission, you released him just long enough to slide his jeans and boxers down his legs, leaving him bare beneath you. his cheeks were flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watched you through half-lidded eyes.

“don’t stop,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

“oh, i’m not stopping,” you assured him, climbing back onto the bed to straddle him once more. “i’m just getting started.”

his hands found your hips as you lowered yourself onto him, and the sound he made—a mix of a moan and a whimper—was enough to drive you wild. you moved slowly at first, savoring the way he filled you, the way his hands gripped you like you were the only thing grounding him.

“faster,” he pleaded, his voice high and desperate. “please, baby. i need more.”

“more?” you echoed, leaning down so your lips were inches from his. “is this what you want? to be completely undone?”

he nodded frantically, his nails digging into your hips as you picked up the pace. his head tipped back against the pillows, his moans growing louder with each movement. you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that was all teeth and tongues, his desperation fueling your own.

“you’re so good for me,” you murmured against his lips. “so perfect.”

he let out a choked sob at your words, his body trembling beneath you as he teetered on the edge. “i… i can’t…”

“yes, you can,” you coaxed, your movements never faltering. “let go for me. i’ve got you.”

with a broken cry of your name, he came undone, his body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over him. you followed moments later, the intensity of his release pushing you over the edge.

you collapsed onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily as the room filled with the sound of your racing hearts. his arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“you’re dangerous,” he muttered, his voice still shaky but laced with affection.

“and you love it,” you teased, nuzzling against him.

he laughed softly, the sound low and content. “you’re right. i really do.

[kayla-and-the-moon]

new years day⭐︎! r.l !

🥮plot: the aftermath of a new years eve party, and remus and you basically fawning over eachother after another 365 days together <3

🥮pairing: modern!remus lupin x gn! reader ! est. rel. !

🥮tw: none ! js some new years shenanigans ? some sprinkles of marauders in here, i love them :( not proofread, and kinda rushed ? so might be a lil lq ;-;

it had been a night. yes most definitely a night.

a new years eve party.

music was thrumming through the walls, practically in your pulse. especially some queen song, that you were humming now, since it had seeded into your brain after Sirius (who was at this point off-his-face drunk) had insisted on playing it at least five times. you practically had to drag him from the turntable kicking and screaming.

there was also the case of james who had to be dragged off the couch, lugged off by lily who was muttering some irritated curses under breath, but you still saw your friend's eyes with that sparkling fondness in them.

you made a mental note to tease her about it with the candid polaroid you took of them as evidence, you mean for memories.

marls was slumped languidly against the counter, and attempted to persuade you into yet another drinking game, but was promptly ushered to an uber because good lord that girl needed sleep.

tumultuous as ever. but in short- it was one of the best nights of your life.

But now, sadly, it was over. As your friends trickled out the doorway, shouts of goodbyes, alcohol-tinged kisses on cheeks, and tight bearhugs, you stood in the doorway, a sigh slipping past your lips.

Oh, the sweet nostalgia for events that took place a little over ten minutes ago.

You feel a palm smoothe over the small of your back, circling halfway to your waist and squeezing lightly. You recognize his scent even after he'd touched a few bottles of the mulled wine. He was the ever-rich and luscious aroma of comfort (not to be cliche) (but in your defense, you did have a pass to be; you drank at least ten glasses of whatever the hell James and Sirius had mixed in your glass-), and he was the touch of home.

you nearly tear up at the familiarity of it all.

Okay, maybe you're a bit more inebriated than you thought, but whatever, shut up.

Painfully gentle hands guide you back inside, and you realize the loudness of the house has now eased into a tender quiet. The door shuts, and you catch Remus's eyes. They were glowing a golden shimmer of topaz in your kitchen lighting. Your shared eye contact in the quiet is broken as his lips split into a tipsy little grin.

"hi there, still with me, dovie?" he whispers, his hand resting ever so warm and featherlike on your cheek, now florid under his touch. He knows you're drunk; he'd seen you chugging down those shots with Marlene and Sirius, and he'd long foreseen the outcome of that.

Remus knows you're prone to getting extra giddy and a little less than coordinated after alcohol. He thinks you're unendurably adorable when you blink at his question contemplatively, almost as if you were cherry-picking your words. He's purely, unequivocally a goner as your face breaks into a beam.

"mhm, yeah, yup," you stumble through your reply, your fingers needing something to do, so focusing on fidgeting with Remus' shirt, one of your favorites. "it was fun," you add, your eyes focusing better when they meet his. A giggly laugh bubbles from your chest, replaying moments from earlier in your mind, a mind with its insides still swimming in a champagned daze. Remus is having a lot of trouble trying not to pepper kisses all over your face.

"yeah? t'was?" Remus grins, his voice breathy and slightly thick with his own tipsiness, but he considers himself steady enough since he's not the one swaying like a buoy on lazy waves right now. "I think so too," he hums, leaning forward to hide his smile against your forehead, his palms sliding to the back of your neck.

You sigh when his arms fall and link around your middle, nose burying in his chest, and it's simultaneously as sobering as a cool glass of water but as dizzying as what was in your cups tonight. As your cheek crushes against his collarbones, your eyes linger over the chaos left behind by your merry band of comrades.

Jesus.

"um-should we clean up?" you propose, through a hiccup. Perhaps you weren't in the perfectly suitable state to brandish a mop, but the mess really was scratching an uncomfortable spot in your brain.

Remus looks down at you, and his heart maybe clenches unbearably since you look the sweetest right now, and it's killing him how your responsible streak is still going strong after all that beer, and lord knows what else in your system. His hands hold your face like it's the world's most sought-after treasure.

