#i wish i cared more . i wish i knew how act like a human being without feeling like i'm putting on a play and be naturally interesting

[binoculares]

feel like i'm constantly between the urgent need to conect with everyone and feel loved and needed and the deep deep boredom i have with everyone elses business. good for you or sorry that happended.

[nightingale-prompts]

Talking to Batboy

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"Do you want to talk?" Dick asked sitting at the end of the bed.

Danny had been spared from the memories of that night but it had done nothing for his mental health. He was handling the loss of his wings well at least. Although losing a limb was still not a good feeling.

But that isn't the problem. None of this is the problem.

The problem was…

"Why me?" Danny asked tucking his legs to his chest.

"What?" Dick asked confused.

"What made me so special? Was it just my wings?" Danny narrowed his eyes.

"I...don't know. I just wanted-"

"That's not an answer! It was the wings, wasn't y You don't care about me! Of course, it was the wings!" Danny jumped off the bed and moved towards the door.

"Danny, is it so hard to believe that I wanted you because I cared?" Dick grabbed Danny's hand pulling him back.

"Yes! This city is full of poor unfortunate orphans. The only reason I was special was because of how I looked. But that's not real! That's not what I am." Danny shifted, and his real appearance began shifting across his body. "BUT YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE THE REAL ME!

Danny started to hyperventilate as he pulled back until he hit the wall. He slumped to the floor.

"I don't belong here. I should never have come here." Danny said to himself.

Dick keeled down and spoke gently.

"Your right you did stand out. I thought you were a lot like me. Optimistic and energetic despite the pain you were in. I didn't know what you were and I still don't understand. I wish you'd just tell me so I can understand. I want to help you."

Danny scoffed.

"You want to help me?" He laughed taking off his shirt and letting his glamour fall showing the scars he had.

The lightning scar that ripped through his arm and chest all the way to his eye. The burn marks and blast marks littered his body. The unmistakable dissection scar.

In that moment Dick knew that he hadn't seen himself in Danny. He had seen Jason. Sweet little Jason who has a light in the night. His little brother who he hadn't treasured enough until he was gone.

"Danny…you.." He was lost for words.

"You don't want me. Even my parents didn't want me. Honestly, you are all the same. You don't see me as what I am. Just a monster. Not human." Danny grumbled.

"That's not true Danny! Stop trying to put words in my mouth! I love you, is that so hard to believe?" Dick held Danny's shoulders as the teen pushed him back.

"Yes! Now get away!" Danny phased through Dick and flew away to escape. He couldn't handle this right now.

Wings or no wings he could still fly. That was comfort enough.

He flew as quickly as he could only to end up in Crime Alley again. As eerie as it was it gave him a place to collect his thoughts.

Unfortunately, he forgot it was home to the relevant Red Hood or Jason. His unwitting family member. That was no longer a secret especially when Jason recognized him as Phantom. At least he didn't tell everyone.

He didn't want them to know the truth. He didn't want to be an undead monster to them. He couldn't go through that again. He refused. He'd rather return to the realms before suffering that again.

When Jason came (probably sensing his presence) Danny felt overcome with emotions. He hugged Jason feeling a little less alone.

"Hey, Spooks. What are you doing out here?" Jason asked letting the boy hug him.

"I…picked a fight with Dick," Danny said embarrassed with how he acted…again.

"First time?" Jason laughed "Trust me as his kid you probably will do that plenty more times. I know I still do with my ol'man. But Dick isn't like Bats. He loves differently. Although they both care too much, Dick is good at communication. Just talk to him."

Jason seemed more jovial now. Less pained. Apparently, now that the Joker was dead and gone a weight was taken off him. That and the tainted ectoplasm being eaten by Danny.

"I don't think I can," Danny said, what he wanted to do was run away. He may have gotten too deep into this. Maybe returning was the best thing.

"Then you sure chose the worst possible guardian. He's gonna keep looking. He did not going to stop either. So sucking it up and facing him is the best possible route." Jason laughed as Danny sighed. "You can't keep running."

"I can try." Danny thought bitterly. He could just rip open a portal and disappear. No one would know.

"Red Hood. Danny." A third voice entered the conversation.

"Batman." Jason scowled.

"I was sent to look for Danny." He said simply. "He should be focused on healing."

"How'd you find me this fast?" Danny gripped rolling his eyes.

"I had a feeling. Come along, Danny. " Batman reached out to Danny.

Reluctantly Danny waved goodbye to Red Hood and took Bruce's hand.

Bruce didn't take Danny home immediately. Instead, they climbed one of the tallest buildings in Gotham. Danny stared up at the sky. The stars were blocked out by the light and smoke. He always hated that part of Gotham.

"Danny look down," Batman said urging Danny to sit with him.

Looking down the city shined. Each light is like a blazing star.

"Each light you see is a person. Despite how difficult life is here they still choose to live their lives." Batman said. "They don't know if they will be safe but they still strive for more."

"Do they really think that or do you just hope they do?" Danny barked clinically.

"Both. It wasn't always like this. The city used to be dead silent before I became Batman. Now they have the strength to fight back even in the night. That's why I do this. So Danny, why do you fight?"

Danny was never really asked this. He had a reason right? A good one.

"I wanted to protect my hometown." Yet he no longer needed to do that. He controlled the ghosts now. They lived a peaceful life now.

"Then we have something in common. I want to protect Gotham. But I'm not perfect. The world we live in is unpredictable with forces we don't understand. I thought if I understood something then I'd have no reason to fear. That suspension was leveled at you because I thought it would protect you and the world. However, I only made you afraid."Batman apologized. He wasn't very good at that but he was genuine.

"What if I'm a threat? What if I'm dangerous and hurt people? People you care about." Danny wanted to aim that barb at Bruce but it actually hit him. He was scared that one day he would become that other version of himself.

"Then I want to help you because I know you don't want to hurt people. Trust me there isn't a metahuman on earth that doesn't share your fear." Batman put a hand on Danny's shoulder.

It felt surprisingly warm against his cold skin.

"I want to talk to Nightwing. I think. I think I'm ready to talk." Danny was finally ready to tell him the truth. Even if it scared him to death.

[mononijikayu]

devotion; i'm a slave onto the mercy of your love — ryomen sukuna.

“If I had offered you to be immortal, with me.” He asked you, looking at your orbs with longing. “Would you do it?” You looked at him for a moment. And there it was once again. That ghostly smile. “We cannot escape death, my lord.” You tell him, your hand resting on his cheek. You gave him what little warmth remained. “Whatever happens, we will all die. You may not die now, but we will all go. Soon, I will go."

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, r-18, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, parenthood, forced parenthood, hurt, physical touch, character death, sexual acts, mourning, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, toxic relationship, depiction of suicide, depiction of suicidal ideation, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of character death, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of parenthood, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, mention of sexual acts, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 30k words

NOTE: i told myself this would be short because its the last chapter before the epilogue, but here we are. i asked everyone if it would be fine, if it got longer. many of you said that it was fine. and i didn't wanna make more chapters, so here i am, posting this long fic like my life depends on it. i am floored the love concubine reader has received from readers. i bow to you and your kindness over concubine reader!!! i hope you continue to read and explore worlds with me!!! i love you all <3

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YOU COULD FEEL YOUR AGE THESE DAYS. But perhaps that's what time will do to you. You cannot fathom it, if you were being honest. You could only sit there as you looked back to time. Seventeen long years had come and gone.

Seventeen long years as a concubine. Seventeen long years as a woman who yearned and yearned for things that will never come. And yet, the things that have been yearned still remain. They still haunt you. For they continue to be hopeless deluded wishes of a fool of a woman like you.

You do not know how you lasted this long being Ryomen Sukuna's concubine. But perhaps you had just gotten too used to dealing with such a title, without little care from the man himself. Perhaps even more, you had gotten too numb to the feeling of not being as wanted as the ghost he loved.

And yet still, you had gotten closer to him. However, the term closeness requires a lot of thoughts talked through. The naked eyes of humanity would not notice what you have. Being the other woman, after all, made you privy to what closeness meant in the realm of the aggrieved wife.

You were already used to the fact that he was without affection. He had been someone that averted touch, and even more so, averted the warmth that comes with intimacy. He shunned such a thing easily. And you did not pry. It was not your place. No matter how much you wanted something from him, you knew you would not get it from him in the way you wanted.

And yet, there were moments that came fleeting like the clouds in the sky drifting by in the morning sunrise. Sometimes, those calloused hands would hold yours for a brief moment and leave tenderness.

At times he would keep you close and look at you with those tender gazes, as though you were the only thing left to wonder in the world. But you know that they were always made to the surface. They were tenderness formed out of fondness.

Still, you know that there was trust from him, if not love. Perhaps that would just be what is left for him to feel. Yet you thought that such trust was ever so sacred. You had known him a god and you lived knowing he is your god. And as his most ardent follower, his most ardent believer - you knew you would never ask of him much more than what he could give.

Because you knew it all too well. Trust is all that there would be between the two of you. Fondness is all that he could give you. He could not give you any more than that. Love is hard to say, even harder to provide. A god doesn't have love, you knew that much. Every part of him that had been human, that had been him at one point loving, had died with Ryomen Hiromi.

You knew that the moment he had married you. He could spoil you with all the fondness in him, he could touch you, he could give you all the loyalty he would never give any other woman in the harem. But he would never love you. A god like him never loved. He cannot. He's incapable of it.

"I trust you, little one. Out of all of them, you have my outmost trust." he had told you at one point. He had taken you to battle with him. In the most vulnerable essence, he was exhausted. And here you were, a witness of his weariness, the way others would never be.

Your husband's voice had been hoarse, perhaps that had been to the excitement he had shouted in battle. Jujutsu first and foremost was what kept him alive in this earth, you knew that most. Still, he made an effort to talk to you. As though he knew that he does not wish to bore you with silence.

He wasn't weakened, not your husband. But negative energy takes a lot on a body. And so, you were apprehensive if you should ever reply. Your husband's words had hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and though you should have felt contentment, it was always followed by that ache you could never quite shake. Such conversation was never going to be that for equals.

"You don’t trust anyone else, my lord." you had said back then, your hands gently tending to his body, washing away the grime and the dirt that had accumulated upon his body. This moment of intimacy of the moment fleeting but tangible. At times, you hold onto it. At times you don't. You could only wonder if you could ever be honest with yourself without contradiction.

There were bags in your eyes, heavy with weariness. You had been waiting for him to come home for days, sitting about his tent like some doll that had been sat still by her master. Perhaps that is how he viewed you at times. His little doll, who awaits for his command to be moved.

His dark scarlet eyes had flickered, a dangerous gleam that softened just enough for you to feel safe. “Perhaps outside of Uraume, my lord.”

"That is given, little one. But everyone else? I never will put my trust upon them. They are all witless. And they could betray me. I know that." he had replied, his tone matter-of-fact, like it was a final judgment. "Out of all of them, you will be the only one who will stand by me. I know that too well. Only you."

And yet, even with that, you knew. The professing of trust wasn’t ever going to be that of love. It never was going to be. Not even for him. You could only stand there was you catch his eyes bearing hard upon yours. There was nothing.

There was no longing, there was no tenderness. It was a hard stare that burns you like a house on fire. You understand too well, you understand that he will never look at you that warmly. You will be trusted so long as you were loyal to him.

And there perhaps is and only will be that for as long as you lived. Seventeen years had not changed him. You do not expect him to continue to change now. You have accepted it all, everything.

Everything about his feelings, about him, about the past. The past had been left behind. Hironobu, your grievances, your initial fears, your uncertainty. But with it went the fantasy that someday, he might love you.

"Do you ever regret it, my lord?" you asked him then, feeling the moonlight spilling into the room.

He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t even shift. "Regret what, little one."

"Sparing my life. Letting me live. This… relationship between us." you had whispered softly, feeling foolish even as the words left your lips. "Do you ever wonder if it’s enough, my lord?"

There followed a long silence. You didn't expect a response. If you were being honest, that was more honesty than any words he could say. And such silence wouldn't hurt your feelings more than his words would have. You know him too well by now. Ryomen Sukuna had never indulged idle qestions, especially ones rooted in emotion. Not even from his favorite concubine.

Emotions were trivial to him, it was easy to tell. He had lived too long for anyone to think that they were not. Feelings were were closed shades in his heart, pieces you will never come to know. Perhaps, you think, it is better that way. But then, his dark scarlet eyes slid open, gleaming crimson in the dim light as they looked at you. 

And yet, a part of you wonders if he was ever satisfied with your lives together. You were but a small insignificant part of him, you know that. But he had let you live so many years ago, he had taken you on as his concubine one way or another. He had let you live by his side, close to him, raised his precious child for him, served him.

And you could only wonder, if he was content. Satisfied. Even if he didn’t love you, you wished that he was satisfied with living by your side. That he does not regret you Perhaps that would be enough for you. To think that you had not wasted seventeen years of your life in misery for nothing.

"Enough for who, little one?" he asked. His tone was almost challenging, but you could hear the truth buried within it. He had never needed anything more than what you were. That you were someone he could trust, someone who would not betray him.

You swallowed, your eyes shaking. "Enough for you, my lord." you clarified. "Do you ever… want more in this life?"

He didn’t answer immediately. He does not feel like he should. Instead, Sukuna arose from his seat, his towering presence filling the space and made his way toward you. He stopped just inches away, close enough that you could feel the faintest heat radiating off him.

Your eyes lifted higher, trying to meet his eyes. You had to. You dared speak something to him. And you ought to face him. You ought to meet him in the eye and accept what ever he says.

"I don’t need more than what I have." he said simply, his voice low and unwavering. 

And you nodded, biting back the questions you didn’t dare ask. What about me? you wanted to say. What about what I need?

You shouldn't have asked. You didn't have to. You knew the answer. You had known it for years. It was trivial, unnecessary to ask again. You nodded to him. You bite your tongue and pursed your lips in a flat line. Ryomen Sukuna was not a man who grants wishes to the foolish, including you who dreams of love. 

You ought to be satisfied. You should be. Because, what more could you want from him? You had his trust, his loyalty, and that was more than most could dream of. If one was being honest, people could only dream of the life you live by his side. You ought to be content, someone would say. You live in riches, you live with his trust and his confidence. You were still alive. Shouldn’t that be enough?

As Sukuna walked past you, brushing your shoulder with the faintest touch, you exhaled a breath. Contentment was your fate, greediness was not. It wasn’t the passion you had once imagined for yourself. It wasn’t the deep, soul-shaking love you had thought marriage would bring. But it was enough to survive. You ought to live for it. You ought to let it be.

"I suppose then….." you whispered to yourself, once you were alone again. "Most women endure."

You smiled faintly, bitter and content all at once.

And you would endure too. You already had.

But part of you wondered if you were truly satisfied.

The night stretched on, silent except for the steady hum of the world outside. You stood there for a moment longer, watching the space where Sukuna had been. He had a way of filling the room, even when he wasn’t trying—an overwhelming presence that you could never escape, even when he wasn't physically near you.

You let out a breath and turned, going through the motions of preparing for bed. Just another day for the other woman. Ryomen Sukuna never needed to say much. You never expected more than what he gave.

When you were lying in bed, staring at the vast expanse of the tent's emptiness, you found yourself unable to sleep. It was in that moment that you heard the quiet echo of the tent's entrance. You sat up and noticed him once again. Ryomen Sukuna’s heavy footsteps made their way into the room. He didn’t say anything as he entered; he rarely did. His presence alone spoke volumes.

Your husband had his own tent. You knew tht much. But it seemed he cannot sleep too. He was too nocturnal for it. Ryomen Sukuna looked at you for a moment. Then, he approached the bed and sat down, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. You shifted but kept your gaze upward, listening to the way his breath came slow and even, like nothing in the world could touch him. Maybe it couldn’t.

"Is my lord sleeping in my tent tonight?"

"There is too much noise in mine." He tells you rather bluntly. "I cannot sleep."

"I see." You tell him, nodding at him.  

You moved slightly, trying to make room for him in your bed. Your husband was a big man, someone that would never fit in your bed. And yet you make the effort. You wanted him to feel like he had a place with you, even if there was none for you in his.

"Shouldn't you already be asleep, little one." He whispers the question. "You are not this sort to stay ever so late awake."

"I cannot help it, lord." You shifted slightly, as you retort back in a soft tone. "There was a lot on my mind."

His crimson gleam raised at you. "Oh? And what would that be, little one?"

"Nothing.....nothing of import, my lord. You mustn't think of my ridiculous thoughts."

"You are my concubine." He says sternly, shifting slightly to your side. You could feel yourself heating up at the closeness of him. "Your business is also mine. You might as well say something, little one."

You gulped at him. He is relentless, when he wants something. Knowledge most of all. In all the years together with your husband, the thing you had known the most about him is that he craves to know. He craves to know everything and anything. And it's hard to keep it away from him. Even from the grave. You were never going to win against him.

“Why did you marry me, my lord?” you whispered to him. “I may be a ghost but…there was no reason to do so. Break my will, you could have done that by other means.”

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t answer right away. You didn’t expect him to. But after a moment, you felt the bed shift again as he leaned back, arms resting behind him. His gaze seemed far away, as though he were contemplating something beyond your reach.

“There could have been other means, you are right with that, little one.” he said eventually, his voice calm, devoid of hesitation.

Your husband did not feel pain often, so you know it was not that pain speaking through. It was honesty. “I wanted to break your spirit. That was true. But over time….you have proven yourself. Other than Uraume, you were the only one I could trust. The only one who understood.”

His words settled over you, heavy and cold, though they didn’t surprise you. You had always known this was his reason. You had been chosen, not out of love or affection, but out of necessity.

A match of convenience. A match of lessons. A match of misery. Never love. You already knew that. It was quite obvious. Yet, hearing it so plainly—it still stung, like an old wound that hadn’t quite healed.

“And now, my lord?” you asked quietly, turning your head to look at him. "After all these years, am I still just… useful?"

He tilted his head, his crimson eyes glinting in the dim light. "You are still the only one I trust. Out of all of them at the harem. Out of them who seek to plot behind my back. The only one will stand by me no matter what I do. I know that for a fact."

I have no place other than by your side. You think to yourself. There is no more home to return to. You had made sure of that when you had burned it all way.

His gaze met yours, unyielding. “That is more valuable than anything else, little one. You ought to remember that. In many ways than this, you are the only one.”

You swallowed, the ache in your chest growing heavier. You could feel that the bed was eating you whole with the way you lay against it. You can tell quite clearly that he wasn’t lying. Sukuna never lied, he had no reason to. Lying requires guilt too. And he has none. But he also never said what you needed to hear, what you sometimes ,wished for.

Trust is more valuable than love, you tried to tell yourself. He has given you more than anyone else in his life. That should be enough.

But the silence between you felt thick, suffocating. You shifted on the bed, turning away from him, eyes once again on the ceiling. You nodded back at him. You knew too well that there was nothing else left to hear from him.

"I see." you said softly, though your voice sounded distant, even to your own ears.

Ryomen Sukuna made no move to touch you, to offer any comfort. He never did. You had long since learned that his world was one without tenderness. You cannot demand it, you cannot will it. He was the only one with will between the two of you.

But there were moment in between these many years when the weight of it all became too much for you to bear. There were times when you wished that even just for a second, even for just a moment, even in a dream that he could be different.

That he could reach for you, hold you, tell you that you mattered beyond just being useful. That there would be warmth at the end of the winters you've spent with him. But those were fantasies, and you had buried them long ago. You cannot suffer more of this. You have to keep them buried. You have to live, as you have in the past seventeen years. You ought to survive.

After a long silence, Sukuna spoke again, his voice low, barely above a whisper. "You’re still here, aren’t you, little one? After everything?"

There was something you could feel felt unspoken in his words. But you knew too well that would be a flower that will never bloom. You had to accept it now. You had to stop deluding yourself.

You could only do so much with that as you closed your eyes. You could feel your as though your heart was stuck in your throat. He could read you as easily as you could read him. How right he was about you, over and over again.

There have been too many opportunities for you to escape these seventeen years. Too many opportunities to go off and be something without him. To be nothing to him. And yet you didn’t.

You haven’t. You chose to stay. You chose him. One way or another, he knew. He just knew. You would never leave him, even if it burns you whole. Even if there was nohting left to live for. You would choose him. 

You were going to stay with him. You were going to choose him. One way or another, your love for him was devotion. And devotion, it was the proof. You were a slave to the mercy of his love. You loved him.

The monster he was. The man he was. Everything. You take him whole. You didn’t have to show him that. Staying already did. Loyalty already showed it. He did not need any more proof.

He didn’t need to say more. He was asking in his own way why you stayed, why you continued to endure.

"Yes, my lord." you whispered back. "I’m still here."

Because despite everything, despite knowing that you would never hear those three words, despite the emptiness that sometimes crept in during the quiet nights, you had chosen this. You had chosen him. You always will.

Even if there was pain, you knew it yourself. These seventeen years of solitude were always going to be triumphed by seventeen years of knowing nothing but serving and loving him. 

And in the strange, dark way that only Ryomen Sukuna could offer, he had chosen you too. In what little remained, he proved to you that he would choose you too. Seventeen years. You were his longest companion, his longest everything.

And even then, it wasn’t love, not in the way you wanted it. But maybe, just maybe, it was something close enough. Something that, in this world of violence and cruelty, you could find solace in.

The two of you sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of the years stretching between you, unspoken but understood. And as you drifted off into an uneasy sleep, you reminded yourself that most women endure.

You would endure too. You already had.

And you'll do it again.

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THE SEASONS HAVE PASSED BY RELATIVELY WELL. But as usual, it was what what is felt only in the Vermillion Hall. A luxury that only you as Sukuna's favorite could ever have. The days spent in the isolation of the Vermillion Hall were quiet and peaceful, spent in the bliss of ignorance. The grandeur of the estate stood in stark contrast to the deep, unsettling turmoil that often simmered beneath its surface.

It was what Ryomen Sukuna's true intention was when he had given you this paradise on earth as a gift. Isolation in paradise, a prison in a cage of luxury for the obedience that came with breaking you whole.

The worldly affairs were no longer your concern the moment he trapped you inside of here. Duties and struggles and the sufferings of humanity no longer existed. It no longer mattered. It no longer subsisted.

Most days were spent here without the disturbance of any need from Ryomen Sukuna. Your husband had matters to deal with most of the time. Things he never tells you and things he does not show you. And perhaps it was better not to ask.

But with your husband's absence, there was no audiences with the small folk and there was no trips that required your attention. As such, you spent most of your time enjoying the peace with Ryomen Chiharu, carving a small peace of joy in tribulations.

Chiharu's existence within these halls had wiped away your mundane life. Everything about her had brought such color in your life, with each laughter and each tender touch of her palm gave you such life.

Each and every day, she found something new to bring you into. Everything had kept you entertained. She pulled you towards gardening, reading aloud to one another, singing songs she had picked up from wandering musicians, and even sewing, though she wasn’t particularly fond of it. You indulged her in everything. You could not hope to say no. For it was hard to see her face in a frown.

You might have become older, but you can't help but try and keep up with her. She was just too much fun to be with. Her zest for life had made itself ever so contagious that you dare not turn it down.

Even when you were tired, you found yourself chasing after her whims, always keeping upon the move as if her happiness alone fueled you. And how could you not? Ryomen Chiharu had become a light of your world in the short amount of time you had her.

One could wonder how she was truly her father's daughter. But it was unmistakable when you look at her eyes. She was the warmth Sukuna had removed from his heart. She was the humanity that died in him long ago.

The Vermillion Hall had become ever more exciting with her around. You felt less alone with her in your home, you had felt more like there was something of life worth living beyond the slavery you had to your devotion to her father.

On most days, you and Chiharu got off to to whatever you liked. But today, the young daughter of Ryomen Sukuna had to deal with training her cursed energy control. It was demanded of by her father, the moment she started showing signs of cursed energy. Chiharu did not want to be a sorcerer, she had told you as much.

But her father refuses to listen. And so, young Chiharu had to go off her lessons. Yet, she proves that she is much her father with her refusals. You had to bribe her by telling her you would take her around the estate in your walks, which excited her.

Off she went with that little promise. She after all wanted to be with you as much as possible, without the interferance of her father's summons.

With her gone, you found yourself relishing the silence in your gardens. The gardens had been completely redone over the past few years. There was no longer any trace of the things you had grown with Hironobu.

And that had made you sad every time you remembered it. But you tried to remember what you could about the things you did together. You didn't want to forget him. You didn't want him lost to time. And so you tried to enjoy the thought of being alive in the silence of your existence.

After that, you had ended up having little to eat to break your fast. But that did not get finished either, for you ended up picking through the scrolls that Sukuna had sent to you, before he had left on his business. He had thought that they would intrigue you, the poems and such the like. And he was right.

He had been attentive to what you liked in prose. And for hours on end, you had ended up enjoying more of it than your food. Perhaps it was the fact that Sukuna had noticed your liking, or perhaps it was the wisdom that were in these ancient texts. You did not care to find the truth between what it was. You had let the words distract you, let it pass the time around you.

Time passed easily like this. You hadn’t realized how much time had slipped by until the sound of hurried footsteps broke the quiet.

"Mother!" Chiharu’s voice echoed through the hall before she appeared in the doorway, her cheeks flushed from excitement.

"Chiharu, do not run!" You say, in surprise.

She did not care as she rushed towards you, panicking her attendants as she was panting slightly, as if she had run all the way from her lessons back to you. "I’m back!"

You sighed, but smiled softly, setting the scroll aside as you rose from your seat. "I can see that, little flower." you teased gently. "Did your lessons go well?"

Chiharu wrinkled her nose. "They were fine. The teachers praised me, once again!" she said dismissively, waving a hand as though brushing off the importance of her studies. She did not care about that, whatsoever. "But I’ve been waiting for our walk all day. That matters more, let us go!"

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, walking over to her and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You’ve been waiting all day, huh? I thought you’d be too absorbed in your lessons to even think about the walk, little flower."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully. "You know I’d never forget, mother. You're more important than what those old farts think of me." she said. "You promised we’d go, remember?"

"I remember, I remember." you said softly, taking her hand. "I wouldn’t forget either."

Her face lit up at your words, and she tugged on your hand, pulling you toward the door. "Come on then! Let’s go before it gets too late."

You followed her, allowing yourself to be swept up in her excitement. Before long, the two of you had ended up on the eastern courtyard of Vrmillion Hall. Chiharu was a faster walker than you were. At times, she would look at you and wait for you to keep up, with a smile. You could only smile at her, rubbing the edge of your cheek.

As you deeper into the courtyard's blissful peace, the fresh air filled your lungs, and the cool autumn breeze brushed against your skin. The garden was beautiful this time of year, the leaves turning shades of gold and red, the flowers still holding onto the last remnants of summer.

Chiharu ran ahead, spinning in circles as she moved, her laughter echoing in the open space. "Isn’t it beautiful?" she called out, her arms outstretched as if she could catch the wind.

"It is, little flower." you agreed, watching her with a fond smile. The world seemed brighter when you were with her, the shadows of the past not quite as heavy.

Chiharu slowed her pace, falling into step beside you. She started to him softly, a tune she had heard from the last feast. For a few moments, the two of you walked in comfortable silence, the soft crunch of leaves beneath your feet the only sound.

"Mother." she said after a while, her voice quieter now, more thoughtful. "Do you ever think about leaving here?"

The question caught you off guard. No one has asked that question of you, in all your years here. And yet, she does. Chiharu does. You looked at her, surprised, but her eyes were fixed on the horizon, as though she were imagining a world far beyond the walls of Vermillion Hall.

"Why do you ask?" you asked gently, curious where this was coming from.

She shrugged, her brow furrowing slightly. "I don’t know. Sometimes I just think… there’s more out here in father's home. Everything about this place, it's isolating. I learn only so little here. I have....fondness of this place. But I wonder what it would be like to live somewhere else. Somewhere less… heavy."

The weight of her words sank in, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You had thought the same thing many times, wondered what life might be like if you weren’t bound to this place, to the memories and the duties that held you here.

"I think about it sometimes too, little flower." you admitted softly. "But this is our home, Chiharu. For better or worse. And you are your father's heir. He will need you."

She nodded, though her gaze remained distant. "I know that, mother....I just wish it didn’t feel like a cage sometimes. Being a Ryomen is a cage."

You sighed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as you walked. "It’s not a cage." you said, though the words felt hollow even as you spoke them. You were too deluded, a liar. "It’s just… complicated."

Chiharu looked up at you, her eyes searching your face. "Do you think we could ever leave?"

The question lingered in the air between you, heavier than you would have liked. You didn’t have an answer, not one that would satisfy her. Because the truth was, you didn’t know. How could you, for this is all that you know now? What is beyond the wall when there was familiarity in the cage?

You both returned before the sun had set. The hot springs had provided well waters for your bath, as much as the scent of perfume that had been provided by some merchants as gifts. Chiharu had done the same, though she had stayed in longer. You had worried for that, knowing she could catch a cold. But she had waved you off. Still, she got out when you asked her to.

It was almost blue hour when you felt the unmistakable shift in the atmosphere. There was no warning, no footsteps echoing down the marble halls, no message sent ahead to announce his arrival. But you knew he was here. Your husband's presence was something you had learned to feel in your bones, a tension in the air, like the sky before a downpour.

Chiharu was sitting by the window, a book on her lap, her small frame bathed in the golden light of the candle light. Her face, peaceful and relaxed, was a reminder of the moments that felt simple, the ones you clung to. She had now been weary from using all her energy to walk through the temple. Soon enough, she would go eat her sup and sleep.

And then the door creaked open, revealing Ryomen Sukuna.

He stepped inside with that same effortless dominance he always carried, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. He didn’t need to say anything to make his presence known; he never did. His aura was enough—a palpable force that filled the space, making everything else feel smaller, more fragile.

Chiharu looked up from her book, startled at first, but quickly relaxed when she saw him. She didn’t fear him the way most people did. He had always been somehwat a distant figure in her life as she grew up, but there was a strange understanding between them. There had to be. He was still her father.

He was her protector, in a sense, even if he never wore that role with any softness. At least from what she remembers now that she was older. She saw him, and for a moment, you wondered what it must feel like to look at him without the baggage of the past, without the complexities of love, pain, and everything that had tangled the two of you together over the years.

"My lord father." Chiharu greeted politely with a small bow. You could feel her voice soft but steady as she looked at him. She had always been good at holding her own in his presence, a trait that surprised you even now.

"Daughter, you are well, it seems." Your husband had acknowledged, his tone flat, almost disinterested, but you knew better.

His lack of warmth was not cruelty. That you know much of. Your husband was simply who he was. There were no easy smiles or comforting words from Ryomen Sukuna, not even for her. Perhaps not anymore now that she was too perceptive.

You rose slowly from your position, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. It had been some time since you had seen him last, and every time he appeared like this. It was all unexpected, unpredictable. He had always been like that, you supposed. That you should have expected at the very least.

But it sent a wave of conflicting emotions through you. There was always something about his presence that unsettled you, that pulled at the threads of the fragile peace you had managed to weave for yourself here in Vermillion Hall. But your husband is a god. He was bound to make others feel unsettled no matter what.

“My lord.” you said, your voice measured, betraying nothing of the nerves that stirred beneath your calm exterior. You bow lowly. “We were not expecting your visit.”

He stepped further into the room, the silence between you stretching thin. His gaze swept across the hall with mild indifference, as though the luxury and comfort of the space meant little to him.

He had never cared much for the trappings of wealth or status. What held his interest was power. And how he could use that power for his own interest. But perhaps, you think that he was also interested in people. And right now, his interest seemed focused solely on you.

“I don’t announce myself.” he said, his voice smooth, yet holding that edge that always left you unsure whether his words were a challenge or simply fact. "You know that."

You nodded, lips pressed tightly together. He was right. Sukuna came and went as he pleased. You had always known that if your presence was the wind, then his presence was that of a terrifying storm, arriving with no warning and leaving just as quickly. You had learned to accept that, though it had never gotten any easier.

“Leave us.” Sukuna whispers towards her, his eyes narrowed. “I wish to talk to my concubine.”

Chiharu did not budge. She looked at you first, as though to see if you were alright. You nodded at her. You did not want her to be at the brunt of anything her father says.

“I’ll give you some time to talk.” she said softly, her politeness a sharp contrast to the tension filling the air. "Excuse my intrusion."

She left without another word, her footsteps light as she disappeared down the corridor, leaving you alone with him. Sukuna watched her go, his eyes narrowing slightly, though whether in approval or simple curiosity, you couldn’t tell. There were so many things about him you could never quite read.

Once the door closed behind her, the room felt even larger, the distance between you and Sukuna heavy with things unsaid. You crossed your arms, a subtle defense, trying to ground yourself against the overwhelming weight of his presence.

“Why are you here, my lord?” you asked, your voice low, almost cautious. “Is something the matter?”

Sukuna’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile but carried that same dangerous energy he always seemed to exude. He stepped toward you, closing the distance with slow, deliberate strides.

“Do I need a reason to visit you, little one?” he asked, the challenge clear in his tone.

You held his gaze, refusing to back down. “No, my lord.” you replied evenly. “But you don’t visit unless there’s something on your mind. Vermillion Hall does not welcome you without your worries.”

He stopped in front of you, towering over you with that intimidating presence that had never faded, no matter how long you had known him. His dark red orbs—those sharp, crimson eyes that could cut through you like a blade had studied you for a moment longer, and then he spoke, his voice quieter, but no less intense.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.” he said, and though he didn’t need to specify who, you knew he was talking about Chiharu.

Your throat tightened, though you refused to show the discomfort his words brought. “She’s a child, my lord. She needs someone by her side to keep her company.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “And you think that someone is you?”

“I’ve been here for her, haven’t I? As you asked of me, my lord. I do as you ask.” you said, your voice steady despite the way your heart pounded in your chest. “I’ve raised her. Protected her. Loved her. I do it all in your name.”

At that last word, something flickered in Sukuna’s eyes—something dark, something complicated. He stepped even closer, his gaze never leaving yours, the distance between you now barely a breath.

“You think love is what she needs?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. There was no mockery in his tone, no sarcasm, but there was a coldness, a disbelief.

Ryomen Sukuna had never been a man to understand love, at least not in the way others did. You can only wonder why it was the reason he had focused Chiharu on furthering her Jujutsu. As his successor, he thinks he would know best. Power is more valuable than love, at least that's what he wants to believe.

You swallowed, your heart tightening. “She deserves to be loved, my lord.” you replied, your voice quieter now, but firm. “I will.”

His gaze darkened at your words, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. For a moment, the air between you crackled with tension, with all the things left unsaid between the two of you. But then, as quickly as it had come, the tension ebbed, and Sukuna stepped back, the dangerous gleam in his eyes fading into something more contemplative.

“She’s not yours, little one.” he said, his tone quieter now, almost like a warning.

You flinched at the words, though you tried to hide it. “I know that, my lord.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But she’s all I have.”

Sukuna’s eyes flickered again, his expression unreadable as he regarded you. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, without another word, he turned and began walking toward the door, his presence still looming, but somehow less suffocating than before. He had no intention to stay for very long.

Just before he reached the exit, he paused, his hand resting on the doorframe. “You may care for her, little one.” he said, his voice quiet, but sharp. “But don’t forget who she belongs to.”

“And who is that, my lord?”

He looks back with a pause. “To me. As you do. But you already know that, do you not?”

You say nothing in response. You merely bowed at him, dignified and graceful. And with that, he left, the door closing behind him with a soft click, leaving you alone in the vast, empty hall.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before, the weight of his words settling over you like a storm that had yet to break. You stared at the door, heart aching, not just for yourself, but for Chiharu, for the girl who deserved more than to be caught in the middle of something far darker than she could ever understand.

And in that silence, you knew that, no matter what, you would endure. 

══════════════════

IT WAS AN ENJOYABLE DAY THUS FAR. Perhaps, it was because there was nothing holding you back from enjoying the morning glory as it shines on you. The morning air was crisp and invigorating as you embarked on your pilgrimage with your retinue, a rare opportunity to travel without the usual company of your husband Sukuna or Chiharu. Not even Uraume was sent to attend to you.

Just a handful of people and guards who were chosen specifically by your husband. It was a rare occasion, but there was much to be done in prayer and reflection. And most of all, put in offerings to the gods for the good year. Of course, one of those gods would be your husband’s own altar.

You were already quite far from the main temple. And you have to say, the feeling of liberation was almost intoxicating; the vast roads of Hida stretched out before you like a promise, leading to the sacred temples where you would pray.

It had been far too long since you’d wandered freely without those watching eyes, without the suffocating weight of expectations. You were not merely a wife or a mother in these moments; you were you, a woman on a journey seeking solace and meaning.

Chiharu had implored to join you on your travels, her bright eyes shimmering with excitement as she tugged on your sleeve, her small fingers gripping tightly. "Mother, please, let me come! I want to see the temples too!" 

Her enthusiasm was infectious, but Sukuna had commanded otherwise. she had much to learn from him in handling the people. Instead of you, she would sit by him, accepting people's praises and their worries.

And you dare not question it, even if Chiharu pouts and cries. Your husband’s word is law, and while you understood the reasons for his decision, a part of you had felt a surge of relief at the prospect of solitude. Here was a chance to escape the heavy shadows of your life, to explore a world beyond the gilded walls of Vermillion Hall.

With a heart full of conflicting emotions, you had set off alone, with a few companions that would help and serve you on the journey. The journey through the rolling hills and tranquil villages of Hida was filled with beauty and wonder.

The temples were scattered like jewels among the mountains and forests, places where the air was thick with incense and the whispers of prayers seemed to linger in the atmosphere. They were bright with echoes of color. They all looked different than the last, beaming with pride as Sukuna's own temples.

The mornings were peaceful, and you found joy in the rituals of your journey. It was a manner of living that let you adorn you life with reflection. And you had appreciate that more than you could admit. You would wake up early to take walks. You would converse with people about the harvests, about the weather, their families. You would be lighting incense at each temple, kneeling in prayer, and allowing the serenity of the sacred spaces to envelop you.

With each passing day, you felt the tensions in your body ease, the constant worry of what awaited you at home fading into the background. You marveled at the exquisite architecture of the temples, the artistry of the wood carvings, and the vibrant colors of the scrolls that hung upon the walls.

It was at a small rest stop in a sleepy village, half way through the journey, that you encountered an old woman whose presence felt almost otherworldly. She sat outside a modest tea house, her back hunched but her gaze piercing, as if she could see into the very depths of your soul.