He reluctantly lets his gaze travel over champagne flutes strewn over your counters and tables. Emptied emerald green bottles lying desolate on your floors. Confetti sprinkled on your rug, and your couch, and your shelves-

"I think we can wait till morning- well, later in the morning," he murmurs with a shrug. His lips stretch further as he sees you giving him a tiny frown, your brows crinkling together as he shirks the duty casually. Remus bites back an endeared laugh. You really were standing your ground.

So he leans down, pressing a kiss, chaste and tasting of spiced wine to your lips, his fingers curled on your neck and lingering after he pulls away slightly. When he gives you that pretty smile, you feel all undone and like your knees might just give out because why does Remus have the most gorgeous eyes, how is that any fair?

Wow, okay, now you're definitely convinced, wait why are you being this easy-.

"c'mon lovely, I think we need some sleep." he tilts his head, leading you up the staircase, the wood creaking under your footfalls. You're quiet as you follow resignedly, a yawn or two making way past your lips as you climb, Remus' fingers tangled with yours and not letting go anytime soon, you gather.

After a beat, Remus hears your voice pipe up like the soft, content whisper of a windchime.

"Remus?"

"yeah, sweetheart?" his head turns ever so slightly as his hand curls over the knob to your bedroom, a little slur in his voice due to his tiredness, happy tiredness. His voice like this, all content, makes you honey-sweet on the inside as you say your next words against his back in a smiley mumble.

"Happy New Year."

Remus feels his ribs ache, and warmth curls around each one of them. It cracks his chest open, and he understands this is a good thing since there's no way its cavity is large enough for the adoration he has for you.

"Happy New Year, my love."

a/n: happy new year lovelies !! i hope you all have a wonderful/had a wonderful new years eve !! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or liking, i hope you liked it lmao. it was kinda quick, since i missed remus, and wanted to do a new years drabble hoohoo. reminder to myself: make this pretty later. oh and before you go !

have a wonderful 2025 !! 🎉 <3

[multific]

Destiny and Future

Hellboy x Reader

Summary: You arrived at the church as all hell break lose outside, literally

"RED!" the voice caught everyone's attention in the church. You barged in and the scene in front of you shocked you, to say the least. 

"Just what in the seven shades of FUCK is going on here?!" you yelled as you saw the Professor, dead, as Alice was projecting him. He offered you a smile that told you, you just arrived on time.

"He is fulfilling his destiny and no one will be able to stop him." Nimue, the woman in front of him said.

"Oh, okay, and here I thought it was the end of the world." you let out a huff, obviously being sarcastic.

"You left." Hellboy spoke as he was now fully turned towards you. His words felt like fire and ice at the same time. A shiver ran down your spine as you looked at him.

"I tried to find my parents... took me so long to realize that while I was looking for my past, my present and future ran right past me, and I lost you. I'm so sorry, Red. I caused you way too much pain with my selfishness. I wasn't there for you when Ruiz passed, I wasn't there for you before or after and I regret it deeply. But this is not you, Red. I know you, this is not who you are, I mean come on a fire crown? Really?" you took a spet towards him, everyone watching you closely. 

"Do not listen to her. She is lying! She played with your feelings, she just doesn't want you to fulfil your destiny."

"Slithering like a snake I see." you commented as she gave you a look. 

"I'll kill you." she moved towards you, with intentions to murder you but Hellboy grabbed her arm.

"No one touches My Kitten." he said before he chopped her head off. One clean cut.

Then you were attacked by something from your right, and before you could dodge it, it made you fly and land against a pillar, making your back hurt and as you hit your head, you passed out.

When you woke up you were in a very familiar room, Red's room.

You smiled as you saw him sitting by your side.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as you woke up.

"Like I was just thrown against a pillar and blacked out. Can you kill the light please? My head is throbbing." you asked as you covered your eyes. Hellboy did as you told him and turned the lights off, only a small light illuminating the room so it's not pitch black. 

He didn't say a word. Although you knew he wanted to say many many things, he didn't speak.

"Red... I'm sorry about your father."

"Yeah."

"But I'll never leave you again, I promise. Not even when you will yell at me for being annoying." he smiled.

"I'm sorry you didn't find what you were looking for."

"Don't be silly, I found it years ago when I met you, I just didn't realize." you sat up against the pillows as he moved to sit next to your leg on the bed. "I feel bad, I spent most of our relationship trying to find my past."

"Well, you are doing it again, you are focusing on what happened instead of the future." you looked into his golden eyes. 

"You are right it's just that I feel really bad about it. I understand why you'd feel like I played with your feelings. But I never lied, I do really love you, Red." 

"I know. I love you too." he leaned over and placed a kiss on your lips. 

Throughout your relationship with him, this was the first time you felt truly free and happy. 

"So... Excalibur and... fire crown?" you laughed as he groaned but didn't say anything.

From that day on, no more looking into the past, from that day on, all that mattered was the future, your future with him. 

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter @stunkbiggu @violet-19999​ @praline357​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[b4ts1e]

▀▄▀▄▀▄Their Warm Embrace▄▀▄▀▄▀ (𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝙼𝙲)

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍: 𝚀𝚒𝚞/𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚗 𝙻𝚒𝚗 𝚃𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙱𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚗 𝙾𝚙𝚊𝚕 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝙲 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 (𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙾𝙻:𝙽&𝙵)

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝:

Step 2, as the request says- so the main trio are all 14! I'm also going to take the insecurity part a bit further- so warning for that.

(𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗)

The sun was beaming down on the town of Golden Grove, most would see this as good- but for one girl in particular, it felt like irony. She was best friends with some of the prettiest people in Golden Grove, at least in her opinion- and yet as the sun shone brightly on the small town she felt...out of place. MC Second, that's the girl silently suffering from her own thoughts on herself- hiding behind a carefully crafted smile that's been almost perfected through her most recent years of life. Middle school was rough, it's when everyone started to develop physically and everything started to change from a happy, colorful, childhood day dream to a dusty gray, worrisome, life hazard. But like I said before- she had almost perfected that sunny sweet smile. Almost. Most people wouldn't be able to see past the blinding light of that smile, those who knew MC best- people such as Tamarack, Qiu, and her mother could see something was wrong. The three were worried for her, after all- even when asked she'd avoid the question and give them that sickeningly sweet smile, her own mask.