The sight of her wrinkled hands, so full of life and stories, drew you in. You had always been curious about palm reading, having heard tales of its ability to unveil truths about one’s life. Sukuna did not believe in such things, he thought them folk tales.

"Come, child, let me read your palms." she beckoned, her voice a rough whisper that carried the weight of age. The guards kept her at bay for a while barking orders at her to stay away. Yet, you hesitated for a moment, the familiar wariness creeping in, but something about her presence felt oddly comforting, almost magnetic. 

You told the guards away as you settled across from her, placing your hand in hers. You flinched for a moment but that she did not notice. She took it gently, her cool fingers tracing the lines etched into your palm.

The world around you faded as she studied you intently, her expression shifting through various emotions as she analyzed the intricate patterns of your life. There was something so odd about this feeling, about this moment. Yet you had let her do as she pleased.

"You will live an eventful life, child." she proclaimed after what felt like an eternity, her tone solemn. "You have already endured much, and there is still more to come."

A part of you wanted to laugh. Yes, you were married to Ryomen Sukuna; your life was nothing if not eventful. You were the concubine of a man whose very name evoked fear and reverence, the other mother to a girl who seemed to carry the light of two worlds within her. But as you looked into the old woman’s eyes, the gravity of her words settled in, anchoring your thoughts.

Her expression shifted abruptly, her eyes darkening as if she could see something lurking just beyond the horizon, something you couldn’t yet fathom. "But child, I must give you a warning that you must heed. You must be careful. You must be cautious. You mustn't love too deeply." she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You must keep things close to your heart before you lose them."

Those words sent a shiver racing down your spine, the chill of her warning wrapping around you like a fog. You recoiled slightly, pulling your hand away as confusion flooded your mind. "What do you mean?" you asked, desperation creeping into your voice.

The old woman merely shook her head, a shadow of sadness crossing her features. "You’ll understand when the time comes, child." she murmured, her gaze drifting away from you as if she were watching some unseen future unfold before her. "Don’t let what matters slip through your fingers."

A deep unease settled in your chest, the weight of her words pressing down like a stone. You wanted to ask her for more. You wanted answers, you wanted more clarity, you wanted more insight but the words seemed stuck in your throat. You sensed that whatever she had glimpsed in your palm was already set in motion, a chain of events that you could not change.

As you left the rest stop in your carriage, her words echoed in your mind, mingling with the fresh scent of autumn leaves and the distant sound of a stream babbling nearby.

You continued on your pilgrimage, each step now heavy with the weight of the old woman’s prophecy. The freedom you had once felt on this journey was now tinged with apprehension, and the tranquility of the temples seemed to elude you.

You sought solace in your prayers at the next temple, but as you knelt before the altar, the shadows of doubt crept back in. You closed your eyes and pressed your hands together in earnest supplication, not for blessings or protection, but for clarity. For understanding. The weight of your responsibilities loomed large, and you silently prayed for the strength to hold on to what was dear to you.

What was slipping away? Was it Chiharu? The fleeting moments of joy you shared with her? Or was it Sukuna, the man you had chosen to love despite the storms he carried?

With each prayer, the old woman’s warning replayed in your mind like a haunting refrain: Keep things close to your heart before you lose them. You felt a sense of urgency—an instinct to protect what you held dear.

As you finished your prayers and rose from your knees, you found yourself looking around the temple grounds, taking in the beauty of the world around you with fresh eyes.

The colors of the leaves, the sunlight filtering through the trees, the distant laughter of children playing—it all felt so fragile. You resolved then and there to hold on tighter, to cherish the moments you shared with Chiharu, to seek out Sukuna’s softer side amidst the chaos of his existence.

But the question remained—how? How could you keep these precious things close when the world was so unpredictable?

The journey ahead was uncertain, but as you set forth once more, you made a silent promise to yourself: you would embrace every fleeting moment, every quiet laugh, every tender touch. You would not let fear dictate your actions or your heart.

For in this life, despite the chaos, there was still beauty to be found. You just had to be willing to seek it out, to protect it fiercely, even when the shadows threatened to consume it whole.

══════════════════

YOU WERE EXHAUSTED. But cannot say no when you are called upon. Just hours after you had returned from your pilgrimage, Ryomen Sukuna summoned you to dine with him. As soon as you could possibly come.

A rare occurrence, indeed. He usually allowed you time to collect yourself and rest after such long absences, yet tonight was different. There was something odd about that, you think. There was an urgency in his summons, a quiet pull you couldn’t ignore.

The evening air was thick with anticipation as you entered his chamber, the flickering abundance of candlelight casting long shadows across the room. He sat in the center, lounging with an air of indifference that belied the strangeness of the night.

An abundant tray of sake lay before him, and he held a cup in his hand, lazily swirling the liquid. You paused for a moment, absorbing the sight before you with care. Ryomen Sukuna, your husband, your king, rarely indulges in such human rituals. He had no need for food or drink, no craving for the mundane pleasures of mortals. And yet, here he was, drinking alone, the cup half empty.

You knelt before him, bowing low, your forehead nearly brushing the floor as you offered your silent reverence. His eyes, sharp and dangerous, traced your every movement with an intensity that made the air between you crackle. For a long, drawn-out moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the quiet clink of the cup as he set it down, the silence drawing tighter like a cord.

“Come closer, little one.” he murmured, the command laced with a softness that sent a shiver down your spine.

You obeyed without hesitation, rising to your feet and stepping toward him, each step deliberate, slow. The scent of the sake, something so sharp and sweet, filled the air, mingling with the heady incense that burned low beside him.

As you approached him closer, his gaze never wavered, heavy with something unspoken, something darkly possessive. When you were close enough to feel the faint warmth of his skin, he reached out, a single finger trailing along the hem of your sleeve.

"Closer. To me." he whispered again, voice like velvet.

Your breath hitched, the proximity of his touch sending a ripple of heat through your body. You sank to your knees beside him, your heart pounding against your ribs, aware of the palpable shift in the air. His hand found its way to the side of your face, the rough pad of his thumb grazing your cheek with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the feel of you.

“You’ve been gone too long, little one.” he muttered, his voice low, rich, the words brushing against your skin like a caress. "Far too long for me."

There was no trace of anger in his tone, only the weight of his gaze as it bore into you. You couldn't help but feel bare before him, feeling the warmth of your cheeks turn scarlet under the candle light. Though, you dared not move, letting the moment stretch between you, thick with tension.

Slowly, you could feel as his hand slid down to your chin, tilting your head up so you could meet his eyes. It was obvious your husband was drunk. He must have drank more than what he could intake, or perhaps it had been tampered with.

But as you look deeper into him, you couldn't believe what you saw: hunger. Not for the drink, not for the food—something far more primal, something more sensual than anything human food can offer. He carresses your skin. You gulp. Oh, you think to yourself. It was that type of hunger. That type of hunger that only the wamrth of bodies could satisfy.

In that moment, you felt the enormity of his presence. You could feel the overwhelming crash of his existence upon your own insignificant one. He was beyond what man could be. Everything about him was extreme. His power, his desire. The air felt electric, charged with the dark promise of what was to come.

Your pulse thrummed in your ears as you knelt before Sukuna, his hand still cradling your chin, holding your gaze captive. You were lowly compared to him. He was a god and you a mortal. And he can do as much as he wants to you.

“I only intended to ensure the gods were worshiped in your name, my lord.” you said softly, your voice steady despite the heat radiating from his touch. “The altars were blessed with thanks, offerings made in their honor.”

He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly. He laughs, almost as though the way a knife presses against silk.

“And what of me?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, almost dangerous. “Do you consider me your god? Your only god?”

The question sent a shiver through you, though it was not the first time he had asked. You had answered this long ago, sealing your devotion with words, with vows that transcended the mortal and divine alike. Still, you could feel the intensity behind his gaze, a hunger for reaffirmation, for something more tangible tonight.

“I have already answered that question, my lord.” you said softly, your eyes locked with his. “Long ago. You know the answer.”

His thumb brushed slowly across your lips, the roughness of his skin drawing a faint tremble from you. The echoes of your lip stain merging against his thumb, imprinting on your cheek.

“I want to know, little one.” he murmured to you. “If the answer is still the same.”

The weight of his presence pressed against you, his power filling the room like a tangible force. You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself before you replied, your voice quiet but firm. “It is the same.”

Something flickered in his eyes, something dark and primal, as if your words had sparked a flame deep within him. His hand fell from your chin, trailing down your neck in a slow, deliberate caress, the heat of his touch sending a rush of warmth through your body.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “Then come closer and worship me.”

Your heart raced at the command, the sultry undertone in his voice thickening the tension between you. Without hesitation, you moved, your body obeying him instinctively. You wanted to do as much as you can, to worship him. To give him what he desires most. You wanted nothing more than to please him.

You knelt between his legs, the space closing as you lowered yourself until your head was level with his, the soft, intoxicating scent of him enveloping you. The flickering light of the candles danced across his skin, casting shadows that accentuated the sharp planes of his face, the faint gleam in his eyes both dangerous and alluring.

He watched your every move with a quiet intensity, his gaze burning with the promise of what he wanted from you. Slowly, your hands rested against his thighs, your touch feather-light, reverent. His body was a temple, one you had long since learned to worship, and tonight, you would offer yourself to him again.

“Show me, little one.” he breathed, voice deep and commanding, a dark smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Show me your devotion.”

With slow, deliberate movements, you leaned forward, pressing your lips softly to his skin, feeling the faint shudder of power ripple beneath your touch. Your kisses were gentle, worshipful, a silent prayer offered to the god before you. Every caress, every brush of your lips, was an act of submission, of devotion to the being who ruled over you.

Sukuna’s breath hitched slightly, and you felt his fingers weave through your hair, guiding you closer. His hand tightened, his grip firm yet not painful, his need evident. You could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, his body responding to your touch with a hunger that had been kept at bay for too long.

“Good, little one.” he murmured, his voice a deep growl. “That’s it. Devote yourself to me, and only me.”

You obeyed, your kisses becoming bolder, more insistent, each one a vow to him alone. The world outside these walls ceased to exist; there were no other gods, no other powers. There was only him—your king, your god—and you were his to command.

The weight of Sukuna's hand on the back of your head tightened slightly, a silent demand for more as your lips trailed reverently along his skin. Each kiss was deliberate, each caress an offering that stoked the growing heat between you.

The air was thick with tension, the flickering candlelight casting erratic shadows across his features, sharp and dangerous, like a deity who knew his power and craved to see it worshiped.

"You've been gone too long, little one." he murmured, his voice low, laced with a dark undercurrent that sent another shiver through you. His fingers tangled deeper in your hair, pulling you closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating from him, the deep pulse of power beneath his skin.

"I am here now, my lord." you whispered, your breath warm against him as you pressed another kiss, lingering, feeling the tautness of his body beneath your touch. Every brush of your lips felt like you were sinking deeper into the moment, deeper into his pull, the force of his presence overwhelming. “Let me worship you.”

Sukuna's gaze was molten, his eyes half-lidded with a hunger that went beyond the physical. He leaned down, his breath a whisper against your ear. "Then show me. Show me that I am your god, that you belong to me—wholly."

Your heart pounded at his words, and you felt the familiar ache of submission, of devotion, welling up within you. Your hands slid up his thighs, slow, deliberate, as though you were climbing the steps of an altar. You could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, taut and waiting for release, the heat between you almost unbearable in its intensity.

Without hesitation, you lowered yourself again, this time bowing your head in complete surrender. "You are my god, my lord." you whispered, the words soft but charged with meaning, a truth that was undeniable. "You have always been my only god. No one else. Only you."

A dark smile played at the corner of Sukuna's lips, his satisfaction palpable as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Good." he purred, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, testing the boundary between gentleness and control. "Then worship me as I deserve."

His voice was laced with command, a command that stirred something deep within you, a need to please, to fulfill the role you had vowed to take. You leaned into his touch, your lips parting slightly as you kissed the pad of his thumb, a silent promise in the gesture.

Sukuna’s breath hitched slightly, though his gaze remained unyielding, his control absolute. "Do you think this pleases me?" he asked, his voice a dangerous rumble, even as his thumb pressed more firmly against your lips. "Is this how you show your devotion?"

You felt the heat rush through you, a mixture of desire and the heady thrill of his power over you. "No, my lord." you murmured, your voice low and reverent. "I can give more."

The flicker of approval in his eyes was fleeting, but unmistakable. "Then give it."

With that, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his skin again, but this time with more intensity, more need. Your hands moved with purpose, fingers tracing the hard lines of his body, feeling the divine power thrumming beneath his flesh. Every touch, every kiss was a silent prayer, an unspoken declaration of your loyalty, your submission.

Sukuna's hand remained firm in your hair, guiding your movements, though you could feel his restraint, the way his control teetered on the edge. He watched you with rapt attention, the hunger in his gaze growing darker with every passing second.

"More, more. Do it well, little one." he growled, his voice rough, the command making your heart race.

You obeyed, your worship becoming bolder, more fervent. You kissed along the line of his jaw, down his neck, each caress charged with a passion that you could no longer contain. His skin was warm under your lips, the scent of him intoxicating, drawing you deeper into the moment, deeper into him.

"Good." he breathed, his voice a low, dangerous purr. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling you back just enough so that you were forced to look up at him. "You are mine, little one." he said, the words like a dark promise, binding and absolute. "And you will worship me until I am satisfied."

His eyes bore into yours, and you nodded, breathless with the weight of his command. "Yes, my lord." you whispered, your voice trembling with both desire and reverence. "I am yours. Always."

A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips, and he leaned down, his face inches from yours. "Then give yourself to me, little one." he whispered, his voice like velvet over steel. "Every. Last. Piece."

And so you did, sinking deeper into the night, into his dominance, into the endless cycle of devotion and submission. You worshiped him, body and soul, offering yourself up to the god before you, knowing that only in his possession could you find the dark, twisted fulfillment you both craved.

══════════════════

THE TWO OF YOU NEVER SPOKE OF THAT NIGHT AGAIN. Sukuna refuses to. But you supposed that’s just what it was. It was a night that never existed. A night that never truly happened. You had always known what he was. Sukuna did not love. He consumes. And yet, in that brief, fragile moment, you had allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were more than a pawn in his world.

But that was the lie, wasn’t it? The truth was so much simpler, so much crueler.

You were not his queen, not his equal. You were a momentary distraction, a replacemnt. A temporary body to be worshiped, only to be discarded once he had no further use for you. You were his to command, but not his to want or love. He had none of those, you knew that much.

The truth was that night wasn’t special. It wasn’t sacred, you think to yourself. It wasn’t a turning point in your marriage—it was the reminder of how far beneath him you truly were. It was a reminder that you were always going to be behind him. Behind Hirommi. You were just the other woman. Nothing more, nothing less.

And now, all that was left was the hollow silence that followed.

You stepped into the audience hall, the echo of your sandals faint against the polished stone. The grand chamber was already filled with worshippers, all gathered to offer their reverence to Ryomen Sukuna, their benevolent protector and god.

Incense swirled in the air, thick and cloying, making it harder to breathe as you moved further inside. Each step felt heavier than the last, your body protesting the very act of standing, but still, you pushed forward. You had to be here—had to attend to him, no matter how weak you felt.

The illness had crept up on you, slow at first, just a gnawing discomfort in your stomach, then the waves of nausea that had grown worse by the day. You hadn’t eaten in days, couldn’t even stomach water, and yet you still forced a smile that morning when Chiharu had looked at you with concern, her brow furrowed as you prepared to leave the Vermillion Hall.

“You look unwell, Mother.” she had said, her voice soft but full of worry. She had always been perceptive, too perceptive sometimes. "Perhaps you should not go today. I am certain father will understand it."

You had brushed it off, smiling weakly. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

But even as you spoke, you could feel the lie clinging to your lips. The truth was that you hadn’t been fine for days. Sleep was a distant memory, each night spent tossing and turning, your body aching, your mind weighed down by the constant fatigue.

And yet, here you were, standing in the presence of Sukuna, the god you had pledged yourself to, trying desperately to hold yourself together. You cannot falter here. Not now. Not ever. You made that promise to yourself.

He sat on his throne, a figure of overwhelming power and indifference, his gaze sweeping lazily over the room as his worshippers chanted and prayed. You felt his eyes on you as you entered, that sharp, penetrating gaze that always seemed to strip you bare.

He didn’t speak, but you knew he saw it. It was out of the ordinary. He had not seen it in you before. The paleness of your skin, the slight tremble in your hands, the way your breaths came too shallow, too fast.

For a moment, his gaze lingered, cold and calculating, and you thought you saw something flicker in those crimson eyes. Recognition, perhaps. But he said nothing. He did nothing. He simply watched, his silence cutting deeper than any words could have.

You bowed your head, feeling the weight of his attention settle over you like a mantle, pressing down on your already fragile body. Your vision blurred slightly, the room swaying as you fought to steady yourself. The scent of the incense was overwhelming, choking, but you couldn’t leave. Not now. Not when Sukuna was watching, not when so many eyes were on you.

You had to stay. You had to prove your worth, even as your body screamed for rest, for relief from the torment that was slowly consuming you. The thought of disappointing him, of failing to fulfill your duties; that to you was far worse than the physical pain. Your purpose was to serve him. If there was nothing of that, you had no use.

But you could feel it now, how truly weak you were. The exhaustion gnawed at your bones, hollowing you out from the inside, leaving you barely able to stand. The faint dizziness grew stronger with each passing moment, and you could feel the cold sweat gathering at your temples, the dampness of your palms betraying the truth of your condition.

Still, you stood tall, refusing to show weakness, refusing to let it consume you in front of him. Sukuna’s gaze felt like a weight you could not shake, as though he could see every crack, every falter. He knew. You were certain of it. He had always been able to read you too well, even in the silence that stretched between you.

But he said nothing. He didn’t ask. He didn’t acknowledge it.

It wasn’t his way to care for such things. And you reminded yourself that it wasn’t your place to expect it. Whatever you felt in you, this illness, this slow collapse; it was yours to bear.

It was not something he would ever trouble himself with. His indifference was a cold comfort, one you had come to accept. And yet, a part of you, the part that still clung to some shred of hope—wished that he would say something, anything.

But he didn’t. And so you shouldn't push it.

As the worshippers fell to their knees, chanting his name, offering their prayers and sacrifices, you felt the room blur again, the ground beneath you unsteady. Your limbs trembled, and a cold wave of nausea washed over you, tightening your chest, stealing your breath. But you couldn’t show it. You couldn’t collapse here, not in front of all these people, not in front of him.

So, you smiled. You smiled the same way you had that morning with Chiharu, forcing a calm expression over the chaos raging inside you. You straightened your back, your hands clenched tightly at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fought to remain upright. You will smile through everything, even in pain.

And through it all, Sukuna’s gaze never left you.

He knew. He could see the toll this was taking, the way your body was betraying you, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t move. His silence was louder than any word he could have uttered, a stark reminder that you were alone in this, that whatever kindness or care you might have once hoped for was an illusion.

As the prayers continued, you felt your strength slipping away, your knees threatening to buckle beneath you. But still, you stood, trembling and weak, your heart pounding in your chest as you fought to keep your composure. You would not fall. Not here. Not now.

And yet, as you felt his eyes still on you, unrelenting and cold, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting….waiting for you to break.

You tried to push through, to continue with your duties despite the sharp, pounding ache that had begun to pulse behind your eyes. As worshippers approached with their offerings, you smiled weakly, accepting their gifts, murmuring blessings in a voice that felt thin and distant.

Each gesture felt like an immense effort, each word a struggle to get out as the dizziness intensified, the room blurring and warping at the edges of your vision. You felt like you were going to lose yourself soon enough.

Your head was pounding now, a dull, relentless throb that refused to be ignored. It felt as though the very air was pressing in on you, making it harder to breathe, harder to think.

Your hands shook as you reached out to accept another offering, and for a brief moment, the world tilted dangerously. You blinked, trying to steady yourself, but the sensation only worsened, the pain in your skull stabbing deeper.

You couldn’t continue. Not like this.

You stepped back, your breath shallow, and turned toward Sukuna. His crimson eyes were already on you, cold and unwavering, as though he’d been expecting this. You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat before you managed to speak, your voice barely above a whisper.

“My lord… please, excuse me from the gathering.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. His gaze was unreadable, the weight of it pressing down on you like an invisible hand. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he gave a single nod, granting you permission. No words of concern, no acknowledgment of the obvious strain you were under—just that small, dismissive gesture.

You bowed your head, murmuring a soft thanks, and turned to leave. But as you made your way toward the exit, the dizziness returned with a vengeance, the pounding in your skull growing unbearable. Each step felt like you were walking through water, your body sluggish and unresponsive. You could feel your strength slipping away, your legs trembling beneath you.

Just a few more steps. That’s all you needed.

But then, the ground gave way. Your vision darkened at the edges, and before you could stop yourself, the world spun violently, and you felt yourself falling. There was a rush of air, the sensation of weightlessness, and then everything went black.

The last thing you heard was the sound of commotion, distant voices rising in panic, feet rushing toward you but all of it seemed so far away, as if you were sinking into a deep, silent abyss.

When you finally came to awareness, the first thing you felt was the heavy, oppressive heat of the Vermillion Hall. Your eyelids fluttered open slowly, the soft light of the room hazy and disorienting.

It took a moment for your senses to catch up, for your mind to register that you were no longer in the audience hall. You blinked, trying to focus, but everything felt slow and thick, like you were wading through fog.

And then you saw him.

Ryomen Sukuna was there, standing at the foot of your bed, his arms crossed, his expression as inscrutable as ever. He was staring at you, his eyes sharp and piercing, as though he had been watching you the entire time you were unconscious.

There was no warmth in his gaze, no concern—only that unrelenting intensity that had always made you feel so small under his scrutiny. And even that, it was all too hard to decipher. He was not easy to read when he closes the warmth in his eyes.

Your heart raced in your chest as you tried to sit up, but your body was too weak, the effort too much. The dizziness returned, a faint shadow of what it had been before, and you collapsed back against the pillows, your breathing shallow and uneven. You felt vulnerable, exposed under his gaze, and yet you couldn’t muster the strength to do anything about it.

For a long time, he said nothing, his eyes fixed on you, as though waiting for something—for what, you couldn’t say. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, and the weight of it made it hard to breathe. You wanted to speak, to say something, but no words came. You didn’t know what to say.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he moved, his voice low and calm, but edged with something dark, something you couldn’t quite place. “You fainted.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, cold and factual. As though he was reminding you of your own failure.

You nodded weakly, your throat dry. “I… I’m sorry, my lord.”

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Sorry?”

You swallowed, forcing the words out. “For being a burden. For… for not being strong enough.”

His lips curled into something that might have been a smile, but there was no warmth in it, only the sharp edge of amusement. “A burden?” he repeated, his tone mocking, as if the very idea of you being a burden to him was laughable.

But he didn’t deny it.

His gaze flickered over you, taking in your pale skin, your trembling hands, the way you still struggled to breathe evenly. You could feel his eyes on you like a weight, assessing, calculating, as though he was deciding what to do with you now that you had shown such weakness.

“You’re not feeling well.” he said, the words flat and unfeeling. “I can see that.”

There was no compassion in his voice, no softening of his features. Just the brutal truth, laid bare before you. He saw it. He had seen it all along.

And still, he had let you fall.

“You shouldn’t have come.” he added, his voice low, almost a growl. “You had no business being there, not in this condition.”

The accusation hung in the air, thick and suffocating. He was angry, though he masked it behind that cold indifference. But you could feel it—the undercurrent of frustration, of disappointment. You had failed, and it had displeased him.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words stuck in your throat. What could you possibly say? That you wanted to prove your worth? That you wanted to be strong for him, even when you felt yourself breaking? That you would have rather collapsed at his feet than show weakness in front of him?

But none of that mattered now.

Sukuna's gaze darkened, and he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. His presence, towering and oppressive, made the already suffocating air feel even heavier. He didn’t sit, didn’t offer you any comfort, only stared down at you with those cold, unyielding eyes.

“A physician checked you, little one.” he began, his voice low and deliberate, every word carefully measured. There was no kindness, no softness in his tone, just a hard edge that sent a chill down your spine. “You’re not sick.”

You blinked, trying to process what he was saying. Not sick? The nausea, the fatigue, the way your body had felt like it was slowly unraveling—all of it had to mean something, didn’t it? You searched his face, but there was no answer there, only that same cold indifference.

“You’re with child.”

The words hit you like a blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. For a moment, the world seemed to still, the weight of what he had just said crashing over you in waves, pulling you under. You stared at him, your mouth dry, your mind struggling to catch up.

With a child? You? It felt impossible. Unreal. You were soon past your child bearing years. And yet, having only bedded your husband once, you were already with child. Your hand instinctively moved to your stomach, as if expecting to feel something, some confirmation of this life growing inside you. But there was nothing—just the same hollow ache, the same exhaustion that had plagued you for days.

You searched Sukuna’s face for some sign of what he was feeling, but there was nothing. No emotion, no reaction, just that cold, calculating gaze that had always kept you at a distance.

“I…....” The words faltered on your lips. You didn’t know what to say. How could you? The enormity of it was too much, too overwhelming. You hadn’t even considered the possibility.

Sukuna watched you, his expression unreadable. “Are you surprised?” he asked, though his tone made it clear he already knew the answer. He tilted his head slightly, as if studying you, waiting to see how you would react.

You nodded weakly, still too shocked to fully comprehend what he had said. “I didn’t know, my lord.” you whispered, your voice trembling. The exhaustion, the sickness—it all made sense now, but it was a truth you weren’t prepared for.

“You didn’t know.” he echoed, his voice sharp. His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something dark crossing his features. “Of course you didn’t.” There was a bite to his words, a mocking undertone that stung, as if he found your ignorance pathetic, laughable.

The weight of his gaze bore down on you, and you felt small, fragile, under his scrutiny. You could see the disdain there, the way he looked at you, as though you were some delicate, breakable thing. A vessel, nothing more.

“How long?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“The physician believes it’s early.” he replied, his tone dismissive, as though the details were unimportant. “But it doesn’t matter.” He leaned in slightly, his gaze piercing, his next words cutting through you like a blade. “What matters is that you are carrying my child.”

There was no joy in his words, no pride. Only possession.

You felt your heart sink, the weight of the realization pressing down on you. This wasn’t a moment of celebration, of shared happiness. It wasn’t even about you. It was about him, his lineage, his power. You were nothing more than the vessel carrying his bloodline, an instrument of his will.

At least that's what you think. He will not love this child as much as he loved Chiharu. This was not Hiromi's child. No, this was to be your child. And there was little value to you, compared to Ryomen Hiromi. You were just the other woman. And this child to him, was just another child.

And he made that clear with every cold word, with every indifferent glance.

Your hand trembled as it rested against your stomach, and for a brief moment, you felt a strange mix of fear and wonder. There was life inside you, a piece of Sukuna, growing within. But that wonder quickly gave way to dread, because you knew—this child wasn’t yours. It was his. Always his.

And you had no idea what that meant for you.

══════════════════

IT TOOK A WHILE TO GET USED TO. As the weeks passed, the reality of carrying Sukuna's child began to settle in. Your body, once so light and familiar, now felt foreign. The changes were subtle at first. An unusual tenderness, a slight heaviness that seemed to grow with each passing day.

But as your stomach began to swell, there was no escaping the truth of it: you were no longer just yourself. You were something more, something strange, and the weight of it, both physical and emotional, was suffocating.

Ryomen Sukuna’s presence during this time was a constant, though it felt both comforting and unnerving in equal measure. He was more attentive than he had ever been before, his crimson eyes often flickering to your growing belly, his gaze sharp and calculating.

There were moments when you would catch him staring, his expression unreadable, as though he were measuring the life inside you with the same cold precision he used for everything else within his own little kingdom.

At times, he would ask about your health—his voice low and indifferent, but the questions were there. The inquiry was still said. You were content with that than not having any at all. He’d inquire about your strength, your appetite, the way the child moved within you.

And sometimes, on rare occasions, he would even place his hand against your stomach, his touch cool and possessive, as if he were checking on the progress of his heir, not out of care for you but for the child that shared his blood.

Yet, even with these moments of attentiveness, Sukuna remained distant, as though there was a wall between you that you could not break through. He never spoke of the future, of what the child meant for him, for you.

He never touched you with any warmth beyond those few, calculated moments when his hand rested against your abdomen. It was as though you were both closer than ever and more estranged at the same time.

His coldness hurt more than you wanted to admit. There were days when you found yourself wishing, hoping deep down that he would say something, anything that acknowledged the bond growing between you. You carried his child, after all. Surely, that meant something. But he never offered you those words, never shared in the quiet anticipation that came with waiting for new life.

And yet, there were moments when he showed a kind of concern, though it was wrapped in layers of his usual indifference. When you were too tired to rise from bed, Sukuna would stand at your side, his gaze sweeping over you with a strange mixture of irritation and something you couldn’t quite name.

He would summon attendants, ordering them to bring you food or drink, even if you couldn’t stomach it, insisting that you take care of yourself, though his words always felt like commands rather than concern.

Once, during one of your weaker moments, when you had collapsed after attempting to attend to your duties, he had carried you to your chambers without a word. His arms were strong and unyielding, but there had been no tenderness in his touch, no soft words to reassure you. It was simply the matter of ensuring that his vessel—you were safe.

Despite his coldness, despite the distance he kept between you, there was a part of you that longed for more. You wanted him to see you, not just as the mother of his child, but as someone who carried a piece of him within you.

But every time you reached out, every time you tried to breach the distance between you, Sukuna would pull away, retreating into his own world of power and control. Retreating to those walls he had built around him. And each and every time, you felt ever more far away from him.

The nights were the hardest. When the palace was quiet and the weight of your growing body pressed down on you, making sleep elusive, you would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the future held. You would think of the child growing inside you, your child, his child. And what it would mean to raise them in Sukuna’s cold, unfeeling world.

Would this child know love? Would you be able to give them the warmth that Sukuna so clearly lacked? Or would they, too, grow up under his gaze, feeling the same distance that you did now?

Sukuna never stayed with you in those moments. He never held you through the nights of discomfort or shared in the quiet loneliness that had settled over you like a shadow.

Instead, he would retreat to his own chambers, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your fears, and the growing weight of the life inside you. He had other things more important than that, you knew that too well. You were the least of his concerns.

And yet, despite it all, you couldn’t help but feel a strange connection to him, a bond that was as much about the child you carried as it was about the complex, twisted relationship that had always existed between the two of you.

He was distant, yes, but there was something else there, something unspoken. Whether it was his way of protecting himself, or perhaps a sign that he cared in his own cold, indifferent way, you couldn’t say.

But you held onto that hope, even as the distance between you grew.

As the months wore on, and your belly swelled with the child, you found yourself wondering more and more what kind of father Sukuna would be. Would he care for this child in the same distant, detached way he cared for you?

Or would the presence of his bloodline soften him in ways you could hardly imagine? The questions haunted you, but there were no answers, and Sukuna gave you no glimpse into his thoughts.

And so, you continued through the days, growing larger, growing more exhausted, with Sukuna always watching but never truly reaching for you. He was there, always there, a constant presence by your side, but the distance remained. You carried his child, and that alone seemed to be enough for him.

For now.

As your pregnancy progressed, you found solace in the small, unexpected joys that emerged amid the uncertainty and distance. Chiharu, ever the bright light in your life, was over the moon at the prospect of becoming a big sister. Her excitement was infectious, and it warmed your heart to see her eagerly preparing for the arrival of her new sibling.

“Look! I found these!” she exclaimed one afternoon, bursting into your chambers with an armful of tiny garments—soft fabrics in delicate colors, stitched with care. “They’re perfect for the baby! Can you imagine how cute they’ll look?”

You couldn’t help but smile, the brightness of her joy illuminating the shadows that had crept into your heart. “They’re beautiful, little flower.” you replied, reaching out to touch the fabric. It was soft against your fingers, and you could already picture your child wrapped in the warmth of her offerings.

“You’re going to be the best big sister.”

Her eyes sparkled as she nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on her heels. “I can’t wait! I’ll help feed them and read them stories! And we can play together!”

Watching her enthusiasm, you felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps, in time, Sukuna’s child would know love and warmth, despite the coldness that surrounded their father. You couldn’t help but wish for the best, for Chiharu’s sake as well as your own.

But as the days turned into weeks, the contrast between Chiharu's innocent excitement and Sukuna's distant demeanor weighed heavily on you. While Chiharu’s joy was a light in your life, Sukuna’s absence during these moments left an ache in your heart. You longed for his engagement, for him to share in these precious experiences, but the distance between you remained as vast as ever.

Later that evening, after Chiharu had dashed off to gather more supplies for her preparations, you found yourself alone with your thoughts. The palace was quiet, the shadows lengthening in the dim light of your chambers. As you sat in the stillness, you could feel the baby moving inside you, gentle nudges reminding you of the life growing within.

Your heart was a tumultuous blend of hope and worry, and as if summoned by your thoughts, Sukuna entered your chambers without knocking. He was as imposing as ever, his presence filling the space, and you felt a familiar mix of comfort and apprehension.

“Is there a reason you’re still here?” he asked, his voice cool and detached. But there was an underlying curiosity in his tone, something that hinted he was intrigued despite himself.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the words you wanted to say. “Chiharu is excited, my lord.” you finally replied, your voice soft. “She can’t wait to be a big sister.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his expression inscrutable as he stepped closer. “Is that so?”

“Yes, my lord.” you continued, unable to keep the warmth from your voice. “She’s been collecting clothes and toys, talking about all the things she wants to do with the baby.”

He remained silent for a moment, his crimson eyes piercing into yours as if trying to gauge your emotions, to measure the depth of your attachment to the child and to Chiharu. It was a heavy gaze, one that made you feel both seen and exposed.

“She’s a child.” he finally said, his tone flat. “She has no concept of what this entails.”

The words stung more than you wanted to admit, but you swallowed your response, focusing instead on the warmth Chiharu had brought into your life. “But she’s happy, my lord. Isn’t that what matters? She’s looking forward to this.”

His gaze shifted slightly, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something—annoyance, perhaps, or maybe something deeper. “Happiness is fleeting, little one.” he said, his tone low, almost ominous. “Children are fickle creatures, easily distracted. What they want today can change by tomorrow.”

You felt a rush of frustration. “This isn’t just about you or me, my lord. It’s about her, about the family we’re bringing into this world.”

He stepped closer, the space between you closing, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze, how it bore down on you like a weight. “Family?” he echoed, and there was something in his voice that sent a shiver down your spine. “You think family means anything to me?”

You held his gaze, searching for any hint of the man you had once known, the man who had taken you into his world. “I would hope so, my lord.” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. “This is your kin too.”

He scoffed, the sound harsh and mirthless. “And what of it?” he says, his eyes narrowing. “I am what I am. A god. A king. I do not concern myself with matters of warmth and affection.”

His words cut deeper than you expected, and you felt the ache in your chest swell. “You’re wrong. You have the power to shape this child’s life. To give them a future that’s not bound by your darkness, my lord.”

Sukuna studied you, and the silence stretched between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. You could feel your heart racing, the urgency of your plea hanging in the air. You wanted him to understand, to see that being a parent didn’t mean sacrificing his identity but rather expanding it.

“Why do you care so much?” he finally asked, his voice low, almost a growl. “This child will be a tool for my power, nothing more. You know that.”

You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “No! They’re not just a tool, my lord. They’re a life. They deserve more than being a means to an end. Do you see Chiharu as such?”

He remained silent, his expression unyielding, and for a moment, you thought he would turn away, dismiss you as he often did. But instead, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his gaze unflinching.

“And what do you plan to give them?” he asked, his voice low and cold. “A world of uncertainty? A life filled with the expectations of a father who will never change?”

You felt the weight of his words press down on you, the truth of them settling like a stone in your stomach. But even as despair threatened to swallow you, you pushed back, refusing to let the darkness consume you. “I’ll give them love, my lord.” you said, your voice firm, unwavering. “I will show them what it means to be loved, to be cherished, even if you won’t.”

The air between you crackled with tension, and for a moment, it felt as though the world had stilled, holding its breath in anticipation. Sukuna’s gaze was intense, unyielding, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts, the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

But then he stepped back, breaking the moment, and that familiar wall of distance reemerged between you. “You’re foolish, little one.” he said, his tone dismissive, yet there was a flicker in his eyes that hinted at something more. “Love is a weakness, a liability. You would do well to remember that.”

You nodded, your heart heavy. “Perhaps, but it’s the one thing I can give. You may not care, my lord, but I will love this child fiercely, regardless of your indifference.”

With that, you turned away, needing a moment to gather your thoughts, to quell the storm of emotions raging within you. But as you felt Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze lingering on your back, you couldn’t shake the sense that perhaps, deep down, he was listening, if only just a little.

And as much as he may try to deny it, there was a part of him that understood the importance of what you wanted. You could only hope that, in time, he might come to realize that too.

══════════════════

THIS WAS THE WORST PAIN OF YOUR LIFE. The air in the room was thick with tension, heavy with the scent of sweat and desperation. You could feel your voice hoarse from the screaming. You lay on the bed, body wracked with pain, each contraction tearing through you like a storm, relentless and unforgiving.

It had been two days of suffering, two days of pleading with your body to bring the child forth. But each time you thought the end was near, your body betrayed you, the child refusing to make its way into the world.

You could feel the midwife’s hands on you, her grip firm but trembling with fear. Her brow was slick with sweat, and her eyes darted to the door as if expecting rescue to arrive at any moment. “You need to push harder,” she urged, her voice laced with urgency, but you could hardly hear her over the overwhelming wave of pain that consumed you.

“Please… save the baby…” you gasped between gritted teeth, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer. It was all that mattered to you. You would endure anything if it meant bringing this child into the world.

“Focus on your breathing, my lady.” the midwife coaxed, her voice a lifeline amidst the chaos. “You need to stay strong. We can do this.”

But your strength was waning. Each wave of agony pulled you deeper into a chasm of despair. You could feel the blood pooling beneath you, the warmth slick against your skin, and the midwife’s panic seeped into your consciousness. “You need to hurry.” she whispered to herself, fear creeping into her voice. “If this continues, you’ll bleed to death.”

You felt the darkness nipping at the edges of your mind, and in your heart, a flicker of fear ignited. “No, no….” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not my baby. Please… save my baby.”