It had been around a week since MC had taken time to hang out with her friends outside of walking to and from school back to their homes in the cul-de-sac, or lunch periods- which they've even noticed she had been eating far less then usual, it only made them worry more. Autumn was the first to bring it up without MC around to her mom, seeing if she knew what was making their friend act so differently. Sadly, it was a dead end from her as well- Opal's work had been more demanding lately, resulting in her coming home late into the night.

When he had discussed it briefly with Tamarack, hoping he'd get something from her- but she also knew nothing due to being busy with strings practice. Soon they knew they'd have to take the initive and confront MC personally, and that's where we stand now. Autumn standing right outside his best friend's, and crush's, door- waiting for an answer after knocking.

(𝚀𝚒𝚞'𝚜 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎)

When I received no answer, my worry grew ten-fold. MC wasn't the type to not answer the door, hell they used to rush excitedly to open it- the memory made my cheeks warm slightly but I shook it off quickly. Now was not the time. "Luckily I know where the spare key is kept." I muttered to myself, quickly grabbing it- unlocking and opening the door as quietly as possible. I carefully closed the door behind me, being as quiet as possible as I slowly searched the house for MC. Once the first floor was cleared I headed for the stairs, before hearing a loud thump of something hitting the wall before clattering to the floor. I quickly rushed up to her room, hearing soft crying on the otherside of the door- cautiously I entered the room. The sight broke my heart. Seeing MC balled up in the smallest corner of her bed, hugging her knees to her chest and crying into herself- her room was a mess, old photos from before she moved torn to shreds and her phone on the ground. The screen was shattered, it must have been what hit the wall.

"MC? Hey- sorry for barging in, but... what's wrong?" I ask softly, taking off my blue plaid jacket- putting it on the floor as I slowly approached the bed, her gaze snapping up to meet mine. Her eyes were wide, red and puffy- she had been crying for awhile that much was obvious. "Q-Qiu! Oh- uh-" she said, wiping harshly at her eyes- trying to hide the evidence despite being caught. "I'm fine! Just...saw a sad ad for an animal shelter! Yeah..." she lied through her teeth, avoiding eye contact as I sat on the edge of her bed carefully.

"We both know that's not true. MC...what's really wrong? You've been acting strangly for awhile, but this last week- you've been so closed off from both me and Tamarack. Did we do something wrong, or did someone say something to you?" I asked, ready to track down whoever would dare to hurt my MC- er my best friend. Yeah. Best friend. Her eyes widened drastically before she jumped forward towards me a bit, quickly shutting down one thing I had said. "No! No. You and Tama did nothing wrong I swear- I just...." she cut herself off with a sigh, visibly deflating.

Carefully I reached out, gently grabbing her forearm- rubbing small circles into the skin. She offered me a small smile in return- forced but genuine. "Lately I've been feeling...insecure? I think that's the word for it- but it's not just insecure y'know? Everything seems to be so dull now, I just- I feel so out of place. I mean- it's like I'm on auto pilot, my mind is so foggy..." she explained, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes again. "Foggy?" I asked softly, slowly pulling her closer to me to wrap her in a small hug.

She nodded and leaned into my chest gently- she appeared fragile, ready to shatter at the slightest gust of wind from the wrong direction. "Like I'm viewing myself from outside of my body...I don't know it's hard to explain." she said softly as I gently fiddled with her hair, hoping it'd help her calm down a bit. "I get it, thank you for telling me- but why'd you hide this from me, Leafy, and your mom?" I asked carefully, noticing she stiffened slightly.

"I didn't want to be a burden..." she said softly- had we not been this close, which totally wasn't making my heart pound, I wouldn't of heard her at all. I wasn't going to have that- nobody, not even her, could speak that way about my best friend. "Now you listen here and you listen good, okay? You will never be a burden to any of us MC. You're important to all of us. You're the sturdy bridge that holds me and Tamarack together, and you hold me together as well. Always keeping an eye out for others yet never keeping one out for yourself. You are one of the kindest, beautiful, and self-less people I know MC." I said quickly without thinking, making eye contact with her to ensure she was listening- making sure she knew I meant it to the ends of the earth.

Her cheeks seemed to brighten in a pink hue, eyes fluttering as she stammered for words. I give her a soft smile, pulling her into a proper hug. "You mean the world to me MC. Never let yourself forget that, but if you do? I'll just keep reminding you, over and over again." I whispered softly, holding her tightly to my chest so she couldn't see how red my face or ears had gotten. Though I doubt she didn't hear my heart racing.

She started to shake and shiver before the damn in her eyes finally burst, crying into my sweater- sobs coming from her as she finally let it all out. Softly I smiled, glad to see she was letting it out now- no longer hiding behind that sticky sweet smile she wore so well as I gently traced shapes into the back of her shirt.

"And about those insecurities of yours? I'm going to show you that those kinds of thoughts are so incorrect that they defy all known logic." I say softly, but trying to make her laugh even just a bit- I was successful as she giggled lightly through her choked sobs.

"Oh yeah? How exactly are you gonna do that Autumn?" she asked, looking up from my chest with a smug smile- cheeks still damp from tears. "Well- what are you insecure about?" I ask returning the smug smile full force as my heart fluttered at the use of my nickname. She took a moment before looking down at herself, puffing her lips out a bit with a pout. "My looks mainly...I mean- you and Tama are so pretty and then there's just me. Average MC." she degraded herself- pinching and pulling at her skin. I grab her hand to stop her from contiuing to do so.

"Average?" I started with a chuckle, deciding to focus on being called pretty by my crush later. "MC you are far better than average! You may not see it but I do. Your eyes are so gentle yet whenever you are standing up for Tamarack or settling an arguement- the look of determination gives them this shine I swear the stars wish they could replicate it. And don't get me started on your hair! It's always so pretty! Even when it's a mess because of the humidity of spring or tangled because you just woke up- even then it's so soft and compliments your complextion as well as your stunning eyes!" I rambled, letting out every single detail I've noticed about them- it was natural.

(𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗)

Qiu continued to go down the list- naming the smallest things about MC and explaining why every part of them was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. They didn't even notice how long they'd been rambling until they heard a small embarassed whimper come from the very female he was praising for earnestly. That's when he saw just how red her face was and their's quickly began to glow an even brighter red. Both incredibly flustered for what Qiu had so shamelessly spewed on about- as if MC was a hyperfixation he just couldn't look away from.

From outside the door, Opal stood and watched the two fumble about- embarassed. She smiled softly, glad that her daughter was feeling better with Autumn's help- and proud of the selection of friends MC had made four years ago when they first moved here. Quietly she retreated to the kitchen, deciding to make something sweet both teens would enjoy to snack on after such an emotionally taxing day.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,678

[fandomtherapy44]

Dean x reader So American One-shot

Summary: A vague plot based off this incredible song and my love for Dean Winchester

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Word count: 2,011

Song: So American-Oliva Rodrigo

Divider

saradika

Drivin' on the right-side road

He says I'm pretty wearin' his clothes

And he's got hands that make Hell seem cold

Feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem I wish I wrote

I wish I wrote

Dean Winchester the guy that stole my heart and shattered my heart in the span of three months. It was my last year of high school. In the last stretch I was the top of my class. Going to Harvard, I never went out of line, always on time for curfew. My parents expected me to be perfect. So I never went out with friends or party’s I was asked out but the answer was always no. My whole goal was to get there and to continue to be perfect but then I met him.

It was the last three months of school. A normal school day with me focused on my work and my teacher announcing that we were getting a new student. All of my classmates were talking about who would join a school in the last three months. Then everyone went quiet when he walked in I wondered why so l looked up and it was the most handsome guy I had ever seen. “Uh hey my name is Dean Winchester and I'm looking forward to all the party’s for the end of senior year!” He fist bumped the air and everyone whopped and clapped in agreement but me. “Dean, why don’t you take a seat next to Y/n.” Damnit. He walks over to me with an egoist bob of his head. “Hey I’m Dean.” He held out his hand with a smirk. “I know.” “Well miss Knowitall what’s your name.” “Look dude can you leave me alone and focus on your work.” “Gesse I was just trying to be friendly.” 

Couple weeks had passed and Dean did not stop try to talk to me which got really annoying. “Hey Y/n you going to the football party this weekend?” “No” “Why?” “Because Dean I have to work on the Graduation speech.”  “Ooh you're the valedictorian smart and pretty.” I was a little too flabbergasted to respond so I just kept working as I always did.

The bell rang and I got up quickly to not have to look at Dean but my teacher had other plans. “Y/n just one minute You too Dean.” Why me!? “Yes Mr.Baker” Dean and I were now at the front. “Dean these last few weeks your grades have not been the greatest.” “Mr. Baker, what's the big deal? It's almost the end of the year.” “That’s exactly the problem Mr.Winchester if you do not pass the next test you won’t graduate.” Damn that sucks but why am I here. “Seriously!?” “Yes Seriously but I think a tutor would really help you.” Oh no no no. “That’s why I have Miss L/n here.” NO “If she is willing to take you on I think you can pass she’s top of the class.” Both of them look at me in questioning. I looked at Dean’s face and for some reason I did something I never thought I would I said yes.

That was over ten years ago I went to college and continued to be perfect but I never forgot that Damn handsome Dean Winchester. I got my dream job at the top too. I never really dated after Dean. I couldn't, I couldn't give my heart again. 

And he says I'm so American

Oh God, I'm gonna marry him

If he keeps this shit up

I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-lo

“Thank you for doing this.” We were at the coffee shop early in the morning before school. “Yeah sure but you have to be committed, that means no party’s no girls…” “Hey I am going to be Mr.School I might even go above you.” “Okay Mr.school when you get more than a c then we'll talk.” I tapped his book. “Damn ok so Miss scholar has jokes.” He gave me his smile and that was the first time that my heart quicked a little bit. 

I was getting drinks with friends. The music was loud and lights blinding but I could still see him through all of that. I was sure it was him even though we were both eighteen when we last saw each other. That golden brown hair the green in his eyes looked like the sun mixed together with the tops of pine trees. The freckles dusted over his face like glitter. It didn’t matter if it had been ten years since I had seen him, I memorized every detail of him. He was chatting up some beautiful blonde woman and it was like I was back in highschool before he and I got together. 

I gave my friends an excuse that I had to work early the next morning and got up at a quick pace and shuffled my bag over my arm and I practically ran to the exit. When I entered the dance floor there were so many people that I couldn't see my footing and I tripped over my own foot. But luckily someone caught me. 

I was pacing back and forth in the hallway sweat running down my forehead looking at the clock every minute. The door opened very slowly and Dean walked out with head hung low. “Oh Dean, maybe I can talk to the teacher for you and you can retake it.” He holds up his head and brings a smile on his face. “No need cause I passed!” I paused for a second and I hit his shoulder. “Dean Wincheseter! Don’t you ever do that again!” He was laughing at my fake hits now. “OKAY okay I won’t teach now let’s go celebrate me gradienting highschool.”