And just as your hope began to flicker, the heavy door swung open, and Ryomen Sukuna entered the room, his presence a commanding force. The moment he stepped inside, the air shifted, the oppressive weight of his energy washing over you. His crimson eyes locked onto you, and for a fleeting moment, the world fell silent. But the moment passed, and you were swallowed once more by the relentless waves of pain.

“Get out.” Sukuna commanded the midwife, his voice low and dangerous. She opened her mouth to protest, but he fixed her with a look that sent chills down her spine. She turned away, leaving you alone with him, and you felt a rush of confusion.

“My lord….…” you gasped, feeling the tears prick at your eyes, the pain making it hard to think straight. “I need—”

“You need to focus on staying alive, little one.” he interrupted, stepping closer, his gaze fierce and unwavering. “Forget the child. If it must die, then it is a small sacrifice for your life.”

You blinked at him, disbelief flooding your senses. “What do you mean? You can’t just give up on them! Please, my lord…..I can’t—”

He took a step forward, looming over you with an intensity that both terrified and captivated you. “You are more important than some frail, pathetic thing that may never even breathe.” he said, his voice a sharp contrast to your desperation. “I will not lose you. Not now.”

You shook your head, pain and frustration mixing with despair. “I won’t let you do this… I won’t let you take my child away!”

Sukuna’s expression hardened, but there was a flicker of something else there, something that made your heart ache. “You are in danger, and I will not allow you to bleed out while you chase after a child that may never live. Focus on what matters. Fight for yourself.”

His words struck deep, and for a moment, the fury flared within you, mingling with your love for the child. You wanted to scream at him, to make him understand the depth of your devotion. But the pain clawed at your insides, and your body betrayed you once more.

“Push!” the midwife’s voice echoed faintly in the background as you gripped the sheets, a cry escaping your lips as you summoned what little strength remained. “Push, just a little more!”

With Sukuna standing there, his gaze piercing through your haze of agony, you felt a surge of determination. You could do this. You could fight for both of you. “Save my baby…” you whimpered, your voice hoarse.

Ryomen Sukuna’s expression softened just slightly, and for the first time, you saw a glimpse of something deeper, something that spoke of a bond that extended beyond mere duty. But he remained silent, watching as you braced yourself for the next wave of pain.

With each contraction, you pushed with everything you had left, your body screaming in protest. You felt the world around you blur, the pain reaching a crescendo that threatened to swallow you whole. The room spun, and the dark edges of your vision began to close in.

And then, just as despair threatened to consume you, you felt a shift—an overwhelming pressure that gave way to a moment of clarity. With a final, desperate push, you cried out, summoning every ounce of strength you had left, the air thick with the weight of your determination.

And then, you heard it—the faint, sweet sound of a cry filling the room.

The moment filled with disbelief, and your heart raced as the midwife’s voice broke through the haze. “It’s a boy, my lady! You did it! You brought him into the world!”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as Sukuna moved closer, and you felt the rush of warmth flood through you, a wave of relief and joy intertwining. But then the world around you started to spin again, and as you fell back against the pillows, darkness crept in.

You could feel yourself slipping away, the pool of blood collecting at your thighs. You breathed ever so shallowly, feeling your body whisper goodbyes in every small minute movement. You were in indescribable pain. And it was taking over you. It was eating you whole. And you cannot do anything but let it hurt you.

“Stay with me! Open your eyes, I command it!” you heard Sukuna say, his voice now laced with urgency. “Stay with me, dammit!”

The world faded to black, a heavy blanket of darkness enveloping you as the sounds of the room grew distant. You could feel the weight of Sukuna’s hand around yours, a tether anchoring you to reality. His grip was firm, almost desperate, and you fought against the pull of unconsciousness, straining to stay with him, to see this through.

You drifted back to consciousness, the heaviness of sleep lifting slowly as awareness returned. The soft light filtering through the window painted the room in gentle hues, but it was the presence beside you that pulled you from the depths of slumber.

As your eyes fluttered open, you found Sukuna seated vigilantly at your side, his expression stormy, yet it held an intensity that spoke of concern. You had never seen those eyes reflect such emotions before.

Nearly eighteen years of marriage and there was so little of those eyes from him. Perhaps, it took your near death to earn those eyes. As the gods intended. As your husband intended.

“You’re finally awake.” he said, voice low and taut with a mixture of relief and anger. The stark contrast between his emotions made your heart quicken.

“I’m alive, my lord.” you murmured, your throat dry as you tried to push yourself up, the weight of your body still feeling foreign. “You don’t have to look at me like that.”

“Do you have any idea how long you’ve been asleep?” he snapped, his frustration evident. “Seven days, and you nearly bled to death! How reckless can you be, you foolish girl?”

You winced at his tone, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite the gravity of the situation. “But I’m here, my lord. I’m alive.”

Before he could respond, a soft, plaintive cry broke the tension in the air, and your heart leapt at the sound. You turned your head slowly, and your breath caught in your throat as you looked beside you.

There, nestled in a soft blanket, was your own beloved son—tiny, fragile, and perfect. The moment you laid eyes on him, a warmth spread through your chest, and all the pain, the fear, the anger melted away.

“Chizuru.” you whispered, the name slipping from your lips like a prayer. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face, radiating pure joy.

Sukuna’s gaze shifted to the child, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice softer now, the anger dissipating into something more vulnerable.

“His name is Chizuru, my lord.” you replied, your heart swelling as you looked back at the small figure. “Chizuru. It means a thousand cranes.”

You watched as Sukuna’s expression shifted, a mixture of intrigue and contemplation as he absorbed the significance of the name. “A thousand cranes…” he echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. “And what does that mean?”

“When you fold at least a thousand cranes, you get to make a wish.” you explained, glancing back at your son, his tiny fingers twitching as he settled back into a soft coo. “I wished for happiness and here he is, so real and so vibrant.”

Sukuna remained silent, his gaze fixed on you, and for a moment, the world outside the room faded into a distant hum. Nothing else mattered in that moment. There was that warmth that could be the rarest of creations known to man. And one of those rare creations blossomed in the small babe, cooing beside you.

“Chizuru…” he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue as if testing its sound, and you could see a flicker of something in his eyes—a realization perhaps, or a flicker of acceptance. “Ryomen Chizuru.”

You turned your focus back to your baby, your heart swelling as you cradled him gently. “Look at him, my lord. He’s beautiful.”

As you gazed at Chizuru, you felt a profound sense of connection, as if your wish had been granted right before your eyes. In that moment, you realized something deeper, something that shimmered in the quiet between you and Sukuna.

He was beginning to see it too. The way your eyes sparkled with love and hope, the way you smiled at your child, the warmth that radiated from your heart—it all began to intertwine. Something so beautiful had blossomed a new spring right in front of him.

Ryomen Sukuna’s expression softened as he took in the sight of you with Chizuru. There was a flicker of understanding, a silent knowledge that he had learned just by looking at mother and son.

In that moment, he realized that in your eyes, Ryomen Chizuru wasn’t just a child. He was your happiness. And perhaps, he could be his own too.

══════════════════

IN A BLINK OF AN EYE, THE WORLD CHANGES. If you had been asked years ago, you would have been still wondered what joy truly looks like. But if you had been asked now, you would have had an answer that would satisfy the ears of many. Five years had slipped by like a gentle breeze, carrying with it moments of joy and laughter that filled the once quiet halls of the temple with life.

You had poured your heart and soul into raising your son, Chizuru, and the beloved Chiharu, finding a rhythm in the chaos that came with the fondness of motherhood. A harsh road, a horrific terrrain and yet, everything about it had been so beautiful. Everything about it had filled you with nothing but joy.

The air in Vermillion Hall as of late was filled with their giggles and the soft pitter-patter of small feet, the sound of innocence and love echoing against the ancient stone walls. The other halls of the temple could only be envious that you who had been favored, was even more blessed with the sound of two children's joy. A gift none but you in the harem possess.

As you wandered through the temple, sunlight streamed through the open windows, casting warm patches of light on the floor. The vibrant colors of the flowers you’d arranged adorned the hall, adding a touch of brightness to the serene surroundings. You felt a deep sense of contentment wash over you, knowing that you were nurturing a sanctuary for your children, a place where they could flourish.

Young master Ryomen Chizuru was often the more adventurous of the two, his curiosity driving him to explore every nook and cranny of the temple. He had your bright eyes and quite often, they sparkled with mischief as he dashed around, discovering hidden corners and asking a thousand questions about the world around him.

Young mistress Ryomen Chiharu, on the other hand, was a gentle spirit, her laughter melodic as she chased after her brother, always ready to join in his games but equally happy to indulge in quiet moments with you when she wasn't right beside her father, learning the ropes of his leadership.

Between the two of them though, there was certainly no quiet in the Vermillion Hall. But in those rare moments when silence fell over the temple, you would often find yourself lost in thought, reflecting on how far you had come.

Ryomen Sukuna’s absence weighed heavily on you at times, as he would be in between his own pilgrimage to Kyoto or dealing with matters here all across Hida. But you had learned to navigate the complexities of your life as a mother and a partner. If you had done it before, you could do it again.

You had for all this time forged a sense of independence that filled you with pride. You were no longer just the woman who had once worshiped at his feet; you were a mother, a protector, and a nurturer. You were more than what you were all those years ago.

You found joy in the small things in your life today more than you did beforel sometimes, you would be teaching your children the art of folding origami cranes, sharing stories of the world outside, and guiding them through the rituals of your worship to the other gods.

As you sat in the garden, Ryomen Chizuru carefully folded paper into intricate shapes while Ryomen Chiharu hummed a soft tune beside you, you felt a profound sense of peace. The sun warmed your skin, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves above, as if the world itself was celebrating this moment with you.

“Look, Mother! I made a crane!” Chizuru exclaimed, holding up his creation with a proud grin that made your heart swell.

“It’s beautiful, my love.” you praised, reaching out to ruffle his fuschia hair. “Just like you.”

Chiharu clapped her hands in delight, her bright eyes sparkling. “You did so well, little brother! Can we hang it in the hall, Mother? Please? We ought to show the world my little brother's wodners, don't you think?”

“Of course, little flower. We can make a whole family of cranes!” you replied, feeling the joy that radiated from your children wrap around you like a warm embrace.

As the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow across the garden, you settled back against the soft grass, watching your children with a heart full of love. The laughter of Chizuru and Chiharu danced in the air, a sweet melody that resonated deep within you.

“Let’s see how many we can make!” Chizuru declared, diving back into his pile of paper, his little fingers moving with surprising dexterity. Chiharu grinned and joined him eagerly, her giggles punctuating their efforts as they competed to see who could fold the most cranes.

“Remember, my love,” you chimed in, “for every crane we fold, we should make a wish. What do you want to wish for, hm?”

Chiharu paused, her brows furrowed in concentration. “I wish for us to always be together!” she said, her voice sincere and unwavering. "Healthy and happy. That we'll always love one another!"

“And I wish for a big adventure, mother!” Chizuru added, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “One where we can find hidden treasures! Together with you and big sister!”

You chuckled softly, imagining the countless stories waiting to be told. The world outside the temple was vast and filled with mysteries, but within the safety of these walls, they had everything they needed. You like to think that all that would only be happy if you were all together. If you had Chiharu and Chizuru, you would live well.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink, you joined them in their folding. Each crease of the paper felt like a connection—an unspoken promise to nurture their dreams and guide them in their adventures. Of wishes for happier days, wishes for many more sunshines and of course, blissful years to come.

You shared tales of the cranes you had folded as a child, of wishes that had been granted, and of moments that had changed your life. You told them about your mother's beautiful painting skills, your father's brillliance in weaving the cranes together, your little siblings and their eagerness for play.

Chizuru listened with rapt attention, and of course, he would ask questions about your family. You told him as much as you remembered. But at times, you could not find anymore words to say. Your family have not seen you in these many years. And perhaps, never again.

Chiharu leaned against you, her head resting comfortably on your shoulder. She would wonder about how you were as a little girl, when you would play these little paper cranes too. But she did not push as much as her brother.

“Mother, can we fold one for father?” Chizuru asked, his voice softening with a hint of longing. "So that he may know we are missing him and thinking of him!"

“Of course, little flower.” you replied, forcing a smile. “Let’s make one for him, so he knows we’re thinking of him.”

As you helped them fold the paper, you couldn’t shake the thought of Sukuna. He had matters to settle today. And in the past few days, have been without a visit to Vermillion Hall. He had been more frequent in the halls as of late, much more so because your son was wanting his father. And Sukuna indulged him. 

You wanted to share these moments with him, at least to look at the children with those fond eyes, the looks he rarely lets slip through the view of others. He had no love for you, true enough. But that does not matter. So long as he loved the children, so long as he cared for him, then perhaps you could be content with that.

After what felt like an eternity of folding, you finally stood, stretching your arms overhead as you surveyed your creations. The hall was beginning to fill with the soft, ambient light of the setting sun, illuminating the vibrant colors of the paper cranes scattered about.

“Let’s hang them up!” you suggested, and together, the three of you transformed the hall into a dazzling display of colorful cranes, each one a symbol of a wish, a memory, and an unbreakable bond.

As you stepped back to admire your handiwork, Chizuru tugged at your sleeve, his face alight with curiosity. “Mother, do you think father will like them?”

You knelt down to his level, cupping his small face in your hands. “I think he’ll be fond of them. They’re a part of us, a part of our family. They are our wishes, after all.”

Chiharu chimed in, looking at her little brother. She too does not wish to break the spell for him. “And when he sees them, he’ll know how much we miss him!”

Chizuru smiled brightly, "Really? Father will be touched then!"

You nodded, feeling a warmth envelop your heart. “Exactly, my love. And we’ll keep making more until he comes home.”

As twilight settled around you, a hush fell over the temple, wrapping you in its embrace. The world outside seemed to pause, and for a moment, all that existed were you and your children, surrounded by the hope and love that filled the air.

With each crane hung in the hall, you were satisfied. The children, bored of making more cranes now, had told you they would play in the garden and you told them not to go too far. That you would see them in a few minutes. You just had to clean out the mess.

Once you had done so, and felt satisfied with the cleaning, you followed them with a lamp. You could hear Chizuru and Chiharu playing in the garden, their laughter floating through the open window, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of them. Then they stopped laughing. You came out and stopped at your tracks. 

“Father!” Chizuru’s voice rang out, his excitement unmistakable. You rushed to the window just in time to see Ryomen Sukuna entering the garden.

Sukuna’s eyes locked onto Chizuru, and for a fleeting moment, all the tension of his time away seemed to melt away. Chizuru ran to him, arms outstretched, and Sukuna knelt down, catching his son in a warm embrace. You could see it in Sukuna’s expression, a rare softness breaking through his typically stoic demeanor.

“Look, Father! I made you a crane!” Chizuru exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement as he presented his creation with pride.

Sukuna took the paper crane, inspecting it with a careful eye, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Not bad, little flame.” he said, the praise simple yet meaningful, his tone unexpectedly tender.

Chizuru grinned at his father. Chiharu just behind him. “Father, can we show you the ones we hung in the hall? Mother helped us make them!”

Sukuna looked up from the crane, his gaze shifting between his children, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of the man who had once held such power and authority. Here, among his family, he was just a father. The rarest of sights. 

“Lead the way, little flame.” he said, rising to his full height and offering his hand to Chizuru. Chiharu follows behind her brother, trying to keep her compsure.

You watched as they walked side by side, the small boy nearly bouncing with excitement as he chattered away, eager to share every detail about his creations. She looks behind you, as though to see you following them.

You followed at a distance, smiling fondly. As they entered the Vermillion Hall, the colors of the cranes fluttered like bright blossoms in the wind, each one a testament to the love and hope you had nurtured in their absence.

“Look, Father! There’s one for you!” Chizuru pointed, pride evident in his voice.

Sukuna stepped closer, his expression softening as he gazed at the multitude of cranes hanging from the rafters. You noticed how his posture relaxed, the tension of his dealings fading away.

He might have been a fearsome sorcerer to the outside world, but in this sacred space, he left that all behind. He was not to be the one to seem to be such a case, but he was a father. And he adored his children. Perhaps, Chizuru the most. Even if he does not say it outright. 

“You’ve made quite the display here.” he remarked, and you could see the admiration shining in his eyes.

Chizuru grinned. "We have, father! Mother says it has brighten the place! And that creates wishes!"

Chiharu chimed in. “Mother said every crane is a wish. Chizuru wished for you to come home, father.”

Sukuna knelt down to her level, his gaze steady. “And I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Chiharu nodded. Chizuru more vigorously, his enthusiasm contagious.

As they continued to admire the cranes, you couldn’t help but notice the way Chizuru moved closer to Sukuna, his small hand brushing against his father’s arm. It was a gesture filled with tenderness, a silent communication that spoke volumes.

You felt a pang in your chest, knowing that Chizuru’s gentle nature was something Sukuna both needed and feared. In that moment, it reminded him of you—of the warmth and love that had filled the space between you before he left.

“Little flame.” Sukuna said, his voice lower, more serious. “You’ve become quite the artist. Do you know what it means to fold a thousand cranes?”

Chizuru shook his head, looking up at his father with wide eyes.

“It means you get to make a wish. A powerful wish.” Sukuna continued, his gaze softening further.

“What’s your wish, Father?” Chizuru asked, curiosity sparkling in his voice.

Sukuna hesitated, a fleeting expression crossing his face that you couldn’t quite decipher. “My wish? To always be here with you and your sister.” he said finally, and the rare sincerity in his tone sent a thrill through you. “For us to be together.”

Chiharu clapped her hands in delight, and Chizuru smiled brightly, the happiness between them radiating through the hall like the sun breaking through the clouds. For a moment, you looked at this and thought to yourself in a small little prayer, that this would never end.

You wanted for this to last forever.

Even if this was just that moment.

You wanted to stay in it forever.

══════════════════

NOTHING WOULD ERASE MEMORIES OF THAT DAY. Your husband had bid farewell a few hours ago, after the children had fallen asleep. He had already fixed his retinue; Uraume awaited him in the courtyard, standing with the quiet reverence they always kept. It was his yearly trip to Kyoto, to visit the remains of his beloved Hiromi.

You did not want him to go. The idea gnawed at you like a persistent ache, but what could you say? He had always made this journey, always carried this grief. A grief you could never touch. You could never be her, and he... he would never truly belong to you. Not in the way you longed for.

But still, you had kept your mouth shut. The children needed him here, but you bowed your head as he prepared to leave. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you tried to smile, trying to mask the deep ache twisting your insides.

His footsteps were soft on the wooden floor as he approached, the flickering lamp light casting shadows across his face. He stopped before you, gazing down, and for a brief moment, you felt the weight of his eyes on you, heavy with something you couldn’t name. His hand came to rest upon your hair, his fingers slipping through the strands, gently, almost tenderly, as though soothing you for the inevitable pain of his departure.

"Rest well, little one." he murmured, his voice low and quiet, a distant warmth in it that never quite reached you. "I’ll return soon enough."

You nodded, the words caught in your throat. There was nothing you could say that would change his heart, that would pull him back from the ghost he still loved. So, you let the silence fill the space between you.

His hand slipped away, leaving a chill in its wake. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door, his back a familiar sight, disappearing into the night. You watched him go, your heart heavy in your chest, telling yourself again what you’d told yourself a thousand times before.

He doesn't love me.

The thought was bitter but familiar, like an old wound that never fully healed. You clenched your hands together, willing yourself to let go of the dream. To stop hoping for something that could never be.

The door closed behind him with a soft thud. You were alone. Alone with your thoughts, and with the ghost of a woman you could never replace. And so you couldn’t sleep. You kept thinking about your husband, about the ghosts that he’s going to revisit. Yet you shook your head and tried to sleep. 

But you thought it would be fine. Even without your husband, nothing has ever happened of note. Nothing ever even mattered. Hida was at peace, even if you were not in your soul. The barriers your husband put were holding up, he had chosen good and able sorcerers to guard you all. It was well and good. 

The stillness of the night enveloped the temple, a deep tranquility that cradled you and your children in a cocoon of warmth. You had fallen asleep beside Chizuru and Chiharu, their soft breaths mingling with the rustle of the night. Everything felt perfect—until the acrid smell of smoke invaded your senses.

You jolted awake, your heart racing as a wave of panic washed over you. Coughing, you instinctively shielded your nose with your hands, trying to stave off the suffocating grip of the smoke. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you were met with a horrifying sight: flames licked hungrily at the wooden beams of your chamber, their orange glow illuminating the space in an eerie dance.

“Chiharu! Chizuru!” you cried, your voice hoarse with urgency. You leaned over, shaking your daughter awake, her eyelids fluttering as she fought against sleep.

“Mother?” she murmured, her voice thick with confusion.

“Wake up! We need to go, now!” You turned to Chizuru, who was still sound asleep, and shook him gently. “Chizuru! Please wake up!”

His eyes flew open, wide with fear, and for a moment, you saw the innocent boy you adored—the boy who had just wanted to make cranes and wishes. “What’s happening, mother?” he asked, panic creeping into his voice as he took in the scene around him.

“Fire! We have to get out!” You could hear the distant screams echoing through the temple now, chilling your blood. “We’re under attack! The Zenin clan are here!” a voice shouted from somewhere outside, the threat echoing ominously.

“Who are the Zenin?” Chizuru asked, his small hands gripping the sheets tightly.

“There’s no time for that!” You gathered your children in your arms, instinctively moving towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest. “We need to get to safety!”

As you reached for the door, a gust of heat surged from the flames, forcing you to recoil. You could hear the chaos outside—the shouts of the Zenin, the crashing of furniture, and the crackle of flames consuming everything in their path. The smell of blood and chaos and madness were all up in the air.

“Mother!” Chiharu whimpered, clinging tightly to you. You could feel her trembling against your side, and your heart ached for her innocence lost in this moment of terror.

“Stay close to me, little flower.” you urged, squeezing their hands tightly. “We need to find a way out!”

You took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of fear within you. The window! You dashed towards it, the heat intensifying as you drew closer, and you could see the fire spreading rapidly across the walls.

“Help!” a voice cried from outside, mingling with the frantic screams and shouts. The chaos was closing in around you, and time was slipping away.

You reached the window, your heart racing as you pushed it open. The night air rushed in, carrying the faint sounds of battle. You peered outside, desperate to find a safe escape route. You needed to think fast, you needed to act fast. Your children’s lives depend on it.

“Chizuru, Chiharu, hold onto each other!” You instructed, glancing back at your children, their eyes wide with fear.

“Can we jump?” Chizuru asked, his voice trembling.

You hesitated, taking in the height of the drop below. “We have to try.” you said, forcing a brave smile to reassure them. “On the count of three. Ready? One… two… three!”

You leapt out of the window, pulling your children to you as you fell. You landed hard, the ground beneath you jarring, but you quickly rolled to absorb the impact, shielding them with your body. Pain shot through your limbs, but you pushed through it, gasping for breath as you scrambled to your feet, still holding onto them. The night was alive with chaos—figures darting in and out of the flickering flames, shadows blending with the smoke that hung thick in the air.

“Over there!” you pointed towards a small alleyway between two temple structures, a route that would lead away from the flames. “Run!”

Chizuru and Chiharu obeyed, their small legs carrying them as fast as they could. You followed closely, adrenaline coursing through your veins, urging you to protect them at all costs.

As you raced through the chaos, you could hear the sounds of combat nearby—the clang of weapons, the shouts of warriors, the thudding of footsteps on the ground. The Zenin had come, their intent clear in the chaos that surrounded you.

You led your children away from the heart of the conflict, your mind racing with thoughts of Sukuna and where he might be. Would he know about the attack? Would he come for you? Where was he? The safety of your family was all that mattered right now.

“Keep going!” you shouted to your children, urging them forward as you glanced back at the temple. Flames illuminated the night sky, casting a sinister glow over everything, the beloved home you had built now a target of destruction.

But there was no time to dwell on what was lost. You had to find safety, to escape the grasp of the chaos. You pressed on, your heart filled with a fierce determination to protect Chizuru and Chiharu, no matter the cost.

In that moment, you were not just their mother; you were their shield, and you would not let anything happen to them.

It was clearer and clearer that the night was a nightmare unfolding in real time, chaos erupting around you as you pressed forward, your heart pounding in your chest. Screams echoed through the air, mingling with the crackle of flames that consumed the temple, and the oppressive weight of smoke threatened to pull you under.

“Stay close!” you shouted, gripping Chiharu's hand tightly while Chizuru walked just a step ahead of you, his eyes wide with fear but determination. Each step felt heavier, the ground shaking with the panic of those fleeing the scene. You could hear the splashes of bodies tumbling into the river nearby, their cries for help haunting your every thought.

But as you moved closer to the water's edge, a surge of people rushed past you, frantically trying to escape the inferno. The panic of the crowd was palpable, and in an instant, you were swept away in the tide, a wave of bodies pushing against you.

“Chizuru!” you screamed, desperately searching for your son among the frantic faces. The chaos enveloped you like a storm, and the very ground felt unsteady beneath your feet. You reached for him, your heart pounding as you fought against the surge, but it was as if the world was swallowing him whole.

“Mother!” Chiharu cried, her small voice trembling with fear, and your heart twisted painfully at the sound. You turned to comfort her, wrapping your arms around her protectively.

“Hold on to me, Chiharu!” you urged, trying to keep her close, your voice strained. The water was rising, the current pulling at your legs, and you could feel the panic tightening around your chest.

Suddenly, a throng of people pushed toward the river, a wave of desperation crashing over you. Many had left in panic, knowing that the Zenin penetrated all the other gates too. And here they were dying. They fought against each other, shoving and clawing their way to safety. In the midst of it, you felt Chizuru’s hand slip from yours.

“No! Chizuru!” you shouted, your voice hoarse as you turned to look for him, your heart racing in your chest. The water began to surge around you, pulling you under as you reached for him desperately. Everything began to be swallowed by the darkness and the waves. 

The crowd continued to press against you, and in that moment of chaos, you lost sight of your son. You felt a surge of despair wash over you, as though the river itself was stealing him away. “Chizuru!” you cried out, but the water swallowed your voice.

The river, once a gentle stream, had transformed into a torrent, pulling you and Chiharu further into its depths. You struggled against the current, fighting to keep your head above water, but the chaos made it impossible to breathe.

Panic clawed at your throat as the realization hit you—your son was gone, lost in the tide of terror, swallowed by the chaos surrounding you. The thought was unbearable, a weight that pressed down on your chest and threatened to drag you under.

“Hold on to me!” you shouted to Chiharu, who was now clinging to your side, tears streaming down her face. You could feel her trembling, the cold water soaking through your clothes, and you fought against the current, trying to pull both of you to safety.

But the current was relentless, and just as you thought you could escape, a wave crashed over you, pulling you under. The water engulfed you, dark and suffocating, and you fought against the overwhelming force that dragged you deeper into its depths.

You could hear the muffled sounds of chaos above—the screams of your neighbors, the crackling of fire, the desperate cries for help. But all you could think about was your children, the warmth of Chizuru’s smile, the light in Chiharu’s eyes, now both in peril.

Desperation surged through you, and you kicked against the water, clawing your way to the surface. But the river fought back, dragging you further down, each movement becoming heavier, more labored.

“Chizuru!” you cried again, the name a plea that echoed in your heart. You could feel the air leaving your lungs, the weight of your despair pulling you under.

Just as the darkness began to close in around you, a sudden burst of strength propelled you upward. You broke through the surface, gasping for air, lungs burning as you struggled to stay afloat.

But the moment of relief was short-lived as the chaos swirled around you. You looked frantically for Chizuru, scanning the water for any sign of him. Your heart ached with fear, the thought of losing him suffocating you more than the water ever could.

“Chizuru!” you shouted again, but the only answer was the rush of the river and the cries of the crowd. “My son, my son!”

Then you felt a small hand clutching your arm, and you turned to find Chiharu’s terrified face. “Mother! I can’t swim!” she cried, her voice trembling with fear, and you realized she was struggling against the current as well.

“I won’t let go, I promise!” you assured her, fighting against the torrent as you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her close. The river surged around you, but you held on with everything you had.

In that moment, all that mattered was your daughter. You would not let her be lost to this chaos, even if it meant sacrificing everything else. “We’re going to be okay, we’re going to be fine.” you promised her, forcing a calm you didn’t feel.

With renewed determination, you swam toward the shore, battling the current that threatened to pull you back into the depths. Each stroke was a struggle, the water heavy and cold, but you couldn’t give up. You had to find safety for Chiharu, to shield her from the horrors unfolding around you.

But in the distance, the cries of others still echoed, and every instinct in you screamed for Chizuru. You felt a fierce longing for him, an unyielding need to protect your son, to bring him back to safety. The thought of him alone in the chaos was a wound that tore at your heart.

The river finally began to recede, and you clawed your way to the bank, pulling Chiharu with you. With one final push, you scrambled onto the muddy shore, the water cascading off you like a broken dam.

But as you lay there, gasping for breath, a haunting realization sank in—the darkness still lingered. You had saved your daughter, but Chizuru was still out there, somewhere lost in the chaos.

“Chizuru!” you called out, your voice cracking with desperation, but the only reply was the sound of rushing water and the distant cries of those who had suffered the same fate.

You couldn’t lose hope, couldn’t abandon your son. With trembling limbs, you forced yourself to stand, feeling the weight of dread pressing down on you.

“Chiharu, stay here!” you instructed, your voice shaky but firm. “I have to find your brother!”

“Mother, please!” Chiharu pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clung to you. “I don’t want to be alone!”

“Stay close to the shore, please. you urged, your heart breaking at the fear in her eyes. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

With a final glance at your daughter, you plunged back into the water, the cold enveloping you once more. Each stroke was a desperate prayer, a hope that you would find Chizuru safe and sound.

As you moved through the water, the world around you blurred, your heart pounding with every frantic search for his familiar face. The river roared like a beast, but you fought against it, determined to bring your son home, to save him from the grasp of darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

In the depths of despair, you clung to the belief that love would lead you back to him. You would not rest until you found your son, until you pulled him back from the brink of loss, back into your arms.

══════════════════

YOU DON’T THINK YOU COULD EVER MOVE FORWARD. The world felt hollow without Chizuru, a chasm of grief that swallowed everything in its wake. Months had passed since the night of the attack, yet time had warped into an endless cycle of despair. You wandered through the temple, each corner a haunting reminder of his absence, every sound echoing the laughter that once filled those halls.

You hadn’t eaten in days, nor could you find the will to sleep. Each night, you lay beside Chiharu, listening to her soft breaths, feeling the warmth of her small body against yours. But your heart ached with the knowledge that your son was missing—lost to the river, to the chaos of that terrible night.

You clung to hope like a fragile thread, desperate to believe that somehow he would come home. You remembered his bright smile, the way his laughter danced in the air, a melody of innocence and joy. But now, silence reigned, a heavy shroud that suffocated you.

The days stretched into an agonizing blur, and you found yourself wandering the grounds of the temple, searching every inch of the riverbank, calling his name until your voice was hoarse. “Chizuru! Chizuru!” echoed through the empty space, a prayer to the gods, a plea for your boy to return.

But only silence answered, and each time you turned to the water, the memories washed over you. You could see him there, splashing happily, the sunlight glinting off his bright fuschia hair, his laughter ringing like bells. But that was just a memory now, a ghost that lingered in the corners of your mind.

The only trace left of him was his beloved toy, a small crane he had carried everywhere—a tattered reminder of his innocence, now found washed ashore, sodden and battered by the river’s embrace. You held it close, clutching it to your chest as if it could somehow bridge the gap between the world of the living and the void where your son had vanished.

The grief twisted inside you like a knife, sharp and unyielding, as you wept, your tears falling onto the toy. “Please, come back to me, my baby.” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips like a prayer. But the river continued to flow, indifferent to your anguish.

When your husband had been informed, he had left immediately back for Hida. He found you first. Ryomen Sukuna had tried to protect you, and had stopped you from plunging into the water once more. His scarlet eyes frantically eyeing you. It was the first time they had been like that, but you could not care enough for it. You needed your son.

“You nearly drowned already, little one.” he had said, his voice strained with a mixture of anger and concern. “The river is too shallow, and you cannot risk your life searching for him.”

But the fire of desperation burned brightly within you. How could he expect you to sit idly by? “He’s my son!” you cried, your voice breaking. “I can’t just leave him out there, Sukuna! I can’t!”

His gaze had softened, but there was an impenetrable wall of sorrow between you, a chasm of understanding that seemed impossible to cross. “And you will lose yourself if you go, little one.” he replied quietly. “You must think of Chiharu. She needs you.”

Chiharu… the reminder of your daughter was a bittersweet ache. You had poured every ounce of love and care into her, but your heart remained fragmented, scattered like leaves in the wind. You wanted to be there for her, to be strong, but every moment without Chizuru felt like a betrayal.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he had suffered, if he had called for you in his final moments. The thought was a poison that seeped into your soul, a darkness that wrapped around you like chains, constricting until you could barely breathe.

Nights stretched on endlessly, and when sleep finally claimed you, it was only to be haunted by dreams of your son. You would see him running toward you, his arms outstretched, laughter spilling from his lips like tender music. But just as you reached for him, he would fade away, leaving you grasping at empty air.

Each morning you awoke to find the world unchanged, the sun rising over the river that had taken so much. Chiharu would rise with her innocent smile, but you could see the shadows behind her eyes, the worry that mirrored your own. She suffered too. She can’t do it anymore either.  You wanted to shield her from the pain, to protect her from the grief that consumed you, but you were too lost in your own sorrow. 

“Mother, are we going to find Chizuru today?” she would ask, her small voice hopeful, and every word felt like a knife twisting in your heart.

“I… I don’t know, sweetheart.” you would reply, forcing a smile that felt foreign on your lips. “We have to wait a little longer.”

But the truth was, you were terrified. Terrified of facing the river again, of the darkness that lurked within it, of the memories that flooded back each time you caught a glimpse of the water. It had taken your son, and the thought of it held you captive in your own mind.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the temple felt less like a home and more like a tomb, filled with echoes of laughter long gone. You moved through the halls like a ghost, a shell of the woman you used to be, desperately clinging to the love of your daughter while mourning the loss of your son.

In the stillness of night, when the world around you slept, you would often find yourself at the river’s edge, the water shimmering under the moonlight. You would sit there for hours, clutching Chizuru’s toy, your heart aching for the child who would never again run to you, whose laughter had been silenced by tragedy.

“Where are you, my little boy?” you would whisper, tears falling into the water. “Come back to me.” But the only answer was the soft lapping of the waves, a haunting reminder of the joy that had been stolen from you.

Days faded into weeks, each moment a reminder of the love that had been lost, and the pain only deepened with the passage of time. Your heart was a fractured thing, struggling to beat amid the agony of loss, and yet, somewhere deep within, a flicker of hope still remained—a hope that perhaps one day you would find the strength to carry on, to honor Chizuru’s memory and bring light back into your world.

Ryomen Sukuna's grief meanwhile manifested in a tempest of rage, a dark storm that swallowed all reason and empathy. The night the Zenin attacked, their faces were etched into his mind, and with each passing day, that image became an obsession;a call to vengeance that drowned out the cries of his own sorrow.

He descended into the shadows of vengeance, moving like a wraith through the remnants of the world he had once ruled. The Zenin clan had crossed a line that he would not allow to remain unpunished. They had dared to touch what was his, and for that, they would pay.

With a swift and merciless hand, he hunted them down, one by one. The elegance of his movements belied the brutality of his actions. Each confrontation was a dance of death, each opponent a testament to his unyielding wrath. He tore through their defenses, a whirlwind of violence and fury, leaving behind nothing but a trail of blood and devastation.

Sukuna did not need to think; his body moved instinctively, fueled by a primal need for retribution. He channeled his anguish into each kill, the cries of the Zenin blending into a symphony of vengeance that soothed the raw edges of his pain, even if only momentarily. The thrill of the hunt and the finality of the kill provided a distraction from the hollow ache that resided within him.

He was relentless, taking down many of the branches of the clan with precision and ferocity, reveling in the chaos he unleashed. Just as the Ryomen were wiped out by the Fujiwara, the Zenin were nearly gone too.

Their screams echoed in his mind, and for a fleeting moment, he found solace in their despair. The walls of the temple, once a sanctuary, now stood witness to the brutality of his wrath.

But even in the depths of his fury, a flicker of doubt began to gnaw at the edges of his resolve. Each life he extinguished was a stark reminder of the fragility of existence, a reflection of the life he had once shared with you and the children. In the silence that followed each battle, the absence of Chizuru pierced him like a knife, sharper than any blade he wielded.

He thought of you, alone and shattered, and how your grief mirrored his own. The thought stirred something deep within him—a conflicting urge to return, to be the pillar you needed, to offer you the strength to carry on. But the weight of his actions held him captive, shackled by the blood he had spilled.

How could he face you after becoming a monster? He had sworn to protect you, to provide a sanctuary for your family, yet here he was, consumed by darkness, reveling in a cycle of violence.

As he stood amidst the ashes of the Zenin clan, Ryomen Sukuna felt a hollowness that no amount of vengeance could fill. The cries of his victims faded, and he was left alone with his thoughts, each one a reminder of what he had lost, and what he was becoming.

His heart, though encased in ice, cracked just a little at the realization that revenge could not bring back Chizuru. He was gone. The water had taken him. And he will not come back. Not even if you want him too, not even if Sukuna wanted to. 

The very act of killing, of exacting justice, could never quell the longing in his soul for the warmth of his son’s laughter or the joy that once radiated from your family. He would forever be haunted by the laughter. By the bitterness of that laughter tainted in blood and loss.

Days turned into a blur of blood and shadow until the last of the Zenin fell at his feet. And there he stood, amidst the remains of his enemies, drenched in the very violence he had unleashed, yet feeling emptier than ever. The echoes of Chizuru’s laughter haunted him, the memory of his son’s smile contrasting starkly with the brutality he had wrought.

Returning to the temple felt like an insurmountable task. How could he face you after everything? After your grief tortures him enough. After Chiharu’s silence bitterly echoes in silence. He had become a monster in pursuit of vengeance, and the thought of your eyes so dead, so bitterly ruined. It ruined him too. 

He had started all this bloodshed for the Ryomen.

He had started this cycle of vengeance for love and loss.

And somehow it will never end, somehow it will continue.

The rain stills and tears and he watches, standing there among them.

Blood and water look almost the same to him.