I start to follow him and then think about how it’s almost eight. “Wait Dean, it's almost eight and I have curfew.” “Come on Y/n this is a big accomplishment on both of us. And you deserve it more than any of us.” He was right, I had worked my ass off. I deserve this. “Okay well if I'm going to break a rule then we are going to do it right.” “Great what’d you have in mind?”

We were on this cliff that overlooked the city that I found when I was a freshman and that was probably the last time that I was here. I looked over to Dean biting into his burger and the juice dripping down his lips and I couldn't stop thinking about… “Y/n y/n?” Dean was waving his hand in front of me. “Huh sorry.” “So how does it feel to break a rule miss perfect?” I sipped my drink to really think about his question.

“I haven't been here in years because I wanted to put my all in school work so my parents could know that their sacrifices meant something. I haven't had a damn burger in so long so I could only eat “brain food” my parents would say. I haven't breathed in the night cold air in the fear that I would get a cold. So to answer your question Dean it feels fucking amazing.” I grabbed my burger and took a huge bite. Dean looked a little shocked at that but happy too.

“Well it looks like we both taught something to each other. I’m glad I can leave you like this.” “Leave? You're leaving?” “Yeah my brother and I only went to school here while our Dad was doing … work.” “So this is kind of also a send off for me and I couldn't imagine spending it with anyone else. I just wanted to thank you for helping me.” “It was nothing really.” “No Y/n you are the first person who’s looked at me and saw more.” “Well you saw more then miss perfect.” “As I said before smart and beautiful.” At this point we had gotten closer on top of the old chevy impala and he leaned in and kissed me.

I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon

But if the conversation ever were to come up

I don't wanna assume this stuff

But ain't it wrong?

I think I'm in love

I looked up and it was a very tall handsome man with shaggy brown hair. If a moose had a human from this would be him. “Are you okay?” I stopped to shake my head. “Yeah I’m fine thank you.” “Here, why don’t you sit down.” He brought me over to the bar. “Hey can I please get some water for…?” He looked at me for my name. “Y/n.” “Here you go.” “Thanks.” “No problem.” I glugged down my water. “Oh I didn't even get your name.” “It’s-” “Sam!” A voice called out from behind him. I looked up and nearly choked it.was.DEAN. I got up quickly and spilled the water all over me but that didn't matter. “Ah thank you but I got to go!” I got up and ran out. Dean came up to Sam. “Who was that huh Sammy?” Dean raised his eyebrows up and down. “No, just some girl needed help.” “What was her name?” “Y/n” “Y/n? Huh”

It was the next morning and the whole night my head was filled with sweet fluffy dreams of him and that's how I knew I woke up because it's not reality. I went to my regular coffee shop. It was the same one from those years ago. I turned with my drink in my hand and I collided with a hard chest. “AHH Im so sorry.” I grabbed napkins and started to wipe and I looked up and it was the man I had been trying to avoid. “Y/n?” “Dean Hi” I wanted the earth to swallow me. “How are you doing?’” “Good look Dean I got to-” “Go work of course well if you want to catch up I'll be in our spot tonight.” Dean walks out. And I'm left to wonder what to do.

I drove to the spot it was still abandoned as the last time we left it and just as breathtaking. I got out of my car and I saw that old chevy Impala and Dean standing there. I breath in deeply to prepare myself. “Hey.” “Hi.” “So how’s life?” He asked me. “Uh good you?” “I wish I had the same answer.” He leaned against the Impala. “That bad huh.” “You have no Idea.” “And I'm guessing you went through college being the badass you are.” He always made me laugh. “Badass I don’t know about that but yeah college you?” “Yeah, college was never really for me. I went into my dad’s business.” “Well, whatever makes you happy, but college is missing out on one of the smartest people I've ever met.” He laughs.

“Wow, that coming from miss.Scholar is huge.” “Oh, shut up.” I pushed on his shoulder. “Look I'm really sorry how we left things.” “It's okay Dean you to go.” “No, it's not I regret it every day.” “We were kids we couldn't control our situation.” “Still.” “Well, were adults now so how do you feel now after seeing each other again.” I said standing closer to him like all those years ago. “I feel like I should have held the girl tighter who changed my life closer.” “And I feel like I should have held the boy closer.” At this point we were right up against each other. And I did something I thought I never would do again. I kissed him. 

And he laughs at all my jokes

And he says I'm so American

Oh God, it's just not fair of him

To make me feel this much

I'd go anywhere he goes

And he says I'm so American

Oh God, I'm gonna marry him

If he keeps this shit up

I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love

[lostinthewoodsomewhere]

Could you rank Jesse's outfits?

Hell yes I can!!!! Strap in lads, I've decided to put this under the cut because it got... long. Thank you so much for this question anon, I'm sorry if it's not quite what you wanted, it kind of ran away from me!!! But please know that I had so much fun doing this!! I'll take any excuse to talk about Control fashion!!!!

Okay, so:

The Director's suit

What can I say, just look at it, 10/10, no notes (well, lots of notes, but all about how much I love it!!!) Absolute perfection!!! The details on this outfit!!! The triangle on the back, the little triangle on the shoes, the cut outs on the jacket, the hair pin?????? It's truly everything to me, and I love it's story significance of visually showing Jesse embracing her role as Director, it's just the perfect example of everything the FBC and Oldest House is!!

(Also, fun fact, the first thing I thought when I saw it was 'oh, yeah, I understand why this is one of Julia Drawfee's favourite games now'...)

2. Asynchronous suit

Again, what can I say??? Look at it, this thing is just gorgeous!! Oh, the details!!! The structure is so beautiful, all the different shapes, the Brutalist nature of it all!! Also her cute little boots, I love them and the way they blend into the leggings!

Also, as someone who would desperately love for Jesse to get a skirt at some point, the half skirt and the way it moves in combat is everything to me, ahhh it looks so good!!!

3. Civilian outfit

I love her original outfit so much!!! It's so simple, yet it manages to be so iconic!!! I remember someone I was watching complain that her outfit wasn't great because it doesn't stand out enough, doesn't make her look like enough of an outsider, but personally I completely disagree! Control is such a high aesthetic game, and Jesse's civilian out so perfectly compliments the aesthetics of the Oldest House through its colour scheme and silhouette! Especially the back of the jacket, I absolutely adore the structure of it, it kind of has a similar energy as the Asynchronous Suit with the sharp Brutalist energy it has. But at the same time, by making it a leather jacket and jeans, it stands out so clearly from the (sometimes unnecessarily extra) formal shirts and trousers/skirts the others wear.

Anyway, love it! Also adore the bright blue of the original jacket!!!

4.Janitor's Assistant

Love it!! Love it so much!!! I adore the rolled up sleaves and trouser legs (whether this is for fashion or practicality, I do not know, but it is aesthetically pleasing none the less). Also, I love the detail that's she's wearing her original boots with this outfit, it feels like a cute visual cue of how comfortable she feels in this outfit/role. Also, the fact that Ahti gives it to us personally for a job well done just, perfection...

(also look at her little hammer and plyers, she deserves them!!!)

5. The Golden Suit

I do indeed enjoy the Golden Suit, I mean, it's a variation of my beloved Director's Suit, and has a lot of the same details I love that one for, but it just doesn't hit the same for me. I think I would prefer if it had a white shirt, or the shirt was a little darker as the greyish colour just isn't quite for me, (though it could be the darn lighting in the Oldest House). But still, I do indeed love it, I mean look at her, she still looks incredible even if its not quite my style!

6. Expedition Gear

You know what, I used to think I didn't like this outfit, but it grew on me as I was looking at it for this, and you know what, I love it now!! Like, to begin with it's one of the outfits that has the ponytail, and I absolutely adore this hairstyle!!! The way it moves in combat is gorgeous, and I enjoy the effort made to give her a high pony style that doesn't make her look like Beth Wilder!! But again, rolled up sleeves, super cute, the zipper/clasp detail on the side, it's all giving practical but fashionable, and I'm so hear for it!!

7. Extradimensional Suit

She's cool!! I mean, this outfit has the ponytail, so that's already a win! It's not my style, or the sort of thing I'm interested in, but I can appreciate it for what it is. The colour scheme is gorgeous, I love all the textures and shapes, particularly the piping around the neck (it reminds me of the mail room/pneumatics!). And as always, she looks incredible in it, so a solid outfit all round, just not one that makes me go feral, you know?

8. Office Assistant

I do very much love this outfit, I think she looks adorable, there's just not that much going on. I do love her little sensible heels, and the fact that the shirt is pinstripe rather than plain, it's cute!!! It's also just, it just is the FBC, it's such a recognisable look throughout the game, so I very much appreciate it!!

(Can you imagine if we got the pencil skirt version too????? Sigh, I can only dream...)

9. Candidate P7

Again, like, story wise this outfit is fascinating- (I've been thinking recently, like, at what point did Darling decide Dylan was a lost cause, and what did that mean for their pursuit of Jesse?? Is there a reason they just happened to have a prime candidate outfit ready for her, exactly in her size???)

Anyway, fashion wise there's not much to say, though I never realised you could run round the Oldest House in little socks, that's cool!! It also looks so cosy, but it has far too many lore implications for that, so unfortunately it does come last, but it's still cool!!

Bonus Round- Pre order exclusives

1.Tactical Response

You do not understand how unbelievably sad it makes me that this was an pre-order exclusive and I can not have it, because I love it so so much, it is gorgeous!!!!!!!! Look at her, she looks incredible!!!! The pony tail, the monochrome, it's like her civilian outfit but just elevated to the highest degree, I love it so muuuuuuuuuch!!!!!!!!!!

2. Astral Dive suit

I feel similarly about this outfit as I do the Extradimensional suit. Not quite my style, but I highly appreciate it, it's beautiful!! Also her hair, ahhhhhhh!!

3.Urban Response

It's cute!! It has a lot of the things I love about the Tactical Response, but the colour scheme just doesn't hit the same! The top is so cute though, I love it!!!!

And, uhhhhhhh, thats it :) If you made it to the end of this, thank you, I am incredibly impressed!!! Anyway, the clothes in Control are incredible, and this is only Jesse's outfits, there's so many other amazing clothes in this game!!! Like genuinely, the commitment to fashion in Control is incredibly important to me, and will always be one of the things I love most about this game!!!!

(I am literally always ready to talk about it, so never hesitate to message if you want to talk about it with someone!)

[artofhazbinhotel]

heyyy you can do a guitarspear short in the garden of eden (where maybe, if you want, Lute will be a curious angel about the new creation/Adam lol)

Here we go! Hopefully it was worth the wait, I had a lot of fun writing this :)

Alone sat a man, alone for the second time, while his wife had been condemned for her sins he wasn't, she was banished and he wasn't. He wouldn't be alone if his kids were awake but the late night silence was better than their cries about where their mother went. He blamed Lucifer for what happened to Eve, not her, she was just listening to a man and that's what she had been taught, if only Lilith learned that, maybe she wouldn't have chosen Lucifer over him, she was too difficult for him. He likes to think he's the one who wanted that to end, not her. The lake he sat by in the grass reflected the moon and he cupped some of the water to his mouth to drink, drinking away your sorrows hadn't been invented yet but he'd try.

He was interrupted by the sight of an angel slowly flying down to him, he wanted to be annoyed but she was kind of hot in his opinion. Long light silver hair, golden eyes with thick lashes, a flowy dress of black and white patterns and matching black and white wings large enough to support her. She landed in front of him and took a seat next to him in the grass, quiet for a minute, like she was thinking of what to say. "I'm sorry about what happened to Eve" she finally said. He sighed, "Geez does all of heaven know? I must look like some fucking loser." She tilted her head "What does fucking mean?"