══════════════════

YOU WERE A SHADOW OF YOUR FORMER SELF. The chamber was a prison of shadows, thick and suffocating, as though they had seeped from the cracks of your broken heart. The once vibrant room was now a graveyard of neglect—crumpled papers strewn across the floor, each one a failed attempt to capture your grief in words. 

The air was stagnant, heavy with the scent of loss and decay, mirroring the unbearable weight that pressed against your chest. You sat amidst the chaos, the world outside reduced to an endless night, a void where you floated aimlessly, longing for an end that never came.

Chizuru’s absence had carved out a wound so deep that it felt like your soul had been hollowed out, leaving nothing but an aching emptiness. You could still see him, hear his laughter echo through the temple halls, bright and alive in your memory. But the warmth of those moments only sharpened the cruel edge of your despair. He was gone, and no amount of clinging to the past could change that.

You had tried, time and time again, to escape this torment, to free yourself from the suffocating grip of your sorrow. Each attempt to end your life was another desperate grasp at peace, at release. But every time, Sukuna found you—like some dark, twisted guardian, yanking you back from the brink. His grip was always unrelenting, his voice cutting through the fog of your despair with harshness that bordered on cruelty.

“You can’t leave me like this, little one.” he would say, his voice laced with anger, with something almost desperate. But it was the pity in his eyes that hurt the most, the silent judgment that reflected your own shame, your own failure.

You wanted to die, to vanish into the void and be done with it. Yet, Sukuna would not allow it. And as the days blurred into weeks, the crushing weight of your existence dragged you deeper into isolation.

You pushed him away, locked yourself in the crumbling sanctuary of your grief, convinced that the best thing you could do was disappear—to not burden him, to not burden Chiharu, with the shell of the woman you had become.

The days passed in a haze of nothingness, and you became a ghost, drifting through the remnants of a life you no longer recognized. Chiharu’s laughter echoed faintly in the distance, but you couldn’t bear to face her, couldn’t allow her to see the emptiness in your eyes. She deserved better—better than a mother who was crumbling beneath the weight of her sorrow, better than a life filled with the echoes of what once was.

When Sukuna finally returned to you, it was as though he had stepped into a tomb. The door creaked open, and he entered the room, his presence filling the space with a commanding force that felt suffocating. His eyes roamed over the wreckage, taking in the chaos you had allowed to fester.

“You can’t keep living like this, little one.” he said, his voice low and strained with both anger and concern.

Your response was sharp, bitter, laced with the pain that had become your constant companion. “I’m not living, my lord. I’m just existing. There’s a difference.”

His jaw tightened, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see it every time I look at you? You’re wasting away, and for what?”

He moved to clean the mess that had accumulated around you, his actions careful but determined. It made something inside you snap. You wanted to scream at him, to tell him to stop, that nothing could be fixed, that you were beyond repair.

But the words stuck in your throat, drowned by the flood of tears that threatened to spill over as he touched a crumpled sheet of paper—a poem you had tried to write about loss, about Chizuru. It was unfinished, like everything else in your life.

“Let me help you,” he said, softer this time, but his words were like knives. His pity, his attempts at love—it was suffocating. You couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

“Chiharu should go with Hiromi’s family,” you said suddenly, the words falling from your lips like a confession, heavy with guilt. “I can’t… I can’t be the mother she needs. Not like this.”

He froze, his expression darkening with disbelief. “You want to send her away?”

“Yes,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “She deserves better than this—better than me.”

The air between you grew tense, thick with unspoken truths. His voice was hard when he finally spoke, laced with a quiet fury. “You think running away will fix anything? That abandoning her will make you whole again?”

“I don’t know,” you cried, the anguish spilling out of you uncontrollably. “But I can’t… I can’t watch her suffer because of me. I can’t let her see me like this.”

His gaze hardened, and you could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “She needs you. You’re her mother. You can’t just give up.”

“Give up?” you spat, your voice rising with a mix of rage and desperation. “You think I haven’t tried? You think I haven’t fought every single day just to breathe, just to wake up? You’re out there killing the Zenin, but I’m stuck here—drowning, suffocating in this nightmare! I let my own son die, my lord. I failed him. I failed Chizuru.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, raw and painful. Sukuna’s expression twisted with something dark, something that resembled both anger and grief.

“Stop it.” he snapped, stepping closer, his eyes blazing. “You didn’t let him die. This isn’t your fault. You’re not the only one who lost him.”

His words felt like a slap, but you couldn’t stop. The pain had consumed you, filled every corner of your soul until there was nothing left but the desire to disappear, to join Chizuru in whatever afterlife there might be.

“I want to be with him, please….” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this anymore. I just want to be with him.”

Sukuna’s face contorted with rage, with desperation. “No. You don’t get to choose that. You don’t get to leave. Chizuru wouldn’t want this for you. He wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as the weight of your guilt crushed you. “But I am a foolish mother. I let him die, and now… I deserve to suffer. It should have been me, not him.”

Sukuna’s frustration exploded. “Stop it!” His voice echoed in the emptiness of the room. “You don’t get to decide that! You don’t get to give up. You’re not the only one hurting!”

His words hit you like a storm, and you recoiled, feeling the walls of your grief crack beneath the force of his anger. But the truth was still there, festering in your chest. “I can’t fight anymore, my lord.” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know how.”

He stepped closer, his presence a force you couldn’t ignore, but there was a tenderness in his eyes now, a desperation that mirrored your own. “Then let me fight for you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t lose you too. Not like this.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let him pull you from the abyss. But all you could feel was the crushing weight of everything you had lost. “I’m already gone,” you whispered, your voice hollow. “You’re too late.”

And in that moment, as Sukuna stood there, torn between his anger and his helplessness, you realized something—he could not save you. No one could. You were lost, drowning in the endless chasm of your grief, and all that was left was the echo of your son’s laughter, growing fainter with each passing day.

You stood frozen in the aftermath of Sukuna's departure, the stillness of the room amplifying the hollowness inside you. You could not help it. There felt nothing else but emptiness and grief.

The words you had thrown at him, fueled by anger, sorrow, and a desperate need to push him away now echoed in your mind, filling the void he had left behind. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your chest tightening under the weight of a decision that felt irreversible.

He was gone. Truly gone this time.

For a fleeting moment, you had wanted this—his absence, the silence, the space to collapse without anyone witnessing your downfall. But now, standing in the suffocating quiet of your chamber, you realized that his presence, oppressive as it was, had been the only thing tethering you to this world. And now… now you were truly untethered, free to fall into the abyss.

You glanced around the room, the wreckage of your grief still strewn across the floor; crumpled papers, forgotten attempts at healing, at making sense of your pain. They mocked you now, silent reminders of every failed effort to escape the unbearable weight pressing down on your soul.

Your legs gave out beneath you, and you crumpled to the floor, your body folding in on itself as the sobs tore from your throat. It was as if the dam had broken, and all the emotions you had been holding back; the anguish, the guilt, the overwhelming despair rushed to the surface, drowning you in their flood.

You had pushed Sukuna away, believing that his love, his pity, would only deepen your shame. But now, without him here to absorb the brunt of your anger, you were left alone with the full force of your grief. And it was unbearable. Unforgiving.

The image of Chizuru, your sweet boy, your heart, he flashed in your mind. His laughter, his innocent smile, the way he had once filled your days with light. But now… now he was gone, and the light had died with him.

You could still see him in your mind’s eye, running through the temple grounds, carefree and full of life. But those memories only deepened the emptiness within you. They weren’t enough to sustain you. Nothing was.

You had failed him.

The thought repeated itself over and over, a relentless chant that echoed in your mind. You had failed him. You hadn’t been able to protect him. And now, you couldn’t even hold on to the family you had left. You had pushed them all away; Sukuna, Chiharu, believing that they would be better off without you. That they deserved better.

But now, as the suffocating silence wrapped around you, you realized that you had nothing left. No family. No purpose. Just the crushing weight of loss and the ever-present desire to escape it.

You crawled toward the remnants of your shattered life, your fingers brushing against the crumpled poem you had written about Chizuru, unfinished, like so much else in your life. Tears blurred your vision as you smoothed the paper, tracing the words you had once thought would bring you comfort, bring you closure.

But there was no closure to be found. Only an endless, gaping wound that refused to heal.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the knife hidden beneath your bed. It had been there for weeks, maybe months, always present, always waiting for the moment when you were ready. You had tried so many times before to end this;

You need to free yourself from the unbearable pain that clawed at your insides. But Sukuna had always stopped you, pulling you back from the edge with his iron grip, his desperate pleas.

But now he is gone. Now there was no one left to stop you.

You stared down at the blade, the cold steel glinting in the dim light of the room. It would be so easy, so simple—to just let go. To release yourself from the torment, the guilt, the constant agony that had become your existence. To be free.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a quiet certainty that this was the only way out. You had lost everything, and there was no point in continuing this charade of life. Chizuru was gone, and you wanted to be with him. You needed to be with him.

Your grip tightened around the handle of the knife, and you brought it to your wrist, the cool metal pressing against your skin. Your breath hitched, but your resolve didn’t waver. This was what you wanted. This was the only way to escape the endless spiral of grief.

Just as you were about to press the blade deeper, a soft voice echoed in your mind, a voice so faint, so distant, that you almost didn’t hear it.

“Mother…..”

Chiharu.

Her name, her voice, pierced through the fog of your despair, cutting through the haze of your grief. Your hands trembled, and the knife slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor with a hollow sound that echoed in the empty room.

Chiharu.

The image of her face, so much like her brother’s; it was all that flashed before your eyes, and you felt a pang of guilt so deep it nearly shattered you. She was still here. She was still alive. And she needed you. She needed you to be alright. She needed you here with her, she needed her mother.

Don't take it all away from her, too.

You collapsed onto the floor, your body wracked with sobs as the weight of your decision crashed over you. You had been so consumed by your grief, by your longing to be with Chizuru, that you had forgotten the life that still remained.

Ryomen Chiharu was still here, still waiting for you. And you had almost abandoned her. You had nearly left her alone in this world without a mother, without anyone to hold her, to protect her. You shouldn't have done this, you shouldn't have lived in your grief like this. What right do you have to live like this?

You buried your face in your hands, the realization crashing over you like a wave. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t leave her behind. Not like this. Not when she needed you the most.

But how could you continue? How could you keep living in this world without Chizuru, without the light he had brought into your life? The thought of facing another day without him, of waking up to the same crushing pain, was unbearable.

But as the image of Chiharu’s face lingered in your mind, you knew you didn’t have a choice. You had to keep going. You had to keep fighting. For her.

For both of them.

The knife lay forgotten on the floor, and you curled into yourself, sobbing wracking your body as you let the grief wash over you. You didn’t know how you would survive this. You didn’t know if you even could.

But for Chiharu…..you would try.

You needed to live for her.

You needed to live for Chizuru.

You need to live for yourself.

══════════════════

THE SNOWS CAME JUST IN TIME FOR WINTER MOONLIGHT. It took time. A lot of time. And you had been eager to try, you wanted to do it. You wanted to take that time to learn how to be alive again. The days stretched into weeks, and each one was a grueling battle you weren't sure you'll make it out alive.

But you wanted to fight to heal, to come to terms with the raw grief that still lingered in your heart. Because there was much still waiting for you. There was much of life still waiting to be lived. That is what your precious son would have wanted for his beloved mother. You were certain of that.

And you would have to do it alone, with Ryomen Chiharu being sent off to live with her mother’s family. You had bitter tears about parting. But you had to prove to yourself that you could do it, that you could live. That you could be fine. You wanted to live well, to see Chiharu again. She will come back. But you have to be well again.

It was the hardest thing you could have ever done. You were a mother after all. You had grown him from the seed he was to the boy he came to be. You had suffered to bring him into the world. And now, to know he had disappeared, without a trace. To accept it, it swallowed you whole. 

The weight of Chizuru’s absence would never fully leave you, but slowly, you began to confront the pain rather than run from it. It wasn’t easy; some days were unbearable; but through reflection, through quiet moments with yourself, you began to find pieces of your old strength. The strength you had lost the day Ryomen Chizuru left this world.

The solitude helped at first. There were moments when you needed to be alone, to think, to remember, to cry without holding anything back. But as the year drew closer to its end, a different kind of loneliness set in—the kind that whispered of missed connections, unresolved conversations, and a love that still lingered beneath the layers of grief and hurt.

Ryomen Sukuna.

You hadn’t seen him since that day, when the anger had driven you apart. He hadn’t come back, and in those quiet moments, you wondered if he ever would. He wanted to give you time, you supposed. Or perhaps he had started to hate you as much as you had hated yourself.

But something deep inside told you that he was still there, waiting—always waiting. Perhaps he finally understood what it was like to suffer so deeply. And as the year approached its final days, the weight of the distance between you two became too heavy to bear.

It was just after the first snowfall of the season when you found yourself walking along the temple grounds, the world quiet and blanketed in white. The cold air stung your skin, but it was a welcome sensation. It was something to remind you that you were still here, still alive, still fighting. And you were grateful for it.

But for a moment , you couldn't help it. You supposed it was out of habit. You didn’t know why your thoughts kept drifting back to Ryomen Sukuna. You hadn't seen him in a while. And for good reason.

Perhaps, it was because of that. You couldn't help but think of him with every step. And with each step, you cannot help but feel the pull to see him again. Each step made that desire stronger, undeniable.

You found him at the edge of the temple's forest, his broad figure outlined against the dark trees covered in blissful snow piling onto it. He stood with his back to you, staring out at the horizon as if lost in his own thoughts.

For a moment, you hesitated, the memory of your last argument flashing in your mind. But then you took a deep breath and called his name rather than your worship upon him. All those words of anger pressed on in your memories, all those grievous whispers and all those harmful touches. You cannot help but remember it all.

He turned slowly, his eyes meeting yours across the snow-covered ground. There was something different in his scarlet gaze now; something softer, more open than you remembered. Perhaps it was grief, or perhaps it was weariness. Mayhaps even the cold. You could not fathom it well.

You don't remember if you were able to be this lost when you read him years ago. But you were lost now, almost like a child relearning its steps. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the sight of him didn’t fill you with anger or sorrow. Instead, it brought a sense of relief, of longing.

Without speaking, you walked toward him, closing the distance between you. The silence stretched between you both, heavy with everything unsaid. When you finally stopped in front of him, the words that had been trapped inside you for so long began to tumble out.

“I miss him, my lord.” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the still air. “I miss Chizuru every day. I thought… I thought pushing you away would make it easier. That if I didn’t have to face you, I wouldn’t have to face the pain.”

Sukuna didn’t respond at first, his expression unreadable. He did not think that he should. He doesn't show it, but he hesistates. He doesn't know how to speak to you anymore. It had been so long. But ought to try. He had to. The cold did not bother him and yet your gaze did. He exhaled softly, his breath visible in the cold air.

“I know, little one.” he murmured. “I’ve….thought of him too. After all this time.”

“Has….my lord thought of me too?”

“Everyday.”

The vulnerability in his voice surprised you. Ryomen Sukuna had always been strong, unyielding, but in that moment, he wasn’t the invincible force you had once known. In what little remains of his heart, he had loved his son. And perhaps, he had cared about you enough. You had lived a life together too, afrer all. You were as much his life as his son was. Even for a time.

You liked to think that for a moment, he was still as human as the day he had been born into this earth. He was just a man grieving his son, just like you were. He was just a man longing for his concubine, his friend, his partner. Someone that lives with him this life full of tragedy.

For a moment, you couldn't help but think that even curses, even monsters like him — they could feel like this.

“I never wanted to lose you like I lost him, little one.” he continued, his eyes dark with emotion. “Perhaps, it was better we parted these many years."

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I thought the same thing, my lord. But I was wrong. I was so wrong, my lord. I need you… I always have. I was just so afraid that if I let myself feel anything for you, it would hurt too much.”

He reached out then, his large hand cupping your face gently. “I need you too, little one.” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “I always have. Perhaps, I always will."

You leaned into his touch, your heart aching with both pain and relief. “I’m sorry, my lord.” you whispered. “I’m so sorry for pushing you away. I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt us both.”

Sukuna’s thumb brushed away a tear that had fallen down your cheek. “Hurt is hard to live through, little one." he said softly. “But perhaps, there is comfort in not living through it alone."

The sincerity in his voice broke something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. His embrace was immediate, strong and warm, and for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to melt into his arms, to feel the safety and comfort of his presence.

“You ought to stay by my side again, little one.” Sukuna said, his voice muffled against your hair. “We mustn't be alone in suffering."

You nodded against his chest, the weight of your grief still there but somehow lighter now that it wasn’t just yours to bear.

“I care for you, my lord.” you whispered, the words finally free from the prison of your pain. “I never stopped.”

Sukuna pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with a tenderness you hadn’t seen in so long. “I care for you too, little one. In all the ways that should matter. Even if I….I still care the most about you.”

The snow continued to fall around you, blanketing the world in quiet peace. And as you stood there, wrapped in Sukuna’s arms, you knew that healing would take time. More time than you could ever imagine. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you believed it was possible.

There will be more years together.

There will be more heartache.

There will be more misunderstanding.

There will be more words left unsaid.

But you would have each other.

══════════════════

HE HAD NEVER BEEN ABLE TO PROCESS GRIEF WELL.  But you would have known that about him all too well. And yet in a blink of an eye, everything had spiralled down. Everything had slipped through his fingers. Everything had been gone. You had been gone. And there was nothing he could ever do about it.

It had been a few days since you had passed, and Ryomen Sukuna’s world had shattered in a way he could never have prepared for. He had not been prepared for this. He had not been ready to face a day like this, where he would have to deal with your mortality. But it came as swiftly as you had come into his life. 

The once-mighty King of Curses, feared by all, now sat in a darkness deeper than any battle or curse he had ever faced. He had locked himself away from everything, even from Uraume, who had always been at his side. But this grief was something no one could witness. Not even them.

Alone, Ryomen Sukuna’s rage boiled beneath the surface, but it was hollow. His immense power, his endless strength, none of it mattered now. Not without you. Everything felt pointless, bitter. The world felt colder. Nothing mattered to him.

He could still feel it. The exact moment your heart stopped, the light draining from your eyes. Your weary smile, your lingering gaze; Your haggered breath into the world with finality.

Everything about it had scared him. It had haunted him since, playing on an endless loop in his mind. He had seen death countless times, taken lives without thought, but your death; it was different. The world itself seemed to stop the moment you did.

Perhaps it had hurt just as much as when he held Hiromi in his arms as she too passed. Perhaps it hurt even more. He did not know. He could not know. Not right now. Not when he was a mess. But it hardly mattered. Learning which hurt more will not lessen the pain of your loss.

Every minute since then, he had tried to hold it together, to bury the feelings that raged within him. But he couldn’t. Not when it came to you. No one could touch you. No one could see you, not like this. He would not degrade you to mortal eyes like this. Not ever. Not now. Only he could touch you. Only he could lay a finger on you. 

You had always been his. And now, in death, you still were.

He slipped into the room where your body lay, the room colder now, as if death itself lingered in the air. The sight of you—broken, unmoving—ripped something deep from within him. He, who was untouchable, who had always kept his distance from the frailty of human emotions, now felt as though he was drowning in them.

His breath hitched as he knelt beside you, his hands trembling as they reached out to touch your skin. The coldness of your flesh pierced him in a way no blade ever could. His fingers brushed against your cheek, trailing down to your lips, which had once smiled for him, spoken to him with warmth he could never understand.

And now, that warmth is gone.

There was nothing left.

There will be nothing of you here.

He hated it. He hated how powerless he felt. For someone who could destroy nations, who could command legions of cursed spirits, he couldn’t stop this. He couldn’t stop you from slipping away. The reality of it gnawed at him, a suffocating weight pressing against his chest.

Gritting his teeth, he began the painful task of cleaning your body. You were suffering for a long time, suffering from the pain of this illness. He could see traces of it still, little by little. The grief he had caused you over and over again, the pain of loss, of humanity lost and lived. 

And yet, it was these hands, his own, that were allowed to touch you. His hands, which had only ever known violence, now moved with a delicacy he had never shown anyone. Each wipe of the cloth was slow, as though he feared hurting you more, though he knew it was impossible.

But still, he couldn’t help himself.

This was the last act he could perform for you.

This was all he could do now.

The silence in the room was oppressive. The only sound was his ragged breathing and the soft rustle of cloth against skin. As he cleaned the dirt away from your body, his vision blurred. He blinked, forcing it away, refusing to acknowledge the tears threatening to fall. He did not cry. Not Ryomen Sukuna. Not the King of Curses.

But for you, maybe he would have.

When he had finished, he reached for the clothes you had worn in life, the ones you had always favored. His hands trembled as he dressed you one last time. It was an intimate act, one that should have been comforting, but instead, it tore at him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. You weren’t supposed to leave him like this.

His fingers lingered on the fabric as he tied the final knot of your sash. He stared down at you, his chest tight with an ache he couldn’t voice. It was too late now, too late to say the things he had left unspoken. The things he had buried beneath his pride, beneath the walls he had built around himself.

He had never told you he loved you.

Not in the way you needed to hear it.

Not in the way you deserved.

And now you are gone.

His hand hovered over your chest, fingers curling in the air as if reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore. He couldn’t pull away. His heart was a storm, a chaotic swirl of emotions he couldn’t name. Fury, anguish, bitterness, sorrow, guilt—none of it mattered now.

"I should have—" his voice cracked, the words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as he forced himself to continue. "Why did you leave?"

But what was the point now? The words were useless, empty. You wouldn’t hear them. You wouldn’t smile at him in that way that made him forget, just for a moment, what he was. You wouldn't be there to reassure him, to take care of his worries. You aren't here. So, what would be the point?

And yet....... he does not stop.

He could only continue on and on.

He didn't know he had so much words.

"I can’t….I can’t do this without you." he whispered once more, but the rest died on his lips. "I need you. I need you here, little one."

For all his strength, all his power, he had failed. Failed to protect you. Failed to keep you. Failed to let you live long and happy. Failed to tell you that, somewhere in the dark recesses of his cursed heart, you had mattered. More than anything.

Now, the King of Curses stood alone, staring down at the one person who had ever truly seen him. The only one who had remained by his side without question, with only but a smile. A smile kinder than what he had deserved. Beyond what he had done, beyond who he was — you had seen him more than Ryomen Hiromi had in these many years.

And as the silence of the room closed in around him, the weight of it all became unbearable. You weren’t supposed to die. You were supposed to live more years with him. You were…you were supposed to be as immortal as him.

He knelt by your side, pressing his forehead gently against yours, his voice nothing more than a breath. His words echoed ever so brokenly. He had nothing. He had nothing but emptiness. He had nothing but grief. He had nothing but regret. He had nothing, not even you.

"I'm sorry."

And Ryomen Sukuna, the most feared being in the world, was left with nothing but the emptiness of his grief—and the realization that, in the end, he had lost the one thing that truly mattered. The only one that mattered.

The room was unbearably still, the air thick with the weight of what had been lost. Sukuna remained kneeling beside you, his forehead still pressed to yours, his eyes closed tightly as though, by shutting out the world, he could deny the finality of it all.

But there was no escaping it. You were gone, and he was left with nothing but the void of his own silence. The silence of words he should have spoken, of a love he had never known how to show.

For what felt like hours, he stayed there, unmoving, as if the proximity of your body could somehow bring you back. He inhaled slowly, your scent still lingering faintly on your skin, but even that was fading. The fragility of it all clawed at him—how something so precious could be snatched away so cruelly.

Time passed in a blur. Minutes? Hours? He didn’t know. The world outside could have burned for all he cared.

Finally, when his body began to ache from kneeling so long, he pulled away, his expression hardened once again. The softness, the vulnerability he had shown, was fleeting. He had to bury it. You would never have wanted him to appear weak, not to the world outside. You always believed in his strength, even when he couldn’t see it in himself.

He stood slowly, his gaze still fixed on your face, as if committing every detail to memory. This would be the last time he would see you like this—unmoving, untouched by the world outside. His chest tightened with the thought of it, but he forced it down. He had to finish this.

With a final, lingering look, Ryomen Sukuna moved to prepare for the next step. He would be the one to take care of your final rites, and no one else. No hands but his own would touch you from now until the end. It was the only way he could honor you now, the only thing left that he could do.

He stepped outside the room for a moment, only long enough to speak with Uraume, who waited patiently beyond the door.

"Tell no one." Sukuna ordered, his voice low, commanding, but with an edge of something else; something raw and dangerous. Uraume, though unwavering in their loyalty, could sense the fracture in their master’s usually unshakable demeanor. They bowed their head in quiet understanding.

"Yes, my lord." Uraume replied, their voice soft. They made no further attempt to enter, to offer help. They knew better.

Sukuna closed the door behind him, sealing himself back inside the small room where you rested. He could feel the weight of Uraume's concern pressing at the edges of his consciousness, but he shut it out, retreating back into the solitude of his grief.

Returning to your side, he knelt once more, his hands moving with renewed purpose. He wrapped your body gently in fine silk clothes, his movements deliberate and precise. He had seen death many times before, but this—this was different.

This was personal. Every fold, every knot tied around you was an act of devotion, though he would never call it that. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t admit it. Not now. Not ever. He wasn't worthy of giving you devotion. A monster like him isn't allowed to love, to care. To give anything.

When it was done, he stood over you, his hands falling to his sides, his gaze locked on your peaceful, still form. For a long moment, he just stood there, the quiet pressing in around him.

"I should have told you." he murmured again, the words falling from his lips like a prayer to the dead. “I should have been….”

There was no response.

There never would be.

And for the first time in his long, cursed life, Ryomen Sukuna felt truly alone.

As the hours wore on, Sukuna knew it was time to take the final steps. He could not hold on to you forever. The world outside would demand answers, demand explanations, but none of it mattered. No one would understand what he had lost.

No one would understand what you meant to him, how in those fleeting moments between battle and bloodshed, you had given him a glimpse of something else—something more.

Something he could never have.

With a heavy breath, he bent down once more, gathering your wrapped body into his arms. His grip was firm but gentle, as though you were something fragile, more fragile than he had ever realized. He carried you as though you were a piece of his soul he couldn’t bear to lose, and perhaps, in a way, you were. You had been the one thing that made him feel like something more than a monster.

He carried you out, cradling you close, his expression a mask of cold fury that hid the pain roiling beneath. Outside, the sky was a dull gray, as though even the heavens mourned your loss.

He didn’t stop until he reached the edge of the vast temple forest, the place where he had decided your final rest would be. It was a secluded area, far from prying eyes, far from the world that had taken you from him. The trees stood tall and silent, their branches swaying gently in the breeze as if paying their respects.

He stood there for a moment, as he looked at the stone monument in front of you. He had found Chizuru. He had looked for him. A long long time ago. He did not want to tell you. He feared that your grief would grow worse.

He had wanted you to think that your son had survived. That he had grown up and become a man. That he had lived a life of adventure. That he had grown old and built a family. He could not let you see a corpse. He could not let you handle blaming yourself even more. Or even obssess over a corpse. He could not let you. Not even if it would give you peace.

But perhaps, you would forgive him. Perhaps you would give him your mercy. Perhaps when you haunt him again, you would come to him and tell him about your son. About your anguish that he had taken him from you. Perhaps you would find peace together. Pehraps both of you could come and visit him. Even once.

But he knew better than that.

You would be in heaven, resting.

And he would not want to hurt you even more.

He doesn't deserve your visit.

Still, he would like to think that you would find peace here. Right beside Chizuru for all of eternity. You would be happy here. This was the only wish he could grant you. This was the only thing he could gift you. This was the only way he could free you.

Carefully, he laid you down on the ground, the cool earth cradling you as he began to dig. His hands, which had known only destruction, now worked to create something. It was a resting place for the one person he had ever allowed close after all he had suffered.

He stood over the grave for a long time after it was done, his eyes hard, distant, as though he could still see you lying there beneath the soil.

The world outside would never know what you had been to him. But in this moment, standing alone beneath the weight of his grief, Ryomen Sukuna understood that, despite everything, you had been the one thing he had truly cherished after all he had suffered.

Even beyond his children, even beyond power. Even if you would never make it behind Hiromi, he had cared for you. He loved you, in ways he knew how. In ways he could never bring to earth, in ways he could never speak.

And now, you are gone.

As he turned to walk away, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faintest echo of a voice he would never hear again.

And Ryomen Sukuna, for the first time in centuries, felt the unbearable sting of regret.

══════════════════

IT WAS ODD TO BE IN THIS POSITION. Ryomen Sukuna had never sought help from anyone. But now, driven by a sense of purpose he couldn’t explain, he found himself standing before Kenjaku, the only person who might be able to grant him what he sought: rebirth. Not in the spiritual sense, but as a cursed object—a vessel for immortality, a means to return to the world he ruled once more.

Kenjaku's eyes glimmered with interest, a twisted smile forming as they gazed at Sukuna, sensing the weight behind his request. "You wish to be immortalized as a cursed object, Sukuna?" they asked, their voice smooth and intrigued. "To be reborn again in another age, another time."

Sukuna nodded, his expression hard and resolute. "I refuse to rot in the ground. I will return. That’s all that matters."

Kenjaku’s grin widened. "Very well. But tell me, Sukuna… What about her?" They tilted their head slightly, a glint of amusement in their eyes. "Would you want her soul found as well? Like Hiromi? Would you want her to be reborn… alongside you?"

The question pierced through him like a blade. For a moment, Sukuna’s impenetrable mask faltered, his mind snapping back to the past, to a moment when you had both spoken of rebirth.

The two of you had been lying beneath a vast, star-filled sky, the world still around you as the wind whispered through the trees. Vermillion Hall was beautiful in the spring, he liked to think. But you enjoyed it more than he does. Perhaps more than ever, now that you were counting your days to its last. 

Your head had been resting on his chest for a while, and though Sukuna had remained silent, you had spoken softly, your voice filled with a strange mix of melancholy and peace. He did not want to bother you. It was rare that you weren’t having any coughing spells. So, he lets the moment pass, lets you keep your strength.

"Rebirth." you had said, the word drifting into the night air. "It’s a nice idea, don’t you think? To start over, to be born again."

Sukuna had scoffed at the time, finding little use for such fantasies. "It’s pointless," he replied. "To be reborn, to go through it all again—life, death. It’s a cycle I’ve broken, and I have no desire to return to it."

But you had only smiled, so beautifully so. Your gaze soft as you looked up at the sky. "Maybe for you, my lord." you’d said gently. "But I think I’d want peace. After this life... no more suffering. No more pain. Just quiet. I wouldn’t want to return."

“If I had offered you to be immortal, with me.” He asked you, looking at your orbs with longing. “Would you do it?”

You looked at him for a moment. And there it was once again. That ghostly smile.

“We cannot escape death, my lord.” You tell him, your hand resting on his cheek. You gave him what little warmth remained. “Whatever happens, we will all die. You may not die now, but we will all go. Soon, I will go.”

“Little one—”

“Is immortality the life you want to live forever, my lord?” You asked him, tracing your fingers on his cheek. “Would you wish to live life waiting for life to be worth living for? Waiting for lady Hiromi, or for Chizuru or Chiharu….or for me to come along again?”

He does not speak for a moment.

You smiled at him, but this time, sadder than ever before. “I do not want that life for you, my lord. Nor for me. I want us both to be free.”

He had looked down at you, watching the way your eyes had reflected the stars, the softness in your expression as you spoke of peace. He hadn’t understood it then. He probably would not understand until he loses you.

But now, as he stood before Kenjaku, your words echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain.

The silence stretched between them, Kenjaku waiting patiently for Sukuna’s answer, curiosity glinting in their eyes. Sukuna's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he struggled to form the words.

He could have said yes. He could have demanded that you be brought back with him, that your soul be dragged from wherever it had gone, forced to walk beside him in this new life. You had always belonged to him, hadn’t you? But as the memory of your soft voice returned to him, your wish for peace, for release from the suffering you had endured, something inside him shifted.

After everything, after all you had suffered because of him… he couldn’t do that to you.

"She’s suffered enough from me." Sukuna finally said, his voice low, almost bitter. His eyes were hard, but beneath the surface was something else—something like regret. "Let her rest. She doesn't belong in this world anymore."

Kenjaku raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the King of Curses. What a human answer, coming from such a demon of a man. But Kenjaku said nothing more, merely nodding in understanding.

Sukuna’s decision was final. He would be reborn, but you—you would have the peace you had always wanted. It was the least he could do. The only way he could honor you now, after everything that had passed between you.

And with that, the King of Curses sealed his fate, leaving you behind in the quiet you had sought, while he walked toward a future where he would live again, alone.

But he didn’t know that the gods had other plans.

He didn’t know that time was only waiting for its recourse.

He will see you again.

[aphel1on]

Dungeon Lords and the Human Need for Connection

When I came across these panels again the other day, it got me thinking about dungeon lord parallels again.

...And I spiraled until I was writing my thesis statement about how All Four Dungeon Lords (Yes, Even Laios, Stop leaving him out of these discussions) Are Actually the Same.

Firstly (because on some level everything is about Thistle to me) I thought about how the lion could have very likely given Thistle a similar offer when his loved ones started losing their souls/rebelling/etc. And yet, there is no sign that Thistle ever accepted such an offer, nor any sign that he used magic to forcibly change people's opinions, the way Marcille briefly threatened the party with while she was dungeon lord:

Instead, he ended up with the fucking dining table that drives me insane. Which probably means that either Thistle rejected the offer, or the lion sensed it wouldn't go over well and didn't even try it.

Making replicas of people doesn't seem to be an uncommon part of granting the dungeon lord's wishes. In his time, Mithrun actually took the demon up on it:

(Not pictured; the infamous lamia-version of his love interest.)

What makes Mithrun different from Thistle and Marcille in this instance is that Thistle and Marcille both became dungeon lords for the sake of specific people. Both were motivated by the terror of losing their most important people, and both told themselves everything they did was for the sake of protecting those people.

Because they were motivated by genuine love, copies or mind manipulation were not palatable. I think Thistle even in the late stages of his madness probably would not find these to be acceptable solutions. No matter how twisted, possessive, and obsessive his love became under the dungeon's influence, it was still from the fear of losing those original, irreplaceable people that he was doing all this. Even as his relationship with Delgal and the other Melinis fell apart over the years... even as he was left with only their soulless bodies... he would still rather cling to whatever was left.

Perhaps on some level, Thistle recognized the same thing that kept Marcille from following through with her threats:

Even in the state of endlessly chasing their desires as dungeon lords, they couldn't feel truly okay accomplishing it that way.

For Mithrun, meanwhile, the people in his fantasy world were a means to an end. It was all-encompassing insecurity and the pain of not being wanted that led him to become dungeon lord. His desire was not fixated on any specific people - it was broad enough and desperate enough that anyone could fulfill it. The thing is, Mithrun prior to becoming dungeon lord was by all accounts well-liked. But his emotional walls were up so high that not a single one of his admirers could make him feel known and cared for. The kind of crushing perfectionism he exhibited in that stage of his life often comes with a silent and equally crushing imposter syndrome. No one actually knew him, because Mithrun didn't let them, even though every aspect of his personality then was a desperate plea to be seen and liked. I think the sad truth is that, by the time he became dungeon lord, Mithrun didn't truly believe that happiness was something that could be found in other people. (It's telling that his wish was for a world in which he had never been discarded; perhaps for a world in which he never felt the need to put up those masks.)

In this respect, Mithrun is actually more alike to Laios than he is to Thistle and Marcille.

Laios was told again and again by the world that it was wrong to be who he was - that he was unlikeable when he acted the way that came naturally to him. The lion didn't bother asking Laios about replicas; those would be meaningless to him. Like Mithrun, Laios had lost all hope of being liked for who he was, but took it one step further: Laios had lost hope that he could find happiness in the human world entirely. At that point, all he wanted was an escape. To leave the pain of the human world behind and become someone, something, different. All he really needed in order to be tempted into it was the assurance that his friends would be safe.

All four of these stories have a pretty obvious throughline when you think about it: the deep, intrinsic need for human connection and what happens to someone when that need cannot be met.

All four of them were starving for connection. All four of them experienced alienation and isolation that made them desperate enough to turn to the demon.

Marcille (a half-elf whose unstable aging left her without peers) and Thistle (raised as the only elf in a kingdom of humans) both formed intense attachments to the few people they did become close to, and went off the deep end from fear of losing them.

Mithrun and Laios were both rejected by others for aspects of themselves that were out of their control, and tried to cope by developing masks that left them unable to feel accepted by the people still in their lives.

...So it's fitting, then, that genuine human connection is also what saved all four of them in the end.

(Thistle is a little arguable here; I personally don't think he died, but even if you do believe he died at the end of the manga- Yaad being able to connect and empathize with him is what gave him peace and solace in his final moments.)

Dungeon Meshi is about alienation and connection as much as it is about food and cycles of life. (Or more like, these themes are masterfully intertwined - food is used to represent love and connection over and over again. But that's a whole essay in and of itself!)

[sundrop-writes]

Precious Time Alone

Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader

aka the fic where Gar has a knot

Summary:

Even with the ability to see the future, you never would have guessed that your life would lead you to falling in love with the perfect man - someone sweet, caring, funny, cute. Someone with the passion and fire to protect the ones that he loves no matter what. A precious guy with green hair who had the ability to transform into a tiger at will. And when you finally made love to him for the first time, you never could have guessed how that unique ability affected his sex life.

You weren't exactly complaining, but you wished you had seen this coming. At the end of the day, it was just another thing about him to love.

Or - Neither you nor Gar knew that he has the ability to knot, and you both find out for the first time when you have sex together.

Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. Set during Season 2, Episode 9.

Word Count: 11,800

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, to make my masterlist for this fandom more complete, and to help new people discover my old fics.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Important Note: for reference, this is not an A/B/O fic - I have nothing against A/B/O fics and I love them very much (it's one of my favourite genres, and I really need to write more A/B/O fics and post them) - the reader character is 100% human and does not have any traits that fall into the A/B/O category. This fic is based off the concept that Gar has a knot due to his animal traits/animal DNA, and it is something that happens to his body because of his ability to transform into an animal. This could be considered a hybrid fic, but Gar's knot is the only animal trait he possesses during sex. If this is your thing, I hope you enjoy. If not, come back later, and I might have something more your style. Or you can check out my masterlist in the meantime.

Warnings: the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; this is an established relationship - Gar and the reader have been dating for a while now; mentions of canon events from S1 and S2 (so there is some spoilers from the show - if you haven't seen the show yet and you want to watch it unspoiled, be warned); mentions of canon level violence, including Gar being tortured at the asylum; this is set during 2x09 when Gar is 'home alone' (and the reader is there with him); the reader character suffers from insomnia; the reader character does have powers but they don't really have major involvement in the plot of this fic (idk if I should have even labelled this as 'powered!reader') - the reader character has psychic visions; mentions of clothes sharing - the reader is implied to be bigger/plus sized because Gar wears her clothing and it's 'oversized'; the reader is attracted to Gar's more 'animal' side - she admits to being attracted to him because he protected her with his powers; this fic does use Y/N (I am a proud Y/N truther); Gar and the reader have engaged in sexual acts before (handjobs, fingering, oral) but this fic features their first time having penis in vagina sex; Gar's knot is a surprise to both of them due to it being their first time having penetrative sex (his dick only swells up once it gets inside of her body); though this is both of their 'first times' with each other, I didn't put any big emphasis on virginity in this fic, especially because they have done other sexual acts before; this could be considered Crack Treated Seriously - but like I said, my brain just took the concept and ran with it; there is something in this fic that could be considered consensual somnophilia - the reader character starts performing oral sex on Gar in order to wake him up, but she's not specifically turned on by the fact that he's sleeping, and there is an unspoken consent due to them being in a relationship; this whole thing fluctuates from making love/passionate sex to rough, animalistic sex; slight praise kink - Gar verbally praises the reader and compliments her a lot; there isn't really defined roles here, but Gar is more dominant and the reader is more submissive; as mentioned before - penis in vagina sex; unprotected sex - they don't use a condom (the lore of knots and condoms bothers me anyway, like how would a condom not break under those circumstances??); possessive!Gar; biting kink/marking kink (Gar bites the reader - a lot); Gar cums inside the reader - a lot, because of his supernatural dick (though this doesn't quite make it to cum inflation levels); Gar knots the reader (if you don't know what that is, just stay away); creampie kink - NOT breeding kink; there is mentions of pregnancy in a discussion after the sex is over, but not in the breeding kink sense (Gar and the reader both want kids and there is no mentions of alternate forms of birth control, so if that gives you the ick then don't read this one); slight warning for VERY BRIEF painful sex/pain after sex - Gar tries to pull out not knowing what the knot is and accidentally hurts the reader's vagina because of it (the pain only lasts for a few seconds, and he stops trying to pull out once he is unsuccessful); scent kink - Gar loves the way you smell after being fucked by him; (I was not planning on adding a bonus scene when editing this fic, but it's Gar and I got carried away) more consensual somnophilia toward the end - Gar fingers the reader a bit while she is sleeping, and then he masturbates on top of her and cums over her thighs before cleaning her up (again, this is operating off the pre-existing consent in a relationship, or you can imagine that they had a consent conversation about this before the fic, idc); the ending of this fic is just pure fluff.

A/N: This is one that I wrote in 2022 and I had kind of forgotten about it? But I was going through my older fics on AO3 and I was like 'omg I love that fic, I forgot how much I love that fic'. And because I am trying to post some easy stuff before my move (which will be exhausting and it will mean that I will post pretty much nothing for a few months) - I realized that this fic was an easy re-post because it didn't need a lot of work before being re-posted. So - here ya go! If you haven't read this fic before and you don't know what a knot is (in terms of fanfiction/smut): run away. Run away now. I don't need to be the one to corrupt you lmao. But yeah - this fic was inspired by someone on Tumblr (I wish I could remember who it was and link the post) posing the theory that if Gar is 'part animal', then he might have a knot. And my brain felt the need to exorcise that idea once it entered my mind and literally possessed me, and thus, this fic was created. I think it is one of my better Gar fics - with a very straightforward concept. And if this is your thing, I hope you enjoy it!

...

It was entirely strange to wake up to the Tower actually being quiet. 

Well, quiet aside from the sound of Gar’s snores rumbling beside your head. But there was a lot less noise than usual. 

There was no distant beeping of the coffee machine where Dick had it pre-set to go off at an ungodly hour. No grunting of Jason training because he couldn’t sleep. No rumbling bass tones of Rachel’s music where she played it aloud, thinking no one else could hear. 

No arguing voices. 

Strangely, that was something you missed most of all. You had come to love the chaos of so many people living in your new home. And you had secretly hoped that Dawn, Hank, and Donna would stick around for a while, even if they insisted that they were just going to take care of the Dr. Light problem and leave once again. With them cooking meals and hogging the TV, it had started to feel like a real family. 

You had definitely not expected all of the Titans to barrel out faster than cockroaches fled from light when Dick told them of his past transgressions. But boy - they fucking ran. And naturally, when Gar volunteered to stay at the Tower with Conner in order to hold down the fort, you stayed with him. 

What else would a good girlfriend do? 

You had stuck by him through everything else, so of course you would stick by him through this. 

And even though you missed everyone dearly, and you worried about the long-term impact that Dick’s confession would have, you did see the appeal of The Tower now being completely empty. You would be lying if you said that it didn’t bring some salacious thoughts to your mind. 

Maybe it was that morning silence, truly reminding you of the lack of occupants in the house - or the burning hum between your thighs that had you awake at this hour in the first place. But you couldn’t sleep, and now your mind was brimming with better, hornier things that you could be doing with your time. (Things that you likely already would have started if Gar had been awake along with you.) 

You were sometimes jealous of his ability to sleep so well. Typically, sleep was an area that you did very poorly in. 

Usually, having Gar’s intense warmth curled up next to you did help. And you thanked that perfect human furnace for what little sleep you had gotten the night before. Especially after all the anxiety and the fighting, and the unexpected charge of everyone leaving so suddenly. 

You lifted your head from Gar’s rumbling chest as he snored and snorted away and you looked at the clock on his nightstand - 4:15am. You sighed deeply to yourself and decided to get out of bed. You knew from your experience with insomnia that it was no use trying to fall back asleep again. 

You untangled yourself from Gar’s grasp, careful not to wake him - and then you grabbed a piece of clothing off the floor to shield yourself from the morning chill. 

It was an oversized hoodie that you and Gar often shared. It had originally started off as yours, but now your things had migrated into Gar’s room and it seemed like your lives were easily blending into one. He found himself wearing one of your socks mix-matched with his own, and he often slept under a fuzzy throw blanket you had brought when you moved into The Tower. You used his body wash in the shower, and had some of his nerdy pins on your backpack. 

It always just felt right. 

The hoodie smelled delightfully like your boyfriend - and you couldn’t help but to press the fabric to your nose with a small contented sigh while you walked down the hallway to check on Conner. 

The young man was still deeply unconscious - not making a single movement or a flicker of acknowledgment toward you when you walked into the room. His vitals were stable, with his puppy asleep on his knees. The dog looked at you with curious eyes as you checked on the machines and even used a stethoscope to listen to Conner’s heart just to make sure that he was doing alright. Krypto made no moves to get off the bed, entirely protective of his half-human companion. You shut off the light and partially closed the door as you left (leaving enough room for Krypto to get out if he wanted to). 

Then, without much else to do, and feeling a slight grumble in your stomach, you went to the kitchen. You ate a bowl of cereal as you scrolled your phone, listened to music, and checked for messages from any of the other Titans. There were none. 

After you had eaten, you were still bored and the sun wasn’t even up yet - so you decided to take a shower. 

As the hot water poured over your body, you couldn’t help but think of Gar. 

The two of you had been together since your psychic powers led you to Scooter’s Roller Palace. 

Before that, you had lived a somewhat normal life, even with your visions. You had the very typical ‘loving family, suburban home, thriving at school’ type of life. 

You had been trying to achieve your goals while completely ignoring your visions. 

Visions that you had previously denied had even been able to predict the future - until a horrifying dream of your parents’ double murder came true. You were unaware at the time that the same doomsday cult that was attempting to track down Rachel was also looking for you. A group that had been watching your abilities carefully and wanted to use you to track Rachel and to perceive better outcomes for ‘their work’. 

So with the realization that you could see the future, you knew that you had to act. Especially with visions of the dark, crumbling end of the world plaguing you. You let your powers guide you to that roller rink in search of a purple haired girl who could save everyone and a green haired boy who could transform into a tiger. And since then, you hadn’t let him go. 

It was only when you had been captured at the asylum that you and Gar became truly close. The day that he had first come to your rescue. 

The ‘scientists’ there hadn’t been unable to taunt or shock him into his transformation like they had been planning to. But the moment he had heard your screams of torture and torment from down the hall, he had transformed into the tiger and ripped the cage’s door off its steel welded hinges with his teeth just to get to you. 

When he witnessed them torturing you in an attempt to demand predictions of the future out of you - Gar had snapped. And then, a bizarre vision that you’d had years ago came to life before your very eyes. A vision of a giant green tiger ripping apart a group of men in white lab coats, making them bloody in order to save you. 

He later told you, as you were traveling on the train, that he had never harmed another person before that. He had never used his powers to harm someone before that. But he also told you that he absolutely didn’t regret it. He had told you that if it meant that he got to save you, then he would do it a thousand times over. And that was something that warmed your heart and drew you to him like a moth to flame. 

If you had a schoolgirl crush on him before that, then in those moments, it grew into a heated, womanly lust. You started falling in love with him on that day. 

That animalistic strength, that passion, that courage was what had drawn you to Gar immediately. He claimed it was ‘hero syndrome’ - the thing that made you pull him close and kiss him on the train. The thing that made you call him your boyfriend. He claimed it was only because he was the one that saved you, and if it had been someone else, then you wouldn’t have ended up with him at all. 

But no - nobody else had the primal drive that he did. Nobody else had the same protective instincts that he had. Nobody else looked as good with blood dripping from their teeth. 

It was a dangerous thought to have. But it was one that got your clit throbbing every single time. 

Of course, you loved Gar for all of his soft parts. You loved him for his dorky smile, his smooth laugh, his shy gaze. He was a soft place to land when you were hurt, upset - when you needed comfort the most. But you also loved him for his sharpened edges - his undeniable passion, the way he wouldn’t hesitate to harm an enemy when it came to protecting the ones he loved. The way he bit down on your lip whenever you gripped his cock just the right way. 

You sighed hard through your nose as the water went cold around you. Had you really been in the shower for that long?

Disappointingly, you and Gar had never actually had sex before. 

You had done plenty of sexual things - but it always felt rushed, and it never quite scratched that itch in the way you needed it to. 

The fact that the two of you were pretty much never alone together meant you never had the time to indulge in each other, to properly touch each other the way that you really wanted to. Everything you did together was always quick and haste. Grabbing and groping each other through clothes, shoving your hands into each other’s pants, panting breaths down each other’s throats, desperate to cum as quickly and quietly as possible. 

You wanted nothing more than to feel every single inch of his naked skin against yours. You wanted to be able to spend hours worshiping his body, getting your tongue onto every perfect muscle you had seen when he trained shirtless. You spent far too long fantasizing about him laying you down in the middle of his bed and pounding into you, roughly and savagely - showing off that animal side you loved so much. 

As you wrapped a towel around yourself and wiped the steam off the mirror, you realized something absolutely wicked. The house was empty. This was the perfect opportunity to get exactly what you wanted - what you needed from Gar. 

You dried off your body, abandoning the fresh clothes you had brought into the bathroom with you and simply walking down the hallway naked. It was a strange feeling, to say the least. You were aware of the fact that there were cameras in literally every common area of the Tower (as Gar had pointed out to Rose a few days prior) but you took for granted that nobody would have to review this footage for any reason. 

You slipped into Gar’s room, where he was still fast asleep - splayed out on his back, his jaw wide open as he puffed out air and snorted loud snores. 

He was adorable, almost innocently so. He was so peaceful when he slept. He was wearing a tee shirt with a cartoon of Link from The Legend of Zelda on it - something you only knew about because he had explained it to you in great detail. His green hair was messy in a beautiful way that suited him, his limbs sticking out from the covers at odd angles. Even though you did have some idea of the not-so-innocent things he thought about you on a regular basis, you did feel slightly guilty for disrupting his sleep with your lustful corrupting force. 

(Just not guilty enough to stop what you were about to do.) 

With the morning sun rising at your back, just slightly orange through the curtains, you pulled up the covers and crawled in on top of Gar. Instantly, you were warmed by the natural heat radiating off his body. Apparently something about his ‘condition’ - that thing that made him half-animal, also made him incredibly warm. At any given time, his skin was near-burning, almost like a fever to the touch. It made him so pleasant to sleep beside, so nice to hug and cuddle up against. It was just one of the many, many things that made him the perfect boyfriend. 

With that heat gathered under his blanket like a sauna, it almost made you want to lay down on top of him and fall asleep again. But the prominent hum between your thighs was a bit more persistent - and you knew that there would be plenty of time to fall asleep with Gar later. His clothes did slightly irritate your sensitive, bare skin - you knew that you wouldn’t have to tolerate the feeling for long. 

Gar liked being naked more than you did. So he certainly wouldn’t mind you undressing him. You knew the only reason he even bothered to sleep with clothes on was because of the general pretense of others being around. 

You pressed yourself on top of Gar, not worried about your weight disturbing him - not after the many times he had told you how much he enjoyed the feeling of being cuddled with you laying fully on top of him. You pulled the covers up over your body as the chill of the room bit at your still somewhat damp skin, and you leaned in to kiss across Gar’s neck. He moaned quietly in his sleep and began to stir. 

You smiled to yourself, loving the feeling of his muscles so relaxed underneath you. It was something that had been too rare as of late - with all the intense training sessions, and the stress of Rose being brought into your home, Jason being kidnapped, and then Conner being shot. For the past few weeks, whenever you had hugged Gar or cuddled against him in bed, he had been nothing but a tense ball of stress. 

You certainly understood that stress. He was worried for his friends and wondering what would happen next. Even though you had the ability to see the future, you couldn’t simply predict what would happen on a dime. You had helped to secure Jason’s safety, but you had been nervous that the others wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. Even though everything had worked out in the end (debatable, seeing the emotional scars Jason had come away with), the stress had taken a toll on you and Gar. 

Life as a Titan was stressful. And you knew that you and Gar were both well deserving of a break. Even though Gar marked this as a tense fracturing of the group, something else to stress about, you knew that everyone simply needed a break. 

And you knew exactly what kind of relaxation Gar deserved now that you had the time on your hands. It was something you hadn’t been able to give him since a late night in the bathroom many weeks ago, when he had to muffle his moans into a hand towel for fear of being caught. You laid a few more gentle kisses against the skin of his neck, and then began to descend downward. 

You wiggled yourself completely under the blanket, loving the warm cave that it created around you - a pleasant fog of Gar’s body heat that easily made your cheeks scorch. It raised your body temperature more already, and made your cunt clench in anticipation. 

Of course, you were going to focus on him first. You pushed his shirt up his stomach, gathering the fabric lazily around his midsection, not really making an effort to take it off. You appreciated the skin that was revealed to you, especially seeing as every single part of him was beautiful. 

You had seen him naked before.

Gar was a smart person - but he wasn’t always clever. So he had unintentionally shown off his ‘goodies’ on more than one occasion when transforming into that mighty tiger that you loved so much. He didn’t always rush to cover himself if he thought that nobody was looking. It was a strange juxtaposition - the fact that you had made him cum before, but you had only seen him completely naked when he used his powers publicly. 

During the times when you had been intimate, you had both been forced to keep most of your clothes on - your trysts entirely secretive, shoving your hands down each other’s pants or dropping to your knees and taking his cock out, keeping everything haste and ready to easily redress in case someone came upon you. 

Now, you were more than ready to make love to him. You were fed him with never having enough time - never having enough of him. You so badly wanted to have your naked body pressed against him completely; to have him naked in bed for hours where there would be absolutely no disruptions. Your pussy throbbed with excitement at the very thought. 

(Perhaps Dick coming clean of his transgressions and pissing off all the Titans had been the best thing that had ever happened to you. Not that you would ever admit that out loud.) 

You kissed along the now exposed skin of Gar’s stomach, loving the little moans he let out as you did so. Clearly, he was still floating somewhere in sleep, his sounds still dull and adorably sleepy. Perhaps on his way to waking up as your wet mouth worked a trail down to the edge of his sweatpants. 

His stomach muscles flexed under your touch as your tongue darted out and traced the light trail of hair leading down from his belly button and dipping into his pants - definitely one of your favorite things about him. You laid a few more light kisses near his hip, causing more cute little jolts, before you lovingly eyed the outline you saw forming inside his pants. Even though the fabric, his cock looked perfect. 

You knew that Gar pretty much never wore underwear. 

It was something he had given up on because it was just another article of clothing to rip off, previously impeding his transformations. And then he simply never wore them in his off-time because once he had stopped, he found them too uncomfortable to wear casually. It was a dirty little secret of yours - but you absolutely loved his commando lifestyle. 

It always made the outline of his dick so obvious through his clothes (even when it was soft). You had never admitted that you ogled him on a regular basis. Especially when he trained - his movements when sparing causing his cock to bob around and move in a devilishly delicious way. 

Maybe you were a bit of a pervert. At least, that’s what some people might call the way your mind worked. But you couldn’t really help it. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that you had found the most gorgeous man ever and he had a sex drive that seemed just as potent as yours. (Though - as previously mentioned - you had been horrendously impeded by a barrage of housemates and multiple crises interrupting your alone time. Until now.) 

You were quick to undo the tie on his sweats, and from there, all it took was a firm tug to get his pants down. The fabric became slightly trapped between the plushness of his ass and the bed - thankfully he was still limp and pliant with sleep, and you didn’t have to put too much effort into getting the clothing down. You took the edge of his pants down to just past his hips, letting his cock free. 

This gave you a perfect view of his long, thick cock - freshly awakened from its slumber and easily half-way to hardness. It was as remarkable as always - pretty pink cockhead (just like the sweet pink of his lips), pale and seven inches long - about nine inches long when he was fully hard. Tugging the fabric of his pants down a bit more, you gently pet your fingers over his round, full balls - one of your favorite parts of him, even if you felt shy admitting it aloud. 

You also loved his so beautifully Gar, bright green pubes. The first time you had seen that his green hair was so entirely all natural (well, natural since the injection of Dr. Caulder’s serum) - you had been shocked and absolutely amused. 

You loved every inch of him, and you definitely loved how this was a solid reminder of exactly who your boyfriend was, even when you were making steady eye contact with his dick. 

You placed your hands on the tops of his thighs and leaned in, taking the head of his semi-hard cock into your mouth. You couldn’t help but to be pleased with yourself, knowing that this was how he was going to wake up. His skin was delightfully smooth under your tongue and he tasted slightly of a musk that was so uniquely Gar. 

You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, thumbing down over his balls as you bobbed your head down - with your tongue loose and your mouth wide open, you gave a few good, greedy slurps on his cock, simply enjoying the feeling of him hot and thickening up in your mouth as he became harder. You couldn’t help but to moan around him, and he let out a startled snort, and then a deep groan. 

You felt movement above you as his tired arms grappled with the covers - he was definitely awake now. 

His dick throbbed under your tongue as he swelled to full hardness - and you held back laughter as he momentarily pushed on your head through the covers. Clearly, still not quite awake enough to know what was going on - just enjoying the feeling of a warm mouth on his cock. You squeezed your grip tighter around the base and prodded your tongue into the slit, gentle and exploring, lapping up the first bit of precum that he leaked out. 

He let out a perfect shuddering gasp. 

“Wha-? Hmm? Y/N?” He mumbled out, confused in that tired, dumbly adorable way. 

A moment later, the covers were ripped off your head, ruining that lovely cave of warmth you had going, causing a rush of cool air to prick at your skin. With your lips wrapped around his cock, bobbing down over the first few inches of the mighty, thick beast while gently pumping at the rest with a casual grip, you looked up at Gar through your eyelashes. You attempted to look sweet, knowing how sinful you looked with your lips stretched around the girth of his cock. 

You suppressed a moan of your own when you taste more salty precum and his jaw dropped open with a broken moan. 

“G-good morn-ning.” He said, voice tight and raspy, partially from the haze of sleepiness and partially from the lust coating his throat. 

He propped himself up on one elbow and stared down the length of his body at you. He moved to wipe the sleep from his eyes, clearly stunned and awed to be woken up this way. His gaze was hazy with that half-awake look and his chest moved in thick beats as he began to struggle for breath, partially holding back his moans in a practiced way due to your living situation. 

You simply continued your actions, widening your lips to suck more of him down. You bobbed your head slowly as you took the first half of his impressive length like a popsicle, swirling your tongue around it and using your hand on the base. Gar’s chest became tight with trapped sounds, and his hip muscles seized tight as the urge to fuck your mouth overtook his body - but he held back with intense self-discipline. 

“You - oh - you-you’re naked.” He quickly observed, struggling to speak through the pleasure of your tongue on his cock. 

His eyes scanned over your naked body with intense hunger, and he rushed to move the blanket back more, wanting to reveal your bare ass and thighs. When he managed to do this, you quickly felt the coolness of the room against your bare pussy and realized just how wet you were. 

Gar’s eyes went wide in an almost cartoonish way as he drank you in. 

He had only been able to get glances at your naked body before - when you were coming out of the shower and flashed him in an attempt to rile him up, or during your trysts when he had been able to pull off pieces of your clothing, but not everything all at once. Now, seeing you entirely bared to him, in the warm light of the early morning, something that made your skin glow - it caused his heart to speed up inside his chest, and made his dick throb. It was something you felt under your tongue that brought you another thrill. 

You popped off his perfect cock with a wet sound, much to Gar’s disappointment, so that your mouth would be free to speak. 

“I had a shower.” You told him, giving him a little smirk. “I didn’t feel like bothering with clothes afterwards.” 

You leaned back in and licked a broad stripe across Gar’s dick as you waited for his reply, causing a sharp breath to shake his chest before he could speak. 

“But what if someone-?” He glanced toward his bedroom door, thinking of the other Titans. Thinking about the possibility of being disrupted yet again. 

Perhaps he had forgotten of the debacle that happened the day previous. You were quick to remind him. 

“No one else is home. Remember?” You said, your breath fanning out over his cock before you gave a few kitten licks to the leaking, pretty pink cockhead. 

Gar shuddered with delight, gripping the sheets with tight fists. He hadn’t really forgotten, but he had been hoping that someone else would have come home by now. That they all would have gotten over the argument and just wanted to be Titans again. But he couldn’t find himself too upset about those hopes being dashed with your hand pumping his cock and your tongue swirling around him like that. 

“Fuck.” Gar breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, desperate to compose himself. “What about - what about Conner?” 

“He’s still asleep.” You told Gar. “That lady - his Mom, guess? She said that he would be out for at least a few days.” 

You paused for a moment, and then, you gently confirmed:

“It’s just the two of us. We’re all alone.”  

You stopped your actions, simply holding his dick in your hand and looking up at him with a small grin, giving the words a moment to sink in. Gar stared down at you, letting it truly work through his brain.

The two of you were alone. You were naked. You were naked in his bed. You were holding his hard cock and you both wanted it to happen - very badly. 

There was nothing stopping the two of you. 

“This is so awesome!” Gar’s voice was pure enthusiasm as he grinned widely at you, his hands quickly moving to rip off his shirt. 

You sat back on your heels, giving Gar room to fully shed his clothing, knowing that he was likely just as excited to be fully naked and uninterrupted as you were. He was slightly clumsy in kicking off his pants - something that made you giggle as he got caught up in the fabric. After a moment of struggle, you reached out and helped him untangle the pant legs from around his ankles and toss the unwanted item to the floor. You were now both fully free and absolutely ready for each other. 

“C’mere,” You let out a joyous laugh, quick to pounce on Gar. 

The second that you were close enough, you got your mouth on his, engaging in hot, open-mouthed kisses while he wrapped his arms around you. He was quick to roll you onto your back, leaving you lying slightly awkwardly, diagonally on the bed with your ankles tangled in the sheets. Not that you cared about any of that for a moment - not with his whole body shadowing over yours, bringing more of that amazing warmth to cover you. 

Then, for the first time, you felt that ultimately satisfying press of pure skin on skin. The feeling made you both moan loudly into the other’s mouth as he leaned all of his weight onto you and pressed your bodies almost completely together, from knees to chests. You felt every single inch of him: his warm, muscled thighs pressing against your own, his hard cock up against your pelvis, creating a deep hunger that caused your pussy to throb hard between your legs, his smooth stomach and chiseled chest pressing against you - the beating of his heart racing in tandem with your own. It was topped off by the breath-taking sight of his big, brown eyes staring into yours as he looked down at you with utter adoration. 

It was so utterly perfect.

He leaned in for another long, hot kiss, and you moaned heavily into his mouth.  After a moment, he pulled away from the kiss with a nip on your bottom lip - something that made you whimper from the back of your throat. A hard, hot pain throbbed between your thighs as your pussy cried out for him, desperately needing him inside of you. 

You had waited far too long for this. His fingers had always felt good, but you knew that his cock would feel so much better. 

“So fucking perfect.” Gar told you, his voice taking on a deep, lustful rumble that had you clenching around nothing, yearning for the fullness of his cock inside of you. “You are a goddess, I swear.” 

As he said this, his eyes raked over your naked body with an intense heat that had you squirming. 

His voice caused even more heat across your skin - an intense tingling raking over you like goosebumps. You felt his words with the genuine intense passion that he intended them with, all the affection that boiled inside of him breaching out and spilling over you. It was something that made you feel more beautiful than any expensive dress or makeup ever could have. 

“You’re perfect too, Gar.” You echoed back, feeling lame and uncreative with the compliment, but absolutely believing it to be true. Every inch of him was something to love. Inside and out. 

Gar drowned any further words - perhaps afraid he would get too emotional - by shoving his tongue past your lips. He ran his hands up and down the sides of your body while yours settled on his gorgeous, plump ass. Your legs naturally fell open for him, your knees coming up to sit on either side of his thighs. 

You let out a moan as his tongue mingled with yours, his hips grinding into you, moving his cock against your mound and partially bumping against your swollen clit. It was a beautiful sharp shock that made you gasp and pull him closer into you. You wrapped your ankles around the backs of his knees, setting yourself in the perfect position to take his cock. 

You were dripping and needy, and you weren’t prepared to wait much longer. 

“Gar, please,” You moaned, pulling away from the kiss to puff the words out against his now wet lips. 

You angled your hips up in a way that directly dragged the wet folds of your pussy along his hardness, beginning to hump yourself against him, showing him the true depth of your desperation. This caused him to groan and buck into you. He echoed the movements right back, humping his cock along your pussy, rubbing across your clit again and sending sharp jolts through your whole body. 

This made you even needier. 

“Gar!” You gasped out in response. “Please!” 

Your voice was a lilting whine that you barely even recognized. Of course, only he could do that to you. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled back. 

His brow furrowed as he stared down between your bodies, clearly captivated by the sight of your pussy drooling wetness all over his cock. He was now very purposefully jutting his hips to slick that glossy wetness across his dick, to feel the essence of you covering him for the first time. 

“You want me to just-? You-? Are you ready?” He choked on his own words, his mind hazy with lust. 

“Yes.” You were becoming absolutely short on patience, your tone demanding. “Just get inside me. Please.” 

Gar simply grunted in affirmation, reaching down to use a hand on his dick to guide himself inside of you. You hitched a leg up over his hip, opening yourself up more to give him better access. It was only a single moment of staring at his concentrated face - something that was entirely arousing in the situation - before you felt it. 

The thick head of his cock breaching your slicked, needy hole. Your body was so prepared to take him, having taken his fingers (and your own thinking about this very moment) so many times before - you practically sucked him in. He let out a breathy, desperate sound as he let go of his cock and gently rolled his hips into yours, sinking home for the first time. 

It was something that made you dizzy. You were so fucking full. 

You knew how large his cock was - you had seen it, felt it in your hand - but having him fully inside of you for the first time - it knocked the air out of your lungs in the best possible way. The press of his pelvis fully against you, the slight coarseness of his pubic hairs up against your most sensitive skin, his heavy balls brushing your ass - all of it sent jolts across your skin and had your mind so beautifully blank. 

All you could do was grip onto him tightly, and let out a breathy moan of his name. 

“Gar.” 

“Y/N.” He moaned back, his voice absolutely thick with pleasure, lost in a deep haze as the feeling of your pussy clenching him for the first time. You were so perfect - so tight and hot around him, leaking wetness around the base of his dick. The feeling easily sent hot waves rolling over his body. “Fuck, so perfect.” 

He was absolutely smothered - the feeling of you gripping his cock like a vice driving him insane in the best way. His thighs quivered and he struggled for breath as he resisted the urge to pound into you - resisted the urge to selfishly chase his own pleasure inside the irresistible, velvety feeling of you. 

He didn’t want to hurt you. 

The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt you. 

There were the tiniest echoes of logic still chanting in his brain, screaming at him that he absolutely couldn’t risk hurting you. That he had to use self control. 

Even as he looked down at your gorgeous naked body, your tits heaving with your breaths, the slight gleam of sweat across your skin, your kiss-bitten lips, the gloss of lust that had come over your eyes. You were a sexy goddess; you were so perfect, and you made his cock ache, and he wanted to pound into you until you were screaming, and filled with his cum and dripping white around his cock. 

But he could never hurt you. 

“Move, please.” You begged. “Need you, Gar. Please make me cum.” 

With that perfect plea, how could he resist you? 

Any semblance of Gar’s scared self control flew out the window. 

And you became all too thankful for that. 

In seconds, it went from a feeling of perfect fullness to a blur of flesh, his hips pulling back and slamming into yours. His animalistic instincts kicked in, and absolutely took over. That thing in the back of his head chanting at him, telling him to fuck his cock into the perfect hot body beneath him without stopping. 

Don’t ever stop. 

That thing told him that he needed your pussy to live now - and he couldn’t find a lie anywhere in that feeling. 

He let out a growl that shook your chest - a sound that turned you on far more than you expected it to - causing you to let out a whimper in response. He gripped at your inner thigh, holding you open as he dug his knees into the mattress and pounded into you with impressive might. The thickness of his mighty cock splitting you opened caused sharp pleasure-pain shocks from your pussy that quickly stole your breath. You didn’t think that you would enjoy the slightly venomous bite of the pain so much, but mixing with the pleasure, it made you even more beautifully delirious. 

You knew that you would likely have difficulty walking after this, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

The pure force of Gar’s hips easily shook the whole bed. 

You were mildly aware of the headboard hitting the wall behind you - a sound that seemed so distant in your sex-hazy mind. It was easily drowned out by the wet, sloppy sounds of your pussy drowning his cock; the wicked slaps of flesh to flesh, and the whiny whimpers you let out. Followed by his near feral groans and deep growls that were absolutely programming a response into you that would likely get you untimely turned on the next time he transformed into the tiger. 

(But that was something you would have to mentally unpack later.) 

It was all so perfect. 

The hot, shocking tingles flowing from your pussy in waves, the perfect pain of his pelvis bruising you every time he slammed into you, splitting you open with his cock. But you needed one more thing. You reached a hand down, needing some form of touch on your throbbing clit. 

When your hand found its destination, Gar was quick to smack it away - something that surprised you. He had never been so rough with you during a sexual encounter before. You absolutely didn’t hate it, though. This new side of Gar sent dizzying waves through you. You fucking loved it. 

“No.” He said, his voice edging on a growl. 

He went so far as to grab your wrist and pin your hand down to the bed - and you let out another loud moan at the feeling. 

Before you could question him, he went on to answer the silent query - why didn’t he want you touching yourself? 

“Mine.” He grunted, his voice almost unrecognizable, coated hazy with lust. 

He moved his touch away from pinning your wrist down, and in a second, he had a thick thumb on your needy, swollen clit in place of your own touch. 

He was possessive - claiming your pussy entirely as his own. The action sent your spine into a sharp curve against the bed as you felt even more waves of white-hot pleasure shooting through you from the touch. He made quick, demanding circles against your clit in time with his hard thrusts, leaning down to dig his teeth into your neck as you desperately gripped at his upper arms for something to hold onto. 

“Mine.” He grunted again, the word solid and demanding against your neck. 

“Mine.” The second time, it became lost, a slur against his teeth as he bit down into your skin again. 

“Gar!” You gasped out. 

You already felt your orgasm coming to fruition, tight and hot in your belly. His touch was so perfect against you - he was so perfect. 

“All yours.” You murmured back, your throat tight and almost too weak to form words. You hoped he even heard and understood what you were saying. “Yours.” 

He sunk his teeth harder into your neck, a sharpness that stung in a delightful way, and then pulled back to lav his tongue over the blooming bite mark. 

“Mine.” He growled into your neck once more - a powerful, possessive statement that made you quiver. 

He pressed his thumb harder into your clit as he felt your pussy fluttering around his cock, as he felt your thighs jumping from pleasure, heard your needy whines. He knew you were tumbling over the edge. He gave a few good, hard slams of his hips - almost as if he was attempting to break your pelvic bone - but it was a roughness that had you gasping with delight, chugging air past your moans. It was a wonderful, harsh fullness that sent a perfect ache through your pussy. Gar played your body as well as played his favorite video games. 

He had you cumming around his cock with a strangled sound, digging your nails into his biceps so hard that you likely drew blood. 

“Fuck, Gar! Oh, oh!” 

It was a dizzying orgasm. Blood pumped through your ears, your whole body tingled - your pussy clenched down on his cock hard, as if determined to keep him inside of you. You felt like you were floating - the only feeling you had left being the hard throbbing where you were connected to him and the dryness of your mouth. Your tongue turned to sandpaper from being exposed to the open air by your slack-jawed moaning.  

You were beyond words. You couldn’t even get out the single syllable of his name, left gargling your own spit and gasping for breath as he fucked you through it and groaned into your neck at the wonderfully wet feeling of you cumming around him. 

He slowed his hips after a moment, still hard and throbbing inside of you, and moved his head up to lay gentle kisses across your hot cheeks and jaw as he finally moved his touch away from your almost numb clit.

“So perfect,” He murmured into your skin, clearly delirious with pleasure himself, his eyes closed as he leaned into your skin. “So beautiful. So good, Y/N. So good. I love you so much, baby. So much.” 

“I love you.” You breathed back. 

You were barely capable of speech, but you knew that you had to return it. Especially after something that spectacular. As you came down from your orgasm, you found yourself still hungry for him at the feeling of his thickness perfectly motionless and full inside of you. 

“Wanna make you cum,” You told him, your voice raspy and rough. 

He laid a gentle kiss on your mouth before he took a breath, gathering his words to make a request. He pressed his forehead gently into yours as he spoke. 

“Can you -?” He paused, attempting to think of the right words or gathering his breath to say it. “Can you turn around?” 

You were slightly confused by this. Fuck-drunk from your orgasm, feeling numb and positively unsure how to move - you had no clue what he meant. 

Gar saw this on your face and drew more words from his mind. 

“I wanna - I wanna see your pretty ass.” He spoke out, hot breath fanning across your cheeks. “Wanna grab it. Wanna fuck you from behind.” 

Those words sent a hazy wave of pleasure through you, and caused you to unconsciously squeeze around his cock - which drew a whiny groan from him. 

“Yeah.” You told him. “Yeah, okay.” 

Gar hesitantly pulled out of you, drawing a small gasp of disappointment at the empty feeling. This left you absolutely gaping from the absence of his large cock. But it was only for a moment as you situated yourself and got comfortable with a pillow under your chest and one under your hips at Gar’s insistence. 

Though that pillow did little to support you, seeing as a moment later, he was using his animal strength to man-handle your hips into the air. He positioned you with your knees bent and your ass high up, your chest and face pressed into his orange tiger striped pillow case. 

He didn’t hesitate this time before plunging his cock back inside of you - something that had you absolutely alight with pleasure, showing the animal inside of him shining through. Especially as he let out another sharp growl and didn’t waste any time before he began drilling himself into your tight, wet warmth. 

“Fuckin’ love you.” Gar grunted out, his words quiet compared to the loud slapping of his hips against your ass as he fucked his cock deep inside your wanting pussy. “Love how you feel on my cock.”

His filthy words had you clenching around him, moaning out so whiny that you barely recognized your own voice. You were so pliant to Gar, so needy for him. But you loved it, because you loved him. You couldn’t help but to love everything about him. You felt like you belonged with his cock inside of you. 

“Love you too.” You gasped back, barely able to summon words at all with the powerful fury of his hips fucking into you. 

Gar groaned out, his head tilting up to the ceiling in a moan as he grabbed a handful of your ass. Just as he had promised, he took a possessive hold on the flesh, tight enough that it would likely leave marks behind. He pistoned his hips into you with a mighty fury, fluctuating between staring at the space where his cock disappeared into your dripping, wanting pussy, soaking his cock with your wetness, and closing his eyes for fear of cumming too soon at the delicious sight. 

You gripped the pillow underneath you, desperate to hold onto something. Your face was half-shoved into the fabric with some drool leaking from your open mouth onto the pillow case as you struggled for breath and involuntarily let out an increasingly loud string of moans and whorish cries for Gar. His cock was so perfect inside of you - a perfect, hot length filling you up. 

Your pussy was dancing somewhere between pain and pleasure, well used by him and tingling with shocks every time he fucked back into you with the sharp movements of his hips. So you almost thought you were mistaken when you felt that thing. That extra bit of thickness prodding to fight its way inside of you. 

“Gonna cum.” He grunted, his voice garbled down to a broken mess of consonances by now. At this point, one word syllables was all he was working with. 

He was already so big, it seemed impossible that there was more of him. But you definitely felt it. That extra bit of something at the base, that extra girth of his already impossibly long cock that he was shoving inside of you with each pass. More and more of him with each time he fucked his hips forward. 

It felt so fucking impossible. 

“Gar!” 

Your voice was a whiny, high-pitched howl that you couldn’t even recognize, a plea for him to slow down, or give it to you - you weren’t entirely sure. Your pussy ached with a hot fire that you had never felt before and you wanted more. You really couldn’t imagine him stopping at this point. If this was going to break you - then so be it. 

“Take it.” 

He growled, shoving his hips so close to yours, spreading your pussy open with the impossible thickness of his cock, and that even thicker thing blooming at the base. It felt like it was going to split you in half, but it felt too fucking good to stop. 

“Take it, fucking take it-” 

His words dissolved off into a shuddering moan as he gripped your ass even tighter, pulling you back into his pelvis, shoving his cock impossibly deep inside of you as your pussy somehow accepted his gigantic size. 