Adam snickered running a hand through his hair "Oh right, I made it up, it's like something you add before a word to make it sound cooler, what do you think?" He looked at her for approval, he'd always assumed angels would be bigger until he saw Lucifer and now her, she's tiny. The angel thought about it before offering an awkward snicker in return "I like it, maybe I'll use it" He offered a high-five with an enthusiastic: "Hell yeah!" But she wasn't sure what to do so he took her hand and make it tap his for her then let go, it fell back at her side. "So what's your name?"

"I don't have a name" Adam's eyes widened in offense for her "That's lame, what about I give you one?" She smiled and nodded. Adam took her in again, what words come to mind? The animal names were made up, she should get something that doesn't exist yet. "Lulu.. no that's dumb. Light. Already exist." He tapped his head before snapping his fingers, "Lute!" Her eyes lit up, to have the person she's been watching from afar give her this gift was a warm feeling. "I like it"

"Well, it's nice to meet you Lute" "Nice to meet you too, Adam, I always wanted to but it didn't feel like the right time." He tilts his head, "What do you mean?" Lute sighed "As an angel the only way I can access this world is if a soul needs me, I jumped at the chance" "I guess that makes sense, but does that mean you can't visit unless I'm sad?"

Lute paused before answering, "I can sneak out" The human was kind of impressed, "Risky, I like it" Before their chat can continue a small pair of hands tapped Adam's shoulder lightly but several times. He looked down to see Abel, not very old yet. "Hey buddy, what you doing up?" Abel sat beside his father and pointed to Lute "Who's the pretty lady daddy? Is she our new mommy?" Lute blushed embarrassed and shook her head "No no, I'm just an angel-"

Abel stumbled over and snuggled up to her wing "You're like a birdy" Adam picked up his son "Hey you can't go getting all handsy with the ladies unless they're into it" Abel nodded and Lute stood. "I'm sorry to cut this short but I really should be heading back, I have a lot of responsibility up there" Adam looked at Abel and joked "See? Look what you did" Abel just immediately started crying"Wait fuck- I was joking!" He bounced him panicking, Eve was so much better at this parenting thing than he was.

Lute didn't judge, she'd have no idea what to do with a tiny human either. She waved goodbye and so did Adam. Her wings spread and she went back up, he was looking forward to seeing her again, it was the first time he'd felt happy in a while. Okay back to the crying baby, he just kept shaking up and down like a protein drink "Hush little baby don't say a word-" awkward singing ensues.

The two continued their meetings until eventually Adam's death came, Lute watched from behind the gates to welcome him as he was let him in. She took in his new appearance, golden wings and a considerable height boost. "I can show you around" She suggested but he was just excited to see her and lifted her with ease, crushing her against his chest. "Lute! This is great, now we can hang out all we want!" The other angel blushed being so close and tried to shove away, wings flapping rapidly. "Yeah- great- you can put me down now."

Adam nods and sits her down "Oops sorry" He laughed as she fixed her hair. Their conversation was interrupted again by something mirroring their first, it was Abel. "You look so majestic father! I missed you" Adam ran over and ruffled his brown hair, it matched his own. "Not too bad yourself, look at those wings!" Lute watched them with a small smile, it was sweet to see the reunion Abel always talked about, she never filled the mother role in his life, but she did let him ask about his father, she'd never complain to talk about him.

[ask-robokasa-and-rui]

Nene's Origins// Final part

Nene ran in the empty streets, going as fast as her mechanics can. Seconds felt like hours...hours felt like days...days felt like years. But she really just ran for 15 minutes. She stopped in the middle of a crossing.

Ah...what is this place...

She asked herself, before someone bumps into her.

Gah-!

Ah-...

Sorry! I didn't look where I was going...

Nene stayed quiet, not knowing what to really do. The guy had short, purple hair with teal streaks. Their eyes, a golden yellow. To the point it looks like the eyes of a snake. This was the first person she met that wasn't Kanade, Saki or even the janitor.

What is this place...?

Nene asks in a quiet tone, almost like a icy whisper.

Hm? It's the Scarmble Crossing. You've never been here before?

Should I...?

Are you not from here?

Uhm...yeah I'm not...I'm from..! Uhm...the city next door....

Nene, trying her best to look human, tried making small talk with the guy.

Would you like me to show you around?

Huh? Oh-Ahem! Yeah, sure.

Nene felt uneasy for a minute. Was this right? Should she ditch the guy and make a run for it back to Tsukasa? Should she continue this? Is this even right? Why is she blindly trusting a stranger? Stranger...no one can be a stranger when you know their name!

Hey uh, before we go...what's your name?

The guy looked back at her with slight surprise and replied:

Kamishiro Rui...

Nene.

Nene extended her hand for a shake, but the guy didn't shake it.

It will rain soon, we should head to the bookstore before we get wet...

They guy...Rui said before walking. Nene felt unease again before following him.

They enter a bookstore that was semi-empty. Nene looked at the lights above her without needing to blink in pain.

Do you like books?

Nene asked, as she looked at the books on the crimson wooded shelves.

Yeah, I read them when I'm bored. Or when I run out of ideas for shows...

Shows?

Nene's curiosity peeked.

Uh....nevermind.

Rui replied with a sad tone. Nene thought it was a personal issue maybe, so she continued eyeing the books. She saw a book titled: "I have no mouth, and I must scream". She said the title out loud to herself, which Rui overheard.

Oh that book...it's pretty dark.

What is it about?

It's about a war computer trapping the last remaining humans in the world and torturing them. The computer also changes the humans entirely to drive them crazy. The main character kills the remaining humans and he gets trapped in the hell the computer created. It turns the main character into a formless slug that doesn't have a mouth...hence the title: "I have no mouth, and I must scream".