His words had you faint and hazy, the sound of his voice like that making you more drunk than any booze ever could have. You knew that those words - his voice in that ravenous tone, it would echo inside of your mind forever. It would be something that you thought about every single time that you touched yourself from now on. 

He leaned down to drape his body over yours - creating a wonderful slick of sweat and damp skin on skin that warmed you in the coolness of the room as he pressed right up against you. 

He mouthed at the back of your neck and across your shoulders, leaving more sharp lines with his teeth, determined to mark you. Your pussy was almost numb with the pleasure, absolutely throbbing around him, but the feeling of him swelling even more inside of you was unmistakable. Somehow, his already large and impressive cock was growing larger. 

In your babbling haze of pleasure, you couldn’t find your voice to relay this strange feeling to Gar. So you were only able to lay there and clutch at the pillow as he dug his fingers into your hips - hard and possessive, as he shoved his cock even deeper inside of you and began spilling his cum inside of you in hot, thick waves. 

“Y/N, fuck - love you,” 

Somehow, his cock continued to expand inside of you. It was an entirely strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one. It was something your body began to take pleasure in. Something that had you letting out a strangled moan as he bit at the back of your neck and groaned into your skin, gently humping his hips into you as he rode out his orgasm. 

He was so swollen and thick inside of you that it felt as though your pussy might burst, the outer ring of your muscles almost stinging with pain, stretched to the limit where the base of his cock was lodged inside of you. He was slick with your wetness, but not a single drop of his cum had leaked out from where you were locked together - you could definitely feel that. 

Gar moved to pull back, seemingly unaware of the strangeness going on down below. When he did so, a sharp pain rocked you as he pulled at your most sensitive, stretched-out muscles. 

You loudly winced in pain and he immediately stopped his movements. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, breath puffing out over your neck, his voice returning to its usual brightness as he was shaken from his pleasure haze by his worry for you. 

“Just stay still.” You instructed. 

Your legs were shaky, your muscles weak from the intensity of the sex. You were still high up on your knees where Gar had put you, tiredly trying to support your own body weight. Struggling with that task as your thighs quivered, so fucked out from his excellent job fucking you. You unconsciously squeezed yourself around him and he let out a groan - clearly still sensitive. 

He tried again to pull himself out, not yet understanding the situation, and you let out a sharp hiss of pain as the thickness of his cock tried to breach through you without success. He was stuck inside you. 

The realization flashed through your mind. Oddly enough, you knew exactly what was happening. One too many late nights plagued by nightmares (that had turned out to be glimpses of the future) had caused you to end up reading some… interesting fiction to fill your late night hours. So you knew what this was. At least, a fictional approximation of it. That’s what you get for dating a guy with animal DNA in his system, you guessed. 

“Gar.” You said, a warning in your voice. “Just. Stay. Still.” You gritted your teeth, praying he would listen this time. 

“What? What’s wrong?” He said, his voice quickly escalating with panic and worry. 

He raised his head up from your neck, moving to look down toward the space where you were joined, looking to inspect the problem. This was a movement that jostled things, and caused another a small jolt of pain. 

“Gar!” You gasped, voice warning him to stop once again. “Just - just lower us down so I can lay on the pillows, okay? Be gentle. Please.” 

“Why? I can just pull out, right? Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to, I swear, Y/N-” Gar began a rambling panic, and you knew the news you had to tell him wouldn’t calm him down at all. 

“You’re stuck inside me.” You told him. 

“Stuck?!” Gar shrieked with shock, his voice sharp right next to your ear in a way that made you flinch. “Wh-what do you mean? Did I do it wrong? Fuck - I must be the only guy who messes up having sex, I am such a fa-!” 

“It’s not your fault, Gar.” You said, quickly cutting him off. Your legs shook more, and you yearned to rest against the bed. “Just lower me down to the bed, please.” 

He began to do so, easing your joint bodies down toward the bed, letting your legs untangle and stretch out - the soreness from how roughly he had fucked you was already setting in. 

“What the hell is happening, then? How did I get stuck? I’ve literally never heard of this happening to anyone ever.” Gar said, clearly exasperated. 

He settled in, laying against you. As he put his weight against your back, his cock sank somehow even deeper inside of you. This sent latent shocks through your overly sensitive, worn-out pussy, causing you to let out a quiet whimper. 

“Sorry.” Gar mumbled as he heard the quiet sound. 

You really didn’t need him to apologize. It had been the best sex of your life. 

“Just - just pass me my phone.” You said. 

The only way you could think to properly explain it to him would be to look up some diagrams and perhaps show him your AO3 history. It was strange to see, and feel some of those wild fictional concepts coming to life right between your legs, but hey - at least you weren’t as unknowing and freaked out as him. 

Gar glanced at both night stands flanking the bed and then sighed. 

“I don’t see it.” He told you. 

Right. You had left it in the kitchen before you went to shower. 

“Then… pass me your phone.” You said. 

He would end up with some very weird shit in his search history, but this was quite literally, his problem. Technically - it was both of your problem, considering it was currently between your legs. And he was your boyfriend, and you definitely weren’t going to break up with him over this. Especially with your reading history, you found it to be more of a turn-on than you were willing to admit. 

Gar reached out to the night table on the other end of the bed, something that caused more jostling and another sharp gasp of pain from you. He mumbled a chorus of ‘sorry, sorry, sorry’ as he grabbed the phone and then returned. He blanketed his body over yours once more, relaxing into his position on top of you as he passed the phone to you. 

It took you about an hour to fully explain the concept to Gar. There were a few diagrams available - ones that had been drawn by writers in the genre. But most of the explaining was done by your hand movements, showing him how it was possible to get ‘stuck’ because he had moved smoothly and pleasurably and first, and then essentially - based on biological instincts, and no purposeful intent of his own: he had knotted you. 

“So you know this from a story?” Gar asked, trying to confirm the source of the information. 

“A few stories.” You told him. 

You didn’t want to divulge just how many stories of the genre you had read and fantasized about before. You were glad that your face was half-buried in the pillow, and Gar couldn’t see the expression of partial guilt on your face as you tried in vain to hide your kinkier side from him. 

“So how do you know it’s true?” He asked. 

“Because you’re literally stuck inside me right now.” You said, voice dancing with a laugh. “And in fiction, it’s usually something that happens with characters who are half-human, half-animal. I think we know which part of you is doing this.” 

Gar sighed, leaning down to rest his head between your shoulders. Clearly he was frustrated at the lack of predictability. He was frustrated that this was just another aspect of his life that couldn’t be normal. 

“Fiction is the only good reference we have to go off.” You said. “Rachel can bring people back from the dead, Kory can literally shoot fire out of her hands, and you can turn into a giant tiger. I think we passed reality a long time ago.” 

“So… when does it stop?” Gar asked. “As much as I enjoy being this close to you, I don’t wanna hurt you.” He rubbed his hand lovingly along your bare side, a genuineness in his voice that made you absolutely thick with love. 

“In the stories I’ve read…” You were also hesitant to share this answer. “Anywhere from a few minutes to… several hours.” 

“Hours?!” Gar let out another indignant shriek, and your muscles tensed. “We’re gonna be stuck like this for hours? Wh-what if it doesn’t go down at all? What if we have to call 9-1-1 and get my dick surgically removed?” 

“It’s gonna be fine, Gar.” You told him, trying to be the soothing calm to his unnecessary panic. “It’s your body’s natural instinct. Your body knows what to do. Just relax. It’ll probably help.” 

“My body’s natural instinct?” Gar echoed back the words. “So what… the animal inside me wants to get you pregnant?” 

Your face burned at the words, and you wondered if Gar felt your pussy flutter around him. 

That did appear to be the truth. A large part of you had wondered why this had never happened to him before. His cock had reacted differently when it had just been your mouth or your hand, or when you had made him cum in his pants dry humping against each other. It was like some animal instinct inside him took over when his body felt your pussy around him - like that thing inside of him really was determined to get you pregnant. 

It was a thought that made your stomach roll with heat. The part of you that loved being Gar’s, the part of you that loved him and everything about him so dearly. Of course you wanted a family with him. Of course you wondered what your little green haired babies would look like. 

“That seems to be the case.” You said, slightly breathless in your reply. 

Gar wrapped his arms around you, tucking his strong grip between your stomach and the mattress to hold you tightly. 

“Would you wanna keep it?” He asked, voice quiet. It was something he did when he was afraid to know the answer. “If you did… end up pregnant?” 

He was leaving the choice entirely in your hands. As though he had no say in the two of you starting a family. But he was good like that - he knew that it was your body you would be sacrificing for those months, he knew it would be asking a lot from you. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” You told him. “I’d wanna have your baby.” 

Gar moaned quietly at this realization. 

… 

You chatted about other things for a while - what you were gonna make for dinner, hopes of the other Titans to make-up and come home, wondering when Conner was going to wake up, wondering what Krypto would eat because you didn’t have any dog food in the house (wondering if you should go out and buy some dog food). Eventually, you dozed into sleep and Gar fell asleep on top of you. 

… 

Gar woke up before you did. 

His cock had slipped out of you while he had slept, and he felt an insane sense of relief to look down and see his usual soft member hanging out between his thighs, no longer stuck inside of you. 

Then - he became very distracted by something else. 

The sight of your pussy - fucked raw, slightly gaping, with white cum flowing out of you. So much cum. 

Gar bit his lip, suppressing a groan - he wanted to be quiet. It would be rude to wake you. 

His eyes flickered over to your sleeping face, wanting to check - and yes, you were in the middle of a deep, peaceful sleep. You had been worn out from the intense, rough fucking. You deserved to get all the sleep that your body needed now. 

Gar’s eyes went back to your pussy, and entirely against his will, his cock stirred to life between his thighs. He was still covered in the mixture of your wetness and his own cum, and god - the smell. He knew that his sense of smell was infinitely more sensitive due to that animal part of him, and fuck - this had to be his new favourite smell. 

The tang of your natural wetness mixed with his own cum. The undeniable scent of him just pouring out of you. The fact that he could smell how well he had claimed you. 

Gar itched to touch you more, and gripped a fist tightly, resisting the urge. 

It would be rude to wake you. 

But maybe - he didn’t have to. 

While sitting back on his heels, he inched his touch forward, and oh-so-gently eased two fingers into your pussy. He just needed to feel you - he needed to feel what he had done. Your pussy easily gave way to his touch, and more of his cum came gushing out around his fingers - he was met with another pungent burst of that perfect smell, and his cock ached between his thighs. 

He couldn’t help himself. 

He gently scooped through the mess, careful not to be too rough with your sensitive, fucked-out pussy as he gathered the mixture of your cum and his on his fingers - and then he brought this hand toward his hard cock, spreading the mess across himself. He choked down a loud moan, wanting to stay quiet for you. 

He wrapped a tight fist around himself, and began jerking off earnestly - he needed to cum. He needed to capture this moment in his mind forever. 

His eyes couldn’t race fast enough to take all of you in - your beautiful, peaceful sleeping face, the soft muscles of your back, the way your breasts were pressed against his pillows, showing off the gentlest peak of the side, round fat. The thickness of your spread thighs, slightly marked by his dull nails scratching you earlier, the perfect plumpness of your ass, and your perfect pussy leaking his cum - the ultimate mark of his claim on you. 

All of it had Gar fucking his own hips into his fist fast, biting down on his lip hard to conceal growls deep within his chest. 

Within a minute, he was overwhelmed - by your beauty, by the perfect smell, but the idea that he had you, perfect you, and he would get to have you forever - and all too soon, he was cumming again. Not nearly as much this time - a meager few stripes that leaked across his fist and sprayed out across your thighs and his own. 

Perfect. 

He felt much better now. 

He knew that it would be polite to clean you up, so that you wouldn’t have to wake up to the mess. The first thing he spotted was his own shirt that he had shed off in a haste earlier, and he wiped you down with that (and let out a growl when even more cum came spilling out of you the more he wiped) - before he went to the bathroom in order to get a warm cloth. 

Once you were as cleaned up as he could get you (he was partially impressed and partially embarrassed by just how much cum he had fucked into you) - he found a pair of your panties and slipped them onto you, leaving a small kiss on your ass through the fabric before he covered you up with a blanket. He could have spent all day in bed with you, but you had requested pasta for dinner. And he was nothing if not a servant of your every need. 

… 

You had dreams of a green haired little boy with your skin tone, and you wondered if it was purely fantasy, or your powers trying to tell you something. 

… 

You woke up feeling unpleasantly empty. 

You knew in a moment that Gar’s knot had gone down and he had successfully pulled out of you. It left your pussy sore, but not unpleasantly so. He had also managed to dress you while you were sleeping. Well, he had put a pair of panties on you. 

Your body must have really been exhausted from the sex for you to sleep so deeply, but it was something you were grateful for, considering how many nights you had laid awake sleepless due to your nightmare-like visions and the worry they caused you. 

With your upper half bare, you still felt a slight chill - you got up and grabbed an oversized, cotton band tee shirt that Gar often liked to steal from you and shoved it on. As you moved, you noticed that the modest cotton underwear he had put on you were slightly damp against your pussy. You didn’t think much about it. 

You continued on, shoving your feet into a pair of slippers you had left in Gar’s room to shield you against the coldness of the floors. You heard music coming from the kitchen and followed the sound, smiling widely when you saw Gar stirring a pot and swaying his hips, dancing to a Cardi B song. He was dressed in an oversized green hoodie that made him look delightfully cozy and a pair of sweatpants. The moment he saw you, he put down the spoon he was using and turned to pause the music. 

“You’re awake.” He gave you a small, lop-sided grin. “I tried to clean you up as best I could, but there was a lot… a lot of… cum.” 

His hesitance to say the words was entirely adorable - especially considering how filthy his mouth had been just hours before. His persona outside of sexual encounters shifted entirely, and it was one of those things you loved so much about him.

That would explain why your panties were damp. 

He cleared his throat, quickly shifting the tone of the conversation when you didn’t respond. 

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier, I kn-” He began to apologize, and you were quick to cut him off. 

“Don’t be sorry.” You said. 

Gar’s brows curled with confusion and you stepped closer to him, leaning your body against him, reaching up to smooth your hands over his arms and across his shoulders. You pressed your forehead into his and his hands took a natural place on your waist. His expression softened as he realized that you weren’t mad at him or upset with him in any way. 

“Don’t even think about apologizing, Gar.” You told him firmly. “You don’t have to apologize for what happened earlier, because I loved it. It was fucking amazing. That was the most amazing sex ever.” 

Of course, you had to start by assuring him of this fact. His skills were well pronounced and he had to know that he had made you feel a multitude of pleasure that you had never felt before. Something that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get with anyone else but him. 

“The ending… I know it was… weird. Neither of us really saw it coming. Which is strange, considering my powers.” You said, chuckling lightly as the joke flowed naturally from your lips. 

Gar let out a laugh at this. 

“But I love that side of you.” You declared, absolutely certain. “I love the animal part of you as much as I love that sweet, soft side of you.” 

You leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss, skimming your teeth along his bottom lip in a tentative bite as you pulled away, showing him a little roughness of your own. 

“I’ve never been afraid of the tiger, you know.” You added on, your thoughts on the matter absolutely final. 

Hearing you say that made Gar’s heart flutter. It was something you had told him before - after he had taken down your attackers at the asylum. But back then, he had been convinced that you were just trying to placate him. He had thought you were just trying to soothe his anxieties about hurting someone for the first time. Now he heard it for the genuine sentiment that it was: you saw his animal side, and rather than being afraid of it, you embraced it. 

“I love you so much.” He said, a heartfelt whisper that warmed you from the inside out. 

“I love you so, so very much.” You told him, and he kissed you again. 

“I made dinner.” He announced. “The pasta you wanted.” 

It was something you had discussed earlier, when you had still been locked together in that slightly uncomfortable position, a lovely food smell now filling your nose. He was a talented cook. Just another thing about him to love. 

Krypto wandered in, the padding of little doggy feet catching your attention. When you leaned down and began petting him, cooing at the dog with a sweet little baby-talk voice - Gar couldn’t help but imagine the two of you in your own family home, with your own pets, making dinner for your kids some day. Maybe it was a pipe dream to think a couple of super-powered freaks like the two of you could have the white picket fence dream, but Gar wanted it so badly, because he wanted it with you. 

“I also made cookies, but they turned out weirdly… flat.” Gar said, moving to the counter, and picking up a large plate that was covered in plastic wrap. 

He presented them to you, and you couldn’t help but giggle as you saw something that you easily recognized as an amateur baking mistake. He had either set the oven to too low of a temperature or neglected to refrigerate the cookie dough before baking them, causing the butter to melt before it actually started cooking. 

“I’m sure they’ll still taste good.” You assured him. And to make sure of this, he handed you one to sample. You tasted it - the mixture of sugar and butter and chocolate chips could never go wrong. “Delicious. Everything you do always turns out right.” 

It was a clear hint at what had happened earlier, and Gar grinned at you. 

“Everything I do for you always turns out right.” He corrected. “And I’m thankful for that.”

...

A/N: Please keep in mind - this fic is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'part 2', so please do not ask for one. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written. Reblogs and comments are appreciated, and if you want to check out more of my Gar Logan fanfics, definitely check out my DC Titans masterlist!

[heartfullofleeches]

The Blacksmith

Yan Deity HCs [Request]

Tw: Self Harm

-

- Blacksmith isn't what most would gods would consider being one of their own. For the better part of its existence, The Blacksmith has functioned akin to a machine rather than his own individual self. Acting on orders given by those above him was all he knew until the punishment of gods through extensive torture was shunned upon by many. Blacksmith was free to do as they wished, but they're generally stumped to the workings of society outside of what their created purpose.

- Love as humans and even some gods express it is unfamiliar to the Blacksmith. Their creators greatest mistakes was teaching it the painful side of love without the innocence of something puee. He was instilled with the knowledge that any sign of weakness should not be allowed. That being said, a strange warm fills its chest whenever you treat it kindly. He does not deserve the gesture- Are you toying with it because you truly believe he is beneath you?

"My Lord.... I do not understand the purpose of this so called "hug" you have bestowed upon me.... I did not ask you to stop."

- There is no room for error in Blacksmith's eyes. As he adapts to the mortal understanding of affection, Blacksmith showers you with gifts and gestures to prove they are willing to even the playing field with you. If he brings you something you are allergic to or simply not a fan of its wise to keep sharp objects from him until you can calm him down and assure him it was a common mistake.

"May the spill of my blood grant me your forgiveness.. Had I heard you clearer I would not have made this mistake."

"It's cool, dude- Pizza is pizza."

- The Blacksmith is immortal and heals relatively quickly, which is why if you bother to patch them up when they do get hurt their brain just kinda shortcuts for a while. You are the mortal in the situation. Those supplies would be better saved for you. Is this what it means to care for another out of the generosity of one's heart(s)? Is this love? Logically, when you are injured they must return the sentiment.

"Please hold still, My Lord. The cast is almost complete."

"Isn't this a bit excessive? It was only a splinter."

"... Negative."

- The Blacksmith has a hidden profession of making music boxes. It is a tad embarrassed due to the macabre nature of the other objects it creates, but as they learn more if your world it develops a small obsession with the melodies they produce and their mechanisms. He leaves ones he is most proudest of in your bedroom - expecting you to somehow have no clue how it ended up there.

- Blacksmith can easily remove their helmet - they just don't want to. He has been described as beautiful by gods who have met it after the incident due to their eyes, but as for the appearance of its face as a whole no-one knows. It wears the iron maiden to atone for its sin of nearly condemning an innocent god, but it also believes those gods were liars and that its face will disgust you. If you argue back that are gorgeous regardless of if you've seen it or not, The Blacksmith has no choice but to take your word as truth since they trust you not to lie to them.

- Enjoys classical music. Cannot dance to save it's own skin, but would greatly admire your dancing no matter your skill level.

- One rule you must keep in mind is to not give Blacksmith access to the Internet. He will absorb modern lingo and relationship advice like a sponge. It confuses him greatly, but considering you are from this time it might be the key to winning your heart.

"Have a good day at work...Pookie."

[theoddest1]

Let's Actually Talk About The Issues With Vivziepop

Okay, first off, hello you beautiful people! Sorry about this foreboding title, but I needed to catch y'all attention on this so I can break down the issues that I and many have with "Hazbin Hotel" and "Helluva Boss" creator, Vivienne Medrano. Now I am sure you all on here are already aware of at least a couple of the controversies that revolve around this particular creator and if you have seen my posts floating around already, some have been greeted with the problems surrounding her social media presence and just her overall as a person. I know seeing another callout on her seems very very tiring at this point, but I felt that a lot of the current callouts missed key details that were not at all addressed or properly delved on. I plan on shedding light on my issues with her and I hope you get where I am coming from when I say that she sucks.

BULLYING

Okay, I am starting off with Vivienne's blatant use of bully mentality, her agreeing or encouraging her fans to call people who see flaws in her works sub-humans or harass those who find issue or simply jest about her works trademark cussing and and overcrowded designs. She has had this issue for YEARS and refuses to grow up and act her age despite many telling her, even her own fans at times, that she shouldn't be acting so unprofessionally. Clearly, she doesn't care and thanks to her fanbase caring more about her feelings than her being better she feels as though she doesn't need to change or do better. This goes for her friend group as well, who defend her tremendously and act as though she is never in the wrong. Name one time a friend of hers called her out for acting childish, I'll wait.

Now, you're probably wondering, "Wtf could they have done to warrant such a response?"

Criticism...That's all they did. (White Text is random peeps they would speak with or maybe mutuals)

Keep in mind...they used to be a fan as well. They were also a minor at this point

But, Viv doesn't care, this person's critical yet harmless tweets about her shows is what lead to her painting them in a horrible light and making them out to be someone who has attacked her personally and as "nasty".

Rich coming from Viv since she is completely fine doing exactly that for "Ava's Demon". Not only does she criticize it, she takes a shot at the creator as well, but GOD FORBID others do the same towards her.

And according to someone who knew her well, it's all cause they felt creeped out by her.

Her hatred for criticism is so prominent that Ima makes that a section of its own. But let's get back on the topic of bullying.

Vivienne has a fanbase filled to the brim with pushy and overall annoying individuals who have harassed, threatened, disrespected, and wished harm on many people, all cause someone had a negative thing to say about Vivziepop's mid af show. One of the earlier known instances is the one revolving around a MEME of all things.

This was what started it all, and it led to both parties blocking each other and people being mad pushy and calling them an idiot and the like over their opinions. Now look, their take and you're opinion on said take is fine so long as you stay respectful and humane about it all, but don't dogpike someone all cause they think HH sucks. And while Viv can not control her fanbase, for they are not a hivemind (some of y'all act it tho, ima keep it real) she is seen here ENCOURAGING the behavior. Tell me how someone who doesn't even like your trash ass show has the sense to tell people not to harass others, someone with a smaller following, but not your grown damn near 30 year old ass?

Oh, but people wanna act like she can handle criticism, is a sweet person, and grew from her past experiences. Fam, she was 27 in this screenshot [December 16, 2019] and has shown no change from 2013 to fucking 2024. Over a decade of the same petty ass behavior, and keep in mind, according to several of her old friends and workers, she is worse behind close doors. WORSE. She's already acting like she got no damn sense out in the open, imagine behind closed doors.

Last but not least, a glimpse into her outright blatant slander towards Dollcreep, a once good friend of hers that she even visited and spoke with frequently!

She stated that they fetishized pedophilia yet according to the victim and friends of the victim who were once friends with Viv as well, Viv actually threatened to end their friendship if he hadn't drawn NSFW art of her character and his character having sex [Addi was 15 at the time this was drawn]

On top of that, she liked the post, something she didn't need to do. The art also depicted things she had regularly drawn on her own. Addi being tied up forcefully, being sexualized, being harmed to some degree through bondage, etc. The claim that she forced DC to draw this out is backed up by her own art depicting similar elements. Also, if my memory serves me well, Viv and Doll were 17-18 years old [Doll was 17 Viv 18] and have a 1-year age gap. The way Viv frames things here is as if DC was way older and imposed some sort of power over DC, which sources say otherwise. If anything, Viv had a LOT of control throughout all of this drama, which deserves its own section.

I'll be making posts that talk about the different issues regarding Viv, so one post isn't too long (this one is already lengthy enough) and that you can just pick at one post targeting certain issues around this creator.

[deadsetobsessions]

AU of Gotham! Tim Drake! Danny where he doesn’t know the universe he was reincarnated into.

“Robin!” Batman barked. Tim sighed, loudly. Batman twitched.

“What is it, B?”

“Drills. Again.”

Tim rolled his eyes but moved to obey. Speaking to B these days was like speaking to a rather boorish caveman. Simple grunts and single word sentences. It didn't use to be like this but B was loosing his grip on his humanity and it’s Tim’s job to bring it back.

It’s hilarious because he’s the least human of them all. It was odd, juggling his duties as Danny Gotham, his responsibilities as Tim, and his workload as Bruce’s shiny new Robin. Somehow he made it work.

Yeah, sometimes B’s hands are heavy when they’re training. Sometimes he forgets Danny’s name (or at least his human name) and calls for Jason instead. Sometimes, he smells more like booze and less like Bruce.

Danny could handle it. Even if his core quivers with grief. He wished he didn’t have to, but he could and will handle whatever he needs to for his Knight to regain himself. But fuck, that doesn’t mean taking his self destructive habits lying down. He might be Tim right now, but as far as Batman knew, Tim was here on the orders of

“B.”

“Hm.”

Oh, a neutral grunt! I see we’ve upgraded to grunts instead of arm flapping! Holy detective, Batman! Aren’t I glad I learned to speak cave man? Wow! Tim mocked, in his head.

“You’re heading to bed when I’m done with this set,” Tim said.

“This case isn’t done,” Batman growled. Ancients, it was like speaking to a large chihuahua-toddler hybrid. All the barking, all the growling, and all the petulance of a child makes the entirety of how his Knight acted on a good day these days.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Tim shot back, sore arms and legs and everything working through the set. Thank the ancients for his healing, or else Tim might actually be dying.

“You don’t give me orders, Robin.”

“No, but Gotham does.” He would know, considering Tim was Gotham.

The head full of greasy- ew, take a shower, B!- hair swiveled towards him.

“You have a direct line to Gotham?”

Tim settled into the final forms of the night. “Gotham sent me. I thought we went over this.”

A beat of silence.

Batman returned to clacking away at the computer. Tim finished his set in relative peace. He moved to the cool down stretches while Batman sulked in front of his computer like a five year old.

“I’m done.” He said, crossing his arms.

“Hm.”

“That means you’re done, too.”

“I’m not tired.”

Tim rolled his eyes so hard, he thinks he saw the light. Oh, wait, that’s just Bruce’s last brain cell dying.

“You’re heading to bed. Good luck finding actual crime tomorrow, if you stay up.”

Batman stilled, because he knows Gotham would back Tim up on the threat. Considering the time sensitivity of some of these cases, Gotham’s anger is not something he could risk.

Tim patted himself on the back for effectively playing the good cop and the bad cop on his own. Except ACAB for life because they’re vigilantes and the GCPD as a whole (with exceptions) sucks ass.

He watched as Batman- as Bruce- reluctantly powered down the Bat-Computer. As he stood up, Tim wrinkled his nose.

“Never mind. You take a shower first. I’ll text Alfred.”

“Not necessary.”

“Okay, then you can explain to Gotham why you’re traipsing through his city looking a starved rat and smelling like you took a joy ride in Killer Croc’s excrement. Oh, wait.” Tim snapped, just about done being patient today. Tim whipped out his phone, texting Alfred with one hand and pointing towards the staircase with the other.

“Shower above ground, you weird little mole rat. No cave water for you.”

Bruce makes a weird offended grunt.

“I literally don’t care if you have to walk up to your room to shower in your boxers, B. Most of Gotham’s people don’t have access to a shower, let alone a million dollar bathroom. Fucking use your actual bathroom instead of hosing off.”

And with that, Batman and Bruce Wayne moved to the tune of a pre-teen, who was also, unknowingly to him, the spirit of his City.

——

“Go home.”

Tim smiled sweetly. Bruce paled. The scary, Gotham loved child patted Bruce’s hand as he sat beside Bruce’s bed.

“Sleep, before I make you.”

Bruce slammed his eyelids shut, anything to not look at Tim’s malicious looking eyes, and allowed himself- nay, forced himself- to rest for the first time in weeks since Jason died.

As Bruce’s dumb self drifted off to dreamland, Tim muttered, “Wuss.”

He settled himself into the chair, napping lightly to make sure Bruce doesn’t sneak out to work when he’s gone.

Alfred snapped a quick picture.

[rekino2114]

Hello! This is my first time requesting! I hope you write it later on! :D

 

How about the Chainsaw Man Girls Celebrating Their S/O Birthday? 

The chainsaw man girls celebrating your birthday

A/n:so this request was actually sent only a few days ago but I decided to anticipate it because today is actually my birthday and that's on theme. Thanks a lot to everyone who wished me happy birthday by the way

(I know today was supposed to be a drdt daturday but my birthday comes first)

Makima

Be prepared to have the best birthday anyone could possibly ask for, makima will literally do anything you want and make sure there isn't a moment where you aren't happy,from the moment you wake up to when you fall asleep together

She will give you the best cake money can buy, with your favorite flavors and decorate it however you want it to be (spoon feeding it to you, obviously)

As for the gifts she just brought you everything you expressed interest in during the year, from talking to her about how much you liked it to a simple glance in the shopping mall, she brought it. And don't even worry about how much it cost, she has enough money whatever it is

Makima never thought she'd truthfully celebrate a human's birthday let alone do this much, but you're the person who she loves more than anything, seeing you happy makes her heart swell with love she wants nothing but to celebrate the birth of the person who made her a human

"Happy birthday my love, I hope you get to spend another wonderful year of your life by my side, I love you so much"

Power

(I want you all to know I was this close to making a joke about "that scene," but I decided against it to avoid spoilers.....and also because every time I look at that panel I get the urge to stab makima 37 times in the chest)

She.....might have forgotten about it and only remembered when denji and aki mentioned it to her. In any other case she wouldn't care about a stupid human's birthday but since it was you she genuinely felt guilty.

Preparing your party was a group effort with her friends, she asked aki to bake you a cake and denji to put the decorations on while she.......she didn't really do that much, just kinda looked at them while they worked, which made the two guys mad at her

She didn't know what to get you (she said her presence was enough of a gift), but after being pressured by her friends, she just drew you a picture of you together and wrote you a letter with all of the love she felt for you written down

The drawing.....wasn't the best and her calligraphy was quite bad but you really appreciated the effort, you could tell she really loved you and wanted to express that.

"Happy birthday human! I'm happy you have survived another year to be with the great power......Hm....i-i love you, h-here's your gift...i-i put a lot of effort in it"

Himeno

She threw a straight-up party for you, inviting every one of your friends, including all members of division 4. You all had fun and laughed together, but she made sure the attention was all on you, it's your special day after all.

During the day she acts like there's nothing special going on, just being her normal self but not ignoring you so you don't get mad her but then in the evening she tells you makima assigned you two to a special mission but then she brought you to a bar where your party is being held before scooping you up in her arms and telling you happy birthday

She brought a classic cake and a gift she knew you wanted for a while (she might have also told everyone there to bring you a gift too) she also definitely sang happy birthday to you while everyone else (including you) was embarrassed

She tried not to get too drunk this time as she wanted to remember this amazing moment, and she actually succeeded. She spends all night near you being even more affectionate than usual and complimenting you every 5 seconds

"Happy birthday, babe! You thought I forgot, didn't you? Don't worry, I could never. I hope you enjoy the party cause it's just the beginning~"

Kobeni higashiyama

She was very ready for this day, she put a reminder on her calendar and prepared herself for it, she wanted to celebrate you and the fact that you loved her

She tried baking the cake herself, and it actually came out pretty good. She didn't know she could actually bake but she found out she was okay at it, that kinda raised her confidence just by a small bit though

She actually made you a handmade gift. Maybe she learned how to sew to make a shirt, or maybe she knit you a scarf, whatever you prefer, she specifically made it for you. The reasons why she chose to do this were 1:she didn't have enough money to buy you what she thought was a good enough gift, and 2: she wanted to show you how much you truly meant to her, she learned a new skill just for you.

She's just smiling the entire day, when you're eating the cake, when you open her gift and when you hug her telling her how much you loved it (she almost passed out from how much she blushed there)

"H-happy birthday y/n, i-I actually made you this, I hope you like it......oh y-you do? Thanks so much, i-i just wanted to do this, it's your special day after all"

Quanxi (and her harem)

They actually decided to throw you a surprise party with only the six of you, like himeno they tried to act like it wasn't a special day, quanxi was definitely the most successful at that as she doesn't show that much emotion in the first place, her girlfriends however had some issues....you saw them giggling to themselves and getting all nervous when your birthday was brought up

Quanxi took you out on a date while the fiends decorated your place and prepared the cake. When you got back, they all hid and jumped out, yelling surprise and laughing.

They each brought you a gift that they knew you'd like. Some of them brought it, and others handmade it. It's really sweet because they'll take turns giving you the gifts and making speeches about how much they love you while the other girls hype her up

They also each take turns kissing you and hugging you all resulting in a giant puddle of affection that make you feel so so loved and warm

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!/HALLOWEEN!"

"I think I can speak for all of us when I say that the day you entered our lives was amazing, you made all of us feel even more loved than we already were, we cannot thank you enough, happy birthday y/n"

Asa mitaka

She was both excited and nervous for this day, excited because she got an opportunity to do something to show how much you truly changed her life and you meant to her but nervous because what would happen to your relationship if she did something you wouldn't like? Would you break up with her? These thoughts plague her mind often, but especially on occasions like this

In a surprising twist, it was actually yoru who helped her gain confidence, mentally slapping her (like actually slapping her in her mind) and telling her to stop whining because you'll definitely like what she did for you, it was pretty surprising for asa seeing the war devil actually being nice to her, but she thanked her and calmed down

She brought you a cake and something you told her you wanted but didn't have enough money to buy, she saved enough to buy it from doing part time jobs and other stuff only for you.

She also made a speech that she wrote down and studied the night before like it was a test. In that speech, she told you everything she ever wanted to tell you, how much she loves you, how just being near you makes her feel so much better, how you make all of the struggles in her life easier just by being there near her and how much she wants to spend the rest of her life with you.

"S-so did you like it? The party, the speech, everything,.....I just want to say....thank you, you make my life worth living, i-i truly love you"

Yoru

She doesn't fully understand the concept of birthdays. Why would a human want to celebrate the fact that they're one year closer to death? But this time she made an effort for you

She did threaten basically everyone who she needed something from, the bakery to get your cake and the store to get your gift, they should be thankful it was her partner's birthday and so she felt merciful and didn't kill anyone, she also forced asa to decorate her house but the girl doesn't mind that much since you're her friend

Other than the gift she stole brought for you, she also made you something herself, a shield shaped badge she made by turning a small thing into a shield with her powers, she told you to always wear it as it signified that she would always protect you

(I can't remember if she can actually make shield, I still consider them weapon so I feel like she could)

Even if she'd never admit it, seeing you happy over she did made her (asa's?) Heart flutter, she thought she only loved destruction and bloodshed before she met you but she found out she was wrong...she loved you too

"Hm? You like it? Oh thanks but it's nothing, I can literally make one whenever I want, oh... You're talking about the party, well you're welcome, I don't understand human customs but it's the least I could do for you, thanks I love you"

Fami

The moment she found out when your birthday was, she made a lot of reservations to every restaurant you like. You're getting a day full of eating, and you don't get a choice in it

You're having a literal feast for every meal of the day, whether it be at fancy restaurants or fast food or just something fami tried to make or ordered from take out places, all of it are all of your favorite foods that she shares with you, she had to stop herself multiple times from just devouring everything but seeing you enjoy the food was enough to make her happy

All of it culminated when she brought you home and gave you your cake. It was actually something she made, and it was pretty good. She wanted to make something special for you with her bare hands to show you her care. Even if she's not the best cook, the cake still tastes amazing to you cause you can taste all the love in it

This was probably the day you saw her smile the most. Just seeing you eating and looking at her, you looked so precious and amazing. She wants to see you like that more, the look of gratitude and love you give her feel more delicious than any food could ever be

" So what was the best food you ate today? Uh? My cake? It's really nothing special it was actually the first time I ever cooked something.....thank you. I'm glad you liked it, I love you Happy birthday"

[queers-gambit]

Careful What You Wish For

prompt: he's highly reactive, you're incredibly enduring. he's a righteous dick, you're criminally empathetic. he's temperamental, you're amenable. but you're done being his doormat. -> or in which Billy resorts to breaking up when you two fight, but when he comes to make up (like clockwork), you finally have a change of heart.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5k+

warnings: it's not much so don't expect a lot! author has Daddy Issues™️ and you're gonna deal with it, cursing, drama for drama's sake, Billy Boy's trauma translates into a toxic relationship, feelings are hard, abrupt ending, angst, hurt not a lot of comfort; healthy parent relationship? wild.

and NO this is NOT influenced by Hoover's book / Blake's movie! i have NOT read the book nor seen the movie, so if you recognize similarities, it's 100% unintentional!

To be reactive means to impulsively act upon circumstances instead of rationally considering situations that would asses a humane, clean, agreeable, "legal" response. To be reactive is exactly what it sounds like. It's reacting. It's not thinking, it's not being considerate or logical. It's being fueled by emotion, to be impulsive and rash. To be reactive was borderline selfish as the response is one-sided and results from only a single person's perspective.

Part of growing up is learning to handle your reactions; to absorb situations and consider the best possible option forward. Thing is, it's not a skill people could master in a day, week, month, year - it took a lot of time, focus, and constant, conscious dedication. People in high school were attempting to master this skill; people in college, their 20's - hell, there's even people in their 30's and 40's still trying to learn and perfect the ability to fucking handle their reactiveness.

So, in actuality, you couldn't fault Billy for being "this" way. It's not like he was doing it consciously, maliciously, or on purpose; he genuinely didn't know better and it's hard to unlearn lessons life taught you. Considering the environment he grew up in, you knew Billy stood absolutely no chance to learn and develop healthy coping mechanisms and forms of communication - but Christ, it was difficult to date him.

All romantic bullshit aside, Billy's attitude was increasingly concerning the further your relationship progressed. He required a lot of love and patience - of which, you had an abundance of and was happy to give. Yet that's the key word, abundance - NOT unlimited. He's sensitive, meaning easily irritated; damn near any and everything inconvenienced him. His mouth moved before his neurons could fire. He refused to compromise or admit defeat like Flat Earthers refuse scientific evidence. He would always choose throwing a fist over using his words. He embodied the cutting image of "bad boy", but he also lived it if his lack of manners and foul mouth was any indication. He was aloof, malcontent, egotistical, had the emotional intelligence of a fucking jellyfish, operated as an iron lock with a thrown-away key.

And Billy loves you. You knew, in his way, he loves you. But you also knew how hard it was for Billy to have any degree of emotion for any given reason. This meant more often than not, you worried his feelings for you were forced, or at the very least, ebbed and waned. Odd, isn't it? How his trauma causes a trauma response in you?

Billy was far from perfect, but you didn't need him perfect. You needed him to be loving, supportive, kind and caring, honest, empathetic... All things nobody would EVER think of when trying to describe Billy.

Yet you two worked. Polar opposites; two ends of the spectrum; a flowery romance novel and a doomed tragedy.

You used to think he was the ebony ink and you, the pure snow in the Yin and Yang symbol - or a taijitu. He was dark and brooding and abused and hateful - but with you, as that single dot of white, he felt balanced. You're bright, blinding, glittering, passionate - and with Billy, he added that speck of darkness (or realism) to your purity.

Sure, this could mean literally since you lost your virginity to him within a couple months of dating, but more so in the sense that Billy's pessimism was darkening your optimism; almost as if he was pouring water from your glass into his to force you to see your glass (read: reality) as half empty. It was as if he was corrupting you. Yet perhaps not in the sense we all might think - like he takes you to party all weekend, blow off school, engage in sketchy or concerning or dangerous activities, experiment with drugs and sexual positions that border on acrobatic. His corruption was more along the lines of draining you; where you were once bright and happy, so excited to love and be loved, to live life; you're now just tired and passive and accepting.

Billy wasn't easy to love. When you first started dating, it felt like a challenge - winning him over. You were determined to prove yourself ideal, capable, and willing to endure him and all his (and his family's) antics. Yet as time passed, you fell so deeply in love with him that you didn't even remember why you first kept coming back for more. He was intoxicating; he invades any space and commandeers not just attention, but leadership and control.

Billy was the flame. You, the moth. Yet eventually, fires will die. They will not burn forever. Whether from a lack of oxygen, wood, or something like the wind snuffs it, no flame ever endures forever. And now, the flame was dying and you were finding lesser reason to linger around dwindling warmth.

You see, there's only SO much a person can take. Being so reactive, fighting with Billy is fucking clockwork. It's eerily like a science the way you two will always fight when one of you has the realization, "Wow, things are SO peaceful and SO nice right now!" Naturally, because God (or karma, the universe, whoever) had a sense of humor, would choose that moment to cause issue.

Fights with Billy were usually sparked by something decently simple - like you being paired with Jason Carver for a tutoring session, or taking an extra 10 minutes in the shower after your sports practice, or telling him, "Sorry, I can't go out Friday, baby, I told the Wheeler's I'd babysit." This would cause Billy to spiral. Akin to a ripe, seasonal Kansas tornado.

Fights with Billy usually got personal, and since you knew and trusted one another so well, there was plenty of ammunition. Insults were hurled for an unGodly amount of time, but it was because Billy loved pulling loose threads to watch everything unravel.

Fights with Billy usually ended in a single, consistent manner: with him breaking up with you. Oh, it was infuriating! Billy had both fight and flight instincts - you know, from being so reactive - that he was all for throwing a punch, but when it came to real accountability or resolution, he'd flee; never caring about who he might hurt in the process. He'd engage his "fight" response, and then turn around and "flee", only to return later and resume fighting! Talk about fucking whiplash! Billy was like a wrecking ball, and if you were gonna fight, he was gonna make sure he was ready for it.

This fight was no different.

You can't even remember why it started, but it did and now, you sat on the front porch stairs of your family home, head bowed into your arms while silently weeping. Was it sadness? Was it despair? Acceptance? Frustration? Defeat? Was it anger that made you cry? Were these tears of humor? Disbelief? Exhaustion?

Perhaps all of the above at once.

"Look, I just think we need to take a break. From each other."

You held your breath, rolling your lips between your teeth and slowly looking up at the boy you loved and hated most in this world. Billy was standing at the bottom of the stairs, one arm propped on the freshly painted wooden bannister to hold his balance; watching you with mild remorse, mostly neutrality. You smirked mirthlessly, nodding, "Right, okay."

Billy scoffed, ash falling from the end of his lit cigarette, asking, "Really not gon' say nothin'? Don't wanna fight or argue 'bout this?"

"Why bother, Billy?" You snipped, wiping your tears. "You do this every time. Fuck's sake, it's like something gets a little hard or inconvenient and we break-up."

He scoffed, "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Well, maybe this is the last time, sweetheart."

You just sighed, "Okay, Bee. I'm gonna go in, you kinda interrupted movie night to do this. So, now that you have, cool if I go in? Great, get home safe." You stood without waiting for his answer, turning for the front door and immediately seeking refuge inside. You locked the doorknob, then the deadbolt, and just for dramatic flare, latched the chain, too.

Using the sleeves of your shirt, you dried your face.

"Who was that, honey?" Your mother asked as you entered the dark living room, sighing as you dropped into your spot on the sofa; taking your little sister in arms as she settled on your chest once more.

"Just Billy."

"Oh, he didn't want to come in?"

"No, Mama, he had to go."

"Shame," she sighed, "I thought he would like this movie."

You only hummed, draping a thin blanket over you and your sister. "Pops. Hey, hey," you whispered, hand out, wiggling your foot into your father's thigh, "dad, hey. Daddy." Without looking, he handed over the bowl of popcorn mixed with Peanut M&M's and jumped when the sound boomed and the screen flashed with blinding action.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't focus on the heavy Austrian accent of the time traveling Terminator. Your head repeated the argument with Billy; how it had now spanned over several days and he had the audacity to knock at your door tonight, interrupting the week-standing movie night he KNEW your family participated in, and proceeded to break-up with you - AGAIN!

Yet something felt so fucking different this time.

You weren't sad by this "break-up" (yet) because you knew he was just being reactive and sensitive, but something didn't sit right about tonight. Your parents both worked incredibly long hours at tedious, stressful jobs, but they were very firm that every Thursday night was movie night - and Billy knew this. He knew where you were every Thursday. He knew better than to interrupt, he knew this time together was sacred since your parents worked so frequently but also actually seemed to like family time.

So, he chose tonight as the best time to initiate this break? Your heart hammered as you began to convince yourself this was a malicious move; he knowingly came to your house to inflict emotional turmoil when you were with family. It was deliberate, it was a manipulative power move; knowing he had such a hold on you that even during your beloved family time of bonding, despite being in a fight, you would still receive him; still come back to him.

Angry tears coated your eyes as Sarah Connor fought for her life. Where Billy was always highly reactive, being the eldest daughter, you were resilient and enduring; able to handle anything thrown your way. You were rational, decently calm; able to think through a storm, being only motivated by the sight of the sun. Billy had a bad attitude, he was arrogant, his ego inflated by the small town girls all drooling over him, but it was his abuse and lack of coping ability that made him into a righteous dick. Perhaps that was why he was attracted to you, being so empathetic and understanding that it bordered on criminal - especially with the way it slowly drained you of life. Billy was temperamental, angry and hurt by the world; and you were amenable, agreeable - not a pushover, but similar to water in the sense that you could adapt and conform to any space, shape, or circumstance you're put in (willingly or not).

Something in your gut finally clicked.

You're done being his doormat. Loving Billy was dismantling you brick by brick; he thought because you were so accepting and understanding that he could act anyway he wanted, get away with it, and you'd always forgive him. You'd always take him back. He could rip your heart out of your chest, crush it into dust, and you'd still thank him when he sprinkles it in your hands - because at least he did that. At least he gave you a sprinkle. You were supposed to be grateful - never-minding that he was the one who continuously hurt you in the first place.

Your eyes drifted from the television to your mother and father sat together at the far end of the couch. 20 years married, and they still sat together like high school teens; his arm around her shoulders, kept close, sharing snacks, a throw blanket cocooning their legs. They were so gentle with one another; relying majorly on nonverbal communication, like when there's a jump scare, your father's thumb would sweep over the back of your mother's hand resting on his lap. It was a grounding technique you have long taken note of, but seeing it now just made you sad.

The desire to have a relationship like your parents was strong, but what was even stronger was simply setting a good example for your sister. You'd be devastated if you ever learned she dated a man like Billy; who put her through the emotional wringer for no direct or good reason. You thought you'd tell her it wasn't her job to fix anyone; it wasn't her responsibility or burden to help mold a boy into a man. Your heart would shatter if you learned she was like you - crying to sleep, throwing towels over all mirrors to avoid any reflection, walking on eggshells in an effort to keep the peace you weren't even charged with!

Watching her eyes glittering in the glow of the action movie, you knew what you had to do. If you didn't practice what you preached, you had no true leg to stand on; your words become contradictory, your concerns warped by perspective. You didn't want her to look at your parents, then at you and Billy, and think someone was wrong - or that love was somewhere in between your relationship examples. You wanted her to know love wasn't supposed to hurt, and if you needed her to understand that she deserved the best of the best, you needed to walk the walk that you talked.

Blinking back tears, you resigned yourself to forcing the feeling of contentment; hugging your sister closer, relishing the feeling of your father's warmth against the bottom of your feet where they laid. And as if he could read your mind, your father mutely kept his one arm around your mother, the other laying on your ankle; glancing over to catch your eye and offer a small, soft smile before focusing on the movie again.

You pecked your sister's forehead quickly, whispering, "You okay, Bug?"

"Uh-huh."

"Not too scared?"

"No," she answered, completely entranced by the television.

"Sure?"

"Uh-huh. Can you pause it?" She asked your father, who almost instantly reached for the remote to hit pause. Your sister jumped up and rushed from the living room before quickly doubling back to hang in the doorway, "I'll be back." Then she dipped behind the wall, only to pop back out a second later and punctuate, "With weapons!"

The living room was full of boisterous laughter as she scampered off to the bathroom.

There was a gentle knock at your closed bedroom door, head lifting from the lowered crane it unconsciously drooped into while reading the novel on your lap. With a grimace, you rubbed your neck and called, "Come in!"

"Hey, honey," your father spoke softly, poking his head in, "got a second?"

"Yeah, sure, Daddy, c'min."

He offered a small smile and entered at full, shutting the door behind him and confirming what you sensed - this was sure to be a serious conversation. He sat gingerly at the foot of your bed, heaving a great sigh, asking, "Whatcha readin'?"

"Oh, uh, just," you showed him the cover of your book, "it's for school, I have to write a report on it."

"Is it interesting?"

"It has a good message," you allotted, making him snicker. "I'm trying to be nice!"

"Uh-huh," he nodded, sighing again. "Listen, honey, I just wanted to talk to you about... You know, Billy."

"We use condoms, Daddy, and I'm on birth control."

"While that's great and exactly what every father wants to hear," he whined, "that's not what I meant."

"Oh," you sat up, book marked and set aside, "you mean tonight?"

"Yeah."

You shrugged, "It's not that big of a deal."

"You sure?"

"I got a handle on things, Daddy."

"I don't know if I can believe that, honey," he frowned, dimples on display, "because - you've - you're just..." He paused, shaking his head, "Your mother and I are worried about you. You're different since dating Billy and it's hard to ignore. I know it might not be comfortable to talk about, but you know you can always come to us, right?"

You nodded, "I know, Daddy."

"Good. 'Cause, he's 18, right?"

"I'm almost afraid to answer that, but yes...?"

Your father nodded, "Good, so I can legally kick his ass."

"Being friends with Hopper helps."

"Damn straight," he confirmed. "You sure everything's okay?"

"Yeah, we just broke up."

"What!?"

"Daddy, chill," you chuckled, "we do this every few weeks."

"Oh, Jesus - "

"But it's the last time!"

"Well, how can you be sure?"

"'Cause I deserve better."

The sigh your father released was out of relief, musing, "Goddamn right you do! Good girl!" He leaned in to peck your forehead quickly, patting your leg. "Well, I'll let you get back to reading..."

"Hang on," you halted him, feeling your heart lurch, "can I ask you something?"

"Anything, kid."

"Do you... not... like Billy?"

"Well, now that I know you two break up every few weeks, less so."

"Daddy."

He nodded, "I thought he was an all right kid, and you never had an ill word to say about him. But he was always kinda troubled, something about him always made me a little suspicious. Is there reason I shouldn't like him...?"

You stared at your father for several long seconds, both with varying expressions as you tried to telepathically communicate. When you understood his meaning, you blanched, "Wait - woah - hey - what!? No! No, Daddy!" You groaned, "Jesus, no! Billy's - Billy's troubled, yes, but he's not abusive or aggressive - not with me! I swear!"

"I'm sorry, I just - I needed to be sure! There's no easy way to ask these things, you know?"

"I know," you nodded, "and I appreciate you checking, but I promise, I'm okay, Billy's not like that. He's abrasive, yes, but he's still respectful."

"Noted," your father breathed, "that's actually relieving. So, uh... Am I supposed to bring you ice cream? Or rent some romcoms? This is your first break-up and I'm not sure what to do."

Your eyes rolled lightly, "Not yet, but keep that energy for when the emotions really set in."

"I'll stock up after work tomorrow," he promised.

"You're... Home this weekend?"

"Your mother and I thought for the next couple months, we'll take a break from conferences," he grinned, "spend some time with our favorite girls. Maybe even take a family vacation this summer!"

You grinned, "You mean it?"

"Of course!"

You launched into his embrace with a laugh, both full of mirth and amusement. Instead of leaving, your father actually situated comfortably on your bed and listened to your read your book - reminding him of the days he read you bedtime stories. He eyed the essay prompt your teacher had passed out with his listening ears on, and when there was a quote or relevant detail he thought related to your thesis, he made sure to speak up.

It was the most at-peace you've felt in ages.

"Bug! You have exactly 90 seconds to get down here!" You hollered into the house, walking out the front door while storing your novel in your book bag. Turning forward, you gasped when you nearly ran into Billy - standing before you, fresh as a fucking daisy. "Jesus Christ, Billy, you scared me," you scolded, keys jangling.

"Sorry," he muttered, sighing, hands going to his back pockets, "didn't think you'd be comin' out so quick."

"We gotta catch the bus," you told him, turning to holler again into the open door, "BUG! LET'S GO!"

"Why? You know I normally drive you two."

"Yeah, but we broke-up last night, Bee, didn't think you'd wanna play taxi driver still."

"It's not bein' a taxi - "

"You live on the other side of town," you scoffed, "my house is literally out of your way. So, don't feed me that line." You could see Max leaning on the passenger door from where Billy's Camaro was parked on the street, waving to her; watching her grin and wave back. "What're you doin' here?" You asked him pointedly.

"Look, I know we argued and I got a little mouthy, but I was just pissed off and reacted poorly. But I slept on it, and I'm sorry for what I said. Can we please just try to move on?"

You scoffed, "Billy, you do this so often, I can't keep up anymore. Your insecurity isn't your fault, you're not to be crucified for it, but I can't be your punching bag. You can't lose your cool and yell and get 'mouthy', break up with me, run away for me to deal with shit, and then come back the next day. So, I appreciate the offer, but Bug and I are gonna catch the bus 'cause... Because..."

"Because why, baby?" He asked, voice hazy and thick.

"Because you should really be careful what you wish for, Billy, you might just get it. I think we should honor this break-up."

"What?" Billy breathed in earnest confusion. "No, hold up - "

"Billy, I'm sorry, I am. You know I love you - "

"So you're breaking up with me, 'cause you love me?"

"You're the one who broke up with me, Billy," you reminded, "and yes, I do love you, but I have to love me, too. I can't do them simultaneously, it seems."

"Of course you can - "

"Loving you means disrespecting myself," you told him. "Every time I come back to you, I'm chipping away at who I am. You and I - we used to be so good for each other, Bee. Remember? But now? You're just on this warpath and I refuse to be a casualty. So, yes, I love you, I love you so much, but I don't think we should be together anymore. I need time alone, to breathe and figure out who I am outside of you - and you obviously need time to process and get your shit together. If we stay together, we're only gonna hurt each other. But apart, we can freely move and improve and curate change without risk of harm to the other."

You both just stared at one another, the sound of thundering footsteps heard from behind you. "Bee!" Your sister squealed when she rushed out the door.

"Hey, Bug!" He beamed, bending to scoop her in his arms - just like she wanted. "Woah, woah, woah - when did you get such cool shoes, kid?" He asked her, holding her ankle to show off her tie-dye canvas shoes.

"Daddy got them! Aren't they cool!?"

"So cool."

"Do you want a pair? We can match!"

Billy smirked, setting her on her feet, "Tell you what, Bug, if you can find a pair my size, I'll match with'cha, yeah?"

"I'll tell Daddy!" She gasped, turning to look up at you. "Can we ride with Billy to school?"

"Not to - "

"'Course, kid, c'mon," Billy cut you off, and it was like you never even opened your mouth with the way your sister bounded down the porch, over the yard, and towards Max.

"Billy," you grumbled.

"You really wanna break the kid's heart this early in the day?" He asked, sighing and offering his hand. "C'mon, just until the end of today - she'll have the weekend to process."

"You know we're not a married couple getting a divorce and Bug is our kid?" You grumbled, slapping your hand into his and allowing him to lead you towards his car; where his sister was settling yours in the backseat.

"Might as well be."

"You're dramatic."

He only hummed, opening your passenger door and waiting until you were inside safely before shutting the door. You greeted Max happily in the backseat, Billy getting in the driver's and pulling off safely - slowly - to start towards the elementary school. While the middle and high school conveniently shared a lot, the elementary school was just a couple streets over. Bug was excited to tell the car all about her upcoming "field day", where the entire school participated in these outside courses, doing various physical activities - it was all good, honest fun.

"What team were you on?" Bug asked Max. "I'm on the Blue Team!" She proudly pulled out the bottom of her shirt; showing off the color. "We won last year, too!"

"Woah! That's so cool, you gonna win again this year?" Max asked.

"Uh-huh! Did your team win?"

"We didn't have field day."

"What?" Bug asked, sounding heartbroken.

"They didn't go to school here, Bug," you told her from the passenger seat, "they lived in California. Remember?"

Bug frowned, "You didn't get to play?"

"We had other activities," Max assured, "we just didn't have a whole day of it - your school sounds so cool!"

"You should come!" Bug gasped. "Today! You and Bee should come! Then you could have field day, too!"

Your heart melted listening to Max tell her why she and Billy couldn't - but that she needed Bug to pay extra close, extra special attention to the games so they could all play together later in their very own field day. You didn't have the heart to halt the plans, to tell Bug why that wouldn't be happening.

You felt Billy's eyes on you periodically through the drive, sisters in the back discussing what California was like. Bug was fascinated by the beaches - having never been - and asked all kinds of questions, nearly exploding in excitement when she learned Billy knew how to surf. You knew it was a source of anxiety for him; you knew Billy associated surfing with his mother and that ever since she left, he couldn't ride the waves. He wouldn't. It hurt too bad to look back on shore and miss that bright smile, yellow blonde hair he inherited, loose, free-flowing dress, and floppy straw hat.

Yet talking to Bug, he seemed relatively at ease.

From the back, Max watched as you, who hadn't so much as looked at Billy since he got in the car, reached over for his hand to hold in silent support. He held on tightly.

"All right, Bug," you called when Billy pulled up to the elementary school, getting out to pull the seat forward and assist her out.

"Bye, Max!" She hugged the redhead, then lunged between the seats, "Bye, Billy!"

She clamored out of the car, Billy fixing the seat for you as you knelt on the sidewalk and helped fix her backpack. "You good?" You checked, smirking at her.

"Uh-huh."

"Good. Listen, we'll take the bus home today, okay? Billy's got practice, so, remember - it's bus 104. Got it?"

"Bus 104."

"That's right, good girl. You get on bus 104, it'll take you to the high school and pick me up. All right?"

She took a deep breath, nodding, "I can do this."

"I know you can, Bug. All right, big hug!" You hummed as she wrapped her wee arms around your neck. "Oooooh! All right! That's good stuff!" She pulled back. "Have the best day, Bug. Love you."

"Love you," she messily pecked your cheek before rushing to join the procession of streaming kiddies. You stood straight and dusted off, sliding back into Billy's car, and once clear of the children, let his lead foot drop on the gas and speed into the school lot.

"Jesus," Max grumbled when the car swung into a parking space, "inna rush or something?"

"Just," Billy sighed deeply, shaking his head, "get out. You," he pointed at you, "stay put, we gotta talk." You remained, wishing Max a good day, watching her climb out of the car with her skateboard. As the redhead rode off for the middle school, Billy dropped back into his seat, slammed his door, and lit a cigarette with slightly trembling hands.

Silence echoed between you both, Billy handing over the cigarette mutely; students, peers, and faculty all milled around the Camaro to head into school. Smoke wafted from the rolled down windows. When time, the butt was tossed out and the silence remained.

"Bee," you whispered finally.

"I'm just..." He trailed, sighing, "Trying to savor this. Don't know when I'm gonna have you this close again."

He took your hand gently and stroked it with his thumb, emotion heavy in both your chests. "It's not like we're not gonna see each other again," you whispered.

"Not in the way I want."

"It's not like I want this, either."

"Then why're you doing this?"

You scoffed gently, "It's not me doing a damn thing, Billy, you've already done it all. I'm just holding you to your word because I know how fearful you are of commitment." You tossed his hand to his lap and grabbed your bag, reaching for the door handle, then pausing. "For the record," you ended softly, "I'm sorry, and I love you. I hope you find what you're looking for, Bee."

As you finally climbed from the sports car and into school, you felt like you were breathing air for the first time. Like you were feeling sunshine after a decade underground, like there were springs in your sneakers; vigor in your blood, optimism misting your mind into new possibilities. Yet, behind you, in a navy blue Camaro, Billy loosed two tears before tearing out of the parking lot in a fit of anger. Rage. Sadness. Desperation.

He wasn't seen at school the following week, but by the next weekend, rumors spread that he hooked up with both Allison Scott and Kimberly Jones at Donald Reefer's weekend party - so, you know, he seemed to be handling this break up well. It was what he wanted, after all.

And you? Let's just say, you were finally happy, healthy, feeling confident, rejuvenated, and ready to move forward and ONLY accept that which you KNOW you deserve.

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

[honeycreammilkshake]

"you are me."

i have a lot of thoughts on this whole scene, both shipping and non-shipping ones. the relationship between yuuji and sukuna is honestly the most fascinating and complex one that i have seen in anime, and one of the reasons for that is just how much these two actually understand each other, which i don't think a lot of people realize. yuuji and sukuna see right through each other, more than anyone else does, and i think that's why their bond is far more personal than it seems to be.

yuuji and sukuna are enemies. they hate each other for their opposing ideals and characteristics. yuuji is caring, empathetic, protective, kind, and willing to put his life on the line for both friends and strangers. sukuna is narcissistic, self-absorbed, indifferent to suffering, murderous, unfeeling, and unconcerned with any life other than his own. they seem to be polar opposites in every way, so why would yuuji say something as contradicting as "you are me" to sukuna?

i think it's widely overlooked just how complex yuuji's character is. he's overall a "sweet" person, but he isn't very stable (he has been described by quite a few characters as being a bit "crazy"), he has a high tolerance for disturbing or gory things (he took learning about curses and fighting them very easily), he doesn't question the danger he's been put into (he actually runs headfirst into it), and he can be really violent and vengeful as well.

this is all explored very well in his confrontation with mahito, where he also says "i am to you" to the curse.

why are these scenes so different? mahito and sukuna both killed people yuuji knew and cared about as well as strangers that yuuji would die to protect. shouldn't yuuji be approaching sukuna with the same hate, disgust, and vengeance that he shows to mahito? shouldn't he be lashing out and making sukuna pay for all that he did?

why is he showing his "crazy side" to mahito but not to sukuna?

to give some context to this scene with mahito, the curse wanted yuuji to accept their similarities. and, in the end, yuuji did.

yuuji is acknowledging that he serves as nothing more than a weapon to keep killing the curses of the world, perhaps with no other deeper purpose than that. just like curses only exist to bring misery and prey on humans, yuuji's sole existence at this point is just to act on the orders of sorcerers: to keep eradicating curses and eventually help kill sukuna by dying with him. he doesn't need more meaning or roles than that.

but sukuna doesn't see yuuji as just another cog. he doesn't respect yuuji, true, and he loathes to give the brat any kind of credit. but he knows yuuji is the only one who really, truly cares about sukuna's devastating impact. the death of innocent strangers doesn't affect others quite as much as it does yuuji (even nanami in the vs mahito arc noted how much yuuji cared about the suffering of others).

and many of the other sorcerers are also not as horrified or repulsed by sukuna's actions as yuuji is. in fact, sorcerers and curses alike look up to sukuna. gojo actually seems to respect the king of curse's lifestyle. it feels like yuuji is really the only one to truly despise sukuna for his actions and ideals.

and sukuna knows this. sukuna knows how much the suffering of others gets to yuuji. which is why he gives yuuji such special treatment: he saves a unique brand of torment just for yuuji that he doesn't really give to anyone else.

sukuna intentionally returned control to yuuji's body just for yuuji to witness the massive damage and death that sukuna's domain expansion caused. it killed thousands of people, innocent strangers included.

it led to yuuji breaking down, even wishing for his own death. but yuuji is strong and, deep down, sukuna knows this. yuuji doesn't give up and instead uses his rage to fuel his fight with mahito, where he snaps and shows us his vengeful side. he doesn't need any other reason than mahito being a curse to want to kill him, over and over. that is yuuji's purpose. which seems like an uninteresting and boring one to someone like sukuna.

but for all that sukuna keeps calling yuuji uninteresting and boring, he shows a lot of investment in yuuji's growth and in their fights.

he's even invested enough to show disappointment when yuuji lost to choso. (if he thought yuuji was so weak, why did he seem so bothered by yuuji's loss here?)

and then sukuna looked surprised and curious when choso got hit with some kind of false memory empathetic attack that included yuuji in it. he's having a lot of strong reactions to someone he claims isn't interesting enough for him.

sukuna also loves to aggravate yuuji, somehow knowing how to provoke a strong reaction from him.

there's a lot of interesting things about this scene, one of them being that yuuji refers to sukuna as a "curse" which is technically untrue. sukuna is a sorcerer who used a set of cursed objects to send his soul into the future, but he isn't a curse himself.

but to yuuji, sukuna is nothing more than a curse because he doesn't show any sort of positive traits. sukuna's mindset reflects that of a curse since he only exists to please himself and loves to cultivate the kind of negative emotions curses are born of (fear, hate, jealousy, selfishness, etc).

there's also a clever reference to sukuna being a cannibal through yuuji saying "let's see if you can chew up me and my suffering." yet what we've seen throughout this story is yuuji essentially cannibalizing sukuna by eating his cursed fingers, which he calls the taste really gross. so i wonder... what would yuuji taste like to sukuna?

every human has a unique taste but all of them are fleeting to sukuna. there's no actual meaning or savoring to it. it's just a way for him to pass the time until death.

both yuuji and sukuna are cannibalizing as a form of destruction. but while yuuji is eating the cursed fingers so that he can hold all of sukuna inside of him for them to be exorcised together, sukuna was eating humans simply because he wanted to. he ate whatever he wanted because he was at the top. he is an apex predator with no real rivals or threats. it was for a completely self-absorbed and depraved indulgence while yuuji is giving up his life on this plan to save others.

yuuji and his suffering is the complete antithesis to how sukuna's eating only serves himself. which is very interesting to see when yuuji challenges sukuna to "chew him up." yuuji is proving to be more predator than prey and is far more of a challenge than sukuna wants to admit.

but maybe something about yuuji's resilience does please sukuna? maybe he actually finds worth in yuuji never giving up?

though he still underestimates and discredits yuuji's strength, he actually looks impressed with yuuji and seems even a bit eager to take him on again.

for someone who claims to find yuuji not worth his time, sukuna is showing yuuji far too much special treatment that he doesn't give to anyone else. he even calls yuuji a specific name (kozou) that he doesn't use with anyone else. others are just various offensive terms, but only yuuji seems to have a name just for himself.

sukuna is a really contradicting and complex character, and his relationship with yuuji really shows that.

i've seen a lot of anti-sukuna sentiment after his death, and i understand why a lot of fans hate him and celebrated when he died. however, i think a lot of fans have this somewhat inaccurate view of him being nothing more than a static villain with zero complexities and no chance of any kind of character development.

some of sukuna's most underrated and interesting traits are that he is actually pretty smart (he has an overall plan and is making all the right moves to get there), he's cultured (a poetry snob who hired a chef just to cook him humans instead of eating them raw, and perhaps he even knows more about flowers than he lets on), he shows respect to those he deems worthy and even seeks to learn from them, and he might not actually be the most "evil" person in jjk (which I consider to be kenjaku, but that warrants another post).

overall, sukuna is and has always been more than what he first seems, but a lot of fans don't want to see this or they overlook it.

after sukuna reveals he was an unwanted curse of a child, there was pushback against fans who interpreted this line as sukuna having a tragic backstory that explained his current self.

i understand why these fans don't want sukuna to be a sympathetic villain and i've read posts on how gege writes his villains to be intentionally unsympathetic.

from here (https://x.com/soukatsu_/status/1520796590612566022)

sukuna is the perfect example of a villain that is unsympathetic. he is horrifyingly strong, lives as he pleases, murders people for fun, is a literal cannibal, acts and appears monstrous, and makes our protagonist yuuji suffer over and over again. he represents exactly all the ideals and traits yuuji despises and the two of them are fighting each other because of this.

however, one thing i want to point out is just because sukuna is completely unsympathetic now doesn't mean he couldn't have had an actually tragic past that made him into this.

i believe that sukuna was seen as a curse from his birth on. much like how jogo wanted curses to be the true humans (sukuna calls this jogo essentially wanting to become human) sukuna became purely curse-like to escape being human. whether or not you empathize with him is irrelevant, because after he became the king of curses, sukuna has committed countless irredeemable horrors that even i, as a sukuna fan, don't ever want him to be forgiven or easily justified for doing.

having a tragic past doesn't justify his crimes, it only provides a catalyst for them. it explains why he, who was born human, became more of a curse than some curses are. you don't need to have sympathy for him after that. just like he has no sympathy for those he considers weak and inferior, he has no more reason to be a tragic character.

a lot of people acted like sukuna potentially having a tragic past that turned him into the monster he is now makes him "uncool" or "uncharacteristic" of himself but, to me, it makes his character all the more detailed without changing the fact that he is still purely "evil" and irredeemable.

but does this all make him incapable of character development?

i personally believe that yuuji has been affecting sukuna throughout the whole series, especially in these last few chapters.

i recently came across a post on reddit on why sukuna could never be more than a static villain character. one of the arguments was that gege never intended for sukuna to have any kind of redemption arc.

(https://www.reddit.com/r/Jujutsufolk/comments/16vphxl/sukuna_is_different_from_other_strongest/?rdt=36326)

(now, i couldn't find the original source where this interview came from, and it's not worded very well so i'm thinking it's been quickly translated. and there's always missed meanings and alterations to the original message when translations have been made, especially with japanese. i'm also not sure if the "him" being referred to is mahito or sukuna, but i'm assuming it can apply to both of them.)

this post was made about a year ago, so i assume this interview with gege is also a bit dated now. i think gege is intentionally vague in their interviews because they don't want to reveal too much, but my own interpretation of this post is that gege never intended for sukuna to get any sort of redemption because he is incapable of being redeemed through any kind of love.

and i agree with that. i don't want sukuna to get redemption. what he has done is unforgivable and i don't want him to get off easy for it. but him showing character development is not the same as him getting redemption. and him being affected by love isn't the same as him fully accepting it either.

in these last few chapters, yuuji has offered mercy to sukuna multiple times, despite how even he himself considered it to be a lost cause.

as i wrote earlier, yuuji is the only character who really understands how terrible and curse-like sukuna is. he hates sukuna on this fact alone. yuuji told mahito that his purpose is to kill curses, and sukuna - in the end - is nothing more than just another curse.

so why did yuuji suddenly change all that up and show empathy and genuine concern for sukuna in these last few chapters? why was he trying so hard to convince sukuna that they can co-exist?

one of my sukuita-cult friends (flight-of-death) pointed out that during his fight with yuuji, sukuna explicitly recalled his conversation with kashimo about not needing another person to fulfill him.

while sukuna saying he didn't anyone else to fulfill him was relevant during his discussion with kashimo, it's very interesting that he was remembering his own exact words about it while facing down yuuji, who was making sukuna doubt some of his previous statements.

my friend has convinced me that sukuna and yuuji have found a "reluctant fulfillment" in each other. and i think this is proving to be very much possible.

yuuji was alone most of his life. without wasuke there for him, he could have turned into a ruthless monster like sukuna. yuuji has so much physical and emotional strength, but it was the catalyst of wasuke's death that motivated yuuji to use that strength for good. he might have chosen to be selfish and only concerned with his own wants and needs like sukuna did, but wasuke provided the role yuuji needed to be the selfless person he is now.

i think that yuuji, in all his loneliness, found a kind of closeness to sukuna, even if it was unwanted. and sukuna has definitely been affected by yuuji, too.

as sukuna is dying, megumi finally regains control. he notices how sukuna seems to be scared of death.

sukuna genuinely does look concerned about dying. his mouths are in the shape of a grin but are turned upside down and look more like actual dread. for someone who claimed that eating people was only a way to pass the time until death, sukuna now looks unwilling to die.

i think that this shows that sukuna gained some sort of respect for life, even if it was only in his will to keep living. he does seem to want to keep existing, and it's interesting that it's what yuuji offered him.

yuuji was created by kenjaku to be sukuna's vessel. the sorcerers wanted to use yuuji as a vessel to hunt down all the cursed fingers so that yuuji and sukuna would die together. no matter how you see it, sukuna and yuuji were bound to end up either living or dying together. that is their fate. but now that he has more power in making his own choices, yuuji seems to genuinely want to share the kinder fate with sukuna: to live together. and if you think about it, them coexisting makes a lot of sense.

sukuna has been described as a natural disaster, so how can yuuji have any kind of empathy for something as devastating and unfeeling as an earthquake or a tsunami? in truth, the human race has been coexisting with natural disasters since the beginning - especially japan, which has weathered many terrible calamities. yuuji is a lot like the embodiment of the resilience and strength needed to survive such disasters, so i think he's more than capable of handling a life with sukuna, especially if sukuna is far more subdued.

and sukuna being allowed to live isn't redemption at all. though it would be a form of character development for him, it would still be one of the most selfish things he could do, as it would mean condemning yuuji to an indefinite amount of time with sukuna.

but yuuji seems to want that. he is willingly offering up the rest of his life to sukuna, for them to live together.

personally, i don't consider this to be a form of redemption in any way. he is proving sukuna's mindset wrong, not forgiving him. just accepting his nature and still offering a way to coexist.

i think that by offering this to sukuna, yuuji would essentially become that person that sukuna claims he doesn't need to feel fulfillment. but it's clear to me sukuna wasn't satisfied with his life in the past, since he couldn't offer an explanation to kashimo about why he chose to cross the ages as cursed objects. he is obviously lying or beginning to doubt his own words.

and i think that's why he chose death.

accepting yuuji's mercy, finding that fulfillment sukuna denies needing, would be very un-curselike of him and he can't have that. he would rather be seen as an inhuman monster than something capable of accepting love.

so in the end, sukuna is doing exactly what gege said he would: rejecting love and rejecting anything that makes him less of a curse.

but yuuji isn't easily pushed away. he kept coming back for wasuke and i think that if he really does care that much about sukuna, that if he's wiling to live with him even if no one else accepts it, he won't let sukuna go without more of a fight either.

they can still find fulfilment in each other. they are capable of coexisting. and if sukuna decides to make that change, it doesn't necessarily mean he's completely broken character. and if they don't get to survive together in this lifetime, there's still a good chance for change if they're reincarnated.

[holmsister]

I think one of the things Dungeon Meshi is definitely about is how different people deal with being an outsider/marginalised/neurodivergent/what have you and basically what im getting at is that Kabru is TEXTBOOK "high functioning [insert diagnosis here]". Its that how they say it still? Don't care.

Basically. This man shows up and you listens to him talk and see how his party treats him and you think. Oh this is a cool guy who has his shit together. And then after like two pages you find out that he has constant flashbacks to Utaya that make him completely freeze, anxiety attacks, thought spirals, is incapable of analyzing his own feelings, is a stuttering mess when the stakes are high, has never done a chore in his life, keeps putting himself in triggering situations and re-traumatising himself, and the icing on the cake is when you read the extra material and it turns out he regularly forgets to eat and lives in a depression nest of dirty clothes and self-medicates insomnia with alcohol and also is 22. Which also kind of puts Misilril not wanting to let him go in another light - yeah for sure she's controlling and infantilising and also its not like she was really helping his issues but also she was not entirely wrong in her judgement. This man does NOT know how to take care of himself. He knows how to do the bare minimum so when he shows up at work the next day he can fool his coworkers into thinking hes got it together enough. For a bit.

He is DEEPLY unwell and he knows it but he is carried by the desperate wish to avoid another catastrophe. If he stops for a moment he KNOWS he'll collapse so he doesn't.

I also think this is why him acting nurse to Mithrun is such an important part of his arc. Its like. This person who has spent all of his adult life focused on a single objective disregarding everything else is faced with what happens when you do that for too long. And the result is a wet tissue of a creature who looks like he doesn't know where he is most of the time.

He is a man on the brink. I have no doubt he felt relieved when he decided he could trust Laios - not even in a Labru way, straight up because he knew he could not keep going like this.

But also like. Of all the characters in the manga, I think Senshi and Kabru are the most lonely ones. Except Senshi seems to be OK with solitude - for sure it's not entirely healthy to be alone for as long as he was but he definitely did well enough. He is very good at taking care of himself. Meanwhile Kabru *knows* a lot of people but can you really say he has friends? Rin, maybe, arguably, but even she does not seem to truly know him, you know? He keeps himself hidden from everyone. I think the only time we see him entirely honest is when he says to Laios that he wanted to be his friend, and hes so shocked when it comes out, you can tell he did not mean to say it. And differently from Senshi, he does NOT fare well alone. He likes people, he needs people. Again compare with Mithrun - he has like a squad of people taking care of him. If Kabru had a breakdown of that size can you say his party would go out of its way to help? Im not sure. Not because they're bad people, but because he's simply not that intimate with any of them.