Woah...what a weird concept. A computer...turning evil.

Nene grabbed the book and flipped it's pages. She stopped at a page where a weird sentence was written. She repeated the words out loud.

Cogito erco so...I think, therefore I am...? What does that mean....?

That's a quote from philosophy.

A quote? What does it mean when it says "I think, therefore I am"...?

Well...think of it like this.

Hm...

....there you go!

Huh.

Nene felt confused. He just told her to think, what message is it sending?!

I don't get it.

You thought just now right?

Yeah?

This quote revolves around the question: "How do I know I'm real?" To know you're real, you have to think. Am I thinking? Then I'm real. If I'm given the ability to think, that means I'm not in a weird dream. That just means...I'm real. That's what it implies by saying: "I think, therefore I am", a short version for: "I am thinking, therefore I am real"...

Ah...!

All this time, Nene believed that her "fake" emotions were what made her real...when they were never fake to begin with. Emotions and feelings manifest from thinking. She thinks, therefore she is...

Thank you...

Nene said, unable to hold herself.

...You're welcome?

Rui said and smiled at Nene. He looked out the window.

Hey, the rain stopped. Would you like to sit at a càfe with me...?

Hm...

Nene thought, again. She thought, if she stayed near a normal human close, she would be safe from that place.

Sure...

Nene held Rui's hand. This felt wrong to Nene, playing with someone's emotions like that. But she wanted to be close to Rui. It was an attempt of protection and happiness. Rui helped Nene learn the meaning of "being real". And she wanted to help Rui too. Even if it meant...something had to be fake.

Let's go!

Tags: @aspenii @bobcross1010 @mizuribbons @kiwi-does-stuff @scodscod @dazeddoofus @kusanagi-nene-official-mod @kitchenaidmixer02

[yc-idkwhy]

Rent a Room

(Spare me if I get any real life details wrong. It's a *fiction* for a reason 👍. Anyways. Enjoy! I had more stuff planned for this chapter but I sort of forgot alot of it. Apologies.)

Chapter 3:- Call

-----•Nick Nelson•-----

"Is this Will Solace?"

"Yep!"

Said a voice with a slight southern accent that was currently adjusting his camera until it settled in on a patio facing the walls of a light blue house. A golden curly blonde, freckled boy then came into frame and smiled at the two.

"Hello!" The stranger said.

"So you're looking to rent this room?" Nick heard Charlie say from beside him.

"Mhm!"

"May I ask why?"

Will Solace went on about how the camp he went to sends out campers for little trips alot of the time and how this one wasn't like one of those trips so he needed a room or something like that. Nick doesn't know. He was too busy looking at his boyfriend throughout the whole thing.

"And where are you from?"

"Well originally from Texas but right now I'm in New York." The southern accent somehow seemed a bit heavier in that sentence. Had Nick been looking at the screen he'd expect the guy to be tipping a cowboy hat right about now.

"Is that the room?"

Nick and Charlie moved out of the frame to give a one frame room tour.

"I mean I don't really need that, I saw the pictures..." Will said hesitantly.

"Oh I'm sorry"

"What did we say about the S word?"

"Sorry"

"Charlie!"

The two went on their "Sorry. Not sorry" chain for about another minute before remembering what they were originally doing but when they looked back, Will's attention seemed to be displaced too.

"Will?" Charlie asked.

"Oh what? Oh my bad. I think my little siblings are getting up to something. I need to check on that. Be right back."

He left Nick and Charlie staring at the screen, until in the far corner the door opened. A middle aged, retired, alcoholic man stepped out. Looking towards the same direction where Will went. The man turned his gaze and it fell onto the computer Will was using. He had a Diet Coke in his hand and just... stared at them for a few very long seconds.

Then the man started towards them. "Who the hell are you." More of a sentence than a question to be honest. "Uh I'm Nick Nelson and this is my boyfriend Charlie Spring, we-"

"Rick Olsen and Chandler Summer, got it."

"That's not-"

"That's all I needed to know jeez calm down you mortal."

"What?"

Instead of replying, the man took a veryyyyy long sip of his diet coke. By then Will had returned and was back on frame.

"Mr. D!"

"Sun Spawn!" Mr... D? Replied not so enthusiastically.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be perhaps... Not here?"

"Are U suggesting I'm a nuisance?"

"I mean not really bu-"

"I can see when I'm not wanted. To think you were one of my favourites Solace."

The man started walking away.

"bye, I think." Will turned back to the couple. "Anyways where were we!"

"I-"

"Ignore him, really, please, please do that. Let's go over the details shall we?"

And so they did that (forgive me, I had stuff to write for the details part planned, but I forgot it all.)

"So I feel like I guess that's that it, feel free to look around the room when you get here, just not in the snooping sense. You can read any of my books if U get bored or something. I mean if you're into like a ton of greek classics and books based of them" Charlie said laughing lightly.

"Oh you're into that stuff?" Will glanced around his surroundings. "Maybe you'd like it around here then."

"I guess that's it. You can contact me the time you'd be arriving. Unless you carry around a knife or something. In that case please try not to arrive." Nick laughed with love at Charlie's joke. Will however had a more nervous laugh, probably at the accusation, he raised his hand to scratch the back of his head. And then Nick saw the bracelet that was on his hand.

"Oh my god, Char he's also bisexual, bring him in."

Will looked down at his bracelet. "Is homosexuality a leverage? Do I get a discount?"

"Yeah we should end this call now. It was wonderful meeting you!"

Just like that the call ended. Of course Nick had missed out on most of the important parts due to paying attention to Charlie instead.

"He's nice."

"Yeah, great news for me. My room probably won't be wreckt. The old guy was weird though"