Idk man it just struck me all of a sudden. Laios is weird and offputting and doesn't care about other humans the way Kabru does and YET he is infinitely more successful at building deep, meaningful relationships and taking care of himself as well. I think this is part of why Kabru is so fascinated with him as well. He can tell Laios has something he doesn't have. Wait this is turning into a whole another post I'll write this next time.

[honeyydrunk]

reasons for some of the jjk men on why i would and wouldn't fuck them. i think now would be a good time to mention that uh i'm not going to be saying no to anyone. gege akutami knew what would sell.

starting off strong with GOJO SATORU daddy's home home for me i know i've been waiting no lube no protection all night all day any position any location any time no matter what he asks even if it hurts me i'll just endlessly over and over again go towards you.

now WHY would i climb the beanstalk? let's go through the reasons. - he's hot i remember the teacher giving him her number - he's tall bro was planned to be made into a coathanger bc of those japanese genetics defying legs. and you know if he's tall then proportionately..... - he's fast in 299 seconds gojo satoru had slaughtered a train's worth of transfigured humans - his voice "you cryin?" "this is where you're weak right?" it doesn't matter i watched jjk in sub, i went onto youtube and listened to the uploaded audios of the dub

but why i'm not fucking that man until failure 😔 ?! - i'm not geto suguru. i may be delusional but i'm not blind. even kenjaku wasn't able to sway him, and he WAS suguru. - he's too whimsical for my liking. bro would answer a call while midstroke, teleport out, then return like 30 minutes later with souvenirs and go "yeah let's continue!!"

🎀 nanami kento 🎀 to me it's not just sex. i wish to marry someone like him. i'm ridiculously close to manifesting 'a husband like nanami kento'. as someone who let's just say is situated in the finance sector, no one wants that man more than me. it's embarrassing how nanami is like a living cheat code to everything i've ever wanted.

oh for to be a lawyer representing his office firm, occasionally coming in every few months and parading in mini skirts and high heels. acting as if we're only acquaintances during the meeting. and after the deposition we end up in the backseat of his car during his lunch break. seriously hoping no one from the office comes down and decides to check why his car is 'moving' like that. 🎀 why i'm going to give him 'marry me head' 🎀 (this is going to be a long list)

- he's a tall guy in finance. - he's blonde but in a hot way - his technique is finding someone's weak spots. - he's absolutely built - he takes things seriously. bro would take you throughly. - i have a thing for successful men - he pulls hair - he kills curses effortlessly - he's very good at being relaxed while in a fight - island holiday sex - that office attire with the suit does things - when he takes off the tie and wraps it around his hand, he should be wrapping it around my wrists. - he likes bread? i can give him cake - oh his job must be so stressful isn't it such a good thing i'm really good at massages - stability in this economy is like the hottest thing istfg - i've never seen a not HAWT nanami cosplayer (no one try and prove me wrong) - when he's mad it's crazy hot

why i'm sadly not riding that man until he places a ring on my finger in the malaysian sunset? - he wouldn't want a relationship. not because he doesn't desire one, but due to the demanding nature jujutsu sorcery, not only would that drain him out too much to care, but also because he wouldn't want to put his partner through the mental challenges of not knowing whether he'd return alive or death. and the mental challenges it would give his partner if he died. - i'm not 27. he gives me the horrific (for me) vibes that he'd only consider a relationship with someone who he's the same age as. - my japanese skills are really bad that makes communication in a relationship a problem.

🙈 geto suguru 🙈 hes beautiful, getting slightly too close to my type for comfort, but whether i could ignore my grievances with his lifestyle choices is yet to be debated. i have a lot of grievances with that why i would beg him to consider a one night stand w this monkey?!: - tall hot built how many times am i going to have to say tall hot built throughout this post. we KNOW the jjk men are fine. for sex the standard really is just if they're hot. - his hair his soft long black flowing princess hair everyday i thank twice and loona stans for existing. your lesbianism has stolen the scissors away from the hands of men. thank you for your service..

- he's so soft when treating people he likes i like people being nice to me

- i hate the clothes he wears as a cult leader are you pregnant with all those curses you're swallowing? like the way kenjaku definitely didn't swallow. because that outfit looks like villain maternity wear. the only upside is that it makes me even more motivated to get that man OUT of his clothes.

- something about his gentleman type personality with his either cult leader flair or his extreme dedication has me going crazy delusional as with nanami i am weak to men that have corporate expertise. it should scare me the way i cave. like okay i'll bleach my hair white and get blue contacts if that's what it takes to have you. please charm me and make me delusional

- he's hot while killing people aside from financially successful gentlemen, unfortunately i have the horrific ailment of snapping the minute i see a crazy guy with blood on his face that kills people with ease. and that one scene where he DECIMATED that guy and wiped the blood of his cheek ruined me

why i'm staying far FAR FAR FAR away - i may relate to gojo satoru but i'm not him bro isn't touching me. i'm not his blue eyed the strongest bc i'm gojo because i'm the strongest coat hanger overconfident sweet lover hates moral arguments high school bittersweet situationship.

- i actually HATE his moral argument due to the balance of equilibrium and market forces whatever, if jujutsu sorcerers were meant to be the prevailing thingy then they would be so. i could go into more detail but let's just say i couldn't be gojo because how could i be so selfless to let the situationship of my life go to chase a dream he'll never achieve for an argument that's wrong because he feels it to be more important than me. - he's got the megumi potential man effect "worst curse user" R U SRS? be fr. i know he handed tokyo student's asses back to them but i think he's just a heartbroken guy who's a little bad and has a goal or whatever. bro is NOT the worst curse user. - can't figure out if i would mind lobotomied geto or not. but he would definitely be freakier after those backshots he took. - his mouth probably tastes like a rag used to clean shit and vomit - to my knowledge i am not a jujutsu sorcerer

choso !! choso !! choso !! why i would?! OFC I WOULD

- this again at some point saying tall hot and built starts to get too repetitive. but when he pulled his clothing to the side during that fight with yuuji, i was staring for TOO LONG. - i think his blackhead pore strip is cute. - his personality is ridiculously cute. obviously this may sound odd but i think we can gather i'm rather odd. in MY opinion, it's cute. like idk his sincerity in his choices is very cute. - i know i could make him blush so easily.

why i wouldn't.... (unfortunately) - i'm not his brother if there's one thing i know about that man is that he is dedicated to his brothers. he will not hear anything i have to say and simply ignore me for i am not his brother i am a random person. - i don't want to carry on kenjaku's bloodline - family reunions w that man would be ridiculous - the cursed womb paintings 1-3 is a concept i don't wish to partake in

fushiguro toji he's a real one. didn't like his family so he finds himself a cute wife. he's absolutely goated w those skills. his choices with child raising leave me seriously concerned with what might happen after our sexual activities. i mean the minute he realises who megumi was after he resurrected he just went and killed himself. CRAZY. but yeah i'd fuck him - he's built - he's built - he had to make megumi somehow - bros got grey sweatpants and a compression shirt - he has that heavenly pact for physical prowess he should USE IT - lowkey like how the scar looks - he wants to hit core this is one way to do it - he's built - i can tell he would be good in bed call it a 7th sense

why i wouldn't: - he'd steal everything i own while i'm asleep - id have to pay him to fuck me - i am not his original wife, he's not going to want me. - i don't want those crazy zenin clan freaks knowing who i am - do i want him to traumatise my kid when hes revived again? - i don't like gambling addictions

sukuna ryomen.....

would...... - 4 arms - 2 dicks - doesn't he have a tongue on his stomach? - built - king of curses he can be the king of this pussy - i wanna ride him so bad while he sits on that throne of his - ngl whatever that white kimono he wears is hot - his voice - he's lowkey funny - he's hot i'm not even going to bother denying

why i wouldn't: - i'm not megumi - bro would kill me before i ask him if i can suck him off - why would he agree? - if i survived i feel i would be severely looked down upon for this choice of mine

mahito.... (hella ashamed for this not even lying) would: - he's built - he can change his body to anything wouldn't: - he'd kill me and he's not like nanami where death would be worth it for him

@saradika TSYM !! i googled and found the free spacers

next "why i wouldn't and wouldn't" will be the neos the nct boys (however long that takes with HOW MANY? members?)

[hazelfoureyes]

bedside manner

Lucifer x Sick Reader with heart condition (fluffy)

An ask from @nyx91 💖

It wouldn’t be hell if everyone was perfectly healthy; perfectly fit.

But, a counter point, hell wasn’t made to hurt. It was made to be full of people who caused pain and then, hopefully, spread it. The punishment was being in the company of the punished.

However Lucifer was no heartless sinner. No, in fact, his heart fell to his heels when Charlie came to his office in a worried huff. Another spell had hit you, another instance where he was reminded of the fragility of human souls.

Knocking, he realized quickly how thoughtless that was. By the time he opened the door he found you crumpled on the floor. You’d resigned yourself to not making it to the door and got comfortable on your knees.

“Ffffuck, I shouldn’t have knocked. I should have just— no don’t try to get up.” Small but strong hands hooked under your back and behind your knees. You weren’t weightless, but for Lucifer your physical self was barely noticeable compared to the power of an angel. Fallen or not, carrying you back to your bed was easy. It made you feel… small. Not small as in insignificant, small as in safe. Something the king of hell could cradle and tuck into his breast pocket to ensure your continuous care.

He sank onto the bed, trying to act cool and calm despite the blonde hairs out of place. He had run down to your room, forgetting he was capable of magic in his panic to confirm your condition.

When you tried to sit up, to offer some kind of normal greeting, you found your head akin to a fish bowl tilted too far forward. You were in danger of tipping over and spilling what remained of your consciousness.

“Hey now,” Luci’s hands gently pushed against your shoulders. “I didn’t get you back to bed just to have you fall out again.”

You attempted a smile, but you were past the point of faking it. There’s always a line that’s crossed when pain is concerned, when nerves get too bare and the mind too brittle to conceal it for the sake of niceties. Pain too quickly monopolized the body’s mental resources. All of the energy left in you was focused on breathing, on checking the rhythm of your heart. Was it speeding up? Or perhaps now it was becoming too slow… was that skipped beat an omen? Would the next one come?

His eyes came to the little white cube clutched in your hand. He’d become accustomed to it by now. Slipping it on your index finger’s tip he watched the numbers change. While he never spent much time around humans on earth, he understood when a heart was going haywire. He knew when the little peaks and valleys broke their pattern it wasn’t normal. He couldn’t understand how you felt but he wished he could do more than understand. If his hand could touch yours and take all the discomfort onto himself, he’d never let you go.

The paleness of your face caught his attention next. You looked ill. A little frightened.

“Would you like some food? I could get you anything you desire. No sacrifice needed.” A joke, but again, jokes don’t override exhaustion. You shook your head, letting a hand snake over to his and gently take hold.

“I don’t think I can stomach it.”

He nodded. Noticing the drink on your nightstand he handed it to you as some alternative. Lucifer watched your hands struggle to grip the drink’s lid strong enough to twist it open. “Let me.” He took it back, another ball dropped in his attempt to comfort you.

The way your fingers trembled as they lifted higher to receive the drink made his own heart ache. He brought it to your lips and slowly poured it into your mouth.

“What do you need, kitten?” He set the bottle back down within reach for you.

“A warm distraction.” Your eyes didn’t meet his. Embarrassment keeping them on your hands.

Lucifer was new to many things, and rusty with far more. But doting on someone special came naturally to him. Perhaps too much so, given how quickly eden’s vacancy sign lit up after his arrival.

He slid in bed beside you, pulling your head onto his chest, and took out his phone. “I made a stop motion of my ducks…” he scrolled through his apps.

His voice drowned out the paranoid pounding in your ears, so you leaned in closer.

It didn’t numb the pain, or return vigor to your body, but the purr of his chest as he spoke helped you focus on something else for a little while. And that was enough.

[badasgirl]

accidentally fell in love

bada lee x fem!reader

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒── ──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

when you’re in love with your best friend who constantly goes on date after date, what do you do? what if that best friend also happens to be oblivious as can be?

genre: fluff, angst (my bad), suggestive, best friends to lovers

warnings: oblivious!bada x jealous!reader, bada calls reader her princess, some tension, suggestive with a makeout scene towards the end, no caps on purpose (booo ik terrible grammar).

author’s note: this was not proofread so please be easy on me. anyways, yayyy! i am finally back after a while 🤭 rewriting this made me cry so it took a while and the finale made me really emotional (i still am emotional LMAO) so i ended up pushing this back. thank you for being patient! i hope you all enjoy!

word count: ~3.2k

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒── ──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

you and bada lee have been best friends since one faithful day in middle school. it was a simple mistake really, you had forgotten a pencil for an exam and the teacher refused to give you one. you had to take the exam or else you could possibly fail the class. you had began to tear up and panic as the exam was about to begin and there was no pencil insight for you. luckily amidst your panic, the tall girl behind you tapped your shoulder and quickly snuck you a pencil to use. since that day, you vowed to be by her side and be her best friend forever.

and trust me, since that day you never left each other’s sides. you two were inseparable. you both were now in your final year of university and of course you shared an apartment together. bada majored in dance and you majored in art, specifically focusing in photography. naturally, a lot of the photos you took included bada, she was like your muse. if you ever needed to do a last minute project, she was always down to help. for bada, you too were like her muse for dance, but in a different way. whenever she had difficulties creating or finishing a choreography, she had to see you. she claimed that just by seeing you, you cleared her foggy mind and gave her so much inspiration. how could someone not fall for her? you did.

unfortunately for you, you were deeply in love with your best friend. in fact, she was your lesbian awakening in high school. you knew she liked anyone regardless of gender, however she never seemed to show interest in you at all. well, never directly.

recently, she was always going on dates with guys and coming back home complaining to you. today was one of those days. you were laying down on the couch in your pajama shorts and your (bada’s) t-shirt, watching something on your phone when bada entered the apartment with a loud sigh. she kicked off her shoes and threw her bag on the floor before taking her tall body and laying on top of you, basically smothering you.

“bada, what happened? also you’re crushing me” you said as you tried to push her off you slightly. the girl just snuggled into you more before loudly whining like a kicked puppy.

“princess, it was so terrible. he was sooo full of himself.” bada said tiredly. “he acted like he was doing me a favor by going on a date! i was the one doing him a favor if anything!” she complained passionately as she finally sat up a bit, just to give you enough room to sit up and hold the big human-sized puppy in your lap.

you patted her head softly as you said “bada, i have told you to stop going on every single date that someone asks you out on. especially this guy, seojun is a literal known asshole.”

the tall girl sighed knowing you were right. “i know, but i thought maybe it was just gossip you know? god, i wish these guys were like you y/n…so sweet and caring, never full of themselves. if they were like you, they’d be perfect. i’d immediately fall for them and make them mine.”

you blushed slightly but your heart broke at the same time. you slightly balled up your fists out of jealousy, but bada didn’t notice. you honestly hated hearing about your best friend’s dates. not only did they make you jealous, but bada always said if they were more like you she’d actually date them. “what does she even mean by that?” is something you’ve always wondered. if you’re so perfect for her, why won’t she date you?

you pushed your feelings aside as you smiled at bada and tapped her thigh signaling her to get up. “bada, you’ll find someone perfect for you, trust me. you just need to give it time and going on every date possible won’t help you.” you told her sincerely as you both got up from the couch.

bada nodded in agreement with you before pulling you in a hug. she rested her head atop yours before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “thank you y/n, you’re right. what would i do without you, my best friend.” she smiled at you before taking her bag from the floor and heading to her room to get ready for bed.

however, all you could do was just stand there in the middle of the living room. of course, you were friendzoned time and time again. you hated how bada could make you feel like you were only person she wanted or needed one second and then remind you of your place the next. you let a few tears fall down your face before quickly wiping them and going to your room to sulk over being stuck in the friendzone.

────────────────────────────────────────────

the next day was definitely one of the shittiest days you’ve had in a while. to begin, you overslept and missed your first class because you were up all night thinking about bada and how much it hurt your heart to see her with shitty people and not you. then if that wasn’t enough, you spilled your energy drink all over your computer in the middle of your second class. fortunately for you, it wasn’t damaged. however, there was nothing to clean it with in the class and the closest bathroom had no paper towels to wipe it clean with. you were running out of time to make it to your last class, so you had to end up carrying a sticky computer in your bag halfway across campus so wouldn’t be late. then to top everything off, when you finally went to one of the dining halls after your last class, they ran out of the one meal you like there. you sat in defeat at one of the tables with arms on the table and your head resting on your arms.

bada currently had 20 minutes before her next practice started up, so she decided to head to the dining hall. she figured you’d also be there after a long day of classes, she knew your schedule like the back of her hand. bada spotted you at one of the tables with your head down, she immediately went over and patted your head softly.

your head lifted up slowly and your eyes met hers. “hey sleepyhead, why are you napping here?” bada asked grinning at you as she sat down next to you.

you sighed and fixed your hair. “i’m not napping, just drained” was all you could really say. you didn’t really feel like explaining the whole timeline of events that occurred. bada nodded her head in response before giggling to herself.

you looked at her with a confused face. “what’s so funny?” you asked her curiously.

“nothing really, it’s just i’m going on the blind date later after practice and i think the guy might be daehyun! you know the guy from your major.” bada explained while chuckling about thinking of going on a date with a fairly popular guy you know due to being in the same major and working together before.

this was your last straw. not only had you had a very terrible day, but now bada’s going on another date. you guess nothing you said last night mattered to her at all. you felt as if you don’t matter to her at all. you had began to accept being friendzoned, but now she’s completely ignoring what you tell her? what will happen when she starts actually dating someone, will she just ignore you all together?

tears brimmed your eyes as you quickly got up from the table and harshly grabbed your bag. you looked at her, your voice unsteady before saying “i don’t care, do what you want. have fun on your date bada, don’t bother complaining about it to me later because i’m not listening anymore.”

you walked off before bada could register what was even happening. she stood up once she finally realized what was going on and went to look for you, however you had walked far enough away for her to not see you anymore. she immediately pulled out her phone to text you.

────────────────────────────────────────────

you made your way back to your shared apartment, crying your eyes out on the way home. “why are you so emotional? were you too hard on bada?” were the things you thought of on your walk back home. once you reached the complex, you quickly made it to your unit and went inside. all you could manage to do was take your shoes off before slowly walking over to your room, throwing your bag to the side, and flopping face first onto your bed. you curled up in a ball and cried your eyes out again. every insecurity you had about your friendship with bada came to the surface. even if she didn’t love you romantically, how could she just ignore your advice time after time if you’re her supposed best friend. how could she not realize the right choice has been in-front of her the whole time. she wanted every quality about you in the person she dated, so why not just date you? did she find you that repulsive?

you were wallowing in your thoughts for a while before you decided to check your phone. you felt it buzz as you walked home, but you were too focused on just making it home to check. your notifications revealed 4 missed calls and 10 texts in a row, all from bada. they all happened about 20 minutes ago.

my sea 🌊

——————————

y/n

are you okay???

did i upset you??

where did you go?

are you going home?

y/n princess please tell me you’re home safely, i’m worried.

i hope you’re alright, please don’t cry anymore.

i’m sorry i don’t know what i did, but that doesn’t matter i just need you to be okay

princess?

please let me know when you see this, let me know you’re safe.

you felt like crying even more after reading bada’s texts. maybe you were the one who fucked up. you didn’t want the girl to panic too much and actually call the police, so you mustered up all your energy to text her back.

you

———————

i’m home, i’m fine.

you shut off your phone and threw it to the side as you slowly let more tears fall and sleep over take you. the day was so draining, your body couldn’t help but want to give into sleeping.

────────────────────────────────────────────

the moment bada received your text, she immediately grabbed her stuff and ran out of practice. she ran over to the nearest convenience store to grab a bunch of all of your favorite snacks and drink: fruit jellies, potato chips, and strawberry milk. she had no idea as to why you suddenly became so upset, but the only thing on her mind was to make you feel better. once she purchased everything, bada rushed to your shared apartment quickly.

after you had barely fallen asleep for maybe 45 minutes, you heard a knock at your bedroom door and someone softly calling your name. you assumed it must be bada. you sighed deeply, rubbing your eyes awake. you honestly didn’t know how to react or what to do at this point.

“princess? you awake?” bada asked softly while gripping onto the plastic bag holding the things she got for you.

“go away bada, i’m fine” you mumbled at the door praying she could hear you.

that answer wasn’t good enough for bada. she may be oblivious to a lot of things, but she always knew when you didn’t feel okay. she slowly opened the door and looked at you balled up figure on your bed. the tall girl placed the bag of snacks on your desk and went to sit next to you on your bed. you huffed, sat up, and turned to face the taller girl.

“bada what don’t you understand about “go away” or “i’m fine”?” you asked the girl next to you tiredly. “i’m so tired just leave okay?” you pleaded.

“y/n i can tell you’re not fine, don’t lie to me now. we’re best friends.” bada said seriously looking you in your eyes.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes at her statement. bada tilted her head in confusion at your actions.

“what does that mean?” the oblivious girl asked.

“bada, if we’re seriously best friends…then why do you ignore and throw away every piece of advice i give you?” you started to get worked up, tears already brimming at your eyes again. “you act like you listen to what i say and you cherish it, but in reality you never do.” you said with your voice beginning to get shaky.

“y/n what-“

you cut off your best friend immediately. “don’t ask me what i mean because you know what i’m talking about. i tell you that going on a bunch of dates won’t help you find the one who deserves your love, you agree, say you appreciate me so much and wish you dated someone like me, and then turn around a few days later to go on dates.” you said as tears slowly began to fall down your face. you could barely think about what you were saying at the point, you were just speaking. bada sat there silently in shock listening to you explain everything.

“and bada you always do this. sure, it’s my fault that i accidentally fell in love with my best friend, so yeah seeing you go on all these failed dates and you saying you wish they were like me always make me jealous. but as your best friend it breaks my heart ten times more to see you just waste your time on these losers and just tossing me to the side.” you said as you were fully crying at this point. you were so deep in your emotions you didn’t even realize you just confessed your love to your best friend.

it took bada a while to understand what you had just said but once she did, she immediately started crying with you. you were very confused to see bada cry along with you. you were going to ask why she had began crying but she had said “you’re in love with me y/n?”

you were so shocked as you didn’t even realize what you had said until she said something, you gasped at the realization and looked up at bada, now you were afraid. even though you were upset with bada, you didn’t want to lose her all together.

“bada wait i-“

“no y/n, be honest with me…are you seriously in love with me?” bada asked looking into your eyes, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly in hers.

you looked down, unable to face her. “yes bada, i’ve been in love with you for years. you were even the reason why i realized i was a lesbian, since i’m telling you everything…” you laughed slightly out of embarrassment.

bada couldn’t help but to smile at your confession through her tears “y/n- no my princess, i should have just been honest with you and myself. i also fell in love with my best friend. i thought going on all these dates wishing they were you would maybe help. i never knew you could feel the same way, i was so oblivious. i am so so sorry i hurt you in the process, i never wanted to do that. you are the most important person to me. i love you so much princess.” bada confessed to you while still holding onto your hands. your head shot up at her confession and you looked at her in her eyes to make sure she was being serious. you could tell she was being serious so you couldn’t help but cry out of happiness.

bada pulled you into her and hugged you tightly. you wrapped your arms around her waist and cried into her chest. she let her tears fall freely as well as she held you in her arms as her own.

once you both calmed down, bada pulled away to look at your pretty face and admire the girl she loved so much. she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and smiled at you. you smiled back at bada and giggled.

“does this mean…we’re girlfriends?” you questioned shyly.

bada chuckled at your shyness before nodding. “yes, yes you’re my girlfriend and i’m yours princess.”

you giggled and placed a quick peck to bada’s lips, still holding her close. bada blushed at the peck before bringing you back into her and kissing your lips softly. you both sat there letting that kiss make up for the lost time that you could’ve been together.

when bada pulled away from the kiss, you whined and looked up at the taller girl with puppy eyes. bada laughed at your actions before smirking down at you.

“why? does my princess want more?” your girlfriend teased you while rubbing her hands up and down your sides. you nodded quickly in response before stretching your neck back up to meet her lips.

bada deepened the kiss, biting your lips softly. your kisses got messier and filled with more and more passion. you were holding onto bada for dear life as she licked across your lips, signaling you that she wanted in. you let her have access so easily, her tongue easily dominated yours as you both continued to hold each other close and make out on your bed. the whimpers and moans you both let out were swallowed by the other within your kisses.

eventually after you both pulled away to catch your breaths, you spotted the plastic grocery bag on your desk.

“baby what’s that?” you questioned softly while pointing at the bag with your finger.

bada blushed at the pet name you gave her before answering you. “it’s all of your favorites princess! fruit jellies, strawberry milk, and potato chips. i bought them earlier to try to make you feel better.”

you smiled up at your girlfriend giggling at the sweet action. “you’re perfect, oblivious as hell, but perfect. i’m so lucky” you said sweetly while getting up to get the bag of snacks.

bada watched you get up as she shook her head in disagreement. “princess, i’m definitely the lucky one, you’re the best girlfriend i could have asked for. i should have really just dated you from the start…” bada trailed off as her face turned into a pout.

you returned to the bed with your snacks acquired and kissed the cute pout off of bada’s face. after that quick kiss, she was nothing but smiles.

“now hush you big puppy, let’s not focus on the lost time. let’s just focus on us now.” you stated as you snuggled into bada.

bada held you close as you snuggled into her. she knew you were right, there’s no use in dwelling on what already happened. all she wanted to do now was create new amazing memories with you.

bada looked at you while smiling and said “so a movie and snacks?”

you chuckled and smiled back at her “you read my mind baby.”

[moonyswritinq]

runs in the family — platonic! edwin payne x sibling! gn reader

❝ RUNS IN THE FAMILY ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ Edwin had been dead for decades and you had wandered the earth as a ghost in search for him. Who would have thought that you would find him in a small town in America, just strolling down the street?

PAIRING ➢ platonic! edwin payne x sibling! gender neutral reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ mentions of death, kind of flirty reader, not much more warning needed than that, takes place end of chapter three, so spoilers?? not beta read

WORD COUNT ➢ 2.7 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ seeing as the reader is written as a sibling to Edwin it is implied they are biologically related and therefore caucasian. But since I have not specified anything the reader could just as well be adopted and of another ethnicity, so I leave it up to be your choice.

MASTERLIST, TAG LIST

It had been a hundred years.

A century had gone by since you died. And still you had not managed to finish your business in order to move on to the afterlife. How could you? When your older brother had mysteriously gone missing from his boarding school, simply presumed dead, and labeled as ‘an act of God’ and nothing else had happened. No one made inquiries. No one bothered to try to do him justice.

No one cared.

And it infuriated you. So much to the point of taking up the quest of finding him yourself. But no one knew anything, nor cared to tell you anything, so you were unable to find anything worthy of interest. Edwin simply did not matter to anyone besides you—even your parents were frustratingly unhelpful. It broke your heart. You didn’t want to live in a world that didn’t care about its people. Luckily, you didn’t have to for long.

It happened a year after you graduated from high school, making you three years older than the age Edwin  had been when he disappeared. As soon as you’d completed school you had gotten out of your conservative town, opting to travel to London instead to settle down there. The aftermath of the war had just calmed down and you thought you could get a new start. You hadn’t entirely left the business of Edwin behind you, but knowing there was nothing more you could do for him settled your guilt slightly.

When you had finally started getting used to the idea of Edwin actually being gone and of the possibility of moving on with your life, you died. A simple case of wrong place, wrong time in a robbery. And you reckoned some part of you weren’t completely ready to let go of Edwin because you had woken up again, as a ghost.

It was strange at first, feeling nothing but still being there, invisible to everyone but yourself. And it hadn’t hurt much—you had died immediately.

What should have been a tragedy left you feeling nothing but relief. You were finally free from the world’s boundaries and rules and the idiotic people that wouldn’t help your brother. Then being able to travel anywhere you wanted, speak to other dead people, and uncover all the supernatural entities that had been hiding under your nose your whole living life was more than you could have wished for. Was it possible Edwin could also be somewhere? Wandering around as a ghost, the same as you?

The thought was too good to even hope to be true. As it turns out, it was.

You visited all the places Edwin had been or he had talked about going to or anywhere you could have imagined his ghost to have gone. But there were no signs of him—at least no signs that you could find. No one had any information about your brother. It almost left you feeling like how you had when you were alive. Your world had gone from the bright colours of hope back to the dull monochromaticity that your life had been.

For years you had wandered the planet, going from country to country, adapting to the changing years and humanity’s new technology. It interested you to figure out the new things that were invented and to keep up with the modern world—not to talk about all the different ghosts, people, and other supernatural beings you met. While it was nice to travel around without a clear goal, your mind was constantly stuck on the thought of your brother being alone somewhere.

You needn’t have worried though, you realised, when you had found yourself in the small town of Port Townshend, walking down the street and seeing a very familiar face. Right across the road, a figure clad in a brown coat was walking with an all too rigid posture and pursing his lips at the teenagers surrounding him. You were too stunned to speak, your tongue felt as if it were locked, unable to voice any of the jumble of thoughts currently bouncing through your mind.

“Edwin?” you croaked, voice strained as it fought against the constricting of your throat. You hurriedly ran to cross the road, narrowly missing a car. It wouldn’t have hurt, but habits die hard—even if it had been a hundred years since you were alive. And so you let out a loud curse, swivelling out of its path, “Oh, bloody hell!”

When you turned to continue to the other side of the street you already found a familiar pair of eyes locked onto yours. Edwin had stopped completely in his path and with his mouth agape, arms hanging by his side. You couldn’t fight the grin that made its way to your face and broke out in a run, crashing into his frame with a hug.

“Wha—” he stumbled, before embracing you back and nestling his face into your shoulder.

It felt as if he would never let you go by the grip he had on you—and you couldn’t blame him. It had been way too long since you had hugged him like this and you couldn’t help the relieved chuckle that escaped you. It also felt weird hugging another ghost—it was like he was there and he wasn’t, but you could feel his presence in a way you couldn’t when you touched the living.

“It’s you,” you whispered, pulling away to grab him by the shoulders and really take him in. “It’s really you.”

Edwin looked just like you had remembered him to have looked when he disappeared. The same eyes, with which he always sent glares your way, and the same smile he hid in the corner of his lips by turning away from you, although it shone through at you then as a grin. He couldn’t help it, and neither could you.

“I—I never thought I would see you again,” he said.

You scoffed. “As if you could get rid of me that easily.” Then your eyes softened. “Though you scared me half to death.”

“More than half, it would seem,” he said, looking you up and down. “What are you still doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked, a smile on your lips despite your soft tone. “You were my unfinished business.”

You went in for another hug with a chuckle, holding him even tighter as if he would disappear if you didn’t. All that worrying, all that searching, all that trouble you had gone through to find your brother and it was all finally worth it. The thought made you almost want to cry—almost. You pulled away then for real, letting the both of you go back to your regular composure as a relaxed grin settled against your lips and Edwin’s went back to hiding in the corner of his lips.

That was when you noticed the questioning stares from his three friends. They were all glancing back and forth between you in clear confusion. 

“Sorry, did everyone just see what I saw?” questioned the dark-haired girl with a frown, gesturing between the two of you. “Who are you?”

You smiled at her. “Forgive me for being rude. I forgot myself for a second,” you said with a glance at Edwin. “I’m y/n, Edwin’s sibling.”

The three of them stared in astonishment upon hearing the words uttered, again looking between you two.

“I see the resemblance now that you mention it,” said the tall boy.

You shot him a playful smile. “I’m clearly the better sibling, though.”

“As if,” scoffed Edwin and tugged at his cuff. “At least I am older.”

You raised an eyebrow and pursed your lips. “Don’t know if that is actually true, anymore. I was alive longer than you were.”

“What? No.” He looked affronted at your words. “My birth was before yours and I am thus older than you.”

The boy next to him cleared his throat with a pointed glance. Edwin resumed to his usual composure, a curtain falling over his features as his bickering spirit died out. You let out a snicker, glancing between the four of them.

“You gonna introduce me to your handsome friends, Edwin?” you asked with a grin, eyeing the tall boy specifically.

Edwin glared at you. “Don’t,” he spit out, warning lacing through his tone. When you held up your hands in surrender he turned to his friends, gesturing to them all in turn with their names. “Y/n, this is Charles, Niko and Crystal.”

“Nice to meet you,” Niko’s soft voice said, hopping forward to give you a hug.

It caught you slightly off guard, but it was welcomed even though you couldn’t feel it as well as you could feel Edwin’s ghost hug. Crystal gave you a hesitant hand to shake and you took it enthusiastically with a smile. She smiled then, apparently less apprehensive. Charles also thrust out a hand along with a charming smirk.

“Any sibling of Edwin must be brills,” he said. “Also a ghost, by the way.”

You took his hand with an appreciative nod. “Did you hear that, Edwin? I’m brills,” you said and looked over your shoulder.

By doing so, you didn’t miss the soft gaze Edwin was looking at Charles with and nodded to yourself, smiling coyly. While you had learnt to adapt to the modern times, and even back then had always been quite open about yourself, Edwin was a shyer and more private person. You would let him work it out by himself.

“You know, I missed your miserable face,” you remarked, turning to nudge him with your elbow. “I also think we have a lot to catch up on, Edwin.” 

“I would say that is quite correct. We will take care of that, later,” he nodded in his stilted way. Weird as it was, you had missed his gestures.

When the four of them turned to keep walking, Niko suddenly let out a loud gasp. “There’s Monty, our new friend,” she exclaimed.

You turned to look where she was gesturing and saw a very handsome boy looking up when hearing his name. He smiled easily at the five of you and stood up from the bench he had been sitting on with a few books in hand. The boy, Monty, let out what sounded like a nervous chuckle while glancing between the group, definitely noting the closeness between you and Edwin.

“Hey. Wow, quite the crew you got here.”

“So, he’s alive and he can see the boys?” asked Crystal.

“Oh, he can definitely see Edwin,” replied Niko. You saw Monty smile at Edwin and turned to your brother with a questioning glance. He only shrugged.

When you turned back, you found Monty was already staring at you. His eyes were dark and thoughtful, jumping from your face to your clothes and your boots and your frame and your hair and your smirk—which spread even wider. His mouth opened in a silent gasp as he took in the sight of you. You could feel your lifeless cheeks warm with blood—if they could do that—and let your gaze skirt away nervously.

“Oh, hi, I, uh, don’t believe I have seen you before.” Monty smiled sheepishly at you and his voice was warm and sweet. “I feel, uh, like I would have remembered a face like yours.”

His face got redder the longer he talked and the more he tripped over his words. It was weirdly endearing and you smiled at him as his gaze jumped between you and Edwin.

“Edwin’s my brother,” you said. “I’m y/n. Also a ghost.”

“Charmed.” Monty’s grin grew wider. “I suppose good looks run in the family.”

You saw Edwin shift uneasily out of the corner of your eye and smiled at him. Monty’s unashamedly flirting was clearly not something Edwin was entirely ready for yet, but it only made the whole thing more amusing. And you couldn’t ignore the playful smirk Monty was giving you nor the glint in his eye.

“And I’m Charles. Nice to meet you, mate,” interrupted the other ghost, his own charming smile fixed on his lips, and extended a hand for Monty to take. “Any pal of Edwin’s is aces in my book.”

Monty’s lips pursed. “Yeah, sorry, hands are full,” he said, his voice suddenly cold and stand-offish.

He moved past you, closer to Edwin, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you. You smiled to yourself as you turned to the other three, looking back at Monty.

“I was polite, wasn’t I?” asked Charles. His voice sounded much smaller, almost insecure.

“Yeah, you did good,” replied Crystal and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

You crossed your arms over your chest and leant closer to him. “Don’t take it personal just ‘cause you aren’t pretty enough to earn Monty’s kindness.”

Charles turned to you, affronted, and glared at your cheeky smile. “Oi, hurtful. I’m very pretty, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, glancing up at him. “And don’t you worry, Edwin knows it too.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You only shrugged, glancing back at your brother and Monty. You saw Edwin take the book from him, completely oblivious to the way his gaze was fixed on him, and Niko was unashamedly listening in on their conversation. You took the opportunity to study Monty’s feature’s more carefully, gazing at the ways his lips lifted ever so slightly, and how his eyes suddenly jumped to yours. Immediately, you looked away in shame at being caught staring at him and you were sure to be blushing if you were still capable of it. When you dared look back at him his eyes were yet again on Edwin, but his smirk a bit wider.

“Hey.” You looked to Charles again, nudging him in the side. “If Edwin doesn’t know, though, at least I do.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his grin widen as his eyes fixed on you. That was when Edwin glanced past Monty, meeting your eye briefly before flickering over to Charles. You noticed him hesitate in his reply to Monty and furrowed your brows. It wasn’t like your brother to be careful about his words. Crystal seemed to know what he was thinking as she suddenly brought her hands together.

“Ah, well,” she began, sighing with what sounded like very bad conviction, ”Axe-murder, suicide Groundhog Day drained me, so, uh… I’m gonna head up.”

You shot her a questioning glance but decided against asking her about it. Whatever Edwin and his group had been up to you had more than enough time to figure out. Now that you had found him, there was no chance you were letting him go.

Niko nodded at Crystal’s words, still caught up with whatever Edwin and Monty were speaking about. “Okay, I’ll be up soon,” she said.

Crystal sighed and went over to the other girl, taking ahold of her arm and dragging her away from the boys. You shot a questioning glance at Edwin, but he just nodded for you to go without him. Briefly, you met Monty’s gaze as well and were almost pinned to the spot by his smile before he turned back to your brother. You swallowed and made to walk away when you noticed Charles was still stuck to the same spot, his gaze pinned to Edwin.

“Come on, mate, let’s go.”

He scoffed but let himself be guided away to follow the other two. You heard the traces of Edwin and Monty’s conversation follow behind you, their voices floating through the air. Monty’s was melodic and it made you sigh at the sound of it.

“He’s very cute, isn’t he?” you asked Charles, nudging his side with your elbow.

“Yeah,” he nodded, glancing over his shoulder.

You weren’t sure you were talking about the same person.

Tag list: @a-gay-dumbass @eunxhan @loverclear